“I shall return tomorrow since the shop owner decided a peer’s order was more pressing than that of a minister.” He smiled to take the sting from his words.
Lady Carrington nodded. “Oh yes. The way of the world. Tell me about India. I have heard it is beautiful.”
Edward agreed and spent some time sharing his love of the country and the beauty of the countryside. “But there is great darkness. They need God’s love and grace.” He did not go into details about some of dangerous and rather disgusting traditions practiced.
“Before my husband died, we considered a trip to India.”
Betsy mouth gaped. “Mother, I had no idea.”
Lady Carrington patted her hand. “We never got that far in our plans before...” She paused and swallowed a couple of times before continuing. “Before he had the accident that took his life.”
Betsy reached out and took her hand. “I am so sorry, Mother.”
“I did not know about your husband, Lady Carrington, your father, Betsy. I am so sorry for your loss.” Edward sought for some way to lighten the tension. “India is my mission and my home now. However, today I am privileged to be here spending time with two lovely ladies.”
Lady Carrington smiled, accepting the compliment as her due. Betsy shook her head. More compliments? “Such flummery. I would almost think you mean it, though you are merely being polite in my case.”
“What nonsense is this?”
Red spotted Betsy’s cheek. “Please, Edward. I know I’m hardy top drawer. Such flattery is not suited to a man of the cloth.”
“Flattery.” He felt heat on his neck. “I am not some ninnyhammered coxcomb given to speaking untruth.” His anger faded at the truth in her eyes. She really did not think herself beautiful. The realization stunned him.
“Miss Carrington, you are all that is fine and lovely in a woman.” The words tripped off his tongue without recall and left him embarrassed and horrified that he had so spoken his heart.
Betsy blinked and seemed bereft of words. A small smile, however, played at the corners of Lady Carrington’s lips. “So that is the way of things, is it?”
Edward’s heart sank when she continued. “Who is going to explain how you seem to know each other so well?”
He and Betsy stared at each other. She gulped. “Oh, Mother!”
* * *
Betsy turned her horrified gaze toward Edward. Her stomach clenched and the sweetmeat dropped like lead inside. She saw no way out of this dilemma—one she had brought upon herself. How could she ever explain? Edward understood her plea. A small smile played about his mobile lips. His blue eyes blinked, and the look he bestowed was meant to calm, or so she assumed. As he began his story in his deep pastoral tones that so moved her during his sermon at the mission, Betsy slumped into her chair.
Her mother noticed. “Dear, please sit up straight. That is no way to sit in public.” She smiled at Edward. “Please go on. You found my daughter where?”
Betsy admired the way her rescuer told the story. He sanitized it as much as possible and took as much blame as he could—bless him. Still, as he spoke, her mother’s fan moved more and more quickly as her mother tried to ease the heat rising in her cheeks. “Oh my,” she said more than once.
Edward ended. “So I brought her safely back home.” He took a deep breath. “I offer my most humble apologies for not returning her home immediately.”
Lady Carrington impaled Betsy with a stare that shriveled her insides. “Mother, I—”
“Going off like some silly wet goose. It is not done.” She continued to fan herself. “Oh, Betsy, what might have happened. I cannot fathom your actions. I am quite out of countenance with you.”
Betsy gulped and wiped her damp palms on her skirt. Thankfully, her mother turned her intensity on to Edward, who shifted under her gaze. He glanced at her and Betsy all but choked. Surely he would not try to offer for her now. She gave a slight shake to her head. If he had planned such a noddycock action, her response clarified the action would not gain him any favors with her.
He nodded slightly to signal he understood. At least she hoped he understood. At any rate, he did not approach the subject and, for that, Betsy breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what she thought about Edward—and there was no doubt he made her heart beat more quickly—or any other eligible parti, she wanted a man to ask for her hand because he was over the moon in love with her. Not for nothing did she read Mrs. Radcliff and similar romance novels. That reading material was her deep secret until Angella had caught her out and joined in her less-than-literary pursuits.
They discussed them at some length. For Betsy the hero of all the novels had Edward’s face. She blushed at the thought now as both her mother and Edward turned toward her.
“Betsy. Oh, Betsy.”
The horror and fear in her mother’s tone brought Betsy to the realization of how much her actions hurt and frightened her mother. She clasped her mother’s hand as her throat tightened. “I am so sorry, Mother. Edward, Reverend Denning, was ever the gentleman.” Her glance took in the blond-haired man beside her mother, whose gaze added to her guilt.
“I apologize to you, as well, Edward, for placing you in such an awkward position.”
“Betsy, I know your heart bleeds for those in need,” her mother told her, “but you must not put yourself at risk. That will not do, not do at all.”
Releasing her mother’s hand, Betsy hung her head. “I know. But...” She glanced from Edward to her mother. “Edward made me promise and I did. I...I should have waited, should have asked someone to go with me.”
“Yes, my dear, you should have.” Lady Carrington sighed, put down her fan and leaned back in her light, elegantly scrolled chair. “However, mayhap good will come of it yet.”
