She was demure.
Hell. She had no idea what they said—and so she gave up and did what instinct demanded.
She devoured him with her eyes. His height still inspired her admiration. His hair, as black, as shining, but shorter, cut to precision around his noble head. His clothes. Ah. His forest green coat of superfine was cut across shoulders that seemed broader. His waistcoat of gold brocade with green thread shot through gave his ruddy complexion a rich hue. His white stock was elegantly tied, no simple butler’s collar for this man. Nor did he wear a servant’s black trousers but fawn breeches that fit so well his muscular thighs were shown in best relief.
She swallowed back her fascination for this man. Confound it! She was here to carve a new path in society, not drool over the heir. She needed to be ruled by her wits, not her desires.
She straightened her spine and plastered a smile on her face. Would to heavens, she appeared natural. Yet she feared she looked wooden as a marionette. Best to stay far from him…if she could.
But he seemed stuck to her side. Talking, grinning, making conversation with her aunt, he offered his arm and she had to accept it. He escorted her and Hortense into the drawing room where he directed them to a settee and he sat in a large chair opposite. The earl and his wife took their places as well and there ensued chatter of who would next arrive.
Lady Somethingorother and her mother from London. Lord Hampshire and his wife, both long-time friends of the Newports. Another lord whose name sounded like Lullaby.
Alicia knew none of them. She focused on the tall, dark haired gentleman whom she’d once called Finnley and who gazed at her intermittently with hot caresses of his sky blue eyes.
They remarked upon the weather. Beautifully warm after the horribly snowy winter they’d suffered.
They discussed the coronation plans. Not to be until next summer when the Court was officially out of mourning.
They held forth about this one and that. Lady Louise Macomb was to be married to her brother’s best friend. Lady Pemberton’s daughter, who’d just come out this Season and who lived with her mother at Number Fourteen in Dudley Crescent, was engaged to a viscount.
“And you, my dear Lady Bentham, what are your plans for your Bentham manor house?” asked the countess.
Alicia had wits enough about her to comment on that. “I find it in need of many repairs.”
“Ah, yes,” said the countess, “I understood no one had occupied the house for decades.”
“It does appear that way,” Alicia told her. “Half a wing is more like a stables. The spiders and mice are quite at home in the other wing. I must begin repairs soon on Bentham because the new baron has come from America and should soon take over my Ranford country house.”
“Will he?” the earl asked. “I hear he is not inclined to become a baron or a landlord.”
Alicia gave a small smile. “You are correct, my lord. He questions the value of it.”
“When being a lord cannot bring you happiness,” declared the handsome creature sitting near her, “what value is it?”
“How right you are, my lord,” she said and turned away from the lure of his mouth and the need in his eyes.
They went on like that, discussing that and this and nothing of any consequence, until the host and hostess were called to the foyer to greet newly arriving guests.
Her aunt found an excuse to follow them out.
Alicia shot to her feet.
He stepped close to her.
She looked up into his face. Oh, she had missed him. His smile. His sweet consideration. His mellow voice. The way he watched her with an intensity that stole her breath.
But she forced iron into her spine. She had missed every detail of his introduction, save that he was his uncle’s heir. Cursing her dizzy lack of social decorum, she would not shame herself by making any faux pas. “Tell me, sir, by what name do I address you?”
“I am Beaumont.”
“Beaumont.” The name was a surprise in more ways than one. “The viscount, is that correct?”
“It is.” His expression drifted from concern to fear.
“Then you are also the man who was a contender for the barony of Bentham. My rival.”
“That was no doing of mine. It was the way the Lords read the genealogy and my mother’ family marriage records that a few thought me eligible. You won the title, as you should have.”
She nodded, cool to his warm regard. “And what, may I ask, do your close friends call you?”
“I am Wallace Finnley Demerest. Finn, to my dearest friends and to you.”
Finn. Finn, you were all to me. Still are.
She’d be damned if she’d use his name. Tears stung her eyelids. “Please excuse me, my lord. My journey was long. I must retire to my room.”
She swept from the room and he did not follow.
Thank heavens.
If he had, she would have thrown herself into his arms and kissed him senseless. Or boxed his ears.
Which was worse?
Chapter Sixteen
Before she went down for dinner, she had to have a fitting word or two with her aunt.
“Oh, there you are. Good,” Hortense said as she swung wide the door to her suite and let her march in. “Well, I see you are in a stew. If you plan to reprimand me for this, I will not listen.”
“You knew.” Alicia fairly steamed. “Knew who he was.”
“I did. But not at first.” She did have the courtesy to appear sheepish. “Not when he worked for you.”
“When did you learn?”
“Last month. I was invited to Lord and Lady Grayson’s for dinner. And who should appear but Finnley. Or Finn. Or—“ She circled a hand in the air. “Beaumont.” She giggled but stopped abruptly and cleared her throat.
“You find this amusing. Amusing!” Alicia paced before her aunt.
“I find it thrilling. You should, too.”
