A Most Delicate Pursuit (15 page)

“Yes, you did.” Michael grimaced. “I ordered her to leave immediately, though I doubt she'll do so without so much as a squeak. As usual, she has nothing but vitriol to spread.”

“What pall has she cast upon your intended?”

Michael chewed his lip and pointed to a clearing where there was a shallow pool. His friend did as he asked and they dismounted together, walking their horses to the pond, where there was a mound of grass for them to nibble on.

Michael said, “She told me that Beatrice has been ruined. More than that, the man responsible has been gossiping and by now the entire ton must know of it.”

“Surely, you give the woman no credence.”

“If it were me she's spreading rumors about, then not at all. But Beatrice has done nothing to deserve any of this. Connie's only doing it because I refused her suit.”

“So, what's bothering you now?”

“Nothing.” He paused. Braden knew him too well to know when he wasn't telling the truth.

“Except…?”

Michael shrugged. “Except Beatrice trusts me and I didn't tell her the truth about Connie's visit. I don't want her to suffer the embarrassment.”

“She's the sister-in-law to a duke. She won't fare all that badly.”

Michael wanted to believe that. But he knew Beatrice well. She would suffer the barbs of public ridicule as if being stabbed by a dozen sharp knives. Somehow he had to save her the embarrassment, but he'd no idea how.

“It's time to head back. If we're not on time for tea, Cook gets very upset.”

As they turned and rode back to the lodge, Michael couldn't believe how his life had changed in the space of a few hours. But he well knew they weren't out of the woods yet. First, they needed to wed and, in the meantime, stay out of Bainbridge's reach. They had a chance for happiness.

All he really knew was that he'd do whatever it took to make Beatrice happy. He'd pledged his life to her and promised to keep her safe. Nothing else mattered.

After eating a quick meal, Bea called for Lizzie and half an hour later she was dressed and ready to go for a walk. Restlessness stirred in her, and though Bea hardly knew where to start, she decided to go in search of a quiet, secluded place to work. Staying in the bedroom where she and Michael had just spent making love had proved problematic. Every time she cast her glance toward the bed, memories of their morning took over her thoughts and she found it extremely hard to put quill to paper.

Thankfully, Slyddon had many other places one could find solace. Walking down the hall, she passed a smaller bedroom. Peering inside, she saw the pale blue lace curtains, a soft, brushed Aubusson carpet, and daisy-print wallpaper. In the center of the room was a bed covered by a printed quilt of tiny jonquil flowers. At the head there were several white lace embroidered pillows.

Just as she started to enter the room, another stepped in front of her, blocking the door. Taller than Bea, the woman had raven black hair and eyes as green and sharp as cut emeralds.

“Miss Hawkins, I take it?” Grinning like a cat full of cream, the woman held out her hand. “My name is Constance Merriweather, and I've been so wanting to meet you.”

Bea looked down at her offered hand and wrapped her arms about her waist. “Michael mentioned that you'd arrived this morning, uninvited, as I heard it.”

The woman's grin faltered a moment and, indeed, Bea thought she was going to say something abrupt to her. But she did not, instead painting an even brighter expression on her face than before.

“Uninvited? Oh, my.” She giggled. “It seems I have made a faux pas. Perhaps his lordship hasn't had time to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“That it was Michael who sent for me. I suppose he would have mentioned it, sooner or later. No matter, I always love to come to Hampshire. The forest is so beautiful. And the men always are so invigorated when they return from the hunt. There's nothing like the attentions of a gentleman fresh from his manly pursuits.” She wandered into the bedroom, walking around as if she belonged there, a hawk among the chickens.

“I suppose you'd know all about that.” It was the best remark Bea could deliver under the circumstances. “An unmarried lady myself, I've not had the pleasure.”

The other woman chuckled. “If that's the story you wish to tell, who am I to argue?” She gave Bea a knowing wink.

“I don't know what you mean.” Bea lifted her chin, anger beginning to churn in her gut. How dare the woman…

Lady Merriweather waved at her cheerily. “Oh, dear. You've nothing to worry about. It's not I who is out spreading such awful gossip about you. I mean, I happen to know what it's like to be spurned by a man. Used and then tossed aside. Such cruel beasts they are.”

Beatrice nearly choked. “I think you should know, Michael and I are engaged. He will no longer be needing your company.”

The other woman's grin faltered but a second. “Indeed? Well, congratulations are in order, then.”

“Thank you,” Bea said, wanting more than anything to slap the insolent woman's face.

