Bath Scandal (8 page)

“Then we should enlarge the riding parties.”

“Except that he is leaving for Bournemouth tomorrow.”

Southam rubbed his chin with his fist and took his decision. “We’ll just have to follow him.”

Her head lifted, and her eyes were like smiling emeralds. “Go to Bournemouth, you mean?” she asked.

“Why not?”

“It’s fifty miles away! It would take a day to get there. And what is there to do, other than looking at the hurdle races?”

“We need not attend all the races. We’ll take Miss Pittfield with us. She can play propriety. Why, it is a famous watering place. There must be many facilities for tourists. There is the New Forest for drives....”

“We? Did you mean for
me
to go with you?” she asked, startled. “I thought you meant you and Gillie.”

Southam gave a conscious look. In his mind it was a holiday with Beatrice he was envisaging. Gillie and Tannie had fallen to the bottom of his mind. “Yes. I would like to repay you in some manner for having Gillie. It will be a short holiday, at my expense.”

Bea drew her brows together in consideration. “Holidaying with a gentleman at his expense sounds a trifle—irregular,” she said. “I don’t know what my friends would think.”

“Why, they would think you are moving heaven and bending earth to land the duke for your charge and commend you for your efforts. If it is the proprieties that deter you, let me remind you Miss Pittfield would be along.”

“Yes, it is the proprieties,” she admitted. “I would love to go. Naturally I did not mean your intentions were evil, Southam. You are engaged to Deborah.” Her frown deepened.
“She
might not like it,” she warned, and looked for his reaction.

“I’ll handle Deborah,” he said airily. His tone said, “If she don’t like it, then she can lump it.” But in his mind he knew she would dislike it very much, and he had no intention of telling her.

“I suppose there is no harm in it,” she said pensively. “Yes, why not? It might be the very thing to seal the romance. I doubt the place will be crowded in March, but perhaps we ought to send a request for rooms today. I have a book of travel here somewhere that will tell us what is for hire.”

She called her servant to fetch the book. She and Southam pored over it while they had their coffee. When Beatrice lifted the pot to pour herself another cup, Southam held his cup out without thinking.

“The Royal Bath on the east cliff has fine views of the sea,” she read. “The prices are a little stiff.”

“We’ll want a view of the sea. We’ll take it. I shall make the arrangements.”

A holiday mood already prevailed in the parlor. Beatrice had never been to Bournemouth, and a holiday at this fashionable resort town, without expense, put her in a good mood. She chattered idly, really thinking out loud. “It might be considered a trifle fast, but then, Miss Pittfield will be along. It was not as though we were going alone, Southam, just you and I with Gillie. Your having a title and a fiancée will lessen the odium of it as well.”

“If you are truly worried ...”

She shook away the wisps of concern. “No. Why should I be? After all, I went to Brighton with Sir Harold Whitehead.”

A loud exclamation rent the air. “What!”

“Sir Harold and his mama and a large party. Quite unexceptionable, but Harold and I did stay at the same hotel, so he cannot cut up stiff over this.”

“Is he in a position to question your actions?” he inquired testily.

“We are not engaged, if that is your meaning. It is only that gentlemen
do
seem to feel they have the right to question their lady friends’ actions.”

“If he has anything to say, let him say it to me,” Southam declared with a kindling eye.

“That won’t be necessary. I manage my own life. You won’t forget to send a note off about the rooms?”

“I’ll do it this instant.”

Beatrice led him to her study, and while he was composing his note, Gillie and Tannie returned home from their ride. Southam, hearing the racket, came out and dispatched the note with his groom.

The young couple wore no traces of dalliance. “You demmed near drove that dung cart off the road. I told you to ease over farther to the right,” Tannie was saying.

Gillie gave him a blighting stare and replied, “There was a ditch. Did you want me to drive us into the ditch?”

“We missed that cart wheel by inches. No, by an inch.”

“We missed it. That’s the important thing.”

Southam and Beatrice exchanged a forlorn look. “Can you stay to lunch, Tannie?” she said, hoping for a better mood to prevail under her managing hand.

“I’m meeting Duncan
McIvor for lunch. He’s hiring a nag for his sister this afternoon. We’re going over to the stable to look over the cattle.”

No thanks for her offer. Nothing. The boy was hopeless, and Gillie looked as if she couldn’t care less.

