A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  He could not have said why he felt so compelled to seek her out, but reason seemed a trifling matter at the time.

  Presently, he was seeking his wife once more, this time out of doors. She had taken the children from their studies for a bit of playtime, as the day was unseasonably warm. She tended to encourage time away from their classes in favor of activity. While he would have stopped it before had he known of it, now that he had seen the good it was doing his children, he did all he could to encourage it. His boys had invited him to join them in their army games, which he found more than slightly tempting, but first, he must find his wife.

  The last thing he expected was to see her sprawled out on the grass with his daughters, their skirts spread out as if posing for a portrait from above, their hair nearly perfectly arranged and scattered with flowers. The little girls had their eyes squeezed tightly shut, while Beth lay as calm and serene as the day itself.

  Malcolm took a moment to observe the sight, his throat suddenly constricting. It should not have stirred him so poignantly, but there was no denying that it did. He would never forget that sight as long as he lived.

  But he could not stand here forever, and he rather wished his wife would spend time with him instead of with his daughters, selfish though the wish was.

  “What have we here?” he asked, clearing his throat and stepping forward.

  Beth cracked open an eye, her smile quick and easy. “Isn’t it obvious, Monty?”

  He fought the urge to smile back. “Not immediately, no.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled still. “Janie, will you tell your father what we are about?”

  His dark-haired daughter lifted her head from the grass. “We’re becoming fairies, Papa!”

  “And Bitsy says this is how fairies get wings!” Greer added excitedly, her wild curls now tangled with flowers and grass.

  Malcolm kept his face properly somber and glanced back at his wife, whose feet were now only inches from his. “Does she, now?” he mused.

  Beth bit down on her lip, her eyes no longer closed.

  “And how would Beth know?” he asked his daughters, still looking at his wife.

  Beth suddenly nudged his ankle hard, her eyes mischievous as she fought to keep her smile contained.

  “Bitsy, Papa!” Greer insisted.

  He shifted his eyes back to his girls, unable to miss the correction. “Pardon?”

  Jane pushed herself up to her elbows. “We call her Bitsy, Papa. She said we could. Especially when we’re becoming fairies, we must call her by her fairy name, or it won’t work.”

  Malcolm stared at his oldest girl, blinking slowly. “But you call her Bitsy all the time?”

  Both girls nodded repeatedly. “It’s a good enough name for all the time, don’t you think?” Jane asked with a smile as she put her head back down on the grass.

  Malcolm couldn’t breathe for a moment. He’d heard the children call her Bitsy before, several times, but it never seemed to register in his mind that they were doing so. She’d found her name. She’d earned a name, a title, from his children! He’d remembered Janie’s tear-filled voice telling Beth that they were her family, too, and that had struck him then, but now…

  She was part of their family.

  She was his family.

  He moved his foot closer to hers, their eyes meeting as his ankle rubbed hers. She smiled a little, and he pressed more firmly against her, only to find her pressing back against him. Her smile turned softer, warmer, and it set his insides aflame, bringing the same sort of smile to his face. He suddenly could very much imagine kissing her and doing so quite thoroughly. He had no doubt he would enjoy the experience immensely.

  But more than that, and somehow beyond, he felt the sudden desire to give in to the feelings stretching his heart. Something that told him to let Beth in, to open himself, and to forgo any semblance of pride.

  There was too much swirling within him to manage sense, but staring at his wife gave him a remarkable sense of clarity. And the slight pressure against his ankle grounded him more than anything he could ever recall.

  “Will you come with me?” he heard himself ask, keeping his gaze on her.

  Beth tilted her head slightly in the grass, a twinkling light in her eye. “Where?”

  He smirked a little, feeling as though she were intentionally toying with him, which was a bit of a rarity in his life. No one teased him about anything; no one would ever dare. Yet here was his young and impudent wife, lying in the grass and teasing him about his intentions towards her, of all things!

  Did he really need another reason to want her?

  “Anywhere,” he replied in a low voice, letting his mouth curve into a smile.

  Her smile flickered uncertainly, and her cheeks flushed a little, but then the playfulness returned, and she returned her head to its previous position, closing her eyes once more.

  “I am still trying to become a fairy. I couldn’t possibly go anywhere.”

  His daughters giggled, but Malcolm couldn’t spare a glance for them. He felt his smile growing but kept it in check to contain his helpless amusement. He pressed his leg harder against hers. “I really must speak with you, Beth.”

  “And I really have promised the girls we could become fairies,” she replied, her own smile quivering against her cheeks, her eyes still closed. “How am I to become the beautiful Fairy Princess Bitsy if I am up walking about with you?”

  How, indeed?

  “I have no doubt you would find a way,” he murmured, letting his eyes rake over her. “You’re already more than halfway there.”

  Beth’s eyes sprang open, and she stared at him, her smile slowly shrinking to something that clenched his stomach and weakened his knees. Her gaze fixed on his, and somehow, amid the swirling sensations within him, he registered the fact that her breathing was growing unsteady. But then, so was his.

  “Truly, Papa?” Jane cried in delight, sitting up from her position.

