His Beautiful Bea

by Leenie Brown

  “Did I not say she would win?”

  Bea’s already flushed face grew warmer at the note of pride in Graeme’s voice. He was always the first to congratulate her on a game well-played — and not just when she was playing against another. He even managed it when she had beaten him at something.

  She dipped a curtsey in acceptance of his praise before taking her seat on the lawn next to Grace and Everett.

  “Wish me well,” Graeme said to her as he rose.

  “May the best player win,” she replied.

  He could tell by her expression that she expected him to be annoyed that she had not sent him off to be victorious. But instead of kissing her lips, which were puckered in an attempt to hold back her smile, as he surprisingly felt compelled to do, he merely bowed to her with a flourish and said, “Indeed, he shall.”

  Much to his delight, her smile spread across her face at his actions, and he entered this match against Felicity with more interest than he had for any game he had played yet today.

  When play began, Grace and Everett cheered for Felicity to win, as was to be expected. Bea on the other hand held her peace until Graeme nearly missed returning a volley. Then buoyed by the excitement of the moment, she clapped her hands and shouted a well done.

  Hearing her encouragement, Graeme could not help the smile that spread across his face. He gave the shuttlecock a resounding thwack and sent it flying out of Felicity’s reach. He turned and bowed to his audience of three. “Miss Tierney,” he said, extending his hand, “I believe this game is ours.”

  “So, it is,” Bea said as she allowed him to help her to her feet. Then she took her place and play began. It was not a short game. For though, Graeme was finding it challenging to keep his eyes where they should be since Bea was far more delightful to look at than some feathered object, he managed to school himself well enough to send many returning volleys.

  “Oooh,” Bea cried as her ankle turned, and she went sprawling on the grass, the shuttlecock lying just in front of her racquet. “Blast,” she muttered as she pulled herself up to a sitting position.

  “Careful,” Graeme was at her side. “Do not rush in rising.”

  She huffed. “I am well. I am not happy, but I am well.” She brushed at the few bits of grass that clung to her.

  “Your arm is bleeding,” Graeme said, pressing his handkerchief to the scrape just below her elbow on her right arm. “You should have let that one pass,” he chided softly.

  “And let you win?” She brushed at a tear that had escaped the blinking confines of her eyes. The cut on her arm stung and her ankle throbbed, but neither hurt quite so much as her pride.

  He winked at her. “I won anyway,” he said softly. He was rewarded with the small smile he sought.

  “Is she injured?” Max asked. “It was a spectacular move,” he added as he crouched down next to his sister.

  Graeme chuckled. “It was a very graceful leap.” He lifted his handkerchief to examine her scrape. “We should see that this gets cleaned and dressed. Hold this.” He once again pressed the cloth firmly against her still bleeding arm until her hand came to cover his. Then, he slipped his hand out from beneath hers and grabbed her right arm above her elbow as Max took her left arm, and together they helped her rise.

  Bea’s ankle, which had throbbed just sitting on the ground, thrummed with pain as she put her full weight on it. She attempted not to grimace. However, her efforts were not enough for her pain to go unnoticed.

  “Did you turn your ankle?” Graeme asked as he swept her into his arms.

  “Yes,” Bea admitted, “but I am certain I can walk.”

  “You should not walk on it,” Graeme replied.

  “So you must carry her?” Max asked, his eyes registering his shock at Graeme’s holding his sister.

  It had only seemed natural for Graeme to gather her into his arms when he saw her lips clench and her brow furrow as she tried to stand. Now, however, he supposed it did look odd that he should be assisting Bea instead of her brother.

  “It is my doing,” he explained. “I shall see her to the house as penance.” He waited, not breathing for a moment, until Max gave his approval. Graeme would have allowed Max to carry Bea if Max had insisted, but he would not have been happy about relinquishing her. It felt good to have her here in his arms — very good, and, if he was honest, it felt as if this was the place where she belonged. Perhaps Shelton was correct. Perhaps he did need to win Bea’s heart — not to protect it from being broken, but to protect his from such a fate. Indeed, he could not imagine allowing another man — not his brother or even hers — rendering the service he was currently providing, for he could not countenance the idea of her in the arms of another ─ not now, not ever.

