by Vella, Wendy
“I thought they were in Spain?” Lord Plunge asked.
“That was in book one, Plunge. Do keep up,” the Duchess of Raven declared.
“My love, are you harmed?” Lady Levermarch continued from her position on top of her horse.
“She really does have marvelous balance,” Miss Saint-Bonnard said. “I’m amazed Zach is still standing. The man trips over his own feet regularly.”
“I heard that.”
Zacharial Deville read next, his voice rising and falling between characters. Lady Levermarch held the book for him. The brothers stood silently watching them from below.
To have that honor and attention focused completely on her had been a wonderful thing. She’d loved how Nathan had wanted to protect her but had also felt a trifle stifled. But then she’d allowed that because she’d wanted to be the perfect future wife. She was no longer that innocent girl.
“And now you may stand down, Devilles,” Lady Levermarch said, elegantly lowering herself back to the saddle, while beside her Zach did the same, tumbling sideways. Nathan simply raised a hand and righted him.
Why had Nathan been in that street? What possible reason could have placed him there? Had he thought about that kiss as she had?
“Frowning like that will cause wrinkles,” Michael Deville said after he’d remounted his horse beside her. She knew Nathan had done the same, as she felt his thigh brush hers.
“Pardon?” Beth looked at the man who was so very much like the one she’d wanted to marry. There were differences, of course, but she saw Nathan in him.
“You were frowning, Miss Carlow. Even I know that every etiquette book ever written suggests that is bad for a lovely complexion like yours.”
He was teasing her, which was a surprise. Surely she was now the enemy of every person named Deville.
“I believe Mary Wollstonecraft was an advocate of frowning, sir.”
“I can imagine she would be.”
Have you read her works, Miss Carlow?” Nathan said from beside her.
Surprised he was speaking to her, Beth turned.
“I have.” She’d read them a few months ago when she’d been desperate for a distraction from her thoughts.
“My sister also. I believe Miss Wollstonecraft was a forward-thinking woman.”
“She was. One of my favorite quotes of hers is, ‘I do not wish them to have power over men; but over themselves.’ I believe the ‘them’ she spoke of was women.”
He wasn’t looking at her, but forward to where Lord Plunge was taking the book from his brother.
“No man should have power over a woman.” The words were softly spoken, but she heard them.
“But that is not often reality,” Beth replied.
His eyes met hers. “No, it’s not.”
“Forsooth, my dear Captain Broadbent!” Lord Plunge roared. “Can you hear me?”
“Aye!” every single person in the circle replied, making Beth laugh.
“I wonder if that man can be any more ridiculous,” Nathan muttered.
“I quite like him,” Beth said, enjoying the truce between them for however long it lasted.
“What? Why?”
“When he is not being an exhibitionist, he’s a wonderful conversationalist.”
“Once you were a woman of insight; it seems that too has slipped.”
His eyes ran over her face, and she saw the anger return, his moment of weakness behind him.
“You at least owe me a reason?”
She turned away and watched Lord Plunge without saying another word. Beth could not give him the reason, and she would not lie to him again.
“Coward,” Nathan taunted her.
“You know nothing about me or my actions,” she said, because she couldn’t stay silent.
“Then tell me the truth. You had no trouble dismissing me in a brief note, and yet you will not speak the words to my face, Miss Carlow?”
“I have no wish to continue this conversation.”
“Because you are a coward.”
“I am no coward, and I will not listen to you insult me that way.” She turned to glare at him.
“Then tell me what I want to know.”
“Go to hell.”
“What did you just say?”
She’d never spoken to him in anything but respectful tones before today. It was hardly surprising he was shocked.
“You heard me, or you would not be asking. But just in case your advanced years are impairing your hearing, I said, go to hell.”
Their eyes held for long, charged seconds, and the anger drained from her as quickly as it had come.
“I never meant to hurt you, Nathan.”
She thought he wouldn’t speak again, as his eyes just held hers for long, heated moments, and then he did.
“Then why did you?”
Chapter Fifteen
You know nothing about me or my actions.
What had Beth meant by those words? Was there more to her leaving than he knew? His brothers had said it was an odd occurrence to just up and leave partway through the season, but his anger and pain had blocked rational thinking when it came to her and that time.
Why had the Carlow family never returned to London for a season?
“You owe me an explanation, Miss Carlow.”
She was so close. He could see her rapid breathing, the wariness in her eyes. He’d been shocked when she’d told him to go to hell. Beth never spoke that way, and most especially not to him. She was kind, gentle, and usually soft-spoken. She’d rarely, if ever, disagreed with him.
“I have nothing further to say, and as there is now another in your life, this is an unnecessary conversation.”
“Another what?”
“It matters not. Just let me go.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Beth?”
She tensed.
“Let me go.” The words were a desperate whisper now. Nathan complied.
“My dear Lady Nauticus, hold on, I will fashion a rope from vines—”
“Vines in an English woodland?” Alexander Hetherington was seated on the step of the Duchess of Yardly’s carriage, legs crossed, resting against the door frame. “I wonder how he found those?”
