The Rake's Ruined Lady (15 page)

‘He always does, Gloria.’ Mary sounded resigned to admiring him. ‘Perhaps he is here to take advantage of the viscount’s absence now they no longer like one another,’ she suggested.

Lady Groves frowned at her companion. It was well known that the two gentlemen had fallen out, but the cause of the argument had yet to break surface. ‘That was not kind, Mary. Miss Dewey is present and she is the viscount’s relative.’

Mary looked suitably chastened and blinked behind her fan’s ivory sticks.

‘There is that little madam with her future husband.’ Lady Groves had been distracted just as she’d been about to probe Miss Dewey for a hint as to why the viscount and Mr Kendrick had taken exception to one another. Elevating her hooked nose, Gloria peered down it at the new arrivals, then deliberately turned back to Beatrice. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. We are your friends. Disgraceful conduct. Don’t know how Sir Colin has got the nerve to flaunt that hussy.’

‘You are kind...’ Bea rattled off, feeling light-headed with suppressed hysteria. ‘Oh, I see Jago and Verity are here.’ She indicated Fiona’s sister and brother-in-law, some distance away. ‘Shall we join them?’

As the two young women walked away Bea tried to still her racing heart, but gave an involuntary little gulp of dismay.

‘You’re trembling, Bea.’ Fiona immediately linked arms with her in concern. ‘You must not let him unsettle you so! I could throttle the brute,’ she muttered with asperity.

‘Which one?’ Bea returned on a sob of a laugh.

‘Burnett, of course,’ Fiona said, glancing at Bea. ‘Did you have another man in mind?’

‘Shall we just take a breath of air on the terrace before joining your sister?’ Bea asked, glad when Fiona immediately complied and steered her in the direction of the breeze.

Once on the flags, Bea approached the railings and curled her warm fingers on cold iron, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to still her panic.

‘It is as well he
has
turned up,’ Fiona said gently. ‘I know it is dreadfully hard for you, my dear, especially when he has Miss Rawlings with him. But you can show once and for all that neither of them has the better of you.’

Bea nodded, despite her friend having got the wrong end of the stick. She couldn’t blame Fiona for misunderstanding the root cause of her agitation. She’d not realised herself until a moment ago just how she’d be affected when again in Hugh Kendrick’s vicinity.

The memory of his dark silhouette against the storm-washed sky was behind her eyelids. His final words to her again spun in her mind:
‘My offer of carte blanche still stands...perhaps in the circumstances you should consider it...’

And she’d told him to go to hell...

But Fiona knew none of this and believed Hugh Kendrick was just a mutual friend of the family—as had Bea until a short while ago, when he’d turned up out of the blue, heightening the turmoil in her life.

‘Ah, there you both are!’ Verity Clemence emerged through the curtains. ‘I was wondering where you had disappeared to.’ She approached Bea and took her hands. ‘It is very brave of you, Bea, to turn out like this. But quite the right thing to do.’ She added, ‘Never fear, you have plenty of good friends here tonight and Colin Burnett and Miss Rawlings have very few—if any.’

‘That seems rather pitiable...’ Bea said, stepping away from the balustrade to link arms with her friends. ‘Well, I’m ready to join the fray...are you?’

Chapter Twelve

‘A
h...Jago’s over there with Hugh.’ Having spotted her husband in the throng, Verity set off to join him.

Instinctively Bea dug in her heels, then covered her cowardly lapse by needlessly adjusting her satin slipper. Smiling, she allowed her friends to lead her on, having bought a few seconds to boost her courage.

‘I’ve not seen you in an age, Bea!’ Jago Clemence was glancing appreciatively at his wife’s friend. ‘You look exceedingly well—and how is your father? Did he not fancy a game of Faro tonight?’ Jago diplomatically avoided mentioning anything sensitive in his welcome.

‘Papa is well, thank you, but he rarely socialises now as he is not very sprightly.’ Bea felt relieved to have kept her voice level, despite the blood pounding in her ears.

‘I doubt Mr Dewey would have wanted to be in the same room as that odious man!’ Fiona’s eyes targeted the doctor, stationed some yards away.

‘We must all show Sir Colin that Bea has our support and he has our disgust.’ Verity gave her verdict. ‘The man is a fool!’ She admired the sleek blue gown swathing Beatrice’s figure, emphasising her tiny waist and creamy décolletage. ‘Bea looks exceedingly young and beautiful this evening, don’t you think, Hugh?’