  “I can walk,” Bea protested. “My ankle is only a little sore. If you allowed me to lean on your arm, I should be able to make it to the house without a problem.”

  “And how are you going to lean on my arm when your hand is required to press a cloth to your wound?” he asked as he began toward the house.

  “I could tie the cloth around my arm.”

  He shook his head. “No, you must allow me to be the gallant knight.” He winked at her.

  She sighed. “I feel foolish.”

  “You should not,” he answered, tightening his hold on her to press her closer to him. “You have saved me from playing another game.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. She could not deny that being carried by Graeme was more pleasant than hobbling to the house on a sore ankle. In fact, being carried by Graeme was actually quite enjoyable. “You could have allowed me to win. Then you would not have had to play another game.”

  He chuckled. “I rarely allow anyone to win.”

  She laughed at the truth of his words. Graeme played to win — nearly always. She could only think of a time or two that she knew of when he had allowed his mother to win a game of cards. “And you see where that gets you — either playing more of a game, which bores you, or carrying foolish females about the garden.”

  “First,” he replied, “I do not find the game as dull as the company I was forced to keep while playing, yourself excluded, of course. And second, I do not carry foolish females — ever. Had a foolish female fallen, I would have very ungallantly begged someone else to carry her or sent for a footman.”

  “Thank you. You always know what to say to make me feel better.” She smiled up at him from where she rested against his shoulder. “You should know that the only other people who can do that are Max and my father.”

  He bowed his head in acceptance of her word. “I am honoured to be in such company.” He gave her a squeeze. “And just like them, I would do anything to protect you.”

  Her head rubbed against his shoulder as she nodded. “I know,” she whispered as the truth of that statement settled into her heart.

  Chapter 6

  For two long and tiresome days, Beatrice was confined to either a sofa in the sitting room at Heathcote or a bench in the garden. Her mother was not known to coddle her children, but she was not the sort who foolishly flouted precautions, especially when it came to Beatrice. Having nearly lost her daughter to a fever when Bea was just eleven, Mrs. Tierney stuck firmly to all prescribed restrictions, and a turned ankle that showed signs of bruising required, according to Bea’s mother, a full two days of rest with little walking. Mrs. Tierney would not confine Bea to her bed, but she would not have her hobbling about ─ not even with a cane. Bea was to rest with her foot on a pillow.

  It was, therefore, a happy morning on the third day when Bea could rise from bed and take a walk around the garden — a short walk around the garden, one that would not aggravate her injury. Her mother’s words and expression when giving her directives had been stern, and Bea knew better than to disobey.

  So it was that Bea was in the garden near the hedge when her brother, Graeme, and Shelton returned from their ride.

  “Miss Tierney!” Shelton doffed his hat and gree
ted her from where he sat on his horse. “I missed our rematch. I am confident I could have been victorious today.”

  Bea smiled and hobbled over to the hedge that bordered the side of the garden that faced the path to the stables. A groom came trotting up with a second at his heals. “My mother was insistent that I not ride, or I would have accompanied Max.”

  Shelton swung down from his horse. “May I join you for a walk around the garden?”

  “I am only allowed one more circuit before I must sit and rest my foot.”

  “Then one escorted turn about the garden it will be,” he answered with a smile, handing his horse to the groom and heading to the small opening in the hedge just a few feet away. “Do not move. Stay just where you are,” he called as he went. “I shall be there directly.”

  Graeme’s eyes narrowed as he watched Bea smile and welcome his friend.

  “You look out of sorts,” said Max, as he dismounted.

  “Do you not worry about how charming Shelton is being with your sister?” Graeme gave his horse’s neck a pat before allowing the groom to lead him away.

  “I see no harm in it. He shall be gone in a few days. I doubt he can do much damage in so little time.” He smirked at Graeme. “Are you jealous?”

