"No, of course not, but—"
"No buts." Carlotta held firm.
At Bethanny's nod, she continued.
"Now the final condition His Grace required was that upon Lord Graham's arrival, he is to be unable to find you." Carlotta's grin widened.
"Pardon?" Bethanny tilted her head in confusion. It was customary for the gentleman to be out when the lady arrived. How was this any different?
"Allow me to explain further. For the first day of his arrival, you are to be hidden away. Unable to be found. The first time he shall see you will be at dinner."
"I'm not sure I fully understand—"
Carlotta waved her hand playfully. "His Grace is quite a romantic at heart, dear. You might not be able to see it. However, when I disclosed to him all the particulars concerning the party—"
"You what?" Bethanny was aghast! Never had she expected Carlotta to lay out all the true intentions behind the plan.
"Would you have me deceive my husband?" Carlotta asked softly.
"No, but… I would have preferred…" Bethanny trailed off, uncertain as to how to continue.
"As I said, my husband is a romantic at heart. Truth be told, he didn't expect the deep attachment Lord Graham had toward you, or you toward him. When it became apparent that Lord Graham's intentions were honorable, the duke tried to reason with Lord Graham, but the damage was done. And, I must admit that although it has taken him a bit to get over the idea of his friend offering for you, he has warmed considerably to it."
"I assume that I have you to thank for such a feat?" Bethanny asked kindly.
"No, you may give credit to your guardian. He came to the conclusion himself." Carlotta smiled.
"Why, may I ask, does the duke wish for Lord Graham to not find me upon his arrival, assuming that he does in fact, arrive?"
"Oh, he'll attend, don't you worry about that." Carlotta gave a sly wink. "But, according to the duke, the fact that Lord Graham will not be able to find you will only twist his already prolific imagination and, given the nature of the party — as far as he's concerned — it will only progress the plan and accelerate the desired outcome."
"Diabolical." Bethanny breathed in awe.
"Indeed. I must say I was quite proud." Carlotta's grin widened.
"I'm quite impressed myself. Though, such a scheme truly smacks of Lady Southridge's influence — though I'd never tell him!" Bethanny giggled as Carlotta nodded.
"Undeniably! That was my very same thought. Though I wisely agree with you, he need not know where he gleaned his nefarious, scheming ideas." Carlotta bit her lower lip as if trying to restrain her mirth. She tilted her head, her green eyes studying Bethanny. "Soon, dear. I know the wait is torture, but I have all faith it will work out."
"How?" Bethanny asked in a small voice. "How can you be so sure? This is quite an elaborate scheme, and it might all be for naught. Yet my heart is bursting with fear and anticipation because… what if it does work? And what of love? Am I naïve in hoping for more than a match, but for devotion, love, and honor? Am I unwise in seeking those from Lord Graham? I… I simply am questioning—"
"Yes, you are questioning, because sometimes distance gives us the opportunity to evaluate. This can be both beneficial, yet also detrimental. You mustn't let all your thinking result in an acute lack of hope. That is not what God would have for you."
"I hadn't actually thought of this in the context of God, actually. Though admitting that seems quiet selfish." Bethanny glanced down to her lap, her brow furrowed. It wasn't that she didn't believe in God. After all, church was a monumental part of one's life. However, to think that God would be concerned with something as minimal as her life… she simply hadn't considered the thought.
"Remember the verse, 'Faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love'?" Carlotta asked.
"Of course." It was one of the first ones she'd memorized as a little girl.
"Love is coupled with faith and hope, yet it is declared as the greatest. Love is surrounded by faith — believing without seeing the evidence — and hope — continuing to believe even when you don't see the evidence — because love is consummation of both. Love serves, it lowers itself, love cannot exist apart from faith and hope, yet it is glorified above them because it's the fullness of faith and hope experienced. And, when you are questioning, as you are now, it is easy to lose sight of this truth, letting fear steal it away. Fear is the opposite of love. It's the antithesis of faith, and it always will steal your hope."
"Fear. That's truly what I believe plagues me. Because what if—"
"Indeed, what if, not what will," Carlotta finished, folding her hands in her lap.
"True."
"To get back to answering your question, the true question you should ask yourself is not if this whole scheme will work, but if you trust God enough to allow Him to do what is best for you, even if you don't understand it yourself."
"I—I'm not sure."
"Then that is the answer you must seek. Because it's the only one that will offer peace. But for the record, I can honestly say that while having faith and holding to hope are difficult, they never disappoint. After all, if God closes a door…" Carlotta let the old saying linger.
"He always opens a window?" Bethanny finished.
"And who knows what that window will be."
"How did you get so wise?" Bethanny asked, her heart softly melting into a relaxed state.
"Dear one, all you need to remember is where I've come from and where I am now. After all, one needs to be exceedingly wise to be married to a duke… especially one such as mine." She grinned and nudged Bethanny's shoulder.
Bethanny laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in so long.
Hope.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lord Graham sat on the very edge of his luxurious carriage as it progressed into the countryside around Bath. Every clip-clop of the matched bays' hooves meant that he was one step closer to seeing her.
