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‘Are you questioning our dear mama’s virtue?’ Toby guffawed. ‘She’ll not thank you for hearing that repeated. Perhaps I might tell her.’
He eyed his sibling calculatingly, feeling confident that Hugh would relent rather than risk upsetting their widowed mother. The dowager was approaching sixty-five and would be distraught to know her elder son risked a spell in the Fleet because his debts were out of control.
‘I’ve had enough of you...take yourself off...’ Hugh snapped in exasperation, turning for the door.
‘What’s wrong? No money left? Sent too much out to India, have you? Toby’s voice was low and sly and he concealed a smirk at the look of intense hatred he’d brought to his brother’s face.
‘I’ll arrange for a bank draft later in the day,’ Hugh said, just before quitting the room. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be elsewhere...’
Toby strutted after him, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.
‘If you come again demanding me to bail you out of gambling debts you’ll be wasting your time. I won’t care what you say...’
‘Won’t you, now...?’ Toby drawled provocatively. ‘Gambling debts?’ He smoothly changed the subject. ‘It’s nothing so vulgar, my dear fellow. Serena has expensive tastes in jewellery, if you must have the details...’
Toby wasn’t referring to his prospective fiancée’s taste but to that of his mistress. Hugh knew his brother had set up Serena Worthing in a smart apartment, and even with a marriage contract under discussion it seemed Toby had no intention of putting her off to concentrate on his future wife.
‘Well, whatever it is...whoring, drinking, gambling...you’ll pay for it yourself in future.’
‘If ever our positions return to what they were...what they should be...I’ll remember this conversation and all those others where you’ve had the damnable cheek to moralise.’ Toby pointed a stout finger at his brother. ‘Before you got rich and Blackthorne got married the two of you were constant petticoat-chasers. Blackthorne might have eased off now, but you’re worse than ever since you got back from India.’ Toby thrust his face close to Hugh’s jaw. ‘Tell me...what it is about an exotic beauty that fires a man’s blood so...?’
‘You sound jealous of my popularity with the ladies.’ Hugh shoved his brother away and strode on along the corridor. ‘Show yourself out.’
Chapter Three (#uf1865651-26c4-5264-befc-4525a57dd051)
‘I’m sorry Papa worried you enough to bring you racing to Hertfordshire yesterday. I had no idea he’d summoned you home just because the wedding is off.’ Beatrice bounced her baby nephew on her knee. ‘Of course it is wonderful to have you visit, Elise, and this little chap has grown so big since I last saw him.’
Elise had been pouring tea into bone china, but on hearing the quaver in her sister’s voice she put down the pot and crouched down by the side of Bea’s armchair. ‘You don’t need to be brave with me, my dear. I know how dreadfully hurt you are.’ She pressed Bea’s fingers in comfort.
Beatrice avoided Elise’s astute gaze, blinking rapidly at the window to one side of her. ‘It is all right...really it is...it has been nearly a week now since...’ She tried to name the person who’d caused her heartbreak but found his name stuck to her tongue.
As her nephew gurgled, giving her a gummy smile, Bea fondled his soft pink cheek with a forefinger.
‘Another few days and I will be right as rain—won’t I, Master Adam?’
‘Well, I know I would not be, if it were me who’d been so cruelly jilted,’ Elise announced pithily. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’d never have imagined Dr Burnett to be a callous or a fickle fellow.’
‘I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who mistook his character.’ Beatrice sighed. ‘I can’t forgive him for abandoning me in favour of family duty, yet since I’ve had time to calm down I understand why he did so.’
‘Then I think you exceedingly over-obliging!’ Elise exclaimed. ‘Love should override all else in my book.’
‘In a perfect world...perhaps...’ Beatrice returned philosophically. ‘I think matrimony and Beatrice Dewey are destined to remain strangers.’
‘Never say so! There is a husband for you...he just has not shown himself yet.’ Elise attempted to draw her sister from her glums with a provocative comment. ‘As I recall, there was nobody more determined to be a wife and mother than you.’
Beatrice chuckled wryly at that reminder. Indeed, there had been a time when she’d driven her poor sister to distraction, so keen had she been to settle down with a nice fellow and raise a little family of her own. After several false starts she’d met Colin and finally thought her ambition was within her grasp. Now, for some reason, she felt tired of struggling towards that particular dream...
