A Lady's Vanishing Choices Read online

  He wished he could mentally shrug Betha away, but it would be an impossible task. Until he could determine her involvement with the traitor business, he had to remain vigilant and consider everyone. If anyone in the family might be guilty, she appeared the most likely candidate, a woman looking to better her position through ill-gotten gains.

  She seemed on the verge of speaking to him, but he chose to discourage her attempt. He would never allow her spell of enchantment to tighten round him. Better to avoid trouble at the start. A cut direct should do the trick. Royce flung his head back and stared down his nose at her with haughty disdain.

  After one agonizing look, she turned and fled past the curving stairs leading to the upper floor. A door shut with force in her wake.

  A moment of regret engulfed him, but Eleanor stepped out into the corridor and came towards him with a smile on her lovely face. He pushed his pang of guilt aside. She knew exactly how to present herself to best advantage. Too bad her timid cousin didn’t take a leaf out of Eleanor’s book. How could he possibly believe ill of Eleanor or her family? Certainly he must remain vigilant, but the absurd notion held no merit in his eyes.

  Eleanor extended both hands to him. He immediately covered her fingers in his own.

  “How delightful to see you again,” she murmured in a breathless voice.

  “You are certainly in looks today.”

  “Milord,” Eleanor murmured and blinked up at him.

  He bowed slightly and kissed her knuckles. “Here now, none of that. In London you called me by my name, not my title.” He grinned. “On one occasion, I remember a ‘dear Royce,’ slipping from your lovely lips.”

  She gasped slightly and then twinkled up at him. “How naughty of you to remember. And not gentlemanly at all.”

  He gazed fondly at her blonde curls before allowing his regard to track down to her big, blue eyes. Without warning, her eye color shifted to whiskey-brown before fading back to blue. He shook his head to clear the fog. Damn chit. How ridiculous to allow Betha and her captivating eyes to intrude at such an inappropriate moment.

  Everything he desired stood before him, a lovely lady who made the most of her beauty. She presented a shining example of womanhood, young, blonde, a very pretty chit with the required big, blue eyes and dainty figure currently accepted by society. The epitome of grace, she dressed in the latest fashion for a young debutante. With an indulgent smile, he kissed the back of one of her small hands once more. He managed to shake thoughts of her cousin aside. It would behoove him to do all in his power to absolve Eleanor’s family of blame.

  “Yes, I remember the occasion fondly. It was right before I kissed—”

  She quickly interrupted him with an indignant tone and jerked her hand away. “I never.”

  Hesitating for a brief moment for effect, he continued, “Your hand, my dear.” The minx knew exactly how to titillate, how to tease, and where to draw the line.

  “You must think I’m a shocking flirt.”

  “Not at all, my dear.”

  A door shut across the way and Lady Littleton stepped out. “Ah. Lord Rivton, how pleasant.” Still lovely, even with her mature figure, she swept all before her and ushered both Royce and her daughter back into the parlor. “Won’t you take a seat? I’ll ring for tea.”

  Eleanor brushed her silk skirts aside to make room for him on the sofa and peeked up at him from beneath her lashes.

  He chose to encourage her and sank down at her side. “I came to invite you and your entire family to a small soirée I’m giving Saturday next. I’ll be pleased if you accept.” Although the invitation was not of his choosing, he continued, “Your cousin as well.”

  Eleanor and her mother exchanged glances before Eleanor explained, “Oh, Betha rarely attends parties. She’s shy and awkward around people.”

  He tried to control the determined note in his tone when he clarified the invitation. “Nonetheless, the invitation includes your cousin.”

  “Of course, we shall all be delighted.” Gertrude accepted the invitation with the appearance of pleasure.

  With his lids half closed, Royce studied Eleanor. Recently returning from her successful London Season, he’d heard rumors her parents had been reluctant to accept the first proposals offered. Hopes had been raised to expect offers from the highest ranks of society, and he smiled to himself. His attendance here and now proved her parents had been correct.

