‘I spoke to her father,’ Ben replied. ‘He spoke to me, rather. He summoned me to his house and suggested the match himself.’ He still could not decide whether to be flattered or suspicious. ‘He had heard of me and wished to further my career. It is only natural that we strengthen the bond with a family alliance. It was exactly as I had planned.’
And yet it did not feel like his plan at all.
‘Natural. Yes. I see.’ Apparently, Templeton did not see the sense in it either. Though arranged marriages were not the least bit uncommon, he looked as if he had never heard of such a thing, much less seen it happen. ‘Lord Summoner called you to his home and gave you his daughter. And now you are seeking congratulations, before you have spoken to the lady.’
‘Not as of yet,’ Ben hedged. ‘I was just down to Phillips to pick up a ring. I will arrange for the licence and talk to Belle directly.’
Templeton withdrew his hand. ‘Your cart is not just before the horse. It is miles ahead of it.’
It was true and he knew it. But he could not help but protest. ‘Summoner said there would be no problems with the offer.’
‘Of course there won’t be. When you finally take the time to speak to your fiancée on the matter, you will know why.’ Templeton’s smile had disappeared. In a few scant moments, he had gone from a picture of bon ami to distant reserve.
An unpleasant thought occurred to him. ‘Is there some reason that she might be willing to make a match with the first man who asks?’
‘You want to know if she is pregnant.’ Templeton followed the inappropriate question with an oath before realising that they were on a public street and discussing a lady. His next words were dangerously quiet. ‘I do not know whether to laugh, or punch you in the mouth for even considering such a thing. I would call you out, but apparently, it is to be none of my business.’
The last words made no sense at all, but the threat was clear enough. ‘I apologise for the assumption. But it was you who led me to it with your vague hints of trouble. If there is nothing to fear, than why have you not answered the question?’
‘Because it is beneath dignity,’ Templeton replied. ‘Arabella Summoner is as sweet and pure as any girl in London. Her only faults are that she is too innocent, too trusting and far too obedient. She will do what her father tells her without thinking of the consequences to her happiness.’
‘She will be happy,’ Ben insisted. ‘I will give her no reason to be else.’
‘Because you are supremely confident that you can be all things to all people.’ Templeton made no effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
‘I made no such claim,’ Ben argued. ‘I only know that my intentions towards the young lady are honest.’
Intentions. Summoner had called him to account for using the word. Why did people find it so unlikely that he could do what he meant to do?
Templeton seemed equally sceptical. His eyes narrowed and his expression changed from aloof to actively antagonistic. ‘Very well, then. You mean to do well by her. Perhaps there is nothing I can do to save the girl from all the people who are sure they know what is best for her, but never take the time to ask what she wants. But know that, if I hear you are treating her with anything less than the respect and tenderness she deserves, you shall answer to me. And now, good day.’
But something in his words sounded less like a parting comment than a permanent end to their friendship.
* * *
It was afternoon by the time Ben had arranged for a licence. Nearly four o’clock seemed far too late to propose marriage. There was evening, of course. But the Summoners likely had plans and he had anticipated a quiet evening at his club. It seemed a shame to disrupt everything for a formality that could be handled just as easily in the morning.
As he wrote the note of his intentions to call at ten the following day, he could not help imagining Templeton’s stern expression on learning of the engagement. Ben had never planned for a love match and nothing had changed his mind on the subject. But the total lack of interest he had in meeting the girl and going through the motions of the offer did not bode well for the future. It was probably Amy’s fault. Her continual harping on his unsuitability for her sister must have shaken his confidence.
Or perhaps she was to blame in another way. Last night, his dreams had been of brown eyes flecked with gold. She had claimed that the kiss in Vauxhall was nothing more than curiosity. For her, perhaps it was. From his side, it was nothing less than compulsion. He’d wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do it again. And despite the engagement, he wanted still more.
If his mind had not been clouded by thoughts of Amy as he’d spoken to Summoner, things might have turned out quite differently. He’d have offered for her. And, since it was clear that she did not care for him, she’d have crushed his heart without a second thought as she had all the other men who’d crossed her path. He must not forget the fact. Those few moments in the dark were not heaven. They were a mistake, just as she’d said.
* * *
It was with a pleasant smile and a stoic attitude that he arrived at the Summoner home the next morning to take Miss Arabella for a drive in Hyde Park. And, as had been the case every other time he’d tried to meet with her, he came face to face with Amy. Today, she was dressed for a ride, as if she intended to come along with them.
‘Miss Summoner,’ he said with a slight incline of his head. ‘Do not let me stop you, if you are going out.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘You are not likely to, since I will be accompanying you and my sister.’
‘I do not recall inviting you,’ he said.
‘Nor would a gentleman assume that Belle could go out without a chaperon,’ she countered.
‘In this case, it is entirely appropriate,’ he said. ‘There are things I wish to say to Miss Arabella that are not for another’s ears.’
‘If another man said it, I might demur,’ she whispered back at him. ‘But I know from experience how you behave when you are alone with a lady.’