‘You girls are up early.’ Walter Dewey entered the sunny front parlour, supported by his stick. He gave his daughters an affectionate smile, thinking it nice to have them both together again at home, and with the added bonus of his handsome little grandson.
In Walter’s opinion the child was a perfect blend of his parents: he had the viscount’s brown eyes and sturdy build and his mother’s sharp chin and fair hair.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked Elise. ‘I heard young Adam having a grizzle just before dawn broke.’
‘He was wet so I changed his nappy,’ Viscountess Blackthorne said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to tend to her baby herself rather than give Adam to his nurse.
Following their parents’ acrimonious divorce, Elise and Bea had been reared by their papa in straitened circumstances, so were accustomed to being useful and practical in mundane matters. Both young women were quite happy to dress themselves and knew how to cook and clean. When younger, the sisters had taken to painting their bedrooms and made a capable job of it, much to their papa’s surprise and delight.
‘Don’t look at me like that, miss,’ Walter mildly reproved, having caught Beatrice frowning at him. ‘I know you believe I’m at fault because your sister has better things to do than commiserate with us that you’ve been put back on the shelf—’
‘I certainly do not!’ Elise cut across her father. ‘There’s nothing more important to me than being here with you, although the reason for it is upsetting.’ She gave her sister’s cheek an affectionate stroke. ‘Bea is certainly not on the shelf, Papa! How can she be when she is so pretty and looks not a day over eighteen...?’
‘Oh...Elise!’ Beatrice choked. ‘A very nice compliment but it really is too much.’
‘Perhaps I exaggerated just a little. You could pass easily for twenty-one and that is certainly not over-egging it.’ Elise cocked her head to assess her sister’s countenance. Beatrice was still one of the loveliest young women of her acquaintance, and in the haut monde Viscountess Blackthorne certainly came into contact with some vaunted beauties.
For the first time in days Beatrice chuckled with genuine amusement. ‘Papa’s right: I might be on the shelf...’ she pulled a little face ‘...but I’m not sure it worries me; at present I’m fed up with gentlemen and romance.’
‘That will pass.’ Walter flapped a hand. ‘Every young lady craves her own home and family.’
‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Papa?’ Beatrice teased her father.
‘You know I am not! You may stay with your old papa for as long as you wish...but to tell the truth I was looking forward to walking you down the aisle before these old legs finally give out on me.’
‘And so you shall, Papa,’ Elise reassured him, getting up from her place by her sister’s chair. Having tested the tea that she’d abandoned in the pot, Elise found it now unpalatably lukewarm.
‘Your Aunt Dolly will be very sad to have this news,’ Walter muttered, sinking into a seat.
‘She loves a wedding,’ Elise reflected, settling by her papa on the sofa.
‘She travelled here to attend your nuptials uninvited, as I recall.’ Walter dredged up a chuckle at the memory of his widowed sister turning up out of the blue on the eve of the wedding, expecting to be housed and fed.
‘And Mrs Vickers accompanied her,’ Elise chipped in, fondly dwelling on her countryside wedding at the local church. It had been a quiet, yet wonderful occasion, with just her family about her. She glanced at her sister, wondering if Bea was musing sadly on the fact that Colin Burnett had acted as Alex’s groomsman that fine afternoon.
‘I rather liked Edith Vickers,’ Beatrice remarked brightly. She had indeed been thinking of Colin’s role in her sister’s happy day and pounced on the first thing that came into her head to chase memories of him from her mind. ‘How is Mrs Vickers? Do you ever see her?’
‘Oh...of course...you would not know for I’ve not had a reason to mention it.’ Elise frowned. ‘Sadly, Mrs Vickers passed away.’ She leaned forward to impart an exciting titbit. ‘There was quite a brouhaha when it came to light that she had not been as hard up as she’d believed herself to be. When Edith’s husband died his creditors pounced and left her in very reduced circumstances. But they left alone the deeds to a strip of land in India because it was deemed to be barren. Mrs Vickers bequeathed it to her nephew, Hugh.’
‘Hugh Kendrick?’ Walter snarled.