“Ingenious though, if you think about it,” Cambridge Sinclair said. He was still crunching nuts. “I wonder what knot he’ll use to secure them?”
“A clove hitch, if he’s fixing it to a tree,” the Duke of Raven said.
“Not a bowline?” Benjamin Hetherington asked, which made Mary laugh.
“If I may continue,” Lord Plunge said loudly.
“Send that book to the Sinclair carriage, Plunge,” the Duchess of Yardly directed. “You’ve had it long enough.”
“I protest.”
“Noted. Now do as I have directed.”
The readings continued.
“But my sweet, biddable Dorothea—” Cambridge Sinclair fell down the steps of his carriage, rolled once, and was back on his feet, book still held aloft.
“I say, so her name is Dorothea then?” Lord Plunge said. “Very insightful of you, Lady Levermarch, to have known that.”
“He inserted the name, Plunge. Collect the few wits you have, man, and attempt to use them for the greater good,” the Duchess of Raven said.
The Sinclair twins spoke next, reading in unison much to the delight of the audience. Dimity and Gabe laughed their way through their excerpts while gazing nauseatingly into each other’s eyes, and then it was his turn. Nathan passed the book to Beth.
“But it is your turn,” she protested.
“Ladies first.”
She looked at him and then the book. He knew his eyes were daring her. He was torn between yelling at her and kissing her; thankfully he pulled his riotous anger around him tight enough to do the former.
“Come, Miss Carlow, we are waiting.”
She took the book from him with gritted teeth. Michael raised a questioning brow, but Nathan ignored it. He wanted to feel noth
ing for this woman. Willed himself to do so. But she was here next to him, with her lovely body and sweet scent, and she’d always been his weakness. That and the small niggle of doubt that had crept into his head that perhaps there was more to her leaving him than he’d originally thought.
“Oh, do let Mr. Michael Deville read. His voice is lovely, and I wish to hear the rest of the story from him,” Phillipa said.
“He does read well. When we were children, it was always he who read to us at night,” Nathan said to annoy Michael.
“It’s the pitch.” Zach picked up where Nathan stopped. “It doesn’t grate like some. I could listen to Michael speak all day. He would play all the different voices, changing his tone with each.” He sighed loudly. “I so miss those days.”
“Oh, indeed,” Phillipa cooed.
“Enough,” Michael hissed.
“He used to put on productions as a boy,” Gabe continued. “We would build him a stage, and he’d simply read to us for hours. The neighbors used to come and listen too.”
Phillipa now had her hands clasped to her chest and was looking at Michael like he was the sun and moon all wrapped up in a neat package just for her pleasure.
“I’m killing you,” Michael mouthed to each of his brothers. “I would not want to deprive you of the pleasure, Miss Carlow. Please continue.”
“Oh, please do it for old times’ sake, brother?” Zach said piously.
Phillipa pouted.
“For god’s sake, read, Miss Carlow!” the duchess shrieked.
“I would rather you did not roar at me if you please, Duchess,” Beth said, raising the book. “I am not a member of your staff.”
“Brava!” Dimity clapped loudly, and the duchess smiled, or at least what passed as one. She liked it when people stood up to her. The surprise to Nathan was that it had been Beth that had done so. Why had she never shown him this side of her nature?
“You must endeavor to clasp the end of my makeshift rope, my dearest Lady Nauticus. I have attached the second with a hawser knot, for your use,” she began.
“Ah, the old hawser knot, good choice,” Benjamin Hetherington said. He was seated in the middle of the circle on the grass, legs stretched before him, a bag of roasted nuts in his lap, completely at ease.
“I fear you will drop me,” Beth said in a clear, sweet voice.
“That’s hardly fair,” Lady Levermarch said. “He’s never dropped her before. I fail to see why he would start now.”
“There was that one time in book two,” Mary Blake said.
“Ah yes, the infamous Fortingall Yew tree rescue in Scotland,” Cambridge Sinclair said.
“But it was not a large drop, and she merely tweaked her ankle,” Lady Levermarch added.
“It had to be set,” the Duchess of Raven stated.
Lady Levermarch made a gesture dismissing her words with a hand. “Continue, Miss Carlow. I find your voice comfortable, unlike some of the others.”
“I hope you’re not counting me in that?” Zach said.
“No.” She shot Lord Plunge a look, but as he was brushing some invisible speck of lint from his waistcoat he did not notice.
“I would rather cut off my arm then drop you, my dear sweet one true Dorothea,” Beth continued, and the women and Plunge sighed.
“Not one word, Plunge. She simply inserted that name,” the duke said. “Continue, Miss Carlow.”
She changed her voice for each character, and Nathan had to say she was good. Better than good. Her voice was lovely like the rest of her.
Bloody bothering hell.
“Then pull me up, Captain Broadbent, and let us once again be on our way.”
“Just a moment,” the Duke of Raven said. “Surely with a fall that far she has to have broken something?”
“Ssssh,” his wife said.
“‘Hold tight,’ Captain Broadbent called. It took him several minutes, but eventually he once again held his love in his arms. ‘I fear my ankle is damaged.’ Lady Nauticus wept into his chest.”
“And my point is made.” The duke looked pleased with himself.
