by Abigail Agar
“Seven, nearly eight,” he replied.
“Regardless, I would not have thought you had recovered this much. Truly, it has been going around that you may as well have lost your legs for the damage that was done,” she said.
Lavender cringed at this ignorance. She could hardly believe that people were saying he had nearly lost his legs. Did they know nothing at all? It was a dreadful situation he had experienced, but this was too much.
At that moment, she realized that Lady Foster had probably abandoned her blossoming courtship for this very reason. From everything she had heard, Lady Foster had been the one to try and initiate the relationship with Lord Beckman. She had been deeply interested in him.
And then, she had unceremoniously ended things. With just a brief note. And no wonder. She had believed that he was going to be an invalid, and she would have to care for a man without legs, someone who could do nothing and go nowhere on his own. Even with maids and staff, she would be expected to assist him in many ways.
This was a woman of great pride. She would never subject herself to marrying a man with no legs. For a lady who was so obsessed with her nobility, the very idea of that would be unconscionable.
Lavender abhorred the thought that a man could be so dejected as a result of something he could not control. Why would anyone put him through something like that? Why would Lady Foster believe that she was justified in this?
Whatever the reasoning, Lavender looked upon her with disdain. It hardly mattered. It was not as though Lady Foster was going to see that look in Lavender’s eyes and note that there was something wrong.
“Well, Lady Foster, we should probably be moving on,” Lord Beckman said, as though he was more than ready to be finished with the conversation.
But Lady Foster was not so ready.
“Lord Beckman, before you depart, I should very much like to ask if I may call on you,” she said.
“Call on me?” Lord Beckman asked as if he could not believe her request.
“Yes, of course. I know that it has been quite some time since we have seen one another. I did not wish to … to bother you, following your accident, that is,” she said, stumbling over her manipulative words for the first time.
Lavender could see that Lord Beckman was not quite trusting her, but there was something about the offer that appeared to melt his iciness just enough to give Lady Foster hope.
“If you would like to pay a call on me, you may. I am not getting outside as much as I should like, and I am happy to receive visitors,” he said.
“Oh, that is excellent. I really would like to come and see you, now that I know it is acceptable,” she said as if she had not thought it would be before. This was foolishness, of course. Lavender knew, as certainly anyone would, that Lord Beckman would have appreciated visitors from the very beginning. It was not this ignorance that had led her to stay away from him.
It was selfishness.
“I am sure of it, Lady Foster. Well, now you know,” Lord Beckman said.
At last, Lady Foster said her farewells and departed from them, leaving Lord Beckman and Lord James standing there, bewildered. Lavender, who understood with ease the sort of woman Lady Foster was, simply felt disgusted.
“My goodness. What was all of that about?” Lord Beckman asked Lord James.
“As if you do not know,” Lord James replied in a hushed tone.
Lavender felt terribly awkward to be standing there, aware that this would transition into a rather personal conversation. She didn’t wish to eavesdrop, but unless they dismissed her to walk away, she had no choice but to stand there with the two of them.
“What do you mean by that?” Lord Beckman asked.
“You know what I mean. She was trying to pretend as though she thought she was doing you a favour,” Harold replied.
“What sort of favour?” Lord Beckman asked.
“As if it had been justified, her lack of communication with you. She wanted you to think well of her that she was only trying to help you by staying away,” Lord James said.
“That is complete nonsense,” Lord Beckman said.
“I agree, but that is what was in her mind. I would bet you anything. She is being quite foolish,” he said, still remaining quiet.
Lord Beckman took in a deep breath and shook his head, incredulous.
“I wish I could understand what that woman wants. Honestly, she pursued me for such a long time, and now, it would appear, she cares nothing for me at all. What am I meant to do?” Lord Beckman asked.
“That is the question, I suppose. What do you wish to do? What would make you happiest?” Lord James asked.
“I would be happiest if I did not have to try and figure out the wants and desires of a woman who cannot figure it out for herself,” he replied, frustrated.
“And there it is. That is enough of an answer, is it not? You do not wish to be with her,” Lord James said.
But Lord Beckman did not immediately agree, and this gave Lavender a sick feeling in her gut. She wondered what it meant for the future. Was Lord Beckman going to fall back into the trap of that woman? Was he going to decide that he wanted to be with her, after all?