He recalled that name. When Beatrice had gone with her sister to London several years ago Mrs Vickers’s nephew had shown undue interest in Beatrice, raising her hopes that he might propose. Walter had been enraged to know the fellow hadn’t the wherewithal to take on a wife so must fortune-hunt for a bride. He’d been angry at himself, too, knowing that if only he had put by a dowry for his daughters his elder child might have been settled before the younger, as was the proper way of things.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear of her passing.’ Beatrice wiped dribble from her nephew’s mouth with her hanky. ‘I expect Aunt Dolly misses Edith. They were good friends, weren’t they?’
‘So...the land was not worthless?’ Walter guessed, returning to the crux of the matter.
‘It was not,’ Elise confirmed, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Alex was delighted for his friend when he found out about his good fortune. Of course there were many green-eyed people not so pleased at the turn of events, and Sir Toby Kendrick led the pack—’
‘What happened?’ Walter butted in impatiently, his gnarled hand clutching tightly at his stick, turning the knuckles white. Walter loved a good tale of Lady Luck turning up unexpectedly. Many a time over the years he had wished that elusive minx would smile on him when his marriage and his business had crumbled, leaving him desolate with two teenage girls to bring up alone.
‘The strip of land contained some mines, long ago abandoned as dry. Hugh went to India and had them reinvestigated from curiosity and they turned up a seam of fine diamonds. So now Hugh Kendrick is very rich, and I for one am overjoyed for him.’
Beatrice blinked in astonishment at her past love’s extraordinary stroke of luck. ‘Yes...good for him...’ she said quietly.
‘Good for him?’ Walter barked. ‘Another fellow who broke your heart, as I recall.’
‘I do seem to attract rogues.’ Beatrice’s tone was rueful rather than bitter. ‘I’m sure it’s my own fault,’ she added with a twinkling smile. ‘You have warned me not to be so impetuous, haven’t you, Papa?’ Bea knew that in the past, especially in her pursuit of Hugh Kendrick, she’d been not only impetuous but foolhardy.
Walter glanced at his jilted daughter. He’d been right to call Elise home, he realised; just a few days ago Beatrice’s low spirits had worried him. Now, with her sister close by, she was recovering far better than Walter had dared hope. It had always been a great comfort to him that his girls were good friends as well as close kin. He knew of families where siblings resented one another—especially when one child did better than the other. But Beatrice had only been happy for her younger sister when she had caught herself a handsome aristocrat to wed, and Elise with her open, sweet nature never attempted to lord it over her less fortunate sibling.
‘It’s a shame Edith didn’t pop off a few years ago,’ Walter said. ‘Her rogue of a nephew would have received his bequest earlier and been in a position to call on me for your hand.’
‘Papa!’ Beatrice cried, half-amused, half-outraged. ‘Poor Edith! I am sad to hear of her demise no matter what benefits it turned up.’ She gestured airily. ‘Besides, it all turned out for the best; after that little sojourn in London ended, and with it my friendship with Mr Kendrick, I had only been home a few days before I was feeling relieved that he’d thrown me over.’ She tickled Adam, making him giggle, while adding self-mockingly, ‘I quickly met Colin and fell in love all over again.’
‘On the rebound,’ Walter muttered darkly. ‘And look where that got you.’
‘Hugh is still a bachelor,’ Elise piped up, subtly siding with her father.
She had also thought at the time that her sister had transferred her affection to Dr Burnett far too quickly after Hugh’s rejection. Not that Hugh had carelessly withdrawn his suit; at the time he had confided in Alex to feeling mortified at not being in a position to propose to Bea. Elise had thought him brutal in making a clean break with her sister, yet had come to realise it had been the decent thing to do. The couple’s mutual affection had started stirring gossip, and the town tabbies loved nothing better than to amuse themselves shredding an innocent’s reputation.
A girl who too obviously set her cap at a gentleman, then failed to get him to put a ring on her finger, invited opprobrium. Worse still, if it had been discovered that Beatrice had advertised for a husband in a gazette, like a vulgar hussy, the Dewey sisters would have been hounded out of town during the season they’d been house guests of the Chapmans. In the event a scandal had broken, but Elise and Alex had been the butt of it and it had quickly died away when Elise received Alex’s marriage proposal.
