Page 19 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)

Beau lay with his head turned to one side, his eyes closed, arms laid carelessly upon the bedclothes as if moving them were too much effort.

The room was dark, with only a chink of light from the not quite shut curtains illuminating his tableau.

They moved in the breeze from an open window and, as the flickering shadows played with his finely chiselled features, he appeared pale and poetically tragic, a romantic figure of dissipation and a warning of the cost of licentiousness.

The nightshirt he wore was open at the throat, showing a considerable expanse of hard, toned muscle and an intriguing scattering of dark golden hair.

Despite understanding the urgency of the situation, Clementine could not move, too fascinated by the scene before her.

Beau Beaumarsh, dressed up in his immaculate best, was exciting and too handsome for his own good, but like this…

like this he was some wicked god of wine and revelry, inviting her to sin with him. Heaven above, but he was beautiful.

Suddenly, as if feeling the weight of her gaze, Lord Beaumarsh’s eyes flicked open, a dazzling flash of blue against the pallor of his skin.

Clementine’s breath caught as she gazed back at him, quite riveted and unable to look away.

Beaumarsh did not so much as blink but held her gaze as her pulse rocketed.

The situation was ridiculous, with her gazing down upon a man of his lordship’s stamp, and him lying in such an abandoned pose upon his bed.

She was uncertain if even the presence of her father and a justice of the peace would save her entirely if anyone heard of it.

She didn’t care.

“Come, my dear,” her father urged, taking her arm and tugging her towards the balcony.

Clementine went, unresisting, but did not look away from Beau until Mr Kirby closed the curtains on them with a snap.

Finally free of whatever snare she had fallen into, she let out a shaky breath, coming back to her senses in time to realise she was sharing the tiny balcony not only with her father, but Mr Chivers.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said politely, only to be hushed by Chivers with some force.

She exchanged a glance with her father, whose lips twitched.

Chivers had always been rather officious, and no doubt strongly disapproved of her presence.

Still, he was an honourable fellow, and she believed she could trust him to hold his tongue about her being here.

Certainly, he would do so for her father’s sake.

The sun beat down upon them and Clementine wished she had brought a fan, belatedly looking around and realising their position put them in full view of the street below.

Happily, no one was around for the moment, and she prayed it stayed that way and that Lord Beaumarsh’s dreadful cousin would hurry.

Just as she’d had the thought, she heard the door open and close, and Kirby speaking in hushed tones.

“I must beg you not to fatigue him too greatly,” Kirby said morosely. “He’s not got much longer, I reckon, but I’ll not have you upsetting him in his last hours.”

“Yes, yes, fine,” Mr Cavendish said, sounding all too impatient to step into his cousin’s shoes.

Clementine gritted her teeth, deciding in that moment she loathed the man, and settled in to listen.

Beau heard his cousin’s voice, snappish and irritable as always, and experienced a sudden surge of gratitude towards Miss Honeywell for forcing him to listen to her mad plan.

As foolish as he felt, he knew it would be worth it the moment Edwin incriminated himself.

Finally, he would be free of the man’s insidious presence in his life, and the constant threat of sabotage to his carriage, or his horse, or having some noxious potion added to his wine.

His cousin had decided the title, the money, and the land were his when Beau was still a child.

Yet things had changed, and where his previous attempts had been more opportunistic, this had been planned and executed with cold-blooded cunning.

Edwin was getting desperate, and he would stop at nothing to get his hands on what he considered his due.

Beau kept still, forcing his breathing to remain shallow as he heard his cousin draw a chair up beside the bed.

“Sylvester?”

It took considerable effort to stop the cynical smile curving over Beau’s mouth as Edwin addressed him. Edwin had never called him by his title, let alone Beau, for he envied his ownership of the honorific too deeply.

Beau allowed his eyes to flicker open and turned his head a fraction.

“Edwin?” he rasped, his voice sounding frail and quavery.

Really, he was rather good at this. Perhaps he should have tried his hand at acting in his misspent youth.

Too late now, sadly, for it would be unbecoming for a man of his years.

Still, this was an opportunity not to be missed.

