Page 20 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)

“Why, you abhorrent little worm,” Beau growled, and launched himself from the bed.

Clementine listened with growing horror as the two men spoke.

The silence on the balcony was palpable as all three of them strained to hear the conversation.

The words struck her like a blow, however, as she heard just what Beau had endured.

His cousin, a fellow he had probably idolised as a child, had tried to end his life for no better reason than jealousy and avarice. She felt sick.

Eight years old. He had been just eight years old when Edwin Cavendish had encouraged him to swim out of his depth, too far from land.

She could only imagine the terror Beau must have felt, and the sheer determination he must have had to keep going, to keep swimming, until he made it to the other side.

To have to do so knowing that someone he had liked and admired, perhaps even loved, had tricked him…

how that must have hurt. Her heart ached, and she realised this explained a good deal about Lord Beaumarsh, about his reluctance to take anything seriously or to show any genuine feeling, his desire to indulge in pleasure and turn his attention away from anything of true value.

“—you never even knew I was there,” the wretched man crowed, making Clementine’s blood boil.

“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. ”

There was a taut silence, and Clementine looked to her father and Mr Chivers, hoping they had enough to convict the horrid man, because she wanted to throttle Edwin Cavendish with her bare hands. Both men nodded, but before they could make their presence known, they heard Beaumarsh’s growl of fury.

“Why, you abhorrent little worm!”

There was a high-pitched scream and a heavy thud, and Clementine pushed through the curtain at the same time as her father and Mr Chivers, which meant none of them could pass and all three got tangled in the blasted fabric.

By the time they were through, they found Beaumarsh standing over his cousin, who was sprawled on the floor and holding his nose as blood dripped through his fingers.

He stared up at his lordship as if he’d risen from the dead.

Clementine supposed he had, for all Edwin knew.

“Tell me you have heard enough,” Lord Beaumont growled, staring down at his cousin, who was a thin man dressed in the most garish waistcoat of gold and purple stripes, which he had matched with yellow pantaloons and a green coat. No wonder Beaumarsh loathed him, Clementine thought irreverently.

“Enough to send the man to the gallows if you wish it, my lord,” Mr Chivers said confidently.

Clementine glanced at Chivers, uncertain that were true as Mr Cavendish had failed in actually killing Beaumarsh, but the man was an earl, so perhaps multiple attempts were enough.

“What? What is happening?” Edwin said, the words coming out muffled as he pressed a handkerchief against his nose to staunch the bleeding. “You were supposed to be dying! You told me you were,” he protested, as if Beaumarsh was not playing fair.

His lordship snorted. “No. I was supposed to be dead, but you failed again, you fool. This time, however, I’ve decided there will be no more attempts on my life.

This is Reverend Honeywell, and Mr Chivers here is a justice of the peace.

They’ve heard every word you just said and will attest to the fact that you have repeatedly tried to kill me.

You’ve had your fun, Edwin, and now I’ll have mine.

Watching you swing will be great fun, won’t it?

” he asked snidely, his features set, a callous expression hardening his handsome face in a way she had never seen before.

Edwin gasped, all the colour leaving his face in a rush and for a moment, Clementine believed Beaumarsh would do it.

She supposed she could not blame him. A man who ought to have been a brother to him had tried and tried to end his life.

An eye for an eye. Yet the relief she felt when that savage light dimmed, replaced by one of sheer disgust, was more than she could account for.

“For God’s sake,” Beaumarsh said. “You really are the most unutterable fool, Edwin.”

“You w-wouldn’t see me hang, would you, Cuz?” the man pleaded, finally realising that he had been caught in a trap.

“No, damn your eyes. I wouldn’t. More fool me.

But don’t think it’s out of pity. I just can’t stomach the scandal that would ensue.

It would probably kill my mother. But you listen to me, Edwin.

You’d better hope I live to be a very old man, for the moment I turn up my toes, if there is the least bit of suspicion, you’ll be hunted down and tried for murder. Do I make myself clear?”

“C-Crystal,” Edwin said, nodding vigorously. “But… But what shall I do? I’m rather desperate, old man. I owe some very shady fellows rather a lot of blunt, you see, and—”

“And if you had even an iota of decency, I would have bailed you out,” Beaumarsh snapped. “But as it is, you can run away to France and hope old Boney doesn’t have you hanged for a spy.”

“Oh, but—” Edwin swallowed, silenced by the look in his cousin’s eyes.

Clementine did not blame him, for Lord Beaumont looked like he wanted to murder the villain with his bare hands. An understandable impulse, she felt, which made his self-control even more remarkable.

“Kirby!” Beaumarsh bellowed.