  Malcolm smiled, still looking at Beth. “Of course. Can’t you see the way she sparkles?”

  Color rushed into Beth’s cheeks, and she lowered her eyes, that soft and bewitching smile still distracting him.

  Jane and Greer, who had also risen to see, giggled and nodded. “Yes!”

  “And how the sun is making her hair and skin glow?” he added, ignoring the increasing pressure from her leg at his ankle.

  “It’s working!” Jane exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  “And I think, if you wish hard enough,” Malcolm continued, enjoying this far too much, “you may just find that our beautiful Bitsy fairy has been given wings…”

  He saw Beth’s breath catch, and his own may have stuttered at the sight, even as his girls scrambled over to check for her wings, disrupting the scene entirely.

  Malcolm stepped back, exhaling slowly to settle his racing heart, and smiled fondly at the way his daughters so clearly adored his wife. Soon, she was tickling both girls, and all were laughing uproariously.

  Flowers still scattered in her hair, she looked up at him and cleared her throat, the color high in her cheeks. “Perhaps now we might have that walk. Now that I am a fairy.”

  “I would never wish to burden a fairy with so unworthy a companion,” he told her shaking his head and taking another step back. “Perhaps if you find yourself human once more, we may.”

  Beth tilted her head at him in confusion. “Monty?”

  He stepped forward and offered her a hand at once, which she took, and he helped her rise.

  “Malcolm,” he corrected her in a low voice. “I insist.”

  Her lips parted in surprise, and he stepped away again from the temptation to kiss her senseless.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Fairy Princess, I must go to battle with the boys.” He bowed, and turned on his heel, striding back towards his sons.

  As he’d half-hoped, he heard Beth following him quickly. “Malcolm.”

  He stopped, biting back a groan of satisfaction that
surprised him. Swallowing, he turned to face her, forcing his expression to be playfully polite. “Yes, Beth?”

  Her hair was coming nearly undone, which made her look more the magical creature she was pretending to be than the wife he knew, and yet he wanted her more for it. “You wanted to talk with me?”

  Again, Malcolm shook his head, this time slowly and smiling. “No, Beth, I wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t care what we talked about. I would have made up twelve different topics just to keep you longer.”

  Somehow, she blushed even more and fidgeted where she stood.

  He gently reached out and stroked her cheek. “I love the way you blush,” he whispered. “Especially when you blush for me.”

  “You have a way of bringing me to it,” she replied, her voice barely audible, her eyes lowered once more.

  He stroked her cheek again, then leaned forward to kiss it softly, letting his lips slide a little along her cheekbone. “I know,” he breathed against her skin. Then, before he could help himself, he dusted his lips across hers, just a brief grazing of their fullness.

  Beth’s breath caught on a gasp, and Malcolm wrenched himself away, striding back towards the hill. “See you at dinner!” he called cheerily, even though he was coming apart at the seams.

  Something was happening to his control and his sanity. Home was becoming quite the dangerous place. But if he were to be frank, it was also a remarkable amount of fun.

  Beth’s husband would be the death of her! One day he was flirtatious and charming and made her blush to the ends of her hair, and the next he was sweet and friendly and approachable. Just in the short weeks since that night outside the nursery, he had changed so much, and so had she.

  He was never distant anymore, and sometimes it seemed he could see into her very soul, though she could sense secrets enough in him. Ever since that day on the lawn, he had made a point to spend a concentrated amount of time with her, and she had begun to crave it daily. They had walked the grounds together; they had gone out riding and seen the entire estate. They had even consulted over tenants’ needs together, and that did not include the time they had spent together with the children. In all those times, they may not have been alone, but their bond grew somehow stronger.

  But the hours spent with just the two of them…

  Malcolm was an extraordinary man, if a bit confusing. Some days he held her hand as they walked; some days his look was more intimate than anything she could have imagined, and some days he exuded no romantic airs whatsoever. Through it all, he was becoming more than just the man she’d married. He was becoming a friend, and one that was growing dearer as the days went on.

  Their conversations ranged from their pasts, to the children, to personal details that revealed more and more of themselves. Each was stimulating and engaging, as well as illuminating. Malcolm bore a depth of soul that she would never have anticipated, and he listened to her with the same intensity. Every word she spoke seemed important to him which emboldened her to share more of herself.

  He told her stories from his life in London, and with such detail and ease that Beth felt she knew these people herself and had experienced these things. She had laughed so much her cheeks had ached, and she thrilled with the new insight into her husband. She had growled with disgust and irritation at his description of Lady Lavinia Herschel and her antics, and even now, the memory of it set her teeth on edge.

  Malcolm had found her reaction amusing and endearing, he said, but Beth failed to see the humor in it. Oh, she knew it was utterly ridiculous, and if it had not been directed at her husband, she no doubt would have laughed. But as it was, she thought that she might scratch out the woman’s eyes if she ever met her.

  Malcolm’s complete disinterest in Lady Lavinia’s blatantly suggestive behavior settled Beth a little, but still, she wished she were bold enough to bind him to her side by her own wiles. She knew, however, that she would simply have to trust in his integrity, loyalty, and personal morality.

