by Beers, Laura
“Try speaking from your heart,” Harriet suggested.
“If he even has a heart,” Emma muttered under her breath.
Roswell shot his sister an exasperated look. “I can hear you, you know.”
“I was hoping you could,” Emma said with a smirk.
With a shake of his head, Roswell departed from the room, hoping that Miss Bentley would at least be somewhat agreeable when he met with her. Not like the last time they had spoken.
8
Ellie pushed her needle through the fabric as she attempted to avoid poking herself. She was having the hardest time concentrating on the task at hand. She couldn’t stop thinking of Lord Bideford and his ridiculous offer.
What right did he have to dictate her actions? He’d hardly even spoken to her before.
Lord Bideford’s voice came from the doorway. “I hope I am not intruding,” he said.
You are, she thought.
Forcing a smile to her face, she hoped that it was cordial enough. “This is your home, my lord. I am merely a guest.”
“Yes, quite right,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “I have come to speak to you. Do you have a moment?”
“I do.” She put the fabric down on the table next to her. “What is it that you wish to discuss?”
“It has come to my attention that my offer was poorly done.”
Ellie lifted her brow but remained silent.
Lord Bideford walked over to an upholstered armchair and sat down. “You are welcome to reside at our townhouse for the duration of the Season.”
“That is most gracious of you.”
Glancing over at the doorway, Lord Bideford lowered his voice and said, “I will state that my offer was rather generous, given the circumstances.”
“And what circumstances are those?”
“You have no dowry, no prospects,” Lord Bideford reminded her. “You do have an enchanting face, but you are not alone in that.”
“Thank you for that,” she muttered.
Lord Bideford gave her a blank stare. “Do you truly intend to secure an advantageous match for yourself?”
“I wish to try.”
“But why waste our time?”
Ellie lowered her gaze to her lap as embarrassment washed over her. “It is of utmost importance that I make a match this Season,” she admitted.
“If you need money, I suggest you take my offer, and you can live comfortably on it while you work as a companion.”
“If only it were that simple,” she murmured.
“It can be,” he pressed.
Ellie rose and walked over to the window. “You seem to believe that I am destitute,” she said as she stared out at the well-maintained gardens.
“Aren’t you?”
“In a way,” she replied as she turned back to face him.
He cocked his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“When my father died, he left behind a will that entitled my mother to a generous jointure and a dowry for me.”
“I thought you didn’t have a dowry?” he asked.
“I do, and I don’t.”
“I am afraid I am terribly confused.”
“You must understand that the new Lord Worthington is an unscrupulous man, and he has decided that I will be his bride,” Ellie shared. “Every time I have turned down his offer of marriage, he has punished me in some way.”
“How so?”
“He made my mother and I move out of the manor and into a dilapidated cottage on the opposite side of the estate,” she said. “He also forbade me from riding any horses in the stable, including my own.”
“That is terrible.”
“He dismissed all of our loyal household servants and replaced them with his own,” she shared. “Some of them had been with us since before I was born.”
“Have you consulted a solicitor on this issue?”
“There is no solicitor in our village who is willing to go against Lord Worthington,” Ellie said. “The whole village is fearful of him.”
“Then why didn’t you seek out a solicitor in Town?”
Ellie frowned. “Why, indeed?” she asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have the funds at my disposal to hire one, especially since my mother was forced to sell off a piece of her jewelry to pay for my gowns.”
“Is that why you are adamant that you must marry?”
She nodded. “If I marry, then I have the security of my husband’s name. Together, we can sue Lord Worthington and claim what is rightfully ours.”
“What if you don’t marry?”
Ellie wrapped her arms around her waist. “If I fail, then I don’t know what will become of me and my mother,” she admitted dejectedly.
“May I ask how much your dowry is?”
“Twenty thousand pounds.”
Lord Bideford stared at her in disbelief. “That is an impressive dowry.”
“It is,” she replied. “My father earned a fortune in stocks, and I am his only child. It would only stand to reason that I’d be taken care of.”
“How do you know that Lord Worthington won’t honor your father’s will and release the dowry to you once you are wed?”
“Because he has said as much,” she replied. “He is determined to marry me, at any cost.”
Rising, Lord Bideford tugged down on the ends of his maroon waistcoat. “Does my mother know all of this?”
She shook her head. “I did not wish to burden her with all of my problems.”
“I think you were wrong in not doing so.”
“Truly?”
Rising, Lord Bideford replied, “If you had only told us the truth earlier, then we could have already formulated a plan to help you.”
“You have already done so much for me. I do not wish to be a burden.”
“Nonsense. The price of a solicitor is but a trivial matter.” He started walking towards the door. “I shall see to the arrangements.”
Ellie pressed her lips together, then said, “There is one problem, though.”
He stopped and spun back around. “Which is?”
“Lord Worthington doesn’t know where I am,” she shared. “If he did, I have no doubt he would have already arrived to forcefully take me home.”
“Where does he think you are?”
She shrugged. “My mother stayed behind to give the appearance that I was still residing at the cottage, but it will only be a matter of time until Lord Worthington discovers that I’m not there.”