“Yes, Cuz, it’s me. Lord, but you look sick as a horse,” he observed, sounding far too cheerful about it.

“Yes, Edwin. You have won, at last,” Beau said, with a sad smile. Slowly, as though the effort cost him dearly, he moved his hand towards his cousin, palm up. “I’m ready to go. I have made peace with my demons and bear you no ill will, but I must know the truth before I leave this world.”

“The truth?” Edwin said, an edge to his voice as he glanced over his shoulder. Happily, Kirby had made himself scarce, so it appeared they were alone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Beau let out a breath of laughter, which he turned into a coughing fit he was rather proud of.

“Come now, Edwin. You’ve been trying to do away with me for years now.

Did you think I did not know it was you who cut the girth on my saddle, or perhaps you did not realise I understood your intention the time you encouraged me to swim the length of the lake at Cavendish House with you and then discovered you had turned back without telling me?

I was over halfway before I realised. That was the first time, I think,” he mused. “I was eight years old.”

“Nonsense, just childish high jinks is all,” Edwin blustered.

“Tell me the truth,” Beau said, a thread of anger in his voice now. “You cannot deny the last request of a dying man. If you do not, I might discover I have just enough energy left to will all my unentailed goods to the nearest orphanage.”

“Oh, I say!” Edwin said, indignation stiffening his spine. “That would be a shockingly ungentlemanly thing to do.”

Beau laughed, unable to resist. “Yes, whilst murder is quite acceptable.”

“It ain’t murder,” Edwin said testily. “The title ought to have been mine. I’m older than you. Just because my father wasn’t the eldest, you got it. I deserved it more than you did. I would have made use of Cavendish House, for one thing. You never set foot in it!”

“So you did try, then?” Beau pressed, needing him to spell it out.

“Damned right I did,” Edwin said in frustration.

“But I swear you’ve got some guardian angel, for you always came out of every attempt without a scratch so there’s no need to make out like I harmed you!

You didn’t so much as break a bone when you fell from your horse, and you swam to shore eventually, did you not?

Though how you managed that, I still do not know, for you were all skin and bone in those days. ”

He sounded so ill-used, Beau struggled to hide his feelings.

Still, he held himself in check, and simply gazed up at his cousin with soulful eyes.

“Until now, Cuz. Finally, you have succeeded. Tell me how you did it. I should like to know how you finally bested me after all these years. Surely you can grant me that much. It’s all yours now, after all. I cannot harm you.”

Beau watched his cousin’s face, watched the almost childish look of triumphant glee flicker behind his eyes and knew he had him. Edwin wanted to boast about how he had got the upper hand, for he had always been vain, and that would be his undoing.

“Well, all right, then. I suppose I owe you that much as you’re giving everything over to me,” he said, still managing to sound begrudging, even though he was clearly eager to display his cleverness.

“It was simple, really. Once I settled on arsenic as the best method, I just had to figure out how best to dose you. I waited weeks, you know. Drove me half mad with impatience, but finally that patience was rewarded. Mrs Jenkins’ ball was just the occasion I needed.

The place is always a terrible crush, and you were with Stonehaven.

He always leads you into trouble, so I knew you’d be half seas over well before the night was done.

Then it was simple enough. I tipped the powder into a wineglass and switched your glass for the poisoned one.

You never even knew I was there. I stayed in the background, watching, just to be sure you drank it and didn’t spill the glass or something stupid, just in case I needed to give you more.

I didn’t want to give you so much you made a nasty scene and died on the spot, you see, better it happened when you got home, in private.

I owed the family name that much, so the dosage was crucial.

But you drained the glass like a good boy, and so I went to my club and played cards and made sure everyone knew I was there so I couldn’t be viewed with suspicion.

I’ll admit it’s taken far longer than I anticipated, but it worked in the end. ”

He looked so damned smug, so very pleased with himself.

Rage bubbled up inside Beau at the notion that this entitled nothing of a man had almost ended him.

Edwin had done nothing of note with his life, he never had a kind word for anyone, did no one a favour unless there was something in it for himself, he was ignorant and a bully and, on top of that, he had absolutely no fashion sense, and this man…

this waste of space, had nearly killed him. Him!