Two Beaux and a Promise Collection (13 page)

“How dare—”

“Surely your companion has explained the ways of the world. I pitied Merrimont last night. How he maintained his dignity is a mystery, for your antics would horrify the most broad-minded gentleman. I cannot imagine having a wife who makes such a vulgar cake of herself. If you don’t learn proper manners, he will never advance at the Foreign Office. Nor will he find supporters if he chooses to stand for Commons.”

Her mouth hung open in her first genuine show of emotion. “If that is how he feels, then he should let me find someone who appreciates me,” she snapped.

Charles suppressed a sigh at the arrogance that could twist criticism so far around. “I don’t know how he feels, Miss Russell. All I know is that your behavior affects both of you – not that you seem to care. But I don’t want to see Merrimont’s life ruined by an arrogant little witch. He’s a good man.”

“How dare you, sir!”

“I dare because accepting his offer made you part of him, so your misbehavior harms him – I know what Hawthorne found on the terrace last evening. I dare because I despise selfish girls who don’t care how their actions affect others. You are calling censure down on your family. You are branding Jessup a cad. Staying on this course will force Sir Waldo to turn Miss Knolton off without a reference, which will prevent her from finding a new position. All that damage just so one spoiled miss can soothe her sensibilities and flex her claws. I won’t allow it.”

She stepped back, all thought of flirtation gone. “
You
won’t allow it?”  Her voice could have frozen a raging river.

“Exactly. Rather than let you destroy innocents, I will have your father lock you in your room until the wedding.”

“He would never do such a thing!  Papa loves me.”

“Of course he loves you, but that won’t stop him from dealing with this tantrum. What do you hope to accomplish?”

“This is Giles’s last chance to prove he loves me. If he doesn’t, I won’t wed him.”

“Childish.”  But when tears glinted on her lashes, he relented. “This is not the way to prove anything, Miss Russell. No man worth his salt will give in to blackmail.”

“Blackmail!”

“What else can one call your threats?”

“I’m not threatening anyone. Since most men adore me, why should I tie myself to someone who doesn’t?”

“The so-called adoration of cubs unready for marriage is but a game, Miss Russell. They pretend admiration and profess undying devotion, but anyone of intelligence knows it’s all pretense. A pleasant way to pass the time. No more – as is obvious from the frequency with which they change idols. Those of an age to wed look beyond the color of your hair or the tilt of your chin. Gentlemen need a lady, a hostess, an heir.”

“But I need someone who cares.”

“Don’t confuse caring with poetry. Are you a good person?”

“Of course.”  She glared.

“Are you beautiful?”

“Naturally.”

“Then why do you need to be told twenty times an hour that it is true?  Are you afraid it is false?”  He held up a hand to prevent an explosion of temper. “Think about it, Miss Russell. If you don’t believe it, then being told so will change nothing. If you do believe it, then it matters not what others might think. Compliments are nice – and they can make you feel better when things are going badly, as they always do from time to time. But they can’t change truth, so demanding them with every breath makes you seem childish. And any compliment that you coerce is worthless.”

“You are hateful.”  She twisted her mouth into a pout.

“I don’t believe it, so your opinion doesn’t matter.”  He drew a breath. “But if you are seriously questioning your betrothal, perhaps you should consult Granny Gibbs. She is quite skilled at helping people choose the right course.”

“So I’ve heard. Does she really make amulets that reveal truth?”

“Yes.”  He paused, but though her eyes begged, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Perhaps she found the request too embarrassing. Or maybe his harsh words made it impossible to beg a favor. He finally took pity on her. “If you want one, I can call on her for you. But be wary of magic,” he cautioned softly. “It can reveal things you don’t wish to know.”

“I’ll chance it.”  She dimpled prettily, satisfied to have achieved her main goal. “Thank you, my lord.”

* * * *

The skating party convened on a shallow cove half a mile from the house. Footmen carried benches and baskets of skates to the shore, then built a fire to warm frozen fingers and let an undercook prepare chocolate. Children shouted, weaving among their elders in games of tag and crack the whip. Laughter followed in their wake, as did gasps of feigned terror as young ladies sought steadying arms from favorite gentlemen.