‘Was that all some sort of a test, then?’ he whispered back. ‘If that is the case, then I was not in the presence of a lady at all.’
‘You insufferable cad. Are you always so quick to place the blame on another? If so, look no further when wondering why I do not trust you with my sister. Lord knows what will happen when the two of you are together. But I now know exactly what you will say if it is discovered.’
‘Amelia!’ Lord Summoner was standing in the doorway of his office. The tone of voice he used was harsh enough to quell even his older daughter.
‘Father,’ she answered meekly.
‘You are not making our guest feel welcome.’
‘We were just leaving, Father,’ she said.
‘On the contrary. They are leaving. You are not going anywhere. I wish to see you in my study immediately. Leave Mr Lovell to his business with your sister.’
‘But propriety,’ she argued.
‘Do not worry, Amy. I will take Mellie. He will protect me.’ His intended was standing at the top of the stairs. It took but one glance to remember why it was he’d wanted her in the first place. Her golden hair glowed in a beam of morning sunlight, but it was no match for the brilliance of her smile.
Ben gritted his teeth and smiled. ‘By all means, let us bring the dog. The fresh air will do him good.’ At least it was unlikely to do him harm. Mellie had one of his owner’s hair ribbons tied around his scrawny neck, but it did nothing to improve his looks. He ambled down the stairs at Belle’s side, tail wagging slowly, watching Ben’s pants leg as though he’d just recognised an old friend.
Ben dragged his eyes away from the animal and back to the beautiful woman in front of him. ‘Miss Arabella?’ He bowed low over her hand.
There was no immediate response to his greeting. Then he heard Amy’s hissed whisper. ‘
Mr Lovell.’
‘Mr Lovell,’ Belle repeated, like an actor in need of prompting. When he rose from the bow, she made an answering curtsy and gave him a smile that more than compensated for a moment’s confusion over his name.
‘Might you do me the honour of taking a turn about the park with me in my carriage?’ From somewhere behind him, he could feel the eyes of the elder Summoner girl boring into his back. Let her stare. She had tried to prevent both the meeting and the engagement, and failed on both counts.
‘I like to take rides,’ Belle said, still smiling.
‘Then you will like my phaeton,’ he replied. ‘It is quite high, but you need not worry. I have a very steady hand and the team is well matched.’
‘Let us go, then.’
She let him guide her out of the house and to the carriage, as docile as a lamb. She was the very opposite of her sister. When he’d escorted Amy about Vauxhall, he’d had the sense that she’d much rather lead than follow. There was a fierce independence in her, yearning to break free.
This was safer. He smiled at Arabella as he lifted her into the carriage. There was no sense that she was scheming behind that pleasant face, or secretly plotting against him. He would not end the day covered in mud or locked in a closet. Today’s outing would be utterly predictable.
There was no logical reason to be disappointed at the prospect of success. Why did he need to keep reminding himself of that fact?
The little dog at his feet was gathering its miserably short legs to jump for the running board and follow its mistress. The attempt was destined for failure, so Ben scooped up the dog and dropped it into the footwell before climbing in after.
The mismatched eyes responded with a look of disapproval that was oddly familiar. He blinked to dismiss it. If he meant to retain his sanity and Lord Summoner’s good grace, he must stop thinking of Amelia and measuring one sister against the other. The decision had been made and that was that.
He gave a gentle pull on the reins and manoeuvred them out into traffic, relieved that she was not one of those women who felt the need to talk every moment they were together. Instead, she was unusually silent, staring in wonder at the passing streets as if she had never seen them before. ‘It is a lovely day, is it not?’ he said to fill the void between them.
She tilted her head towards the sky like a flower leaning towards the sun. A pretty flower. The prettiest flower in London. As he pulled the carriage into the park, he could feel a wave of envy from the people around him and faint whispers of excitement from both men and women. An introduction had finally been made between the two greatest catches of the Season.
The world thought them a handsome couple. As well they should. One had but to look at them to see they were destined for each other.
But the woman at his side seemed unaware of the people around her, still staring up into the sky as though not quite realising that there was nothing left to see. He reached out and touched the tip of her nose. ‘If you are not careful of the sun, you will spoil your complexion.’
She giggled. ‘That’s what Mellie says.’
‘Mellie?’ He stared down at the dog drooling on his Hessians.
She giggled again. ‘You are silly. Dogs don’t talk.’
‘But...’ He looked into the eyes of the dog again. ‘Do you mean Amelia?’
Belle smiled. ‘Mellie. Amy. My sister.’
‘I see.’ It was not unusual to have childhood nicknames, he supposed. But he wondered what Amy thought of sharing hers with the benighted beast resting on his shoes. ‘And did Amelia tell you why I wished to ride with you?’
‘Because you like driving?’ she said, giving no clue that she understood.
‘Because I like you,’ he said, smiling.
She smiled back. ‘Then I like you, too.’
He could imagine the caustic response he’d have got from Amy had he begun a proposal with a comment as banal as that. She had likely rejected as many men for insufficient ardour as she had for being too forward.