“How exciting for you both. Such a grand fellow our Michael is. I must admit a bit of envy that it was you who'd landed a ring on him rather than I. We had such a wonderful time together. Despite his gruff exterior, truly he has a kind heart. Rescuing young women when they were in need of his pistol, or sacrificing his freedom to save them from marriage to a common brute. The man is a paragon.”

“He deserves to be happy,” she said at the last. “And few women are worthy of him. I feel most fortunate that he turned his attentions to me. Believe me, it was no plan of mine.”

“Of course not. Michael is not a man to be pressured into anything. If our time together has taught me anything, it's that.”

The woman's words stabbed Beatrice to the bone. They'd shared a past that she would never be part of. While she had been going to parties and living a frivolous life, he'd been with this woman.

“Michael is a wonderful man and I'm sure will be a most attentive husband. I'll do my best to be the best wife I can be.”

“Of course you will. I must go now. I'm such a disaster today. I've summoned my maid, but she's taken ill. Tell me, is there anyone in your staff who I might enlist to help me with my dressing?”

“I'm not familiar with Slyddon's staff, and my own maid is very busy with her duties. But I'll mention it to the housekeeper. I'm sure she can send one of the kitchen girls to help you.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” Lady Merriweather said.

“If you'll excuse me,” Bea said, barely able to keep the venom from her tone, “I've letters to write.”

The woman nodded. “Of course, Miss Hawkins. Give Michael my regards.”

She smiled and turned away, humming as she turned and walked slowly back toward her bedroom, taking each step as though she were a queen and Bea nothing more than a lowly scullery maid.

How could a man as dear as Michael ever take up with a woman like that?

Making her way to the library, she thought about Michael and his friends. She'd had a passing acquaintance with the other men who'd been part of Ash's circle of friends. Lord Winegood, the Viscount of Waverton, Mr. Jeremy Horton, the enigmatic surgeon. All had conducted themselves as proper gentlemen. Waverton showed no interest in anything other than sporting. The surgeon spoke only of wine and literature. In the beginning, she'd found them both interesting and quite pleasant to look at. Of course, they'd been no measure to Michael.

It suddenly occurred to Bea that since moving to Summerton, she'd begun to judge all men by Michael. And, even more surprising was that no man ever met his measure.

At last it was time for dinner and though he'd always enjoyed Braden's company, at that moment, Michael wanted nothing more than to return to the lodge and Beatrice. After their morning together, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her.

To be honest, his heart hadn't been in the hunt for some time. Killing animals for sport had left him disinterested, feeling guilty, even. If a huntsman needed to eat, that was one thing, but to kill for nothing? Especially when Slyddon's icehouse was well stocked?

Thinking back, he remembered the expression of distaste that Beatrice had worn every time he and Ash had lorded over their past successes on the hunt. Fishing, then. Perhaps he would plan a trip to the lake and spend the day there. Closing his eye, he imagined what it would be like to sit with her at the edge of the pond, poles in the water, the two of them alone together.

Opening the door, he saw her, bent over, arranging her belongings in a small case. He watched for a moment without saying anything. She pulled one gown from it and, setting it aside, looked at another.

“Packing already?” he asked, leaning at the door and enjoying the sight of her from behind.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and spun around.

“Michael,” she said, the color draining from her face. “I didn't hear you come in.”

He grinned. “Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.”

She waved him off. “Such a silly thing, I was thinking about home. The few times I've visited, I've enjoyed Slyddon, but I do miss Summerton, and Caro and Mother.”

He went to her, pulling her into his arms. “Of course you do. To be honest, I, too, am missing the roar of the city. It's a magical place, except when you're there, of course.” He laughed and tightened his embrace slightly.

She melted into his embrace and he pulled her closer. “You smell of wildflowers,” he muttered, trailing kisses along her neck, just below her left ear until he stopped at the juncture of her throat and her collarbone.

“Oh, Michael,” she breathed.

The sound of her voice sent tendrils of desire through him.

“I've missed you,” he said, his voice sounding raw and wanting. She started to speak, but he kissed the words from her mouth.

When at last he pulled back, her complexion had turned a beautiful rosy color that warmed him even more.

“Um, I've missed you as well,” she said. “Was it a good hunting trip?”

“Anytime one ventures into the forest, it's good. As for the hunt itself, all I can say it's a good thing Ash's supplies are full. We'd starve if we had to depend on my hunting prowess.”

