“Yes, my lord. You said I was right and you were wrong and that if you could undo it, you would.”
Christian frowned. “I didn’t say that, exactly.”
“Perhaps it was just my imagination. I sometimes daydream, you know.”
“Well…I would undo it, you know. But I cannot. I just wanted you to know that from now on, I will heed your advice more.”
Reeves’s gaze dropped to Christian’s waistcoat. “Indeed, my lord?”
“Except in matters of dress.”
Reeves sighed. “I knew there would be a caveat, my lord. There always is.”
Despite everything, Christian had to smile, though it was not a large one. “I will tell you one more thing, too.”
“I await with bated breath, my lord,” Reeves said dryly.
“You were right about Lady Elizabeth, too. She is quite special.”
“Indeed, my lord. One has but to see her to know that. Innocence is a difficult trait to hide.”
Innocence. Christian considered this a moment. She was innocent, indeed. But she was also intelligent, sensual, and generous. He thought it was perhaps that last aspect of her character that engaged him the most; she effortlessly gave of herself—her thoughts, her abilities, her heart.
But innocent? That did not quite describe the quality that gave her that soft glow. It was more the quality of goodness.
For a man who’d once lived in the cold and dirty alleyways and back streets of London and knew hardship as a way of life, someone who had sold his soul so many times, he had long since given up hope of getting it back, Beth’s generous spirit was almost overwhelming. And yet…he craved it. Craved her.
Christian caught Reeves’s questioning gaze. “She is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known.”
“I would have to agree,” Reeves said reflectively. “Lady Elizabeth is quite beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful of all the women I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
“Have you met many?”
“Your father was a very well-known and well-liked man. He never lacked for female companionship.”
Some of the humor left Christian. “Then they must not have known him.”
“Precisely, my lord. And once they did, they left.”
Christian frowned. “Like my mother?”
Reeves bowed.
“Really? I always thought he had left her.”
“He begged her to return but she would not. And frankly, I do not blame her. He was innately selfish. I do not think he could change, even if he wished to.” Reeves paused. “I have often thought that the facility to change, to adapt for the better, was a trait to be valued. It is what makes us redeemable.”
Christian considered this. “Perhaps I have been inflexible, though I still believe Beth’s grandfather to blame for Mother’s death. The evidence—I think Beth will have to agree once she reads all of it.”
Christian stirred restlessly, wishing he could see her again now. He glanced at the clock and frowned. It was early yet. He rubbed his fingers together, realizing that he found being “respectable” onerous. God, how he missed riding the heath, the flash of a sword in the moonlight, the shrill cries of the outriders.
There was nothing more exciting than that. Or was there? He had an instant vision of Beth this afternoon, sitting in her garden, the soft breeze stirring her hair, the scent of lilies and roses all about. What was she doing now? he wondered. He pictured her in the garden, reading the missives he’d left with her. Would she be shocked to find that her grandfather was, in fact, responsible for a crime?
He frowned. He hoped she was not too upset at the thought. Because of Beth and her unique way of experiencing life, he was beginning to think his own existence a little lacking.
Something stirred in his breast, something warm and expanding. Something a little like love.
By Zeus, where in the hell had that thought come from? Christian shook his head to dislodge the ridiculous idea.
“My lord?” Reeves appeared concerned. “Are you well? Does your head pain you?”
“No, no. I am fine. I just had a stupid thought, is all.”
“Ah. And what was that thought, my lord? I take it that it did not have anything to do with wearing that black waistcoat?”
“It had nothing to do with clothing.”
“A pity,” Reeves said with a long-suffering sigh. “If you were not thinking of clothing, then your thought must have had something to do with Lady Elizabeth.”
“Reeves, I am not going to tell you anything.”
“Yes, my lord.” Reeves walked toward the door. “Though it is a pity…”
“What’s a pity?”
“That you will miss so much sleep. Unsettled thoughts will fester in the night air and leave one tossing and turning. I have seen it many times.” With that cheery thought, Reeves opened the door. “I shall be just outside if you decide you wish to discuss the matter further.”
Christian glared at the closed door but did not move to call Reeves back in. The butler was probably right and there would be little sleep tonight. But Christian was not going to share such a preposterous idea, one born, no doubt, from the difficult situation he and Beth found themselves in.
He needed to focus on finding that damnable necklace, and then he could extricate himself from Beth’s life and they would all be the better for it. Tomorrow, when he saw her, he would be all business. Never again would he succumb to the temptation of a kiss.
Chapter 14
If you find your employer out of sorts, do not immediately leap to the conclusion that his mutton was burned or there was too much starch in his cravat. It is a foolish man who apologizes without reason.
A Compleat Guide for
Being a Most Proper Butler
by Richard Robert Reeves
“What are you doing?”
Beth glanced from the library window to Grandfather, who stood inside the door, leaning heavily on his cane. “As you can see, I am looking out the window.”
“Waiting on that jackanapes, aren’t you?”
That was just like Grandfather to call the man he’d forced to declare himself to her, a jackanapes.
