Beauty in Breeches (9 page)

Beatrice lowered her head. ‘I'm sorry, Astrid. I don't
mean to. And please don't be ashamed of me for what I am about to do. Where Larkhill is concerned, I am prepared to throw everything—even my immortal soul—into the battle to get it back.'

‘Your desire to have your home returned to you must be very powerful indeed if you will go to such lengths as to marry the man who took it away from you in the first place.'

‘You will never know how powerful. And as for you, you must talk to your mama. When she realises how things really are between you and Henry, perhaps she will relent.'

‘Thank you, Beatrice, but somehow I don't believe Mama will consent to a marriage between us.'

‘Get George on side. He might be able to talk her round.'

At that moment the door opened and Aunt Moira came in. Her face was like a stone. Beatrice breathed in deeply. Best get this over with, she thought.

‘W
ell?' Lady Standish demanded. ‘What have you got to say for yourself, Beatrice? Too ashamed, are you? I am simply astounded that not only did you ask Lord Chadwick to marry you, but you practically demanded that he do so. You have behaved in a thoroughly deceitful manner and I will not have it. In one fell swoop you have broken all the rules.' Beatrice raised her head and looked at her aunt defiantly, which increased her wrath. ‘How dare you humiliate me and make me look foolish in society? How dare you?' She was puce with anger and her voice rose until she was almost screeching.

‘I understand that your feelings are hurt and I am sorry to have caused you so much distress, Aunt Moira,' Beatrice uttered stiffly.

‘Distress? That is putting it mildly,' Lady Standish said, her aristocratic voice dripping with disdain. ‘Of
course as your guardian I can stop this. You do realise that, don't you?'

‘But why would you want to?'

‘To stop you making a fool of yourself and this family. What will you do if I don't allow it?'

Both women were facing each other. Beatrice refused to be bowed. Her sense of outrage kept her anchored to the floor.

‘I'll do as I wish. You cannot stand in my way. Of late I've done a lot of thinking. I am eighteen years old—a woman—and I shall decide my own destiny. Ever since I came to live here you have wanted me off your hands. I am happy to oblige you.'

‘Enough,' Lady Standish ordered. ‘I am your aunt! How dare you speak to me in this disgraceful manner? I have indulged you overmuch. What other reason can there be for such behaviour? You owe me your respect. For shame! Must you always think of yourself, you insolent, ungrateful girl? You have planned this from the start. Oh, I am not deceived by you, Beatrice. You have wanted him for yourself ever since we returned from London. You seek to deny Astrid the privilege of winning his favour.'

‘Lord Chadwick never had any intention of offering for Astrid. And Astrid would not favour a proposal from him anyway, feeling as she does about Henry Talbot.' She looked to where her cousin sat shrinking in a chair, watching and listening to the heated words between her mother and her cousin. ‘Is that not so, Astrid?'

‘I—I do have feelings for Henry,' she confessed,
which was a brave thing for her to say, for, like all young ladies of her social class, Astrid had been taught since childhood that her duty as a daughter was to marry in accordance with her parents' wishes. ‘I don't want anyone else, Mama,' she said in a tear-clogged voice. ‘I want Henry.'

The admission was made with such humble, hopeless misery that anyone but the hard-hearted Lady Standish would have been moved by it. Instead she glared at her. ‘I think Henry Talbot presumed on your friendship and the freedom his parents have allowed him to dally at Standish House in the hope that something would come of his association with you. He is naïve to think so. That will never happen. You would be marrying beneath you.'

‘I do not think Squire Talbot would care to have his son regarded as just anyone,' Beatrice dared to say. ‘Henry is a fine man. He may look naïve, but I'll wager he'll make the best husband for Astrid.'

Lady Standish fixed her ice-cold eyes on her niece, her mouth twisting with derision. ‘A farmer? I don't think so.'

‘There is nothing to be ashamed of in that,' Beatrice argued. ‘Henry loves the land and farms his father's acres tirelessly.'

‘But as a younger son it will never be his. I do not like speaking ill of Squire Talbot for we have been friends and neighbours for more years than I can remember, but you deviate, Beatrice. This is not about Astrid, but about you.' Beatrice moved towards the
door, but Lady Standish barred her way. ‘Where are you going?'

‘To my room.' With defiance Beatrice walked round her.

‘And Lord Chadwick? I warn you, Beatrice. You go to him with nothing. I will not provide you with a dowry. You are a nobody and as such he will regard you like a plaything and soon tire of you and marry someone else.'