‘I understood Hugh Kendrick had set his sights on Fiona Chapman’s inheritance.’ Walter had been reflecting, as had his daughters, on the drama of three years ago.
‘Fiona deterred him from proposing, I believe, knowing as she did that his heart wasn’t in it.’ Elise glanced at Beatrice, who seemed oblivious to the hint and continued playing pat-a-cake with Adam.
‘That young woman must have been kicking herself ever since.’ Walter growled a laugh. ‘I expect she has had the scolding of her life from Maude.’ He mentioned Fiona’s mother with obvious fondness. The Chapmans were good people and had remained loyal to the Deweys through good and bad times over the decades.
‘Verity is increasing with her first child.’ Verity Clemence, née Chapman, was a very dear friend of Elise’s. ‘I have only just found out!’ She answered Bea’s unspoken question, flashed by a pair of expressive blue eyes. ‘I believe the babe is not due till late autumn.’
‘She must be thrilled, and so must be Mr and Mrs Chapman.’ Beatrice sounded wistful. ‘It will be their first grandchild...’
A bang on the door caused the room’s occupants to abruptly cease their lively conversation and look at one another in surprise. Elise jumped up to peer discreetly out of the square-paned window. ‘We are on the point of having a visit from Mrs Callan and Victoria,’ she groaned.
‘The grapevine has done its work, then,’ Beatrice acknowledged wryly.
‘Would you sooner I sent them away?’ Elise feared that her sister was right: the vicar’s wife and daughter had come to pry about the broken engagement rather than politely socialise.
‘Everybody will know sooner or later, so I must get used to the idea of facing down the stares and whispers.’ Bea stood up, handing Adam to his mother. ‘Let’s get it over with now, while I’m feeling ready to deflect any amount of sly comments.’
Elise’s smile combined admiration and encouragement for Bea. ‘I’ll tell Betty to show them in.’
A few minutes later Elise was back with her family in the front parlour, exchanging a resigned smile with Bea as they heard voices in the hallway heralding their visitors’ imminent appearance.
‘We came as soon as we heard,’ Mrs Callan announced with theatrical sympathy, surging into the room. She halted abruptly, causing her plump daughter trailing in her wake to collide with her. Nudging Victoria, to alert her to the presence of aristocracy, Mrs Callan bobbed low to the viscountess, who was rocking her son in her arms.
‘We are indeed honoured to see you today, Lady Blackthorne. Ah...you have brought your little son to see his grandpapa.’ Ethel Callan fluttered a hand to her throat to indicate her regret in what she was about to say. ‘Of course it is a shame that such calamitous news brings you back to Hertfordshire.’
‘I come to Hertfordshire gladly, for good or bad news.’
‘Oh...of course...’ Mrs Callan approached Beatrice, taking her hands in a thin, dry grip. ‘Shocked! It is not too strong a word!’ She gave Bea’s fingers a vigorous shake. ‘Deeply disappointed also, to discover that nice Dr Burnett would heartlessly abandon you like that.’
‘We have discovered he is not so nice, have we not, Mama?’ Victoria piped up.
‘Dr Burnett had his reasons for doing what he did and I have accepted them, so that is that.’ Beatrice’s voice was cool and held an air of finality as she firmly withdrew her hands from the older woman’s clutch. She was not about to be drawn into complaining about her loss. Whatever she said would be repeated ad infinitum in the village.
‘Do take a seat, madam, and you also, Miss Callan.’ Walter’s fist was quivering on his stick as his annoyance increased. Just as he’d been daring to hope Beatrice seemed more cheerful these two were likely to overset her again with their false pity. He knew for a fact that Victoria had done her utmost to snare the doctor herself. It had gone round the locality that the minx had concocted ailments simply to get the fellow to make a house call. Her father had moaned to Walter that he owed Burnett a tidy sum on account of his spinster daughter’s antics, and no gain made from it.
Ethel Callan settled down, with much smoothing of skirts, in a vacant chair by the fireside, and her daughter perched on the sofa next to Walter.