“Oh! You are incorrigible.”
“And you, my pet, are very fortunate.”
“Why? Because he is here? Because he is—“
“Interested in you. Still.” Her aunt pulled on her dinner gloves and turned to her mirror to check her riot of white ringlets. “Of course. You loved him as he was your butler. Why can you not love him as a rich, eligible bachelor with prospects to be an earl?”
Alicia stared at her aunt. And frowned.
Was she being petulant? Resisting a man who wanted her, always had, because he had not been honest with her when she demanded it…and he had other duties that prohibited him?
Why had he waited for months to tell her? Why not come to her and explain?
Was she unreasonable? After being forced to marry a man she did not want and after being married to a creature who had taken so little regard for her feelings, had she become a hard-hearted woman? Was she a shrew?
Oh, now that was a frightening prospect.
Argh. She turned on her heel.
“Where are you going?” Hortense looked stricken, frightened.
“For a walk in the gardens.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. I can. I will. And do not tell anyone.”
“Dinner will be served in—“
“I will be there.” Alicia yanked open her aunt’s bedroom door. “Never fear.”
Fortunately, Alicia managed dinner with ease. She was seated next to Lord Llandudno, a Welshman, with a copper mine or two. Beaumont was seated far down the table near the young lady who had arrived with her mother. The lady who was lovely save for her snaggletooth had decided at some point in the day that Lord Beaumont was a man to be snared in her net. And that gentleman had decided to apply polite indifference to her efforts.
Alicia stifled her joy at that and turned to the Welshman.
Lord Llandudno, meanwhile, was passing interesting, if one wished to learn how a copper mine was run.
The evening went without concern, although Aunt
Hortense kept a sharp eye on Alicia. And the other set of eyes on her were blue and anxious and Alicia adored the attention.
When it came time for the men to enjoy brandy and the women to retire for the drawing room, Alicia begged off and sought her suite.
She needed a good night’s sleep because she was certain that as the wealth of the day spread before her tomorrow, Beaumont would find her.
And she must have her plan ready. Whatever that was.
He was seated in the dining room when Alicia arrived at eight, sipping coffee. Llandudno sat to his right, eating and attempting a discussion of politics. Alicia took a chair far down the long table, implying how she wished to dine in silence. That was not to be.
A minute after Alicia sat, young Lady Snaggle arrived and sat to Finn’s left. She promptly took to cooing at Finn. He took up a broadsheet. Finishing her egg and toast, young Snaggle took Finn’s cue that he was bored—and left to walk in the gardens. Llandudno soon followed and Alicia suspected he thought to train his monologues on copper mining toward the lady.
Alicia, having slept supremely soundly, was prepared for any encounter. She took one look at Finn and knew he had waited for her to open conversation. That made her proud. And made her smile. “Do you dine for hours in this room?”
A roguish smile curled his lips as his eyes met hers. “I do.”
One footman remained, but she would not be dissuaded from her plan to learn precisely who he was. However, she would not be as forward as she once was with him. Her pride, if no other aspect of her character, demanded it. “I wish you would occupy yourself elsewhere.”
“You are my only occupation.”
He was so sweet. Might she indulge herself in that endlessly?
Pushing back her chair, she walked to the sideboard, took another plate and piled high a second helping of bacon and a coddled egg, both looking cold as stones. But no matter. She had an appetite born of frustration with this man, Finn or Finnley or Wallace or Beaumont.
“Hungry this morning?” He grimaced at the wealth of food on her plate.
“I could eat a bear.”
“I can wait.”
“Don’t bore yourself. I will be a very long time.”
“No matter. While I wait for you, I get my reading done and my thinking,” he told her with a hint of humor in his beguiling baritone.
As she headed for her chair at the opposite end of the long dining table, she nodded at his broadsheet aside his plate. “What news do you get here in the country?”
The footman came to hold out her chair for her. And she sat.
“Financial news. My investments do well. From the West Indies and new ones from China. I care not much for politics. Or social news.”
“I agree with you on those last two,” she said and regretted the familiarity of her statement. “Financial news appeals to me. What do you like about it?”
“Grain prices hold steady. We shall have constant bread prices this winter.”
“Which means few riots,” she said as she dug into her egg.
“Precisely. Rumor says a few of the lords have persuaded Prinny not to run us out of house and home to refurbish another palace.”
“True. He has too many.” She took a bite of toast and considered the profligate man who would be king. “Why does a man need more than one house? I find such abundance a challenge.”
“I know you’d like just one home,” he stated in earnest.
He remembered that? Her heart gave a little leap of joy. “One loving one should do. Too many causes confusion. A jumble. You lose items. Where did I leave my black cape? Here or there? And why won’t my damask roses grow in this garden when they sprout like weeds in the other one?”
With a tip of his head and a twinkle in his eyes, he said, “Just so.”
She regarded him with interest borne of her long absence from his company. He looked healthy. Tanned from the sun. Had he been working out of doors? On what? He exuded a magnificence that oozed charm.