She laughed, but he sensed something was not quite right. Bea had never been good at hiding her thoughts and something was weighing heavily on her mind.

Gently touching her chin, he tilted her head upward so that they were eye to eye.

“What is it?”

Her smile faltered and confusion clouded her eyes. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He immediately sensed her falsehood. “Yes, you do. Something's bothering you. Please, tell me.”

His quiet tone had the desired effect. She blinked her eyes several times. “I, uh, met your visitor this morning,” she said at last.

The breath went out of him. “Ah, Lady Merriweather.”

“Is she among his seasonal guests?”

“I was hoping you wouldn't have to suffer her introduction.”

“I believe she was seeking me out.”

He sighed. “We'd spoken earlier. I hadn't realized that she'd lingered.”

“You asked her to leave?”

He nodded. “I did. I doubted she'd do so on my command. Besides, I really have no authority to ask anyone to leave Slyddon. It would be Ash's directive, since it is his lodge. Like Lady Merriweather, I'm a guest.”

“Of course.”

She turned away from him, her stiffened spine a clear indication of her dissatisfaction. Or was it distress? Had he hurt her feelings in some way?

“Don't be upset with me. I'm the last person who would have any control over what Lady Merriweather does. She's always been an independent spirit. Three husbands failed to tame her. I can do no better.”

Her expression relaxed, and she held out her hands to him. “I'm sorry. You've no say over the woman. It was silly for me to think that you would still harbor any feelings for her.”

That was the heart of the matter—whether or not he still carried a flame for his former mistress.

His wife-to-be was jealous.

A fact that both appealed to and frightened him.

“Listen to me. I'm in love with you. What I had with Constance was a long time ago. And it wasn't love, either. Need, perhaps. Emptiness, indeed. But whatever it was, it doesn't compare to the love I have for you. Not since the minute we met. And it never will.”

She smiled again. “Everything is so new right now. I guess I need some time to get adjusted.”

He studied her face. “I understand. Have you eaten? I've not eaten since breakfast and my stomach is sorely complaining. We could have dinner early tonight and then spend the rest of the evening in our room.”

An endearing shade of pink colored her cheeks. “I'd love to join you.”

“Let me escort you to the dining room, my lady.”

He held out his arm and, grinning, she took it. He understood what she must feel like. Their relationship was so new, their feelings unexplored, even he felt no small amount of anxiety.

If Bea had suspected that the dinner would have turned into such a trial, she would have stayed in her bed, tucked under the covers, and refused to come out before spring. Evidently, her morning rout with Lady Merriweather had been but a minor skirmish and the true battle had yet to begin. Had she known in advance, Bea would have attended better armed. As it was, her mind was more on the time she was going to spend with Michael after dinner rather than the five courses of Hell she had been about to endure.

“My dearest,” Michael said, grinning at her. He'd pulled her chair out for her and, remembering the correct dining etiquette, she curtsied and took her seat.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I hope you don't mind, but since the lodge is entertaining guests, Cook asked that we serve in the formal dining room tonight.”

Bea smiled up at him. “I'm more than happy to share your company for a few hours, as long as we can retire afterward.” She gave him an exaggerated yawn.

“You can count on it.” He winked at her.

Settling back, Bea surveyed what they called the “formal” dining room. She was seated at a long table, and while it had a formidable setting, it was nothing compared to the dinners she'd attended with Caro and Ash in London. There were four chairs on each side and one at each end, and if she were lady of the house, she would sit opposite her husband. But, as Ash had informed her on previous visits, there were no rules at this particular table. People were allowed to sit where they chose and next to whomever they chose.

“Sit next to me,” she asked Michael, who nodded.

Since Caro had married Ash, Bea had literally been thrown into polite society, so being in the wilderness with Michael was much like her taking a dip in a spring lake—fun and refreshing. She very much liked the idea of being with him in private, but to get the chance to enjoy him publicly was exhilarating. Suddenly, she found herself wanting to tell the world of their courtship.

Michael sat to her right, at the head of the table. It had been understood that in Ash's absence, any of the original “hunt club” members—Michael, Braden Winegood, or Jeremy Horton—would take the seat and be responsible for entertaining the guests. True to their habit, Braden took the seat on Michael's left.

“Cook always has such glorious meals planned,” he told her. “I can't wait to see what she's planned. Though, to be honest, I'm more looking forward to after-dinner activities.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Bea laughed, feeling her face heat up, both from the sudden arousal that ran through her and the slight embarrassment elicited from the looks they were getting from others at the table.