To setting his plan into action.
Though to be fair, he hadn't come up with much more than to break up the engagement.
But that was enough. The particulars would come later, once he evaluated the situation.
Once he evaluated her.
His thoughts veered toward the dramatic as he sighed and wondered — not for the first, or the twentieth time — if Bethanny had missed him even a fraction of what he had missed her.
Was her engagement a foolhardy way to try and mend the broken heart his departure had caused? Shaking his head, he knew it was wishful thinking that her attachment to him had been so firm.
Though in his next thought, he questioned the validity of such an argument. After all, if she were attached to him, how could her loyalties switch so quickly?
Which brought him to his worst fears: that the emotion, the passion, and loyalty was one-sided.
His.
But then he remembered their last kiss, her forward manner — good heavens! Was she that forward with Neville.
Graham saw red; not till he heard a distinctive ripping noise did he glance down. In his distracted anger, his grip had tightened to the point where he had pierced through the padding below the carriage seat cushion.
Blast it all.
He needed to calm himself. Because all he was doing was speculating. Nothing was known for sure.
Except the most damning of all: that Bethanny wasn't his.
And nothing could have been worse.
Bethanny was strolling in the gardens with Carlotta when a footman made determined strides toward them. Glancing at Carlotta, Bethanny paused and waited, holding her breath.
Could it be?
"Pardon, my ladies. But His Grace dispatched me directly to inform you that Lord Graham's carriage has been sighted." He bowed smartly. "Do you have a reply?"
Carlotta reached out and squeezed Bethanny's gloved fingers, a smile spilling over her lips. "No, simply tell His Grace we appreciate the information."
The
footman bowed and strode away to deliver the message to the duke.
"Did I not say that he would attend?" Carlotta's grin grew unchecked.
"Yes, I scarcely let myself believe—"
"We haven't a moment to waste! Let's get you to your room… and let the afternoon take its course." Carlotta lifted an eyebrow, her gaze seeming to take wicked delight.
Bethanny bit her lip and stared at the large stone structure of Greenford Waters. The next few days would likely determine her future. How she wished she could simply know what the end result would be.
But that wouldn't be faith.
And if there was one thing she had learned, it's that with faith and trust come peace. And that peace was worth its weight in gold.
With a deep breath she exhaled her anxiety and said a silent prayer.
The peace returned, and a smile teased her lips.
Carlotta led them to the servants' entrance to make sure they wouldn't be seen. The large wooden door creaked as Carlotta pushed it open. Still tugging on Bethanny's hand, she glanced back with a saucy grin as they rounded a corner to take the stairs.
"Oh my! What'er you—" A scullery maid was rounding the corner at the same time. With a leap and startled shout, the maid began to berate them only to gasp, cast her eyes downward, and apologized. "A thousand pardons, my lady. I wasn't payin' proper attention—"
"No need." Carlotta held up her gloved hand, her cheeks a light dusting of pink. "If anyone should apologize, it is I."
The maid seemed quite discomfited as her eyes widened slightly at the apology of her betters.
Bethanny hid a smile. The poor maid must be new, for almost everyone was accustomed to Carlotta's unconventionality in dealing with the servants.
After all, she had practically been one a few years ago.
"Beggin' your pardon, miss." The maid curtseyed to Bethanny, and she nodded in return as Carlotta tugged her hand and they ascended the stone stairs that would lead them to the hall so she could slip, unnoticed, into her room.
Bethanny trotted down the hall with Carlotta, her bonnet strings bouncing against her arms as she made her way to the room assigned to her. Swiftly slipping in, she drew in rapid breaths against the tight corset.
"I'll leave you now, but I'll return post haste once he has arrived. And don't fret. I take my role as chaperone very seriously." She wagged her eyebrows. "And I'll monitor Lord Graham's every move and report back."
"Perfect." Bethanny exhaled in gleeful expectation.
"Now, try to relax. It's likely to be a long afternoon. Did you gather the books you wished?"
"Yes."
"Brilliant. Now, if you'll excuse me." Carlotta spun around and slipped through the door.
Bethanny sighed deeply and walked to the window. Carlotta had purposefully given her a window that faced the back wood, eliminating the danger of Lord Graham seeing her upon his arrival from her window perch.
When Carlotta had passed the guest room arrangement by the duke, he had agreed with her choice of location, murmuring something about being thankful for the room's location on the third floor.
Carlotta had giggled as she had explained his strange comment.
Lord Graham had been quite the expert at climbing… and the duke wasn't about to give him an opportunity to exercise his prowess.
So as Bethanny glanced down at the vivid green grass below, she shivered slightly, thinking that it was indeed a fair way to fall. Though there was something utterly romantic about a suitor being so desperate to attempt such a feat.
She glanced back down.
Perhaps not.
If anything was not romantic, it was the suitor plunging to his death.
With a slight shake of her head, she rose and evaluated the teetering piles of books on the table next to her small sitting area. After scanning their titles, she selected The History of Edinburgh.
As she opened the first page, a knock sounded on the door.
"Yes?"