Beatrice turned from the doorway and looked back at her aunt, her brows raised in questioning sarcasm. ‘Will he? And you are sure of that, are you, Aunt Moira? And this is the man you wanted for Astrid, is it—for your own daughter? Then consider yourself fortunate that he is marrying me instead.'

 

Beatrice was in the hall when Lord Chadwick was admitted the following morning. Their eyes met. His mood was again mocking, his eyes devouring, hers nervous and uncertain. Under his openly admiring regard, she flushed crimson. She heard his soft laugh, then he turned and went into the drawing room for his meeting with her aunt. As she followed him she noted that he was completely at ease and terribly confident of himself.

Lady Standish was seated in her usual chair by the hearth and did not trouble herself to rise when he entered. The turn of her head and the coldness of her smile conveyed very clearly that she did not approve of this marriage and that he should refuse to have any part of it.

‘I think you are expecting me, Lady Standish,' Julius said in crisp tones, seeing Beatrice take a position away from her aunt.

‘I am. Please be seated.'

‘No, thank you,' his hard, confident voice replied. ‘I am content to stand.'

‘As you wish. I am interested to know your opinion about this outrageous situation concerning my niece. I am sure you will agree that her conduct is shocking.'

‘I do agree, Lady Standish.' He glanced at the young woman in question with a mocking smile lightly curving his lips, wondering how she would react if he were to tell her how he had been unable to wipe her from his mind. Memories of the way she had felt in his arms, the heady sweetness of her kiss, had kept him awake all night. What a proud, spirited beauty she was. She excited him, she shocked him, and while he did not consider himself remotely in love with her, he was in her thrall.

He was aware of what she wanted and was tempted to refuse her, but the prospect of his safe, orderly life without her horrified him. It was as if she'd bewitched him, this wicked, beautiful creature, and he could not break away.

Julius had suffered hardship and tragedy throughout his life and his emotions had been stunted, which was why he had never married. His relationships with women were about sex. Just the same, he mused as he looked at Beatrice Fanshaw, life could still deliver surprises.

It was a difficult moment for Beatrice, who did not
know what to expect. She wanted to maintain an air of cool disdain, to face Lord Chadwick in calm defiance, but her mauled pride and an aching distrust of the future assailed her senses. Momentarily blinded by a rush of tears, she lowered her head, but, furious with herself that she should display such weakness, lifted it again and found his amber eyes resting on her with something akin to compassion or pity. It was almost too much for her to bear.

‘Beatrice always was an underhand, quarrelsome girl,' Lady Standish went on coldly. ‘She has a tendency to deceit and does not have the character and disposition of my own dear daughter, Astrid. You have given some thought to her—her idea,' she said, for want of a better word.

Beatrice knew then why she disliked her aunt so much, for it was in her nature to wound her cruelly. No matter how she had tried to please and obey her when she had come to Standish House, all her efforts were repulsed and repaid by such words as Lady Standish had just uttered. The accusation cut her to the heart, especially as her aunt had voiced it before Lord Chadwick. The unkindness painted her as some kind of artful, obnoxious creature, tainting any future happiness she hoped for.

Julius considered Beatrice a moment before replying to Lady Standish's question. ‘As a matter of fact I have given it considerable thought.'

He stared rigidly at Beatrice, his profile harsh and forbidding. With a sinking heart she knew he was thinking hard for some way out of marrying her; she
also knew that behind that tautly controlled façade was a terrible volcanic rage. With the silence grating on her nerves, she held herself still and waited for him to speak, his expression becoming darker and more ominous by the second.

When Julius saw her putting up a valiant fight for control, a fight she won, his temper softened. Standing before him, she looked like a proud young queen, her eyes sparkling like twin jewels.

‘And have you come to the sensible conclusion that you don't suit?' Lady Standish remarked coldly.

‘On the contrary,' he replied, bringing his gaze back to her, ‘I think we might suit very well. In the beginning I confess to being shocked by the forfeit your niece asked of me and I did not consider it lightly. I am not usually a man of hasty decision when it concerns a lasting relationship, but I suppose you could say that Miss Fanshaw forced my hand.'

‘Then you are quite mad, sir. Beatrice is no relation of mine, but you do realise that I could prevent this if I so wished?' Lady Standish rushed in, her temper getting the better of her, pushed beyond the bounds of reason by her niece's unacceptable behaviour and the scandal that would ensue. ‘Beatrice is eighteen. I am her guardian until she comes of age or I consider it time that she marries.'