By half past eleven, Edith had moved beyond the cove itself, gliding in random zigzags that let her keep one eye on Diana and the other on the rest of the company. Too many dramas were disturbing the carefree pleasure of the crowd.

Peter was clearly stirring up trouble. He wouldn’t attack Edith with others nearby, but he’d spoken with Jessup, leaving the man white-faced. Then he’d paused by Schechler, who had speared Charles and Giles with glares the moment Peter skated away. A quarter hour later, he’d cornered Giles.

Perhaps he was seeking revenge for Edith’s escape yesterday. Disrupting Diana’s marriage would hurt Edith, and turning the baron against Charles would repay him for interfering. But that didn’t explain why he could influence Jessup.

A short time later Schechler had surprised her by inviting her to skate. As a chaperon, she should have refused, but she’d taken his arm, hoping to discover what Peter was saying. Diana was skating with Tomling, a picture of propriety this morning.

“The Russells you know well,
nein?
” Schechler asked once they were moving.

“I’ve been with them for eighteen months.” 

He nodded, then maneuvered around several slow-moving couples before continuing. “I know it is not done in your country to speak of certain matters,
fraulein
, but I have heard a disturbing tale. If true, it could affect my business.”

“Who told you this tale?”

He seemed surprised by her question. “Herr Russell. The son.”

“I see.”  She spared a moment to thank Fate that Schechler was less credulous than Peter thought. Schechler might be an incorrigible, stiff-necked ass, as Giles had once described him when he’d thought himself alone, but at least he checked claims before accepting them. “When I hear gossip – and what can one call tales about others if not gossip? – I first consider the source, asking myself if that source has reason to lie. Who was this tale about?”

“Lord Charles Beaumont. Herr Russell brought it to me because we engage now in delicate negotiations. The charges are quite grave.”

She smiled. “I’m sure they are, but I am equally sure they are false. As you say, I know the Russells quite well. I know that Mr. Peter is a dishonorable cad and that he hates Lord Charles. I also know that Lord Charles is an honorable gentleman with a gift for finding equitable solutions to any problem.”

“But his reputation!”

“You speak of the Three Beaux, I presume?”

He nodded.

“The Beaux make exciting drawing room chatter, but they have never drawn true censure. And since society scrutinizes their every move, we would all know instantly if they behaved badly.”

“I do not understand your country.”

“I doubt that it is much different from your own,” she dared. “People abhor dishonor, cruelty, and vulgarity. But they love scandal, as long as it does not touch them personally, and discussing rogues makes them feel dashing. One reason the Beaux are so beloved is that they are larger-than-life men who often flirt with scandal yet never cross that final line. The gossips can exaggerate their exploits, fan themselves furiously over their reputed prowess, and recall every hint of impropriety, but everyone knows the Beaux never abandon honor, so it is a harmless pastime. If you want my advice, share Mr. Russell’s claims with Lord Charles and ask for the truth. He will give it. Then put it behind you and finish your business so you can enjoy the remainder of your holiday.”

Giving him no chance to argue, she’d turned the conversation to the differences between English Christmas customs and those he knew, particularly those that dealt with peace, good will, and the burial of old quarrels.

Diana had still been with Tomling when Edith left the baron, but Edith had intercepted another glance between the girl and Jessup. So when Jessup headed for the thicket covering a spit that protruded into the lake just beyond the cove, Edith had positioned herself where she could keep an eye on him. She didn’t think Jessup had noticed her. Nor had Diana, who had begun picking a fight with Tomling.

Diana shoved Tomling away and left, ostensibly to be alone.

Jessup practiced a lazy spin behind the spit, pointedly ignoring Diana’s tantrum.

Edith knew better. They had planned this interlude well. Miss Parkes, undoubtedly following Diana’s orders, chose this moment to fall in a flurry of skirts. While everyone else rushed to her aid, Diana headed straight for Jessup.

Edith caught Charles’s eye, nodded toward the spit, then picked up speed, flailing her arms as if fighting for balance. As she neared Jessup, she screamed.

Jessup whipped around so fast he tripped.

Edith flattened him.

“Oh, my. Oh, my,” she squeaked, scrabbling along the ice to his side. “Oh, dear. Are you all right, sir?  Oh, I’m so terribly sorry. I don’t know what happened. I must have caught the blade—  Are you hurt?”

