“But he might be?” Beau continued.
“He might be.”
They settled back into an uneasy silence and after several minutes had passed, Marianne ventured to lay her head on his shoulder. “This is madness, you know.”
“I know,” Beau replied, sighing. He leaned down and kissed her head.
A few more moments of silence passed before Marianne asked, “Do you know Albina, Lady Winfield’s maid?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next morning, sleepy as usual at least lately, Marianne was pressing one of Lady Wilhelmina’s gowns for the dinner to be held in the dining room that evening. As usual, the young woman and her mother were gossiping about the house party and its guests.
“You could have knocked me over with a feather the other night when Lord Kendall climbed up on that sideboard and yanked off his powdered wig. Imagine, the man pretending to be a servant all this time. It boggles the mind,” Lady Copperpot said.
“I thought it was one of the most romantic things I’ve ever seen,” Lady Wilhelmina replied with a long, dramatic sigh. “One of the most surprising, to be certain.”
“Don’t be a henwit, Wilhelmina,” Lady Copperpot scolded. “There was nothing romantic about it. It was shocking. Scandalous. Revolting, if you ask me.”
Lady Wilhelmina snapped her mouth closed, but not before Marianne saw the hurt in her eyes at her mother’s harsh rebuke.
“I’m just sick that Lord Kendall is apparently taken now. There aren’t many truly eligible bachelors left at the party, and none of them seem particularly suitable for you.” Lady Copperpot frowned and shook her head.
Lady Wilhelmina nodded. “Yes. Apparently, Lord Kendall is betrothed to Miss Wharton. But I do have to wonder if LordBellinghamis skulking about, pretending to be a servant.”
“What? Why would you say that?” Lady Copperpot asked, her face crumpled in a scowl.
Lady Wilhelmina shrugged. “Well, someone told me there was a rumor that the Duke of Worthington had been pretending to be a groomsman in the stables. Though they say he’s gone now.”
“What!” Lady Copperpot’s face took on a decidedly red hue.
“Yes,” Wilhelmina continued with a knowing nod, “and last night at dinner, I heard Lord Clayton mention Lord Bellingham. Someone asked if he’d heard from the marquess.”
Lady Copperpot’s eyes widened and she leaned forward, her face bright-red and full of interest. “And what was Lord Clayton’s response, Wilhelmina?”
Lady Wilhelmina waved a hand in the air as she appeared to contemplate the question for a moment. “Oh, I believe he said something terribly vague such as, ‘You never know when Bell might appear.’”
Marianne gasped, and the leather walking boot she’d been holding dropped from her hand to land on the floor with a solidthunk.
“Well, I’m not holding my breath,” Lady Copperpot replied to Wilhelmina, ignoring Marianne as usual. “Your father and I have some plans in the works for the autumn. We’ll get you betrothed yet. Even before the next Season. Now, I’m going downstairs to see if I can learn anything else about Lord Bellingham’s visit. I’ll see you for tea.”
With that, the formidable lady stood and exited the room.
After the door closed behind her mother, Lady Wilhelmina gave an audible sigh. “I don’t know why things like betrothals must be so difficult,” she said out loud to the room.
Marianne stepped forward, her hands folded primly in front of her. “I’m sorry ye’re having such a difficult time of it, milady.”
“Oh, Marianne, be glad you’re not me,” Lady Wilhelmina said, a pout on her lips. “It’ssucha chore to constantly go to parties, trying to find a suitable husband. You cannot possibly know how difficult it is.” The young woman shook her head pitifully.
Marianne wasn’t about to miss her only chance at asking a highly inappropriate question. She cleared her throat. “Milady, if ye don’t mind, do ye happen ta know wot Lord Bellingham’s Christian name is?”
Lady Wilhelmina frowned and blinked. Then blinked and frowned some more. “Funny you should ask, but I do believe it’s Beaumont. ‘Beau’ is what they call him.”
Marianne gulped. She rubbed one finger behind her ear. “Did ye sayBeau?” She’d asked again only to keep from crumpling to the floor in a heap. She tried to sound nonchalant, but her insides were quaking.
Lady Wilhelmina sighed again. “Yes. And I only know because Mama drilled his name into my head along with half a dozen others at the start of the Season. He’s one of the most eligible bachelors in London, you know.”
Marianne simply nodded. She didn’t want to raise her mistress’s suspicions, but Lady Wilhelmina seemed to be in a particularly accommodating mood at the moment, so she risked another question. “Do ye…happen ta know anythin’ else about him? Lord Bellingham, I mean.” So much for nonchalance, her voice clearly went up an octave.