The room was as cold as winter in January. Julius stared at the almost demented woman, her eyes feverishly bright, her hands clenched so tightly into fists that her blue veins bulged out. She meant it, he realised. She was evidently so consumed with loathing for her
niece that she would subject her to a lifetime of misery for daring to defy her by taking away the man she had selected for her own daughter.

‘Why would you want to do that, Lady Standish? Because you care so much for your niece that you put her happiness first—or for spite?' he said, overstepping the bounds of politeness. ‘It is obvious to me that she is no favourite of yours.' He turned his head sharply to Beatrice and studied her face as if he'd never seen her before. His granite features softened and his eyes warmed, as if he understood how humiliated she felt. ‘Do you still want to go through with this?'

Beatrice gazed up into his inscrutable amber eyes and nodded. ‘Yes.'

‘That's all I wish to know.'

Lady Standish's face whitened at his words. ‘You cannot seriously mean to go through with this—this farce of a marriage!'

A muscle twitched furiously in Julius's cheek as his angry glare took in the older woman. He loathed her at that moment. The injustice of an innocent being so harshly maligned gnawed at every chivalrous inch of his body, although he did wonder what he was getting into. ‘I intend to do exactly that. From now on Beatrice will be
my
responsibility.'

‘Then good luck to you is what I say, for you will need it. The girl's a liar and an ambitious schemer. She's trouble, a hellion, and you will live to regret taking her on. I will not pretend that I am happy about this ill-conceived marriage. However much it galls me, however much it denigrates my family's good name,
I must accept it. But you'll get no blessing from me,' she said, her voice tight with fury and bitterness.'

Julius's voice was scathing. ‘I think we can manage to live without it.'

Lady Standish glared at her niece, noting the familiar jut of defiance in her chin. ‘I cannot stop you doing this foolish thing, Beatrice. But if you do you will not get my acceptance. I will be forced to cut you off from your family and our connections. You will not get a penny from me. You will be cut off from everything you have known.'

Beatrice managed to raise her head and meet her aunt's gaze unflinching. ‘I am sorry you feel that way, Aunt Moira, but I do have a right to choose my own life.'

‘Choice you have, girl,' her aunt replied contemptuously. ‘You have always had it, but the choice to do the right thing. If you leave this house now, you will never return. I will have nothing more to do with you. You have made your bed so you must lie in it. You will not speak with Astrid or George again. You will have no communication with them. Is that clear?'

Beatrice almost choked on the hurt this caused her, but she managed to utter, ‘Yes.'

Julius's eyes had turned positively glacial during this short exchange. ‘You have my guarantee that as my wife Beatrice will be supported in a manner suitable to her upbringing. It is certain she must no longer live here where she will continue to be subjected to the malice of a woman who calls herself an aunt.' These words were delivered in a cold, lethal voice, his eyes
gleaming with a deadly purpose. ‘Having seen for myself your unfair treatment of your niece, I suspect that, failing to get what you want, you will not hesitate to stoop to slander to soothe your wounded pride. I trust you will think twice before you resort to such vile practice. Beatrice is under
my
protection now, and believe me, you don't want to have me for an enemy.'

Lady Standish drew herself up with dignified hauteur, but exposed her fury by the way her hand gripping the arm of her chair trembled. ‘Please do not threaten me in my own house, Lord Chadwick. Beatrice has only a little knowledge of the kind of man that you are, having stolen her birthright, but I have more. In time she will come to know you, to know how you treat those who dare to cross you, and then she will hate you.'

Observing the puzzled look that crossed Lord Chadwick's face, she smiled a chilling, satisfied smile, but she would not enlighten him as to what she was referring. She would save that for a later date and enjoy flinging it in his face.

‘Now I would appreciate it if you would leave this instant and take Beatrice with you. Indeed, the more I look at her, the more relieved I shall feel to be rid of a responsibility that is becoming too irksome.' Seeing how Beatrice flinched under the biting remark, she was glad to know it had hit its mark. ‘I can't say that she has been a pleasure to have around.'

Bemused by what she had said, Julius was pushed to ask her to explain what she had meant by it, but, impatient to leave, he turned his gaze directly to Beatrice.
Only then did he realise the gamble she had taken by taking up his wager, which, once accepted, had started off a chain of events from which there was no going back on.