  Graeme frowned. “No, I am not jealous, just well acquainted with my friend and his ways.” It was not a complete lie. He was well acquainted with how Shelton conducted himself with females. It was, however, a complete and utter untruth that he was not jealous. He did not like the way Shelton was smiling at Bea or causing her to giggle. That was Graeme’s job. He was the one to tease her into a smile and shock her into laughter.

  By the time Graeme and Max had made their way through the hedge, Felicity and Grace had exited the house. Everett was, of course, at Felicity’s side. He had once again cried off riding to spend the morning with the ladies. For once, Graeme did not censure him for doing so since he, himself, had wished to do the same thing.

  “Mama said she would have breakfast set out on the terrace,” Bea said as Max greeted her with a kiss on her cheek.

  “Have you eaten?” Max asked.

  “No, I was waiting for you, and you know I like to have some sort of exercise before breaking my fast. Even if that exercise is a very short and slow hobble around the garden.”

  “How is your ankle today?” Graeme asked. “Is it enjoying the exercise as much as you are?”

  Bea grimaced. “It is protesting loudly, but you must not tell my mother. I cannot bear another day of sitting.”

  Max laughed. “Bea may prefer to sit and read, but she does not like to be required to sit and read.”

  It was true. Bea loved nothing better than finding a quiet place to sit with a book. However, she had never enjoyed having books prescribed for her. Her father had been good about allowing her to pick and choose what she wanted to read as a child, but her mother had been a little less obliging. Beatrice could read for pleasure as she saw fit, but there were certain books that her mother thought were necessary for every young lady to read. Bea had dutifully read each without complaint, only sighing over it when her mother was not around.

  “Who won the race today?” Felicity asked.

  “I did,” said Shelton, lifting his chin, puffing out his chest, and looking for all the world like the most pompous of gents.

  The pose, however, was affected with a whimsical smile and air, for though Shelton was confident in his own abilities and person to the point of being obnoxious, he possessed not an arrogant bone in his body. It was this brashness mixed with his natural charm that had made him popular with so many females.

  Graeme’s scowl deepened. It was a further reason that Bea should not be leaning on Shelton’s arm.

  “These chaps were miles behind me,” Shelton continued, looking at Graeme and raising a taunting brow while a smirk played at his lips. “I had half expected to be done with my breakfast before either of them rounded the tree and turned back to Heathcote.”

  “I should think not!” Max argued. “Graeme nearly overtook you at one point, and I was not so very far behind him.”

  “How exciting!” Grace chirped. “To the victor must go the spoils; therefore, Mr. Shelton shall have the first muffin!” She hurried over to the table that had been set out and lifted the cloth from the bowl of muffins, keeping the bowl in her possession until Shelton had seen Bea seated before taking his own seat. Then, she held it out to him with a bit of a flourish, and after he had selected a nice plump cake from the top of the pile, she replaced the cloth and seated herself next to him.

  Bea’s lips twitched, and she shot a knowing glance toward Graeme. Grace had been arranging things so that she could be seated near Shelton ever since the day after their picnic — the day when she had played shuttlecock with him. It was obvious to anyone who was paying the smallest amount of attention that Grace was interested in capturing the gentleman’s notice.

  “Mr. Everett Clayton has been invited to the Abernathy’s house party. Is that not the best news?” Grace said as she carefully sipped tea from her cup.

  A breeze tugged at the cloths covering the food on the table as if it wished to make a plate of breakfast for itself. Bea looked at Everett, whose cheeks had grown the faintest bit rosy.

  “Is this good news?” Graeme asked his brother pointedly, not caring that it flustered him. His heart did not know whether to rejoice at the news or be saddened. If his brother was gone, he could have Bea all to himself and perhaps convince her of his worth. However, he also knew that if Everett was delighted to attend a house party, he was very likely fully lost to Felicity and such news would make Bea unhappy, and he could not bear the thought of her being unhappy even if it would lead to his own happiness.