Beth shook her head wryly. “If you are referring to my fiancé, yes.”
“Fiancé, humph!” He glared at her from under his bushy brows as he went to sit in his favorite chair by the fire. He sat heavily, wincing as he did so, then pulled his shawl from the arm of the chair and spread it over his lap.
Beth went to help him, making certain his feet were covered.
He glanced up at her. “So? How do you like having a fiancé?”
“Does it matter?” She took the chair opposite his. “Grandfather, let me remind you that you were the one who wished me wed.”
“Yes, but you were the one who made such a cake of yourself that I had no choice but to insist on it,” he returned sourly. “You didn’t leave either of us a choice.”
“A fact you turned to your advantage. You wished me married well before the scandal.”
“It was fortunate, though I wish you had taken better care of the family name.” Real anger flared in his gaze.
A pang of remorse pinched Beth. “I’m sorry about that. You are right.”
“Yes, I am. The family name has been damaged already, what with—” His thin lips snapped together. “Never mind that. As you say, it worked out well enough, I suppose.”
“I suppose Westerville will do,” Beth said, keeping her voice as neutral as she could. “It’s not as if there were a hundred suitors knocking down my door.”
His brows lowered even further. “Never could figure that out. Fine-looking gel like you, no nonsense to her, neat as a pin, and with a fat dowry; I don’t understand what went wrong.”
Beth looked down at her slippers. “Who knows? Men are very difficult to figure out.”
“No, we’re not,” Grandfather said, stamping his cane on the floor. “Men are very simple creatures, the lot of us. There’s no reaso
n you didn’t take.”
Beth bit her lip. “Well…actually, there is a reason.”
“What?”
“I, ah…well, I didn’t really wish any of the men I met to importune you with offers and such.” Beth fidgeted with the fringe on a pillow under her elbow.
“Go on,” Grandfather said grimly, his white brows lowered.
“So I thought that I could help with that.”
“What did you do?”
“I stuttered.”
“You did what?”
“I stuttered. L-l-like th-th-th—”
He threw up a blue-veined hand. “No!”
She hung her head, peeping up at him, a smile trembling on her lips. “Yes.”
Grandfather dropped his hand into his lap. “You stuttered. And they all ran off like—”
“The fools that they were? Yes.”
He shook his head, though an amused gleam lit his eye. “You are incorrigible. I hope Westerville knows what a handful you are.”
Beth wisely didn’t answer. The truth was, of all the men she’d met in London, only Westerville had been the least bit interesting. What was it about him? He was certainly handsome, but it was more than that. It was the way he looked at her as if infuriated and fascinated at the same time. The way he was so steadfast about finding his mother’s betrayer.
Beth slipped a hand into her pocket. There rested the packet of letters. She’d read them yesterday in the garden, then twice more in her room before retiring for the night. Hours later, she’d found herself in bed, awake, her mind still mulling over the words, picturing the plight of the woman who’d written most of the letters, could hear the echo of deep, residing pity in the missive from the bishop. It was a convincing and emotional collection; she could see why Christian was so convinced that her grandfather was involved.
Yet there were still things that didn’t quite ring true. Why would Grandfather wish Christian’s mother such ill? There was nothing in the evidence to suggest a tie of any sort. Furthermore, Grandfather had an extraordinary amount of funds and he was not fond of jewelry; he wore nothing more than a signet ring, in fact. Why would he wish to procure a necklace?
Something was missing from this story. Yet Beth had to admit that Christian’s suspicions weren’t entirely unfounded; though the evidence was not damning, it was certainly significant. She might not agree with his hasty conclusions, but she had to admire his unwavering commitment to his goals.
And then there was the way he made her feel…She’d spent a good half hour this morning questioning Annie on this rather alarming aspect of being near Westerville. Annie seemed to think Beth a woman to be envied.
Was she? Beth wondered. Was she to be envied?
“Beth?”
She looked up to find Grandfather regarding her. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you want to marry?”
“I don’t think I ever really said I—”
“Don’t tell me that! I know what you think and you don’t wish to marry, not even Westerville.” He leaned forward. “Why not?”
“Because…” She bit her lip. To be honest, somewhere deep in her heart, part of her wondered the same thing. What would it be like to be married to Christian? To wake up with him? Eat breakfast with him? Share the newspaper and gossip? She looked around the library, trying to picture him here.
Strangely, she could. He would enjoy talking politics with Grandfather, she just knew it. And he’d already admitted an interest in managing the land—he’d even admired his father’s abilities for that. She sighed. “I don’t want to marry because I don’t wish to make a mistake.” She caught Grandfather’s gaze. “Like father and Charlotte. I don’t remember much, but he was never happy with her.”
Grandfather winced. “Your father regretted that marriage from the day it happened.”
“Then why did he marry her?”
“He was lonely. And he thought it would be good for you, although one only has to look at the woman to know she hasn’t a mothering bone in her body.”
Beth sighed. “I want a relationship, but then again…I don’t.”