  The conversation became general, and several minutes passed before the butler entered with the tea tray, placing his burden on the low table in front of Lady Littleton.

  “Where is Betha?” Eleanor inquired, glancing up at Hobs. “She should be here to pass the tea around.”

  The butler leaned in close and said in a low voice, “I have no idea, Milady. She shot out the back door like a scalded cat. I’ve not seen her since.” He disappeared through the door with a stately tread.

  With a small titter of dismissing laughter, Lady Littleton explained, “She has chores to complete. I’ll pour.”

  Tension quivered in the room for a few moments with only the rattle of teacups to break the rather awkward silence. Royce sipped his tea and compared the two ladies. Eleanor closely resembled her mother, but seemed a more subdued, if spoiled version. He had no doubt she would respond to a firm handling of the reins and be totally unaware of his guidance unless he wanted her to know.

  The doorknocker sounded and he rose. “I must take my leave. I dropped by to offer up the invitation personally.” He bowed his head in a farewell salute. “Ladies.”

  Reluctantly, Eleanor stood and held out her hand. “Thank you for coming, and for the personal invitation.” She followed him to the doorway. He gathered his belongings, but before he could exit, the knocker sounded again.

  Bethany appeared in the hall, wearing a cape about her shoulders and a bundle under her arm. On her way out, she opened the door to Freddy, Eleanor’s cousin.

  Royce clenched his teeth at his annoyance with such a creature. Freddy’s weak chin and thin lips added to his displeasure. Freddy and Eleanor had blonde locks of the exact same shade, the man’s only pleasing feature that Royce could detect. Freddy’s pale blue eyes shone with merriment when he grinned at Bethany.

  Royce fought to prevent his countenance from reflecting his distaste for this particular relative of Eleanor’s. Hump, he’s nothing but a counter-coxcomb and a wasteful fribble along with it. Royce abhorred watching Freddy make such a cake of himself. Even his grin irked Royce.

  “Freddy. What a delightful surprise,” Eleanor cooed.

  “To be sure. Delighted, my dear.” He glanced beyond Eleanor. “And you as well,” Freddy simpered at Royce.

  Royce stepped forward and bowed his head in acknowledgment of the greeting before taking his leave. He strolled round to the stables where Jem met him at the door. Royce swallowed a sigh, adding a noncommittal smile.

  The anxious look in the lad’s eyes shamed him for his lack of enthusiasm. “How may I be of service?”

  “My older sister,” Jem explained in very distressed tones. “She be missing. She went off to Bath, but she never come back. Mum be worrit something bad happened to her.” He gazed up at Royce with the trustful expression of a friendly puppy.

  “Tell me everything you know about the time your sister disappeared. Everything you can remember. What she was doing, where she might have gone, and for how long,” Royce invited.

  “She be missing bout three weeks,” Jem stated, dropping his gaze while a wash of red covered his face. “She loped off to see her lover in Bath. She says how he has money and promised to set her up good. I tried to tell her it be all a hum.” Jem raised both hands in the air. “Does she listen? No.”

  “How did she travel to Bath?”

  Jem grumbled, “On the mail. No matter, Mum might need her.
Selfish, that’s her.”

  In full sympathy with the boy, Royce asked, “Her name exactly?”

  “Mary Rose Breen, a fancy name. Should be Jane or something plain like.”

  Royce bit back a grin at Jem’s opinions. “Do you know her lover’s name?”

  “Nun-un.”

  “You say she intended to meet him in Bath. Exactly where?”

  “Blue Boar Inn,” Jem supplied with a frown. “On Carter Street. But me mum askt for her. Claims they has no idea.”

  “All the same, tell me of her appearance. Perhaps I shall be more persuasive.”

  “She be kinda pretty. I gives her that. Nice yeller hair, blue eyes, and small. Bout to here,” Jem said and measured to his forehead. “Not tall like me.” With his chest puffed out, he boasted, “I be thirteen and big.”