  “It is not bad news. A house party is always a good time,” Everett replied.

  Graeme glanced at Bea and was relieved to see that she did not appear to be distressed by his brother’s reply.

  “Yes,” Shelton agreed with a sly smile, “house parties can be a grand time as long as you avoid the true purpose of them.”

  Grace blinked. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “He means he enjoys flirting but not enough to be leg-shackled,” Graeme supplied.

  Bea hid her smile behind her cup.

  “You do not wish to marry?” Grace asked as if such an idea was the most ridiculous one in all the world.

  “Grace,” Felicity chided softly.

  “It is not that I do not wish to marry. I just do not wish to marry now,” Shelton said, picking a morsel of cake off of his plate and popping it into his mouth. “There is plenty of time for marriage when I am older.”

  A bird song rang out from a branch of the tree overhead.

  Shelton looked up. “Even the creatures agree, you see,” he said with a smile.

  “Do you fear it? Or is it just the giving up of freedom that keeps you from the marital state?” Bea’s hand flew to her mouth. “Forgive me. That was most improper.”

  Graeme saw her cheeks redden. “Thinking aloud?” he asked. It was an unusual thing for Bea to speak without thought, and he could imagine how mortified she must be.

  She nodded.

  “So, Shelton, what is it?” Graeme asked. “Fear or freedom?”

  “You do not need to answer.” Bea shot Graeme a look of displeasure.

  Graeme shrugged. “I am curious to hear his answer,” he said with a smile. Perhaps if he could be more improper than she, it would lessen her mortification. From the look on her face, he was not certain that it was a good plan.

  “I have no qualms about answering as long as every other person at the table answers as well,” said Shelton. He looked at each person and receiving a nod, turned to Bea. “And you, Miss Tierney? Will you answer?”

  She nodded. “I will start if you wish.”

  He waved his right hand in a fashion to encourage her to continue.

  “I am kept from the marital state by the lack of an offer,” she said with a smile.

>   “Do you have a beau who should be making this offer?” Shelton inquired.

  Bea shook her head. “No, sadly, I do not.”

  “But you are not opposed to the idea of a beau or marriage, then?”

  “No, Mr. Shelton, I am not. However, the gentleman must be of a good moral character and be someone I could love and respect and who would return those same feelings to me.”

  “Wisely said, Miss Tierney. I, too, would wish for love and respect in marriage.”

  “Yes, but that is not what keeps you from it, is it?” Graeme prodded. He did not like the way his friend was smiling at Bea nor the way Bea’s eyes had dropped to her plate.

  “No, it is not,” Shelton replied, shooing a fly away from his cup of tea before taking a sip. “I believe the question was if it was fear or freedom that kept me from marrying.” He turned to Bea. “Would either of those keep you from marriage if there was a gentleman wishing to make an offer.”

  “You are not offering, are you?’ Max said with a grin.

  “No, no, no. I am not ready to marry anyone even if they are as lovely as your sister or cousins. I was merely posing a question of interest.” His eyes slid from Max’s face to Graeme’s. “For curiosity sake.” He smiled at Bea. “I have not offended you, have I?”

  She shook her head. “No, I am not offended, nor am I so entrenched in my freedom, such that it is as a young lady under the authority of her mother and brother, to refuse an offer if extended by a gentleman of good moral fiber, who would show me both love and respect.” She gave Shelton a pointed look.

  “Yes, yes, that is true, a young lady’s freedom is not the same as that of a gentleman,” he acknowledged before she continued.

  “I do not fear marriage to such a man.”

  “Well said, Miss Tierney. Now, I shall answer. Both fear and freedom keep me from seeking a wife at this particular time in my life. Being a husband and father comes with great responsibilities to which, to be blunt, I am not certain I feel adequate. And then, I do enjoy my freedom. My time is mine to a large extent as is my income.” He shrugged. “It is not perhaps the best of answers, for it certainly does not show me to best advantage, but there it is.”