He cursed, tried to sit, then fell a second time when her attempt to help him knocked him over, slamming his head against the ice.

She ignored the thud, keeping to her role. “How awful. You’re bleeding, sir!  Let me look. We need help. Yoo-hoo!  Over here,” she called, noting that several skaters were following Charles around the end of the spit.

“What happened?” demanded Jessup shakily.

“I’m not sure. I was skating – slowly, so I wouldn’t fall. I am not very accomplished, you understand. Then my toe caught on something. I think it was my toe, or maybe it was the heel. But I lost my balance. Falling is so embarrassing that I tried to catch myself, but that just made my feet move faster, and I couldn’t control anything, and then there you were, so I tried to turn, but you turned, too, and I couldn’t help it, but I ran into you, and you fell so hard, and that awful thunk when your head hit the ice, and now you’re bleeding. Did I kill you?”  She finished this artful mishmash by tugging on him until she managed to fall across his chest.

His breath whooshed out.

Charles arrived, closely followed by Diana, Giles, and Miss Richland.

“Mr. Jessup!” squeaked Diana, shoving Edith aside.

Charles caught Diana’s arm so she couldn’t throw herself atop Jessup. “Control yourself, Miss Russell. I know he’s a guest, but you could cause more damage if you aren’t careful. Are you all right, Miss Knolton?”

Edith let Charles pull her to her feet. “Just a tumble. But Mr. Jessup cut his head.”

“I can see that. Have you other injuries, Jessup?”  His censorious look struck Jessup square in the eye, raising the hair on Edith’s arms and blanching all color from Jessup’s face. For the first time she understood the Beaux’ power.

“Dizzy,” murmured Jessup as Giles squatted beside him.

“I’m not surprised. Head injuries have that effect.”  Charles winked at Edith, then shifted his gaze to Giles. “Take Miss Russell to the fire, then send a pair of footmen to help Jessup to his room.” 

“Right.”  Giles grabbed Diana’s elbow. “Time for chocolate,” he announced to the growing crowd.

Miss Richland turned to Charles. “Miss Knolton also fell. Escort her to the house. I will see that Mr. Jessup avoids doing anything silly – like trying to rise before the footmen arrive.”  Miss Richland was a formidable spinster who could keep the devil himself in line. She’d been supervising the children who had joined the skating expedition.

“An excellent suggestion,” he agreed, offering Edith his arm. “Are you hurt, Miss Knolton?”

“Merely clumsy,” she said as they moved away.

“Hardly.”  He chuckled. “I’ve seen you when you were clumsy. This performance was a work of art.”

She didn’t know whether her blush arose from mortification or gratitude. Probably both. “They’d planned an assignation behind the thicket – or so it seemed. I fear Mr. Russell might be involved in some way.”  She shared her observations, including her conversation with Schechler.

“Your fears are well founded,” he agreed when she finished. “Russell is clearly stirring up trouble. I will have to deal with him sooner than I’d planned.”

She raised her brows.

“I’d hoped to put it off until after the wedding, but now…”  He shook his head. “I don’t believe he would ruin his sister merely to spite you, though. There is something we don’t yet know. Once you are settled, I will speak to Riley. He hears news that escapes even the gossips. In the meantime, Jessup’s head will keep him in bed for the day and give you a chance to divert Miss Russell. I doubt she planned to elope.”

“Elope?”  While she had suggested the possibility that morning, she hadn’t thought Diana was ready to abandon Giles just yet.

“After our conversation, I asked my groom to keep an eye on Jessup’s horse so I would have notice of any unusual plans – he has no carriage. My groom sent word an hour ago that Jessup had ordered two horses to wait for him beyond the lake, one with a sidesaddle. He also ordered a carriage from the village. I made sure the horses remained in the stable.”  His satisfied smile warmed the air. “Since Miss Russell still seemed undecided when she asked me to procure an amulet, I doubt she had plans to leave with Jessup. And I’m certain that someone of her character would never forego the spectacle of a lavish wedding in front of an admiring crowd.”

“Abduction, then. He must be desperate. But why?”

“I’m hoping Riley will know.”  He seated her on a bench and removed her skates, his fingers warm as they unaccountably wandered above her ankles.

Edith tried to ignore the heat blazing up her leg, but she couldn’t control her tremors.