“We could always send a coach to pick up your mother,” he suggested. “Then you will both be away from Lord Worthington’s clutches.”
“It is a small village, and I have no doubt that one of Lord Worthington’s men will see the coach.” She blew out a puff of air. “The only way for our plan to work is to retrieve my mother after I am wed.”
“You do realize that there is a chance that you may never receive your dowry from Lord Worthington, even if you are wed to another?”
“I understand, but I have to try.”
Lord Bideford studied her carefully for a long moment before saying, “I have a proposal, then.”
“You do?” she asked, hesitant about what it could be.
“While you are working to secure a suitor, I will hire a solicitor to help with your legal situation with Lord Worthington.”
A smile came to her face. “That would be wonderful, my lord,” she gushed.
His lips twitched, but didn’t quite become a smile. “You will find that I am not completely unreasonable.”
“I am pleased to discover that.”
Lord Bideford’s eyes showed compassion. “I am sorry for what Lord Worthington has put you through this past year, especially since you were grieving your father.”
“Thank you,” she responded, “but I am afraid there is so much more I haven’t divulged.”
“Nothing he did to you was your fault.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I know, but sometimes it feels that way.�
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“I know I am not one to talk of hope and whatnot, but I do employ a brilliant solicitor,” Lord Bideford expressed. “And if it comes to it, I know an equally impressive barrister.”
“You are most thoughtful.”
Lord Bideford stood there for a moment, looking deucedly uncomfortable. “I am sorry that I misjudged you, Miss Bentley,” he said. “It was terribly unfair of me.”
“You could not have known my plight.”
“That may be true, but I took an immediate disliking to you for no good reason.”
Ellie felt her face soften at his words. “Consider it forgotten, my lord.”
“You would forgive me so easily?” he asked, baffled.
“I would.”
“Even after everything I said and did?”
“I must confess that I am not one to hold grudges,” she revealed.
A silence descended over them and Lord Bideford studied her closely, as if he had a new respect for her. It felt like he was seeing her for who she was for the first time. Finally, he spoke. “If you will excuse me, I have business I must attend to.”
“Of course,” she replied.
He bowed and departed quickly from the room. It almost appeared as if he was running away from her, which was ridiculous. Why would Lord Bideford need to flee from her presence?
He wouldn’t.
Perhaps she had simply imagined it.
“You poor child,” Harriet declared as she sat on the settee across from Ellie. “I feel awful that Lord Worthington has treated you so despicably.”
Ellie gave her a timid smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t confess the truth earlier, but I didn’t wish to burden you with our troubles.”
“I wish you had confided in us,” Harriet replied, “but I do understand your reasoning.”
Emma spoke up next to her mother. “I would like to give Lord Worthington a piece of my mind,” she said. “He deserves to be flogged.”
“And what do you know about flogging, my dear?” Harriet asked, amused.
Emma shrugged. “I am well acquainted with the punishments administered aboard the Royal Navy’s ships.”
“How so?” Harriet questioned.
“I read a book about it.”
“And that makes you well versed?” Harriet pressed.
Emma smiled. “It doesn’t make me an expert, but I do find it rather fascinating.”
“You find everything fascinating,” Harriet said, “but it is not appropriate to discuss in polite conversations.”
“Perhaps one day I will find a gentleman who will want to speak about a myriad of topics, including the Royal Navy’s punishments,” Emma remarked.
Harriet gave her daughter a frustrated look. “I believe you have lofty expectations for a suitor.”
Curious, Ellie asked, “What other punishments are administered aboard a Royal Navy ship?”
“Do not encourage her, Ellie,” Harriet said.
Emma gave her mother a victorious smile. “I’m afraid that most of the punishments were rather harsh, but I would be happy to lend you the book.”
“I would like that,” Ellie replied.
“I should warn you that it is not for the faint of heart,” Emma continued. “The lowest punishments were rather mild, but the severe punishments that were handed out were much more cruel.”
Harriet frowned. “I do not approve of you reading such books.”
“I purchased it the last time I went to the bookstore,” Emma shared. “It was written by a former lieutenant in the Royal Navy, so I have no doubt as to the validity of it.”
“Perhaps you should focus more of your time on books from our library,” Harriet suggested.
“I have read most of those,” Emma informed her.
“I would strongly encourage you to read more of Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women,” Harriet said.
Emma shook her head. “I do not wish to read about how I must moderate my behavior.”
“It is an excellent reminder of how you should behave,” Harriet pointed out. “I do wish your father and I had spent more time reading that book to you when you were younger.”
“It would have done little good,” Emma said. “I find the sermons to be rather insulting.”
“You do?” Harriet asked.
“Why must young women behave, but gentlemen are free to act however they see fit?” Emma questioned. “It is entirely unfair.”
“You must play by the rules that Society governs until you are wed,” Harriet said.
“And if I don’t wish to be wed?” Emma asked.
Harriet gasped. “You must!” she exclaimed.
