Page 3 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Chapter Two

The wedding was even more beautiful than Bea had expected, for Honour positively glowed, and so many people came, initially to see if this much gossiped about wedding would actually happen, but then, upon seeing it, stayed to celebrate the obvious love of the bride and groom. Bea attended her sister, and could not stop herself from curiously studying everyone around her.

The Marquess of Travers, who stood up with James Blackwood, was a handsome man, reputed to be rather a rake, and Bea found him intimidating, but there was another man, one she had not seen before, who caught her attention – he had been speaking to Lord Travers, just before the ceremony began, and seemed to be quietly organising things – making sure that elderly relatives found a seat, and that everything was where it should be. She wondered who he was, and why she had not seen him before.

He was handsome, in a quiet sort of way – his dark hair styled simply, his attire beautifully tailored, yet not ostentatious in any way, and his figure well put together, and exhibiting the unconscious lithe strength that came from living a life full of exercise rather than drinking. The light through the stained-glass windows had caught his profile in rainbow relief as he had spoken to Lord Travers, and it had quite taken her breath away.

Then he had moved, turning away, and become seemingly ordinary again. As the music began, Bea resolved to discover who he was, once the ceremony was over.

~~~~~

Everything had gone well – nothing had marred the beauty of the wedding, and Travers had even managed to smile throughout, even whilst helping his oldest friend and mentor enter the married state. Once things had begun, Nash had slipped quietly to the back of the church, and watched from there.

The morning sun through the high stained-glass windows cast sparkling rainbows over everyone, and everything, making the inside of the church seem a magical place. But whilst the bride and groom looked deliriously happy, they were not where he found his eyes resting.

Attending the bride was a young woman he had never seen before. The bride’s sister, Beatrice, he believed. This year had been her first Season, her mother had informed him, and she had not done as well as her mother had hoped. He wondered why, for she was beautiful, in a charming and unstudied way.

Perhaps, if he had been one for the social whirl, he might have known, might have heard the gossip, if there was any – but he had only come up to town for business, and to assist Travers in arranging things at Travers House for the wedding breakfast. He watched her, seemingly unable to draw his eyes away, as she watched her sister wed. Her face was calm and smiling, and full of apparently genuine love for her sister, yet there was something… some shadow which dulled that joy a little. Which made him most curious about her.

He should not be – for what could a woman like that see in a man such as he? Undoubtedly, she hoped to marry well, to capture an Earl or higher, and with her soft dark blonde hair and creamy skin, she would almost certainly have enough appeal to do so. Yet still, he watched her, as if by doing so he might somehow penetrate beyond the surface, and understand more of the thoughts that went on behind the smiling face.

~~~~~

At the wedding breakfast Bea initially had a wonderful time, speaking to many of the people whom she had met throughout the Season, and being flattered by the number of gentlemen who spent time with her. But it rapidly began to pall. For they were, as they had been throughout the Season, not serious in any way. The comparison of their empty words and attentions, when considered against the backdrop of her sister’s genuine love match, was stark.

Bea wanted more from life than empty flattery. She wanted love – she had not truly understood that, until Honour had found it.

She retreated to the sidelines, where her mother sat on a well-padded chair placed in an alcove surrounded by potted palms. It was not until she had dropped, with a little sigh, onto the chair beside her, that Bea realised that another person also sat in the quiet spot. She looked away from her mother, startled, and found herself falling into clear eyes of the most remarkable grey blue colour, like a stormy sea lit by a sunbeam through the clouds.

It was him – the man she had noticed at the church – the man she had not noticed, since. Obviously, he was master of the art of remaining inconspicuous. The silence extended – what could she do? They had not been introduced, and she was at a loss.

Lady Wormsley finally realised Bea’s predicament, and spoke.

“Viscount Challoner, may I present my other daughter, Miss Beatrice Wormsley? Beatrice, Lord Challoner is Lord Travers’ brother and heir. He has been outstandingly helpful with all of the arrangements for this wedding. Never have I met a man more talented at organisation!”

Bea blinked. A titled man, with relatives with influence, who apparently chose to be inconspicuous? It was a most remarkable and unusual concept.

“I am pleased to meet you, my Lord.”

“And I you, Miss Wormsley. From your sigh, I gather that you are as glad of this quiet spot as I am?”

Bea blinked again – what an unusual conversational opening. She could not but agree with his words, however.

“Indeed, I am. I feel as if many of the gentlemen present are… limited… in their conversational topics – or at least those which they consider suitable for discussion with a lady. Now, so close to the end of the Season, it is as if I have had the same conversations, over and over again. It is probably terribly inappropriate for me to notice, but I do.”

He laughed softly, and the warm tones of it seemed to vibrate through her. Her mother was looking at her in shock, and she understood why – it was not, at all, the sort of thing that Beatrice would normally have said – there was simply something about this man which made her feel it was safe to express her actual thoughts – well some of them, at least.

“I must agree with you, Miss Wormsley. I admit that I am rather unfashionable, and do not spend much time going about in society – I leave that sort of thing to my brother, who has made it rather his life’s purpose to be the darling of a certain part of society. I prefer time spent in the country, on such things as estate management. It does rather limit my social circle, of course.”

Bea was fascinated. A man who bothered about managing his estates, who did not especially care for the shallow and gossip ridden world of the ton, and who spoke of such things matter of factly, as if he trusted that she would understand. It was rather shocking. She was used to men assuming that she was unintelligent, simply because she was prone to excitement and chose to be cheerful – yet this man had not, apparently, made that assumption. Nor had his eyes strayed to her décolletage, as the eyes of most men did, upon meeting her. There were days when she wished that her bosom was far smaller.

“I begin to think that is probably a benefit, rather than a disadvantage, Lord Challoner. When I came to London three months ago, I was excited by the idea of extended time amongst the cream of society, but now, I find myself rather worn by it all, and not at all displeased that we will soon return to our home in the country. Am I an unnatural woman, to think so?”

“Not unnatural at all, to my thinking. Wise, in fact. I feel that one appreciates social events more, if they are an occasional thing, rather than an endless stream of sameness, day after day. My brother disagrees, and thinks me mad, but it is simply the way that I see the world.”

Bea wondered how to respond to that, for she thought him most reasonable, yet discovered, in that instant, that she had no idea how to have a conversation like this – a real discussion about thoughts and feelings - with a man. Her mother, as if sensing her hesitation, joined the conversation.

“I quite sympathise, Lord Challoner. I also prefer to remain in the country. My husband no longer travels, of course, for his knees give him terrible trouble, but staying at home is no hardship to me. Although I do think that Beatrice will miss some things once we go home – things like dancing, for example.”