  “And how old is your sister?”

  Jem shrugged and hung his head. “Seventeen near four months ago. Alls I knows is Mum be worrit.”

  “Certainly, she would be concerned. I’ll see what I can do.” Royce nodded to the boy and turned toward his horse. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Deep in thought, he mounted and rode away. There was an undercurrent of tension in at Birdelwood Manor extending all the way to the stables. Bethany had attempted to speak to him, and he could kick his own backside now for the cut direct he had administered. He should have had more sense. Her allure had dictated his mood, but with his wounding attitude, he had deliberately frightened her away, along with any information he might have gleaned. He gritted his teeth. Well, hell.

  Chapter 8

  Bethany made her way through the small village of Chadwick with her mind in turmoil. She’d finally gathered enough courage to confide in Lord Rivton about a possible crime when he delivered a stinging cut-direct. He actually chose that moment to look down his nose at her. Although he was the authority in the county, his haughty attitude had quelled any desire to even speak to him in passing, much less give him information.

  Fuming, she tossed her head and shifted Aunt Gertrude’s small attempt at benevolence beneath her arm. What a beast of a day. She’d best control her emotions before she reached the vicar’s cottage. She took several deep breaths, straightened her shoulders, and passed the graveyard next to the church building. The afternoon sun glinted off the edge of the bell in the tower, causing moisture to gather at the back of her eyes. That must be the reason for the threat of tears.

  She blinked several times and entered the picket fence closing off the dwelling. A pigeon resting on one of the fence posts fluttered into a nearby tree and deposited wet droppings onto the wrappings in her arms. Oh. Kiss a duck.

  Bethany laid the bundle down, plucking a low hanging bunch of leaves to wipe at the mess. How disgusting. Before she fully finished the task, she spotted the vicar’s daughter hurrying down the path towards her and stood to greet her friend.

  Linda’s green eyes sparked with joy, her golden curls bouncing as she ran. Bubbling with excited laughter, she came to a halt. “Wait until you hear. You remember I told you about my beau? He asked me to marry him,” she squealed. Whirling around, she giggled and caught one of Bethany’s hands. “You’ll meet him soon.”

  Bethany squeezed her hand in return. “I’m happy for you.”

  “He’s so tall, dark, and very handsome.”

  Bethany chuckled. “You certainly sound besotted.”

  “I am. I can hardly wait until the wedding.” Linda sighed and clasped her fingers together against her heart.

  “When is the happy occasion?”

  “Not until late in the fall.” Linda whirled around in a light dance step. “My heart says, hurry. His kisses make my knees melt.” She shot a slightly guilty glance toward her friend. “We are going to be married. You can’t expect to catch a man if you won’t offer anything.”

  Bethany grinned. “I suppose there is some merit to that. I just don’t know what it is.”

  She didn’t envy Linda exactly, but a bolt of wistfulness crowded out the joy of the moment. “How delightful it must be to fall in love and have that love returned with no concern for a dowry. No need to attract a wealthy suitor or apprehension about the suitability of the match either. You were able to simply follow your heart.”

  “I know you’re roasting me.” Linda brushed her fingers against her lips. “I couldn’t resist, truth be known. He’s so handsome and sweet.” She lowered her voice. “Goosebumps run all the way to my toes when he merely looks at me.”

  “You know enough about him to be certain he is the one?” A slight doubt began to haunt Bethany. She’d never known Linda’s affections to be so easily engaged. Still, what did she know? She’d nearly run a stranger off the road and attraction had instantly pulled at her. His smile would be devastating—if he ever bothered to cast one her way.

  “I know enough,” Linda defended and squared her shoulders. “I know I love him and that he loves me.”

  Bethany touched Linda’s arm, instantly contrite. “I only wish to share your joy, not imply he isn’t all you claim.”