‘Indeed...she always does...’ Hugh replied, far too seriously. ‘And Burnett already has my opinion of him.’

Beatrice felt a tingle of heat in the profile she’d presented to him. She knew without glancing up to find out that the faint irony in his voice would be mirrored in his eyes. She bit back a spontaneous reminder that she’d no interest in his opinion of her looks and she’d sooner he didn’t meddle in her affairs.

‘Hugh took Burnett to task before anybody else knew of his hateful behaviour,’ Fiona praised. ‘He did you a service, Bea, on the evening he sent Sir Colin packing from Verity’s
soirée
.’

Beatrice realised the ensuing quiet was to allow her to thank her gallant. ‘I’ve told Mr Kendrick my thoughts on it,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m hoping he’s heeded them...’

‘I always listen to what you say, Beatrice.’

‘Good...’ Bea breathed. ‘Because I meant every word...’

‘As did I,’ Hugh returned silkily. ‘And will repeat it all if necessary.’

Verity cleared her throat, aware—as were the others—of a tense atmosphere developing. They were all saddened that Hugh and Alex had fallen out over some unknown matter, fearing it might result in divided loyalties. ‘Shall we mingle, then play cards?’ Verity slipped a hand onto Jago’s elbow, urging him forward.

Fiona took Hugh’s arm a fraction before a dark sleeve appeared in Bea’s line of vision. Wordlessly Hugh had offered her his escort and she raised solemn blue eyes to him, looking at him properly for the first time that evening. Lady Groves had commented on his distinguished appearance not one hour ago, yet Bea was unprepared for the full effect of his raw masculine appeal.

He turned away first, but behind his lazy glance had been an emotion that momentarily stopped her heart. If she’d harboured a tiny hope that he might signal remorse for having treated her like one of his doxies, she was to be disappointed. She feared that his veiled threat, issued moments ago, referred to his readiness to again insult her with a proposition rather than to renew his attack on Colin Burnett.

Not wanting to draw further attention to them, Bea allowed her hand to skim his fine suiting as they followed Jago and Verity through the throng.

‘Isn’t that Sir Toby over there, Hugh?’ Fiona tapped Hugh’s arm to draw his attention. ‘I’ve not seen your brother in an age.’

‘You’re fortunate, then,’ Hugh returned dryly, barely glancing at Toby. ‘I wish I could say the same.’

‘I’m sure he’s not as bad as you would have us believe,’ Fiona reproved, chuckling. ‘I see that Toby has his fiancée with him for a change. Katherine rarely accompanies him anywhere.’

‘She’s a sensible girl and probably escapes him when she can.’

‘Hugh! How can you be so mean? The poor thing would not agree to marry a man she dislikes.’

‘Quite so...’

‘Have you heard the wedding might be off?’ Fiona whispered, aghast, as she flicked a glance at the couple.

‘I couldn’t possibly make a comment,’ Hugh muttered.

He’d been told yesterday in White’s that Katherine’s father had had enough of his future son-in-law’s ways. Toby was indiscreet with his paramours, but Hugh reckoned it was more likely to be his brother’s wheedling for money that had finally made Mr Lowell reconsider the wisdom of allying his family with such a character. Hugh sympathised with the man’s predicament and only wished he could just as easily make a break with his brother.

‘Another failed engagement...’ Fiona murmured, then glanced apologetically at Bea for her thoughtless remark.

Bea had been aware of their conversation flowing back and forth and was feeling rather ambivalent. Once upon a time she’d been able to enjoy Hugh’s company, and had laughed and joked with him in the way her friend was now doing.

The fingers she’d placed on his arm curled against her palm as she realised she envied the easy intimacy the couple shared. Hugh had courted Fiona for longer than he had her, and Bea wondered if her friend had yearned for his teasingly tender kisses and caresses never to end, as she had...

‘I see my aunt Dolly is beckoning me.’ Bea hastily stepped away, hoping that putting distance between them would drive such maddening thoughts from her head.

She’d not lied; Dolly had been gesturing, trying to catch her eye.

‘I shall keep my aunt company for a while or she will sulk.’

Weaving a path towards Dolly, Bea was aware of many pairs of eyes following her progress. On coming level with groups of people she heard the whispering fade, only to resume the moment she had passed by.

‘Take no heed,’ Dolly said, glaring at a woman who seemed particularly intent on gawping at her niece. ‘You are doing very well indeed. Hugh Kendrick does not give his attention to many young ladies in the way he does to you.’ Her eyes bolted to one side. ‘See—the doctor and his fiancée are looking quite forlorn, all alone over there.’ She clucked her tongue in disgust. ‘Of course Lord Whitley hovers around, but we all know why that is!’