Betsy wasn’t sure she liked the glint in her mother’s eyes.
“Reverend Mr. Denning, I am in your debt. You have my most humble gratitude for rescuing and protecting my daughter.” She smiled at the man, who shifted uncomfortably.
“My Christian duty, milady.” His words felt like an insult, and Betsy’s eyes flashed.
Her words projected without thought. “Duty. Manners and all that. That’s all?”
Edward actually flushed. “Ah, but...Betsy, it was my pleasure to rescue one comely young woman whom I had hoped to meet again in England.”
Had he really said he had wanted to see her on this trip? This stopped her and Betsy scarcely knew what to say. Though from the withdrawn look on the man’s face, he’d said more than he’d intended. Her mother caught his words as well, and a suspicious smile played on her lips.
Lady Carrington rose. “It has been...enlightening, Reverend Denning. I do give you leave to call on us soon. We shall be home except for a time in the afternoon when we plan to visit the lending library.” She gave the address of the library as though hoping Edward would—what?—happen to “find” them on the morrow? Betsy tried not to roll her eyes.
Beyond the fact that her mother seemed to have set her attention on the poor man as an eligible parti, Betsy feared she’d hand him her calling card and then they’d be truly undone. He must not know their direction until he knew the truth about Angella and this interlude had not helped in that regard. Instead, she distracted her mother by stepping over to Edward’s side and taking his arm.
So sweetly that both glanced at her with narrowed eyes, Betsy asked, “Will you be so kind as to escort us back to our carriage?”
With a neat tip of his head and a smile, Edward proffered his arms for both ladies. “My pleasure. Shall we?”
A bit later as he handed Betsy into the carriage, he whispered for her ears alone, “I will find Angella, you know. I wish you’d help me.”
She whispered back, “When you know the truth and leave behind anger.”
A look she cou
ld not interpret settled in his eyes. “So you do know her direction. Trust me, Betsy, you haven’t seen the last of me.”
For all the misunderstanding with his sister, Betsy hoped he spoke true. She did want very much to see Edward Denning again.
Chapter 11
Later in his bedchamber, Edward paced the floor. He had bungled things again. He knew it. Being around the fetching young Miss Carrington muddled his brains. Yet again, Betsy managed to keep him from discovering more about his sister’s whereabouts. At least he knew for certain Betsy was in contact with her. Really, it greatly vexed him that Angella remained so elusive. According to Lady Carrington, Angella anticipated his arrival. He frowned. That did not sound as though she was in dire straits unless—unless she hoped he would remove her from the situation. That didn’t seem quite the thing, either.
“Lord, I should be more worried about Angella, and yet all I can think about is a pair of soft brown eyes that sparkle with life.” Slumping into a chair that needed recovering, Edward cradled his head in his arms.
It started at the reception after his commissioning service when he had first stared into the brown eyes of Lady Carrington’s daughter and could not look away. Her eyes sparked with interest as he shared his heart with her even during the short time he had with her. Why could he not forget those eyes, forget her?
Caught up in his mission, he realized he might well be sacrificing marriage to follow God’s leading to India. How could he drag any woman of quality back to India? The thought was not to be borne, and yet, as hard as he tried—then and now—he could not forget her, did not wish to erase her from his mind and, now that he was in London, from his life.
Things were so much worse since arriving in London. He actually sought occasions to be with Betsy. When he was near the lovely, gentle Betsy, all his carefully thought out considerations fled from his mind as though erased. In truth, his mind scarce worked at all around the genteel young woman.
He felt completely torn as he wondered like a drowning man through the evening, Lord! What am I to do?
Ever had he scoffed at the very idea of loving on immediate acquaintance, but here he was with his heart completely and irrevocably given to this beautiful young socialite.
She was the temptation of Satan—wasn’t she, to turn him from the right course as Angella had been tempted and strayed into sin? Or had she? Surely if that were true, Betsy and especially her mother would not be so accepting of the situation. These were godly women. Even for their cousin, Edward did not see them accepting an arrangement such as he had been told was the case with his only sister.
Betsy said he did not know the truth. He wiped his forehead. Even under the scorching sun of India, he’d never felt so warm. Somehow he must let Betsy go and focus on Angella. The longer the situation lasted, the longer it would take before he returned to his work in India. Truth was, Betsy held the key to finding Angella. It was a frustrating coil. He sat up. Of course! He knew where they were staying. Had he not let Betsy off at the place? He would find her and demand to know where Angella resided. Mayhap, too, he could finally get the tall, dark-haired Betsy out of his mind.
* * *
As they traveled back to Alistair House after yet more shopping, Lady Carrington surveyed her daughter. “I think you have made a conquest, my dear.”
Besty groaned. “Mother. He’s a minister and a missionary.”
“That does not signify. Ministers need wives. In fact, they are very much in need of wives to manage their homes while they meet the spiritual needs of their congregations.”
“Be that as it may, Mother, Edward, Reverend Denning, is a missionary who plans to return to India as soon as he is assured his sister is all right.” Betsy wondered why she was fighting her mother on this. She should be thrilled her mother looked favorably on Edward, who had no expectations and would only marginally be accepted into their social world.