‘We were just about to have some fresh tea,’ Beatrice announced. ‘I’ll ask Mrs Francis to bring two more cups and a fresh pot...’ Her voice tailed off as another rata-tat on the door was heard. Inwardly she groaned, fearing yet more ladies had come to gleefully commiserate with her. ‘I’ll go this time.’ She sent Elise a subtle wink that conveyed she’d sooner her sister fielded questions for a short while.
Chapter Four (#uf1865651-26c4-5264-befc-4525a57dd051)
In the hallway Beatrice spied the comforting figure of Mrs Francis ambling towards her from the direction of the kitchen.
‘I’ll attend to the door.’ Bea gave the housekeeper a smile. ‘Would you make some tea for us, please, and bring it along directly? The sooner we have been hospitable the sooner our guests might decide to be on their way.’
Betty Francis twitched a smile, understanding the quip. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll be quick as I can with the refreshments, but maybe I’ll just dawdle a moment and see how many cups we might need.’ The woman’s grey head pointed grimly at the door. Betty knew very well why people were calling on them, and wouldn’t be surprised to see Squire Thaddon’s wife outside with some of her friends, keen to join the inquisition that was taking place in the front parlour.
‘I suppose that might be wise,’ Bea said wryly.
‘The rumour mill’s been grinding overtime, no doubt about that,’ Betty muttered darkly. ‘Might be you’ll open up and I’ll need to break out another tea service.’
Betty Francis and her husband Norman had been with the Deweys for approaching twenty-five years and felt very protective of the family. Betty had been like a mother to the girls when the hussy Mr Dewey had married ran off to her lover. If she bumped into the doctor Betty would cheerfully wring his neck for breaking Miss Beatrice’s heart. But she’d heard from the butcher’s boy, who’d pedalled over earlier in the week, that Colin Burnett had wasted no time in upping sticks and moving away.
With one hand Beatrice smoothed her sprigged muslin dress, while the other tucked blonde tendrils behind her small ears. Forcing an insouciant expression, she opened the door. Extreme astonishment caused her smile to freeze on her full pink lips.
‘Hello, Beatrice; you look well...’
‘Why...Mr Kendrick...I...that is...we were expecting somebody else,’ Beatrice finished faintly, having finally snapped herself to attention.
‘You remember me...I’m flattered.’
Beatrice attempted to rouse herself from her stupor. Her heart had begun to thud erratically and the pearl buttons on her bodice were quivering with every breath she took. But if her visitor noticed her bosom’s alluring movement he gave no sign; Hugh Kendrick’s eyes were politely fixed on her blanching face.
‘I’m sorry to startle you, and hope I’ve not arrived at a bad time...’
‘No...not at all...’ Bea fibbed. ‘Please...do come in, sir.’ She belatedly remembered her manners and drew to one side, aware that Betty was hovering behind, watching and listening to their strained conversation.
‘Just one more cup, then, please, Mrs Francis.’ Beatrice was thankful to have a reason to turn to the housekeeper and compose herself, simply to avoid a pair or relentless hawk-like eyes.
She had recognised Hugh straight away, yet marvelled at having done so. The person before her little resembled the gentleman she had fallen in love with three years ago. His thick hair was still conker-brown, worn rather long, and his eyes were deepest hazel, fringed with ebony lashes; but there all similarity ended. Once he’d had an appealing fresh-faced demeanour and had worn modestly styled attire. Now his lean, angular face was sun-beaten and bore lines of dissipation. His elegantly tailored suit of clothing, dusty and creased from the journey, proclaimed him a man who could afford to be carelessly indulgent.
So far they’d exchanged few words, all of them polite, yet Bea felt unsettled by his lazy confidence. Once Hugh Kendrick would blush endearingly the moment she entered a room; at present she found his hooded amber gaze intimidating rather than flattering. As Beatrice pivoted about to again invite him into her home she sensed a pang of regret that he was no longer a charming young fellow but an aloof stranger who possessed an alarming virility.
‘I expect you’re busy with wedding preparations.’
His quiet comment caused Beatrice to snap her darkening eyes to him, wondering if he was being deliberately sarcastic. His tone had been as unemotional as were his features, but she quickly realised it was unlikely he’d yet heard her bad news. Her sister had only found out a few days ago on reaching Hertfordshire, and Elise’s husband remained in ignorance of what had gone on.