  “Once you see him, you’ll understand. Laurent and his sister are all that remain of his family.” In a hushed tone, as if telling a dark secret, Linda added, “In fact, I met his sister recently, along with a friend of hers. The friend, a widow lady, has an amazing resemblance to you. It gave me quite a turn when I first laid eyes on her.”

  Startled by such a revelation, Bethany grimaced. “Poor thing.”

  “Nonsense. You’re very lovely, regardless of the set-downs and belittling delivered by your relatives. I’ve never understood why your family would want you so downtrodden.”

  “Someone must see to the running of the household and keep the coffers filled for all of the family’s activities.” Bethany pinched her lips together before puffing out a breath. “They seem almost afraid to allow me to step out of the role of the poor relative. Uncle Arthur would need to bestir himself. Simply because he has a title before his name is no cause to be high in the instep. It’s as if I owe them never-ending gratitude for giving me a home when my parents died.”

  Linda hesitated before uttering, “That’s a shame and so unfair. They are the ones who need to express gratitude to you for all you do to sustain the family.”

  Bethany laughed. “I may certainly dream of such a happening, but real life is nothing like that.”

  “I’m blessed. My family wants me to be happy. That’s why father allowed the betrothal.” Linda clasped her hands together at the side of her face. “Anyway, Laurent is a fencing master.”

  Again a slight unease stirred Bethany. With her head cocked to the side in question, she glanced at her friend. “He owns a fencing salon, is it?”

  “No, he travels from estate to estate teaching young boys how to fence and defend themselves in general. He says it’s more profitable.”

  “Does your papa cut up stiff because he’s a fencing master?” Bethany inquired with a gentle smile.

  “He’s not best pleased, but he wishes me to be happy.” Linda shrugged. “Besides, there is nothing wrong with an honorable earning of one’s bread.” With a defensive attitude, she raised her shoulders.

  A long moment of silence stretched between the young ladies. “Then, I’m delighted you’ve found your love.” Bethany gave her a hug and stepped back. “Not to change the subject from your dear, handsome betrothed, but I brought a bundle of clothing from Aunt Gertrude.”

  “That is generous of her. Let’s take it into the house.” Linda started to pick up the package.”

  “Be careful. There’s bird droppings on it. I startled the silly creature and it flew up into the tree before deliberately aiming for my bundle. I cleaned most of it off, but there might be more.”

  “I’ll come back for it later. I want to show you my gown. I’m so excited.” Lind
a linked arms with Bethany and entered the cottage. “You’ll meet Laurent at the ball.”

  “What ball?” Apprehension quaked through Bethany. She didn’t like the sound of such a grand occasion where her family would have the opportunity to belittle her before a crowd. Her muscles tensed and she shrugged to loosen the knot between her shoulders.

  “The earl’s ball. I’ve been invited. So have you.”

  “I have no such invitation.” Bethany shook her head. “You must be mistaken. Not being out in social circles often, I still know enough to recognize a cut-direct when I receive one. I’ll not attend a party in the house of such a high-stickler, conceited, shall I say, gentleman.” Burning with humiliation at the remembered slight, she clenched her fists. Perhaps his ill manners were a good thing. Being angry with him was safer than attraction.

  “Of course you are invited. I heard Perry tell my father you would attend.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Even with an invitation, I shall not attend. After such a set-down, I can’t imagine he included me in the invitation. Besides, I’d be forced to wear one of Aunt Gertrude’s refurbished gowns.”

  “That’s intolerable, I’ll admit.” Linda grimaced. “But you would face down anything that comes your way and you know it. You must come. I want you to meet Laurent.”

  Dread hovered over Bethany. She didn’t wish to disappoint her friend, but attending the ball would be a sacrifice. “Oh, Linda. You know I find it hard to refuse you.” Fighting to keep the reluctance from her voice, she agreed, “If my uncle will allow me to attend, I shall, but only to meet your beau. Though I don’t know how you shall look him in the face and introduce a dowdy as your friend.”