To her surprise, Grandfather cackled. “That’s quite normal, my girl. Quite normal indeed. There are no guarantees in this life. You have to take what you can get and enjoy it while you have it. That’s what your father didn’t do.” Grandfather’s face darkened. “After your mother’s death, he locked himself away, translating this and that and ignoring life. I don’t ever want that to happen to you.”
“He loved literature.”
“He should have loved life. And you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him, and he was too busy moaning over the loss of your mother to realize it. Then, when something did wake him up and make him feel alive, it was too late. He’d already settled for—” He stopped and clamped his lips shut.
Beth frowned. “Grandfather, what are you—”
The door opened and Jameson entered. “Pardon me, my lord, but it is eleven.”
Grandfather tossed aside the shawl. “Time for my nap.” He took his cane and hobbled toward the butler. “Beth, you should get some sleep, too. You might need it if that fiancé of yours ever makes an appearance. You’re looking a bit haggard lately.”
“I’ll have to ask Charlotte for some of her medicine. I’m getting as distracted as she is.”
“Hardly. You could go for two weeks without sleep and still outwit that ninnyhammer.”
“Grandfather! You are so unkind to Charlotte. To everyone, in fact. Even Lord Bennington—”
“Is an even bigger fool! He takes advantage of Charlotte and she lets him.”
“I don’t know why you think that. Bennington has never been anything but kind to her.”
“You don’t know either of them the way I do,” Grandfather snapped.
Beth sighed. It would do no good to upset Grandfather. She stood. “I suppose I should go upstairs, too. Perhaps a nap would be just the thing. By the way, if Westerville comes today, will you please attempt to be nice to him, at least?”
“I am nice to him! Told him he had to marry you, didn’t I?”
“I would hardly call that ‘nice.’ If you wish me to get married, it seems you could show a little respect when I speak about my fiancé.”
“I show respect.”
“You did everything but spit at my feet when I said his name.”
Grandfather’s blue eyes twinkled reluctantly. “Well? I didn’t spit, did I? That’s something, isn’t it?”
Beth had to smile a little. “I want your promise you will be polite. It’s important to me.”
Grandfather’s gaze sharpened. “Oh! It’s like that, is it?”
Her face heated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He cackled, pleased with something as he hobbled to where Jameson stood patiently holding the door. “No, my dear. You probably don’t. But you will!” With that cryptic statement, he disappeared with the butler to the hallway.
Annie leaned against the windowpane, her cheek smooshed almost flat as she tried to peer out the corner of the window.
“Can you see anything?” Beth asked for the hundredth time, tying a ribbon in her hair.
“No. Not a bloomin’ thing.” Annie sighed and straightened. “Ye’d think yer man would have come to see ye already.”
“He came yesterday, while I was in the garden.”
“Hooee, ye didn’t tell me that!”
“I don’t have to tell you everything. He is coming again today.”
“It’s gettin’ late, isn’t it?”
“He keeps London hours still, I daresay.” Plus, she’d sent him a note this morning not to come until well after eleven. That was when Grandfather took his daily nap. That way, she could be assured of at least a little privacy before Grandfather joined them.
“London hours,” huffed Annie. “London this and London that. I wouldn’t give ye ten pence fer the whole town.”
“Didn’t you like it there, Annie?”
<
br /> “Not a bit, my lady. I was never so glad as when I came home to me own room and trundle bed.” Annie shook her head. “There’s a sight more men there, I have to admit that. But they don’t be of the quality I’d recommend.”
Beth fidgeted with the silver-handled brush on the dresser. “Annie, you once told me you knew you were in love when you felt like you had the ague, but didn’t. Well…what if I don’t feel like I have the ague exactly, but I feel…trembly inside.”
“Oh yes, my lady! Trembly will do it, too. Ye have to feel different and sometimes sort of scared-like.”
“Ah!”
“Aye. Sort of prickly-like. And a little itchy in places I won’t be mentioning.”
Beth blinked. “Itchy?”
“Some might call it a quiet yearnin’. But me, I call it ‘itchy.’”
That was certainly interesting…and far more information than Beth had wished. “I see. Well. I will remember that.” She thought for a few minutes. Christian would be here soon. And he did indeed make her a little “itchy,” if she understood Annie’s term correctly.
She looked up at Annie. “I need you to do something for me, if you please.”
“Aye?”
“After His Lordship comes to call, could you get the footmen out of the front hallway?”
Annie beamed. “Planning a tryst, are ye? Well, seein’ as how ye’re engaged to the fellow, I don’t see why not. A little rumpus never hurt no one.”
Beth started to correct the maid, then thought better of it. “Yes, well. Thank you, Annie.”
“Aw, ’tis naught.” Annie smooshed her cheek back to the glass. “I think…aye, there he be!” The maid straightened, smiling widely. “My, he looks right well, dressed like a prince.”
“I shall go downstairs immediately.”
“Wait there, my lady! Ye don’t want to appear too interested.”
“But—”
“Trust me on this. It does ’em good to be kept waiting. Makes them crazed to see ye.”
“Crazed is right, but not in a good way. Besides, I want to get there before Grandfather knows he’s here.”
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