The idea of it was awful. If he wished to marry a woman of nobility, Lavender felt that she could find it within herself to accept it. It would be difficult, and it would make her sad, but she could accept it.
This, however? Being willing to care for Lady Foster after everything that had happened? That was something she could not readily accept. It was sad to think that Lord Beckman would be willing to be so mistreated by her and then give in once she decided that she wanted him again.
To Lavender, it appeared that Lord James agreed with her assessment. And yet, he did not jump in to insist that Lord Beckman avoid this woman at all costs. Instead, he was waiting, patiently, for Lord Beckman to make his own decision.
It was the action of a friend, but Lavender did not want him to be a friend. She wanted Lord James to insist that Lord Beckman forget about this woman.
“So, you believe that she still has feelings for me?” Lord Beckman finally asked.
Lavender stiffened and clenched her jaw. Why was he interested in finding out? Why did he care?
“I should say so. It certainly appears as though she regrets having jilted you. I think that if you wanted to be with her, you would have that chance, although I strongly caution you against such a choice,” Lord James said.
Lord Beckman nodded in consideration. Meanwhile, Lavender felt her hope sinking ever deeper. It had been one thing when she knew that their stations kept them apart, but it was something else entirely to think that he actually wanted another woman.
This was jealousy, and jealousy was not something Lavender often allowed herself to feel.
“Miss Philips, I think we should move on,” Lord James said, startling her out of her thoughts.
“Indeed, My Lord,” she replied, pushing the chair onward and keeping pace with Lord James, who looked at her with a sort of compassion blended with apology.
“Anyway, that was a rather bracing moment, but it is over, Ronan. You would do well to think through what you want. Because if it is not Lady Foster, you should be sure to leave her behind and never again consider the idea of her again,” Lord James said.
And Lavender hoped that he would. She hoped that he would let go of all hopes that this was the right woman for him.
But it pained Lavender to admit that she also wanted Lord Beckman to care for her.
Chapter 18
The last thing Ronan ever anticipated was for Lady Foster to follow through in what she had said.
And yet, here was the little card in his hands, saying that she would pay a call that afternoon.
It had been two days since seeing her in Hyde Park, and Ronan had started to think she would once more leave him in the dust, forgetting all about him and letting him feel like a fool for having had any hope that there could still be something between them.
Ron
an was not sure he wanted it. After all, she had proven herself to be someone very different from who he had once believed her to be. Ronan was starting to wonder if Lady Foster had shown her character enough that he could now see what an awful woman she really was, or was it that he had been the one to change?
Perhaps he had actually been quite like her before, ignoring those in the labour of service such as the maids and butlers, expecting everyone to do whatever he wanted at a moment’s notice. Maybe he was only noticing these things now because of how hard he worked to shift his perspectives.
Of course, it was still difficult at times. Just the day before, he had been forced to stop himself from lashing out at the groom, who had left a piece of straw on the floor after having come in to ask if he had any plans to go out that day.
But Ronan had managed to restrain himself, trying to bear in mind that not everyone was perfect, and a maid would clean it up later as he lay in bed resting.
Still, it was very strange for Ronan when Miss Philips came into the room to help him into the chair. Her eyes held a silent dread, and he could only imagine that the cause was Lady Foster.
“Are you all right?” Ronan asked.
“Certainly, My Lord,” she replied flatly.
“I feel as though you are … uncomfortable,” he said.
“Not in the least, My Lord. I am simply trying to help you get ready for your afternoon meeting,” she said.
Miss Philips was stiff, but Ronan felt rather strange about all of this as well. He disliked having Miss Philips assist him in preparing to see another woman. There was something that felt like betrayal. He could not allow himself to ponder it further, but Ronan wondered if he was unjustified in meeting with Lady Foster when Miss Philips was the one he truly wanted to speak with.
And why was that? Why had she become so important to him? He still couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was just something so vastly different about her. Something that intrigued him.
Perhaps it was her intelligence or her lack of a desire to dally or gossip or primp. She was a woman who saw the world through a mechanical view, but that did not make her unfeeling. Rather, she was highly compassionate.
It was a mix that he had never seen before in a woman.
“I hear a coach. Shall I take you to the drawing room?” she offered.