  He had asked her to tell him more about the name that the children had given her, which seemed of peculiar interest to him, and never failed to bring a smile to both of their faces. Truth be told, it was a name her favorite brother, Michael had used for her as a child. Beth had been the youngest in her family and of a diminutive stature from the beginning. The moniker had faded from use as she had grown, and no one had called her Bitsy for ages. But on the day she had taught the girls how to become fairies, out of sheer desperation to interact with them, it had been the first fairy-like name to come to mind. She’d not enjoyed the name much when she’d been a child, but now it was perhaps the sweetest name she could imagine.

  Malcolm had asked very few questions during her recounting, but his smile had kept her talking. Beth spoke of how Jane had been the first to call her Bitsy outside of the games. The others had taken it up themselves, one by one, until it was the name she craved to hear more than any other.

  “You love my children,” Malcolm had said softly.

  Beth had nodded, swallowing with difficulty. “Very much,” she had managed to squeak. “Though I know they are not, it feels as though they are mine, as well.”

  Malcolm had said nothing for a moment, which had given Beth a moment of panic. Would he once again remind her of the true nature of things? But instead, he had taken her hand in his, kissed the back of it, and then laced their fingers as they continued on their walk. She was not sure her heart had ever flown to such heights as then.

  He had not kissed her since that day on the lawn either, other than polite kisses to her hand, and some that had been slightly less than polite. Beth admitted to herself that she was beginning to grow more uneasy about his amorous distance.

  In every other respect, he was beyond reproach and kept her laughing and blushing on a regular basis. She was growing fonder of him, and more attracted to him, by the day. With every missed opportunity, a small but persistent itching sensation began to claw at her. But Malcolm needed to decide in which direction to take their relationship. It was he who was torn, and with perfectly good reason. Malcolm had to be the one to act, and Beth had to be the one to wait.

  Unfortunately, she had never been very good at waiting. Today, she had chosen complete avoidance for a stratagem, feeling much safer outside the house than within it. The children would be in lessons for much of the morning, and her husband would be occupied with estate business, as he was meeting with the manager.

  She prayed he would keep to his planned schedule. He was usually very dedicated to his commitments, but he was so changed of late that she could not pretend to anticipate what he would do. She needed space from him for a small moment. From his presence, from his essence, from anything that reminded her of him. But where could she go to accomplish that? In her present state, it would most likely require removing herself to a remote corner of Africa, she supposed.

  Even the grounds reminded her of Malcolm, so often they had walked them together. Any glance towards the house had her scanning every window and balcony for a glimpse of him. The bleariness in her eyes told of a night’s sleep lost thinking of him.

  She ran her thumb absently over the ring he had given her only a few days ago. Its weight reminded her of the moment he had given it to her, sliding off the simple gold band from their wedding in favor of something a little grander. A little more appropriate, he’d suggested.

  A little more heart-fluttering, perhaps.

  Beth shook her head now, her heart skipping as she recalled the feather-light kiss he had given her fingers when the new ring had been placed. Any woman who had endured a true Season with courtship would undoubtedly have been immune to such actions. But Beth had not had a Season. She’d never had a courtship. She had never had any other man show such interest. Woefully ignorant, insecure, and downright terrified, how could she feel any other way? Everything was new and different, and she had no idea what to expect or what might follow.

  These, however, were not the sort of thoughts to share with o
ne’s husband, as he was the one to blame for causing such turmoil. She could not even bring herself to truly confide in Lily about it, as she knew Malcolm all too well.

  The only person she thought might be an appropriate confidante was someone who would not, could not, respond.

  Caroline.

  “I must be barking mad,” Beth muttered to herself as she entered the cemetery, respectfully stepping around various late members of the Colerain family.

  Imagine a woman going to speak to her husband’s late wife about said husband in the hopes that the late wife might give some insight from her previous years of experience with the man. She must be truly desperate if she had come to this.

  As she looked on Caroline’s tombstone, she felt her stomach settle and her breathing slow, and an ironic smile lit her lips. Yes, she was desperate. But Caroline would understand.

  Beth sank to the ground, as she usually did when she was here, and let her shawl fall around her. “Good morning, Caroline,” she murmured, still smiling. “I am in need of your guidance. Again.”

  She paused as if she could hear the woman’s warm and gentle laughter, almost rasping in its tone.

  “I’m so confused,” she confessed with a sigh. She reached out to touch the petals of the wilting flowers Jane had brought to her mother’s grave a few days before. “I don’t know what to say or what to do, I don’t know what he is feeling, and I don’t know if this change in him means that he is letting go of you or…”

  She winced and clamped down on her lips in embarrassment.

  “That was a terrible thing to say, please forgive me.” Beth tilted her head back and let the sun warm and soothe her face. “It’s just… Caroline, I want him to love me! I know it’s a ridiculous thought, as I cannot even allow myself to say that I love him. I am afraid to hope that his recent attentions mean anything more than affectionate friendship.”

  She groaned and put her face in her hands. “That would have been more than ideal for me before. Why did he have to be more handsome and more wonderful than I thought? Why couldn’t he have more flaws?”