“Shall we see you this evening, then?” Bea persisted.

“The McIvor’s have invited me for dinner. Thank you anyway,” he added, to impress Southam.

“And tomorrow you’re going to Bournemouth,” Gillie added. “Will you ride with me in the morning, Aunt Bea?”

“Mrs. Searle won’t be here,” Southam announced. Gillie looked aghast. Before she could object, he added, “She will be going to Bournemouth with us, Gillie.”

“To Bournemouth! Rawl, you’re taking me! Oh, thank you.” She pelted forward and threw her arms around his neck.

“Very glad to hear it,” Tannie said, smiling vaguely. “Where will you be staying? We might get together. McIvor and I are putting up at the Lansdown. His pockets are pretty well to let,” he added.

“We shall be at the Royal Bath,” Beatrice told him.

Tannie drew out his watch and said, “I’d best be going. No saying what tired old dray horse McIvor will hire if I ain’t there to advise him. Not that I would like to see his sister astride a decent bit o’blood. She lamed his Lancer, trying to follow him over a fence at Uncle Horatio’s place. Gudgeon.”

On this remark he rammed his hat on his head, made a bow even less graceful than Southam’s, and took his leave. “I look forward to seeing you at Bournemouth, Mrs. Searle,
Southam.” He forgot to include Gillie in this wish.

She neither noticed nor cared. She was too excited at the pending adventure. “I have never seen hurdle races. I bet Penny could beat them all. I wonder if they have betting. Tannie told me his uncle Horatio made a monkey last year, then blew the lot on the last race. Gudgeon.”

It seemed the only change in her demeanor due to her association with the duke was an increase in unladylike cant terms.

“You should not use such language about your elders, Gillie,” Bea said.

“I have heard Tannie call him worse names.”

Gillie went to toss her bonnet and pelisse at the butler, and during her short absence, Bea whispered, “Jealousy” to Southam. When Gillie returned, Bea gave him a wink and said to Gillie, “This Duncan
McIvor, he would be Miss Althea McIvor’s brother, would he not?”

“I believe so. Duncan has three sisters.”

“The elder is married, and the younger is not out. It would be Althea that Tannie is interested in, I daresay.”

Gillie looked at her with a sapient eye. “Not likely. She sits her mare like a bag of oats, jiggling all over.”

Southam took over. “That may be of interest if he meant to hire Miss Althea as a jockey. I take it your meaning is that he has a tendre for her, Cousin?”

“I expect so,” Bea said offhandedly. “She is monstrously pretty, with her blond curls and blue eyes. And so ladylike, don’t you think, Gillie?”

“She is pretty enough,” Gillie said grudgingly.

“I notice Tannie always stands up with her first at the waltzing parties.”

“He asks me first,” Gillie shot back. “He’s an awful dancer.”

“Such fripperies are important in a lady, but less so in a gentleman,” Southam said. “Naturally a gentleman wants his bride to appear to have all the social graces. Especially when he is so eligible as the duke. I daresay all the ladies are tossing their bonnets at him, eh Cousin?”

“It is all the mothers talk of,” she agreed. “What a prime catch for some fortunate lady. Three vast estates, a large fortune, and, of course, one of the finest stables in the country.” She peered at Gillie as she named this last advantage.

“I never heard Tannie complain of the girls bothering him,” Gillie objected.

“Complain!” Bea laughed.

Gillie saw nothing amiss in her choice of word, “I don’t think he is interested in Althea at all,” she said.

“It would be gauche of him to praise another lady to you, Gillie,” Bea pointed out. “You tend to forget it, but you are a lady yourself. You won’t hear a whisper of the romance till Miss Althea comes flashing the diamond under your nose, crowing of her catch.”

Gillie frowned and took up Southam’s cup without thinking. “I wonder if
she
is going to Bournemouth,” she said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The two conspirators exchanged a triumphant glance. At least she recognized that competition was out there. Gillie sipped and put the cup down. “Are you drinking coffee in the middle of the morning, Rawl? You know Deborah doesn’t let you.”

A slight flush colored his cheeks. “I do as I please,” he said.

“Yes, when Deborah is not here to keep a sharp eye on you.” Gillie laughed. “Did you write her that you shan’t be home by Monday?”

“Not yet. I’ll drop her a line before we leave.”