Ronan nodded, not knowing what he should say.
Miss Philips took him to the drawing room, and he saw and waited until Lady Foster was shown through the door by Miss Stevens.
“Oh, Lord Beckman, how wonderful,” she said, curtseying.
“Nice to see you, Lady Foster,” he said, bowing his head in her direction. “Forgive me if I do not stand.”
“Oh, you are so funny,” she said with a laugh.
Miss Philips sat quietly in the corner, saying nothing and becoming invisible in her own way. Ronan hated to see how easily it happened, but he was unsurprised. With Lady Foster there, she may as well not have existed at all.
Lady Foster sat on the settee across from Ronan and grinned, straightening her back to appear lovelier.
Miss Stevens disappeared from the room, and he figured she would be fetching the tea.
“Well, you must tell me how you are doing. You know, it was so very tragic how everything came about. I was deeply worried for you but did not think that you would want visitors who could see you in your … condition. Not only that, but I was led to believe that you were far worse for the wear than you are,” she said, that same girlish laugh.
“Oh, no, I am quite well. I know that it appeared as if I had vanished from society, but I was simply stuck here because of my recovery. It really was nothing,” Ronan said.
“I am glad to hear that. I had been frightfully concerned about you, you know. If you had not managed to get well, I would have just been struck by the tragedy,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Ronan asked.
“I mean … if you had died,” she said.
“Died? There was a rumour that I was dying?” he asked.
“Well, I know that there was a risk of infection, of course. I mean, that is what happens so often, is it not? A man may be perfectly fine one day of his recovery, but the next? He is gone in the night, and no one ever suspected a thing,” she said.
“My goodness, Lady Foster, that is quite a dramatic assumption. No, I am glad to say that I am perfectly fine and always was. There was no risk of my death. Certainly, an infection would have been terrible, but I cannot imagine that I would have died so easily,” Ronan said, still thinking it was a strange comment from her.
“I am glad for that. Goodness, you know how strange society can be, what with all of its silly rumours,” she said, chuckling and shaking her head as if she felt foolish for having believed this one.
“Yes, I suppose so. Now, what do you say we try and move on from this topic?” Ronan offered. He didn’t wish to talk about his injuries any further.
“Oh, of course. I must tell you all about the ball at the Weatherly estate last evening. You would have found it quite hilarious. Lady Pinkford actually wore a brown stole with her green gown. Can you imagine? A brown stole with a green gown? Oh, it was positively hideous. But she claimed that her husband bought it for her in the East Indies,” she said.
Ronan was still not certain why this story should interest him, but he waited as the tea was brought in, and Lady Foster took a sip.
“Now, Lord Pinkford is said to have been in the East Indies for all of the past year. But it was just leaked to the society pages three days ago that this was a lie. He was ill. He had some terrible sickness of the lungs and has been in the hospital this whole time. Of course, they were ashamed. But instead of being honest about it, she is still trying to hold to this lie by claiming that is where the stole was from,” Lady Foster said in disbelief and amusement.
“I see. That is very sad for Lord Pinkford,” Ronan said.
“Sad? My goodness, I find it quite hilarious. They think that they can keep this a secret? Goodness, no, not in London. They really ought to know better than that. Do you think anyone would ever allow them to forget it? I cannot imagine what they were thinking to try and make up such a tale, but I, for one, do not appreciate being lied to,” she said.
Ronan took a deep breath and let it out in one huff, not sure what to say.
Lady Foster took another sip of her tea and smiled at him with a charming, beautiful smile. And yet, he found it less charming than he had in the past.
“Everyone shall be delighted when I tell them how well you are getting on. You cannot imagine how sad they all are about what happened to you and the fact that it has taken you out from society for so long,” she said, returning to the subject.
Ronan sensed that she had a renewed interest in him. It was his own heart which he could now not discern. Was he happy about this? Did he want to rekindle the courtship with Lady Foster?
For a while, this was precisely what he had wanted. And he had been terribly embittered when she had seemed to jilt him.
Lady Foster was every bit as stunning as she had always been, and she still had a good deal of wit, although he found that the same humor no longer amused him as he had once been. Gossip was no longer interesting, but rather … sad. Was it really something he wanted to listen to every day as he lived his life with his wife?