‘I don’t...’ Bea replied, genuinely puzzled.

‘The little wanton is always making eyes at him, even if he is old enough to be her grandfather and his wife is close by.’

Beatrice glanced over to see that indeed Colin and his female companions did appear to have been abandoned by all but an elderly fellow she now knew to be their host.

‘Oh,
she
is the girl’s aunt.’ Dolly anticipated Bea’s query about the middle-aged woman by Stella’s side.

‘Miss Rawlings is pretty,’ Bea said quietly, having made a quick assessment of her child-like successor. ‘Her hair is an unusual colour.’

‘Nothing like as fair and glossy as yours, that’s for sure,’ Dolly sniffed.

Beatrice felt compelled to once more peek at those tumbling red locks...until she noticed Colin watching her. She dragged her eyes away, unexpectedly pitying him. He looked miserable, yet she’d expected him to seem proud of his new status and his young bride-to-be.

Lord Whitley had ambled away, leaving the trio quite isolated, and on impulse Bea started towards Colin, hesitantly at first but then with increasing confidence. She didn’t falter even when her Aunt Dolly guessed her purpose and followed her for a few steps, hissing at her to halt. Neither did she waver on becoming aware that the hum of conversation in the room was receding.

Everybody present was watching her, Bea realised. Still she carried on, till her steady, graceful pace brought her to stand in front of the newly betrothed couple.

‘Hello, Sir Colin.’ It was a level greeting, if lacking in warmth. ‘I hope you have been well since we last spoke.’

Colin ran a finger inside his tightening collar. ‘I’ve been very well, Miss Dewey, thank you,’ he croaked. ‘And you have been well?’

Beatrice inclined her head in answer, smiling at him to put him at ease as his eyes darted hither and thither like a trapped animal. Bea turned her attention to the women, noticing that the younger appeared careless of her arrival. Bea guessed that Stella hadn’t been told the whole story...or perhaps she felt secure enough of her hold over her future husband not to care that a short while ago he had professed to love and want to marry another.

‘Are you not going to introduce me to your fiancée?’

‘Of course... Stella, this is Miss Dewey. We were once...’ Colin’s words tailed away, confirming Bea’s idea that Stella had been ignorant of her existence.

Bea held out a hand and Stella took it, rather lazily, with the hand that sported a garnet engagement ring. Bea wondered if Miss Rawlings had done it deliberately, to flaunt in her face that she now possessed the gem that her predecessor once had proudly worn. But Bea got the impression that the girl’s attitude was prompted by boredom and a lack of breeding rather than rivalry.

‘Margaret Monk is my name.’ The middle-aged woman spoke before Colin had time to make an introduction, and barely touched Bea’s fingers before dropping them.

‘The weather is changeable today, don’t you think?’ The formalities over, Bea made conversation to cover the ensuing awkwardness.

They remained under observation, although a rumble of voices had now lightened the depressing silence. Enduring a few more minutes with her ex-fiancé and his future wife would achieve her purpose. The worst of the excruciating exercise was over and quiet contentment bathed Bea, because this meeting with Colin had stirred little emotion other than her sympathy for him.

She could tell from the intensity of his gaze that he would like to speak privately to her, and indeed she would like to speak to him, too. He owed her father an amount of money that he had promised to repay. Beatrice thought it mean of him to hold on to it now he had bettered himself, and at the first opportunity she would tell him so.

‘We were saying it might storm,’ Colin burst out, when it seemed neither of his companions was going to bother herself with chitchat. Reassured that she had not approached to make trouble, but rather the reverse, Colin gazed at Bea with eyes glowing with gratitude.

‘There’ll be a storm... Oh, indeed there will...’ The look passing between Stella’s future husband and his past love had made Maggie Monk’s blood boil. Stella might not know that Miss Dewey had almost got Sir Colin to the altar, but she did. She gave Beatrice a frosty smile. ‘I think a lady is trying to catch your eye, my dear.’

‘Ah...my aunt...Mrs Pearson...is accompanying me this evening.’ Beatrice stepped away, aware that Mrs Monk had dismissed her and that Colin had allowed it. Stella, on the other hand, seemed as uninterested in her farewell as she had in her greeting. The young woman was sliding coy peeks at her elderly admirer, observing the scene from a distance.