Beth read, everyone hung on her words, and when she had finished, there was a round of applause.
“I think that is enough for today. Miss Carlow, you are hereby invited to all my impromptu literary salons,” the Duchess of Yardly stated. “The voice of an angel and not completely witless. You will do.”
“High praise indeed,” Alexander Hetherington said.
“You’ll pardon my ignorance, but how will she know to attend them if they are impromptu?” Plunge said. “And for that matter, how will I?”
“If you are meant to be there, you will be,” the duchess dismissed his words, thereby breaking the man’s heart.
Walter, clearly having had enough of the inaction and Romulus, leapt over Alexander Hetherington, taking his hat with him, and loped away to freedom.
“Blast,” Miss Saint-Bonnard said.
“I’ll get him,” Lady Levermarch declared, giving chase.
“Come, Beth, we must leave.” Mary Blake signaled to her friend.
“Good day to you,” Beth said softly. Nathan nodded, then watched her ride away from him. Were her shoulders slumped slightly?
Not that I care.
“Nathan, is everything all right?”
“Yes, Gabe.”
“That look would suggest otherwise.”
They turned and rode in the opposite direction from that which Beth had taken, and he took perhaps his first full lungful of air since she’d pulled her horse in beside him. Correction, Michael had.
“What are you about?”
“In what way?” Michael asked, his face innocent. Nathan thought about leaning out of his saddle and pushing him off.
“You know what. Leading her mount close to mine. ‘You were frowning, Miss Carlow. Even I know that every etiquette book ever written suggests that is bad for a lovely complexion like yours,’” Nathan repeated Michael’s earlier words to Beth.
“I was being polite.”
“Why?” Gabe and Zach both asked.
“She does not deserve your politeness after hurting our brother,” Zach added. “That woman is a venomous harpy.”
“Do you really think so?” Michael asked. “I’m not so sure she is.”
And just like that, his heart started pounding hard inside his chest.
“Why?” he rasped.
“The woman I sat next to today was devastated, destroyed, heartbroken, whatever you wish to call it, every time she glanced your way.”
“She’s an excellent actress then,” Gabe snarled.
Nathan kept his eyes on Michael.
“I have thought about this since her return to London and believe there is more to the Carlows leaving town.”
“Why is she back then?” Nathan managed to get out. His throat was desert dry, and the niggle was becoming louder with every word his brother spoke.
“I don’t know, but it’s my belief she didn’t leave London voluntarily or stop loving you by choice.”
He’d wondered, of course. Late at night when he lay in his bed thinking about Beth. He’d wondered if there was more to her sudden decision to turn from him, but his pain had not allowed him to truly believe it.
Gabe exhaled loudly. “I hope not, as I was rude to her.”
“What? Why were you rude to her?” Nathan demanded, although he’d behaved the exact same way.
“I told her that night at the Russell ball that I wanted her to keep her distance from you.”
“I’m no longer a child, Gabe. There is no need to see off anyone who may harm me.”
“She did more than harm you, Nathan.”
She broke my heart.
“What did you and Miss Carlow speak of today?” Zach asked Nathan. “I saw you talking, and it did not look comfortable.”
“She said I know nothing about her or her actions.”
The brothers thought about that for a few seconds.
“Whi
ch would strengthen my words,” Michael said.
Had he been wrong about her? He had been so devastated by her words, he had failed to look deeper.
“I guess it is odd that she broke things off with Nathan, then suddenly her family fled London. I mean why would they if she had simply moved on to another man?”
Zach’s words had rage clenching his hands into fists. The thought of anyone but him touching Beth was not to be borne. And yet she chose not to be his… didn’t she?
“So, is there a deeper reason as to why?” Gabe pondered.
“I was so angry, I didn’t think there was a reason for her leaving other than she wanted to get away from me and forced her family to leave London,” Nathan said slowly.
“It was all a bit odd though, surely you can see that now?” Michael said.
Did he? They rode in silence, leaving him alone with his now uncomfortable thoughts.
“What is odd is that we really had no idea the depth of your feelings for her,” Zach said around a yawn. “No one was more surprised than I when Gabe told me.”
Nathan shot the eldest Deville a look; he returned it with a shrug.
“We don’t have secrets.”
“Of course we have secrets,” Nathan said. “Plenty of them, in fact. We just don’t know that we have secrets.”
“That makes no sense, and yet it does,” Zach said.
“Which makes no sense.”
Chapter Sixteen
The pantomime they were to see would, in the normal course of an evening, be something Beth loved. The atmosphere alone usually excited her.
She’d loved entering society for her debut season. Perhaps because she’d made friends easily. She’d enjoyed every wonderful moment until she’d been forced to leave.
Looking around as she and her mother entered the foyer, Beth remembered that little flash of excitement she used to get. The colors and sights were spectacular. The hum of chattering voices, everyone dressed to be seen.
“Mr. Valentine is over there, dear.”
Reality returned as Beth followed her mother’s eyes and found Gilbert Valentine in a large group of people. He was often admired and sought after. She knew this was due to his association with the king. Ignoring the tightness in her chest, she took her mother’s arm.