She licked her lips and forced her sight back to her plate. It was empty.
“Have you seen the gardens yet?” he asked.
“Last night before dinner. It’s everything the ton says it is.” She swallowed hard and wished to converse but found no words.
Silence descended.
“Alicia,” he breathed and she detected that the footman had disappeared. Had Finn dismissed him?
Finn walked over to her.
“You’ve finished, sweetheart. Come stroll with me in the gardens.”
She looked at him. Saw him, really, for the first time as the man she’d known before, kind and honorable, and the man she’d met yesterday, as sweet. As lovable.
He put a hand to her shoulder and another to her hand. “Let me show you the roses, darling. You’ll love the fragrance.”
He offered his arm and she took it. Leading her through the doors to the terrace, he patted her hand and put his face up to the sun. She was content not to talk but to enjoy the peace of being with him.
They strolled along the path, past the border of tall yews and headed for the roses. The damasks were out in full regalia. Their leaves, big and lush, had benefitted from the tenderness of the countess and her gardener.
“I would like a garden like this.”
“One you can design yourself,” he said and she noted it was a statement as if he’d read her mind. “My aunt plotted out this one more than ten years ago. You must ask her for details.”
“I will. I’ve never had a garden of my very own.” She stopped to put a finger to a large petal, soft as velvet, its face to the glory of the June sunshine. “Tell me please how old you are, Beaumont.”
“If you will call me Finn, I’ll tell you anything.”
“Finn.” She liked the sound of his name on her lips. She adored the way his blue eyes took her in as if she were a mirage. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine. Thirty in November.”
“Six years older than I. And you have never wanted to marry?”
He considered her lips. “Never.”
“Why is that? I find that difficult to believe. A man with name, fortune and good looks.”
“You compliment me too much, Alicia. I wanted nothing of other women. Only once did I ask for a woman’s hand in marriage.”
“I remember you told me. She rejected you.”
“That was the duke’s daughter. But the second offer was to a lady who never knew of the offer. Though her brother asked it of me with his dying breath, her father rejected me.”
“Why was that?” She was being forward but something about his statement seemed pointed. And if she was to consider drawing closer to him, she needed to know details of his life, his passions, even his aspirations. She would not marry a man because she desired him, but because she understood all of what he was in private and public. She wanted to honor the man she loved and married.
“My father cast a ruinous impression. He was terrible roué. And I had no money, a rundown estate. My mother’s family were respectable but that counted for nothing next to my father’s reputation.”
“And now you have redeemed your family name with investments and previous employment with the Home Office.”
“I did. I have. I am done with investigating for them.”
She smiled faintly and they began to stroll along again. “That is good to know. Not that anyone should stop you, if that is what you wish to do.”
“I have no desire to do that. I am committed to my new role here as my uncle’s heir and to continuing to improve upon my investments. I have plans for the future and I will need money to implement them.“
Might those plans include me? She stared up at him.
He halted and drew her toward him. He sank his fingers into the hair at the sides of her ears and lifted her face to his. “Will you come with me for a carriage ride?”
“Today?”
“Now.”
&nb
sp; She tilted her head toward the house. “The young lady will miss us.”
“As will Lord Llandudno.”
“He might be better occupied with his current company,” she offered with a wink.
He grinned. “Should I buy a copper mine?”
She snorted. “If you do, you can get copious advice from his lordship.”
He ran a finger down the line of her jaw. “Or you can advise me.”
She took his hand and burst into laughter. “Can we take that carriage ride?”
His face fell from joy into a raw and urgent hunger. “Come with me while I order the stable boys to hitch the curricle.”
She nodded, her heart flooding with happiness. “Yes, let’s.”
He led her at a brisk pace down the path toward the stables.
Within minutes Finn assisted her up into the seat and he climbed up to take the reins.
“Where are we going?”
“To see my house.”
She was surprised and pleased. “Tell me about it.”
“It belongs to the cadet branch of Demerests. My father and mother lived here since their marriage. I grew up here until I was sent to school.”
“Is the house large?”
He inhaled. “It was.”
“Was?”
“We had a fire which destroyed half the place when I was twelve. My mother died soon afterward and my father lived the rest of his days in the remaining wing.”
She sat quietly, not wishing to be intrusive. His family history seemed so sad. And yet, he had surmounted the sorrows of them and made something of himself. Furthermore, it was clear that his aunt and uncle viewed him with love and respect. Theirs was a loving family.
“You would have liked Jerome, my brother.” She said it out of instinct, not thinking that it would elicit the probing look from him. “What have I said?”
The curricle rumbled along the lane, the horse clip-clopping at a steady pace. The quiet was not ominous but pregnant. His expression drifted from grim to contemplative.
She put a hand to his forearm. “Do tell me, Finn.”
“I will. Give me time.”
Time. He wanted that again. And in the interest of not rushing him, she waited, suppressing her past impatience with him. “As you wish.”
Her Beguiling Butler Page 15