She also could not forget how much Edward had not wished to offer for her. That still rankled. “Why are you considering him eligible for me?”
“Because,” her mother said, reaching over and tucking a stray strand of Betsy’s hair back under her daughter’s hat, “I see the way he makes your eyes light up.”
“Oh.” Betsy did not know how to respond. Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. “But he doesn’t wish to take a wife back to India.”
Her mother smiled. “My dear, the heart has a way of making its own way. Don’t give up on your young man.”
“But, Mother—”
“Betsy, he’s worth fighting for.” Her mother leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Pray about this and follow God’s guidance. He won’t mislead you, my dear.”
Betsy’s heartbeat quickened. There was such wisdom in her mother’s eyes. Was there hope? It bore some thought...and prayer.
When Betsy and her mother arrived back at Alistair House, she found Angella lying down in her bedchambers. “I am exhausted,” she told Betsy. “I thought all that shopping before the season was bad, but this... Winter is very exacting and knows what she wants. She wants the dress to be exquisite, and it is, but all those fittings are driving me to distraction.”
She fluffed up the large pillows and pulled herself up on the bed. “Grab a pillow and join me.” As Betsy set several pillows against the head of the bed and settled down beside her friend, Angella pulled the bell cord. Not long thereafter, they shared an afternoon treat of chocolate and scones. They giggled as they tried not to get crumbs on the bed.
Betsy listened as Angella told her, in exaggerated detail, about her afternoon. “Now, tell me, how did your shopping go?”
“I found the most wonderful fabric and pattern for my gown for your wedding. Why, I might even look passably good, though no one will see me next to you.” She paused before saying, “Guess who we ran into—almost literally?”
“Fritton? Beddinlong?” Angella guessed a few more names, before raising her hand in surrender. “Too many possibilities. Give. Who was it?”
“Edward.”
Angella sat up. ‘You saw my brother this afternoon?”
“Indeed, and he treated us. My mother is quite taken with him.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
Besty shrugged.
“So, did you tell him?”
Betsy frowned. “Not exactly.”
* * *
The next afternoon, Edward borrowed the minister’s good rig. The gray nuzzled him with almost affection as he presented him with a piece of carrot and patted the broad forehead and scratched his ears.
With a will, he took up the reins and, with a prayer, he turned the eager horse toward the bootmaker’s. Traffic and frisky mongrel dogs hassling the gray caused more delay than the bootmaker, who tried to put him off once again. In a rush to see Betsy, Edward would have none of it. “My good man, get those boots out and you shall have your pay immediately.”
The man fairly flew into the back room, yelling orders. Edward bit back a smile. He had gone up in the bootmaker’s estimation. He well knew too many of the upper classes were either slow to pay what they owed or did not pay their bills at all. More than one vendor went out of business because they had upper-class clients who thought paying their bills beneath them. It never seemed to occur to those in society that paying their bills kept shopkeepers off the streets, in business and able to feed their families.
Such arrogance. The thoughts flitted through his mind as he waited for the bootmaker to return with the boots. Edward inspected them and found them exquisite. He wished for the blunt to have a pair made up for himself. But there was little hope of that. His boots were study enough. The bootmaker practically bowed when Edward handed him what his mentor owed.
The whole errand took much longer than planned. He breathed a sigh of relief when he left the press of animals and people behind
for the stately homes where the sound of hooves was muted by layering straw on the road. He readily found the house where he had left Betsy. Hopping down, Edward secured the gray and hurried to knock at the door.
A tall butler opened the door and stared at him as though he were some lowly bug. Edward stood up straighter, swallowed. “Would Miss Betsy Carrington be in this afternoon?”
He detected a slight frown between the man’s eyes. “I fear, sir, no one by that name resides at this residence.”
“Are you sure?” The slight narrowing of the butler’s gaze told Edward his response did not go over well. “Miss Elizabeth Carrington.” Maybe her whole name would suffice.
“No one even remotely by that name resides here.” Stepping back, the butler closed the door, practically in Edward’s face. He stared at it momentarily.
Deuced odd. This was the place. He was sure of it. Slowly, he walked back to the gray and took up the reins. As the truth dawned, anger welled up inside. She made a fool of him, ensuring that he would not know her address. Still, she must be staying in the vicinity. He glanced around. Hopeless. He was not about to start knocking on every door.
With a sigh of defeat, he turned the gray. As he did so, he recalled Betsy’s mother letting him know they planned to be at a lending library today. He recalled, too, the address. Glancing up, he hoped he was not too late. Time he and one comely young woman had a reckoning.
* * *
Betsy perused the shelves, breathing in the scent of new books with their leather covers and of old books with a slightly musty smell. She pulled down a book of history here and one of philosophy there, as well as a book of poetry. She replaced a thin volume by Lord Byron, blushing as she remembered some of what she’d heard about the man.
She had just settled onto a bench near the window to read, when a disturbance alerted her. Glancing up, she gasped as Edward stood before her. “Miss Carrington, a word if I may.”
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