Emma was silent for a moment. “You are right, of course.” Her words were anything but convincing.
Harriet turned her attention back to Ellie. “I understand that you had flowers delivered to you this morning.”
“I did,” Ellie replied. “Three bouquets arrived, though one was from Lord Featherstone.”
Harriet pressed her lips together, then said, “I believe we have adequately expressed our reasons for you to avoid Lord Featherstone.”
“Yes, you have,” Ellie responded. “I have no intention of encouraging him.”
“That is good,” Harriet stated.
Emma leaned forward and poured herself a cup of tea, then took a long sip. “I received flowers, as well,” she revealed as she lowered the teacup to her lap.
“I am well aware,” Harriet remarked. “Did any of the gentlemen you danced with last night pique your interest?”
“I’m afraid not,” Emma admitted.
“That is most disappointing,” Harriet muttered. “I worry that your expectations are too high when it comes to marriage.”
“Can my expectations ever be too high when it comes to being tied down to one man for the remainder of my days?” Emma questioned.
Harriet sighed. “No, you are right,” she said. “I just want you to have what your father and I had.”
“That is precisely what I want,” Emma remarked. “I want to fall in love and be deliriously happy.”
“A good marriage takes more than falling in love. It requires proper work. The key is to fall in love with your husband over and over again,” Harriet said.
“That is rather odd advice,” Emma commented.
Harriet grinned. “Once you are married, you will understand.”
Thorne stepped into the room. “Mr. Cosgrove is here to call upon Miss Bentley.” He met her gaze. “Are you available for callers?”
“Of course she is,” Harriet answered for her.
Thorne tipped his head in acknowledgement before he departed from the room.
Harriet met Ellie’s gaze. “Remember to smile and to list all of your accomplishments,” she advised. “Also, be mindful to only speak about polite topics.”
“That is terrible advice,” Emma muttered.
“What advice would you give Ellie, then?” Harriet asked.
Emma smiled. “I would encourage her to be herself, because there is only one of her in the world.”
Before Harriet could reply, Mr. Cosgrove stepped into the room and bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Miss Bentley.”
“Do come in and take a seat,” Harriet interjected, gesturing towards a chair next to her.
“Thank you, Lady Bideford,” Mr. Cosgrove acknowledged as he came to sit down. He tipped his head at Emma. “How are you faring?”
Emma gave him a pleasant enough smile. “I am well, Mr. Cosgrove,” she replied. “And yourself?”
“I am doing quite well.” He turned his gaze towards Ellie. “I would be remiss if I didn’t ask how you are faring, as well.”
“I am well,” Ellie said with a smile.
Mr. Cosgrove bobbed his head in approval. “I am happy to hear that.”
“I do wish to thank you for the flowers you sent over this morning,” Ellie said. “They are exceptionally beautiful.”
“I’m afraid they pale in comparison to your beauty,”
Mr. Cosgrove remarked.
Ellie blushed at his bold compliment. “Thank you kindly for saying so,” she murmured.
“Would you care for some tea, Mr. Cosgrove?” Harriet asked.
“I would,” he replied.
Harriet gave Ellie a pointed look. “Would you care to pour, Miss Bentley?”
“I would be happy to,” Ellie acknowledged as she moved to the edge of her seat. She poured tea for Mr. Cosgrove, Harriet, and herself, as Emma still had a cup.
“Miss Bentley is quite an accomplished young woman,” Harriet said as she accepted the cup and saucer extended to her.
“Is that so?” Mr. Cosgrove asked as he brought his cup to his lips.
Harriet nodded. “She can play the pianoforte, the harp, and the guitar,” she listed. “Furthermore, I have heard her sing, and she has the voice of an angel.”
“You flatter me,” Ellie said as she watched Emma smile over the rim of her teacup, “but I do not presume to think I sing as well as you claim.”
“Nonsense,” Harriet responded with a wave of her hand. “Furthermore, Miss Bentley is well versed in a wide assortment of subjects.”
Mr. Cosgrove lowered the teacup to his lap with an amused look on his face. “I would love to hear more about that on a ride through Hyde Park,” he said, meeting Ellie’s gaze. “I assume you ride.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Harriet answered first. “She rides superbly.”
“I am pleased to hear that,” Mr. Cosgrove responded. “I go riding through Hyde Park nearly every day.”
“I would prefer to go before the fashionable hour,” Ellie said, pleased that she had finally spoken for herself. “I do not like to ride with crowds.”
“We are in agreement on that,” Mr. Cosgrove remarked.
“Would you care to listen to Miss Bentley play the pianoforte?” Harriet asked.
Mr. Cosgrove nodded. “I would be honored to.”
“You are in for a treat,” Harriet said.
With a shy smile at Mr. Cosgrove, Ellie put her teacup down and walked over to the shiny, black pianoforte in the corner. She sat on the bench and sorted through the sheet music before selecting a piece.
Her father had loved hearing her play the pianoforte, and she grew nostalgic at the thought. As her fingers began to dance over the keys, she felt herself relaxing and imagined her father was listening to her play.