But he must remember, her sister was different. ‘Do you like me well enough to marry me?’ he said with a wink.
He waited for her to laugh at his impudence. Even the greenest girl would take such a comment as a joke meant to soften her for a serious discussion.
But this one frowned at him. ‘I will have to ask Mellie.’
The last thing he needed was the involvement of the sister who had been trying to sabotage this union since that first night at Almack’s. ‘On a matter as important as this, I think you need to make up your own mind.’
To this, she said nothing. Then her frown deepened and her breathing quickened as if the act of giving an opinion was pushing her near to panic. After nearly a minute of silence, she closed her eyes and clutched his hand, her grip desperately tight. ‘What does Papa want me to do?’
He slowed the vehicle and transferred the reins to one hand so he could use the other to clasp her hand in reassurance. ‘I think your father would like you to marry me.’
‘Then that must be the right thing to do.’ Her eyes flew open. ‘But...’
He waited. If she had a doubt in her mind, she had but to say so. She could ask for time to think. She could use any number of delaying tactics and he would happily wait until she was ready. She could even say no if she wanted to.
Then he would be free.
For a moment, he felt just as panicked as she did, waiting for the answer. Then she turned back to him, her face clear but vacant. Her smile was as brilliant as ever, though her eyes still held a hint of worry. ‘If Papa wants me to marry you, then that is what I should do.’ Then she fell silent again, looking out at the people riding by, as beautiful and distant as a swan in the middle of a lake.
Suddenly, his new fiancée turned to him, smile bright but worried. ‘Can I bring Mellie?’
He started. ‘Bring Mellie where?’ And did she mean the dog or the sister? He was afraid to ask for clarification.
‘When we get married and I go to my new house. Everyone says I will have to go to a new house, but no one has told me where it will be. If I bring Mellie, than I shall not be lonely.’
This time he listened, really and truly listened to her words, searching out the meaning of them. She did not say his house, nor did she describe it as a home. Listening to her question, his mind imagined a child’s drawing of a house, no more detailed than a box with windows and perhaps a chimney or two.
‘What else do they tell you about getting married?’ he asked cautiously.
‘We will go to the church and then have cake for breakfast.’ She smiled as if this was quite the nicest thing that she could imagine. ‘And then I will go to the new house and have servants and babies and a husband.’ Her tone seemed to imply that all things on the list needed no particular order because they were all of equal importance.
Since the beginning of the Season, he and every other man in London had taken her silence as a ploy to attract. But could it be less an attempt to allure than a disguise for something else? Suppose the bright smile on that pretty face existed like an elegant cloth over a plain table, hiding the rickety intellect beneath.
Suddenly, he understood Summoner’s demand for an oath and Amy’s continual insistence that this marriage would not work. It was not his past that concerned them. It was Miss Arabella. Since she barely understood the engagement, it was unlikely that she would cry off it and give him an easy escape. To break the offer himself would tarnish her reputation and risk revealing to all of London what her family already knew: Arabella Summoner was as simple as a child.
‘Well?’ She tugged on his sleeve. ‘Can I bring Mellie?’
‘Of course,’ he said absently. ‘Bring them both.’ Then he turned the phaeton back towards her town house.
* * *
When they arrived at the fron
t door, Belle hopped down to the street before he could come round to help her. Mellie, the dog, was still coiling for the jump, looking down at the cobbles with the dread of one who had too often leapt into situations only to be totally out of his depth.
Today, Ben sympathised. He scooped the dog up again and set him down on the ground so he could scramble into the house after his mistress. Ben followed a step or two behind. He wanted to say his farewell to Arabella and perhaps a few choice words to Lord Summoner on the nature of honesty.
But once he left the house, he would never be able to speak on the subject again. Nor did he expect society to recognise her disability. As long as her looks held, gossip amongst women would be seen as jealousy. And men would likely claim that wits in a woman paled in comparison to the attributes that she already had. There might be rumours that Mrs Lovell was not quite right, but no one would hear them from her husband.
And there, standing just inside the door, was Amy, helping her sister untie her bonnet. Why had he not spotted the real difference between them, from the first? Belle’s beauty came from her innocence. Her heart and mind were unaffected by care. It was the simple bloom of an untouched child.
But Amy’s beauty glowed from within. It was a complex, difficult, prickly sort of loveliness, more like a wild flower than a rose. But once seen, it could not be unseen. Even as they stood together, his eyes, his mind, his heart, were all drawn to the elder sister and he could not pull them back.
‘Belle, darling, do not dally too long in changing out of your walking gown.’
Now Amy was shaking the wrinkles from her sister’s coat before handing it to a maid. As she turned, he saw her hair, loose and cascading down her back in a smooth wave. He had thought it an unremarkable brown, when first he’d seen it. But today it shone with the same gold that he saw in her eye. Why did she bother with curls and braids? Did she know that the sight of her undressed hair would render a man speechless with the urge to touch it?
The Wedding Game Page 11