“I’m glad we will get away before she hears, or she’d write forbidding it.”

“Go and wash your face,” Southam said grimly. “You’re covered in dust. No wonder the duke has no interest in you.”

“He has an interest in me. He calls on me more than anyone else.”

“Aye, as a fellow horseman, but not as a suitor.”

“What would I want a suitor for?” she riposted, and stalked out of the room.

“That’s put a bee in her bonnet,” Southam said, and took up his cup to sip cold coffee. He was unhappy at the impression Gillie had left behind that he was completely under Deborah’s paw. Such nonsense! He did as he liked; it was just that Deborah was such a sensible lady and took such a strong interest in him and his family. He had never cared much for coffee anyway. As to Bournemouth, she wouldn’t object when she learned the reason. Deborah was all for advancing the family in the traditional ways, such as advantageous matches. She would be delighted to be related to a duke, and even more so to get Gillie bounced off.

“What are we doing this afternoon?” he inquired.

“Gillie and I will be preparing for this holiday.”

“It won’t take long to throw a few gowns into a trunk.”

“I see you have never traveled with a lady of fashion before, Southam,” she replied with another of those flirtatious glances that always sent his blood racing. “Your education is sorely inadequate. Gowns must be selected, pressed, packed in silver paper. Accessories must be chosen, probably new silk stockings purchased, for those that match one’s favorite gown are bound to have sprung a hole. Why, you will be fortunate if we are ready to leave by morning.”

“Surely you are joking!”

“Indeed I am not. You gentlemen who have only to pull on your blue jacket and run a brush through your hair have no notion how difficult it is for a lady to turn out in style.”

“Such intensive efforts will leave you hungry. You must be planning to eat dinner at least. Let us go out for dinner.”

“There is no point,” she said. “Tannie is dining with the McIvor’s. You are welcome to dine here if you are at loose ends.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“I did not wish to cramp your style, or I would have suggested it sooner.” Again those laughing green eyes studied him. “I thought you might have more interesting company.”

“Now you are putting ideas in my head, Cousin.”

“Ah, well, in that case you had best dine here, where Gillie and I can keep an eye on you. I would not want to be responsible for your going astray so close to your wedding.”

“Sevenish?” he asked.

“I usually dine at eight, but as you are still making the transfer from country hours, let us compromise and say seven-thirty.”

“I look forward to it.”

His bow, when he left, was less countrified than before. Or perhaps it was just his anticipatory smile that made it seem better.

When she sat alone after his departure, Bea felt that if she had six weeks with Southam, as she was having with his sister, she could whip him into shape, too. But then, why should she go to so much bother for Deborah Swann?

Chapter Seven

“Rawl, you’ve got a new hairstyle!” Gillie exclaimed, when her brother entered that evening. His hair was clipped short and brushed forward.

“My hair needed cutting. This is the way barbers do it in Bath,” he said. His eyes flew warily to Bea, who was examining him with interest.

“The Brutus suits you,” she said. Her feminine intuition sensed his lack of ease and his unconscious turning to her for approval.

“And you’re wearing a more stylish cravat,” Gillie added.

“Scrumm bought it for me this afternoon. Trying to smarten me up. I daresay he is ashamed of me in my provincial garb. Next he will be sticking wadding in my shoulders and buying me top boots with a white edge.”

“It looks nice. Does he not look nice, Aunt Bea?”

“Very handsome,” she conceded. “Deborah will not recognize you when you return. And speaking of Deborah, there is a letter for you in the evening post. She sent it in my care, as she was unsure what inn you were putting up at.”

When a servant brought the letter, she was surprised to see Southam stick it in his pocket unread. “It might be important, Southam,” she said.

He took it out and read it. His countenance did not assume any air of excitement but only a certain rigidity about the jaws. Deborah wrote that she was sorry to upset him, but it had been necessary to dismiss one of his footmen. She had caught Tolliver stealing a bottle of Southam’s best sherry. He had tried to bam her that it was for Cook; Cook had supported him in this patent untruth. As Southam knew very well, Cook was not allowed to use the family drinking sherry for her cooking. Deborah had added two teaspoons of salt to the bottle, to insure that it was used for cooking and not for purposes of debauchery. She had told Cook that in future she must use only the cheap sherry for cooking, etc. Demmed interfering of Deborah! What the devil had she been doing at the house when he was away?