Lady Southridge bustled into the room, closing the door silently behind her. Her green eyes were illuminated with a mischievous sparkle, and her hands were clapping. "He is here! In my haste to find you, I almost knocked over a footman. Poor dear, I think I scared a few years from his life."
"Carlotta and I had a similar instance with a scullery maid," Bethanny confided, her tone light.
"Ha-ha!" Lady Southridge laughed. "Now, I can only stay a moment, I want to be there to assist my brother—"
"Torment, you mean?" Bethanny grinned as she teased.
"What cheek! How can you accuse me — ah, very well. Yes. I want to torture him. I still haven't forgiven him for his utter stupidity in fleeing to Scotland." She exhaled an exasperated sigh. "Don't you tell me you don't think he deserves it." Lady Southridge narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips a she studied Bethanny.
"Indeed he does." She nodded.
"Good girl. Now, I'll report back directly, but I have a little brother to… welcome." Lady Southridge giggled and turned to open the door.
Lord Graham shot out of his seat the moment the carriage wheels ceased their movement. Without waiting for the footman's assistance in opening the carriage door, he lifted the latch and descended the single step till his Hessian boots crunched the gravel beneath them. Taking a fortifying breath, he narrowed his eyes at the large estate. Built before the Tudors, the stone structure was not only imposing, but old and grand in a fashion that couldn't be replicated, though many had tried.
Sometimes age only made things more beautiful, stronger, more secure.
There was a definite undertone to his thoughts, but he didn't pause to evaluate them; he strode toward the grand entrance and took the stairs two at a time till he reached the entrance.
The house party would be in full swing by now, since he was a day late, so hopefully he'd catch them unaware and be able to see Bethanny immediately.
He should have known that wouldn't have been the case.
Rather, as soon as he entered the foyer, he removed his hat and was greeted by none other than his sister.
"You're late." She arched an eyebrow and regarded him coolly.
"It's a pleasure to see you as well. Nice to know I was missed," Graham replied quickly, a tense grin lifting his lips only slightly.
"Nonsense. Of course you were missed." She waved dismissively. "However, that has nothing to do with the fact that the party started yesterday, dear."
"I thought it was fashionable to arrive late, to make a flamboyant entrance." He bowed mockingly, a bit of the tension releasing from his shoulders as he settled into comfortable banter with his sister.
He rose just in time to see the end of his sister's eye-roll.
"Is this any way to greet a guest?"
"You're not my guest," she retorted.
"Forgive me. I thought you had rather forcibly instigated yourself in this family."
"I was invited."
"As was I."
"Yes, but I'm not here to start a ruckus," she shot back, daring him to refute her statement.
"And why do you believe that I'm here on such an errand?" He narrowed his eyes. Was his cause already doomed before it had a chance?
"Because I'm—" His sister paused. "This is no place to carry on this type of conversation. Besides, you must be exhausted from the journey."
"Ah, you do have a heart. I had rather thought that hospitality was only a Scottish custom."
"Bah." Lady Southridge swatted at him playfully and directed him up the stairs, then continued on the first landing.
Graham glanced up at the second flight of stairs and furrowed his brow. Normally the guests were given rooms on the third floor. Odd.
"Er, sister dear, where are you taking me?" he asked as he jogged slightly to catch up with her.
"As I said earlier, you are late. I assured His Grace that though you are one of the higher-ranking gentlemen in attendance, you forfeited your right to one of the grander rooms through your tardiness. So naturally, Neville recei
ved your customary room, he, being the guest of honor, and you will need to establish your lodgings here." She paused before a plain door.
"I knew this was a bad idea," Graham grumbled.
"No, rather, this is the best idea you've had in some time. I must confess, I was concerned that you wouldn't show up at all… but you know…" she leaned in slightly till her flowery fragrance floated around him, reminding him of his childhood, "some things are worth fighting for." She offered him a kind smile then opened the door.
Graham cleared his throat, and glanced inside. The room was small but clean, with a small bed to the side and a window that overlooked the front of the estate. It could have been worse.
Though it did boil his blood to know that Neville was established in his room. Blasted blackguard! Not only did he have to steal his woman, but his room? It went beyond the pale! With a grunt, Graham strode purposefully into the room and stared out the window, praying for a glimpse of Bethanny.
All he saw were ducks.
"I meant what I said, you know. And I must offer a word of caution." His sister's voice softly echoed in the room.
"Oh?" Graham asked without turning.
"Yes, you see, I might have… rather, I did offer privileged information in my letter to you. Lord Neville has spoken with the duke about his intentions toward Bethanny, but His Grace has left the final decision to Bethanny."
"Pardon?" Graham felt his brow furrow as he gazed intently at his sister.
Could it be?
"Miss Lamont, Bethanny, isn't aware of his intentions as of yet. Carlotta thought it a wise idea to have a house party where she and Lord Neville could come to know one another and help Bethanny with such a decision as marriage. That being the case, you are not to mention such… sensitive information… at any point during your stay. Are we in accord?"
"I see. So Beth — Miss Lamont is not spoken for?"
"Not at the moment." His sister leaned forward, a devilish smile playing across her lips.
To Tempt an Earl Page 16