“Yes, my lord,” Kirby said, emerging from behind the door to the corridor where he had clearly been listening to every word.

“I believe Mr Chivers has a delightful cell for my cousin to kick his heels in until his voyage to France has been arranged. Do help ensure he gets there safely.”

“With pleasure, Lord Beaumarsh,” Kirby said, announcing the title with more precision and appreciation than Clementine had ever heard before.

She smiled, aware whose benefit that was for, and wondered at the respect that the man had for his master.

The proverb, no man is a hero to his valet, echoed in her mind, and she could not help but consider that, and wish she knew who Lord Beaumarsh really was, for the face he showed the world seemed to be a far cry from the man he was beneath.

Too late now, she thought, refusing to allow herself to feel regret for that fact.

She had known he would leave as soon as this scene had been played out, and she would be a fool to lament that fact.

It was only that he had brought excitement and glamour into her life, and she rather regretted having to lose it so quickly.

Kirby and Mr Chivers left with the prisoner, who Mrs Adamson agreed could be held in her wine cellar until after dark to avoid causing a scene.

This left Clementine and her father alone with Beaumarsh, who excused himself to pull on another lavishly embroidered silk banyan.

Clementine regarded it with true appreciation this time, admiring the heavy black silk and the gorgeous display of peacock feathers in variety of blue and green tones.

They seemed to make his eyes appear an even more extraordinary shade.

Beaumarsh caught her gaze and returned a wry smile. “Yes, yes, showing my true colours at last, eh, Miss Honeywell? Do not deny it. I know you are thinking it, for it is written all over your face.”

Clementine bit her lip, struggling not to laugh. “I cannot think what you mean,” she managed, but the words were a little strangled.

His lordship’s eyes warmed with appreciation but, when he spoke, his voice was serious.

“I must thank you, Miss Honeywell. I was appallingly rude to you when you first approached me with your plan, but it was simple and worked like a charm, just as you promised. You are a quite remarkable female, and I shall never forget the good turn you have done me. I am in your debt. If ever there is anything I might do to return the favour, I beg you will not hesitate to ask me.”

Clementine felt a sudden lurch in her stomach, a sense of regret that she had not had time to enjoy this man’s friendship for a little longer.

She knew that was all it was, all it would ever be, and she accepted that.

Nevertheless, she would have liked to glimpse a little more of what else he hid beneath the mask he showed the world.

His words were generous, though, more so because she knew he meant them, and though she knew she would never impose upon him, she was grateful for the offer.

“You are most kind, Lord Beaumarsh, but my reward is knowing you may live the rest of your days without looking over your shoulder. I wish you all the very best for your future.”

Don’t waste it , she added silently, willing him to do something with his life. She suspected he was far more than he would allow anyone to know and wished he would give himself more credit than he did.

Beaumarsh smiled and stepped forward to shake her father’s hand. “You are a wise and generous man, Reverend, and it has been my pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, my lord,” her father replied, his tone warm. “But don’t be a stranger. We are not so very far from London, certainly not from Kent. There will always be a welcome for you in Little Valentine, especially at the vicarage, so I hope you will not forget us entirely.”

“As if I could,” Beaumarsh said, his lips quirking as he turned to Clementine. “It has been an honour, Miss Honeywell.”

As he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss upon her fingers.

Clementine’s breath hitched at the touch of his mouth, an odd fluttery sensation exploding in her belly.

He’s just using his wiles, amusing himself, flirting with you, it means nothing at all , she reminded herself.

She knew it and was not silly enough to believe anything else. He was leaving, after all.

“You will leave at once?” she asked, refusing to feel regret for his answer, yet when he nodded, she felt she was losing a connection to someone who might have been dear to her, if only they’d had the chance. Foolishness, she knew.

“As soon as Kirby can get me in order. With luck, we shall be home sometime this evening.”

He sounded cheerful, relieved to be going, so clearly, she was the only one who felt the loss.

Hardly surprising. Lord Beaumarsh was popular and surrounded by friends in the city.

His life was far larger than her own, which suddenly felt smaller than it ever had before.

She must stop that at once, she decided.

Her life was a full one, and she had many friends too, people who liked and respected her and sought her opinion.

She did a lot of good in this small town and was appreciated for it.

There was nothing to feel gloomy about. Nothing at all.

So, she smiled and wished Lord Beaumarsh a safe journey home and left without a second glance, chatting animatedly with her father about any subject she could grasp at, as they walked back home.

“Clara’s aunt is so dreadful, Papa. I wish there was something we might do for her,” she observed, having relayed the details of her recent visit.

“All we can do is to be kind and patient with her aunt, and hope that she softens. Sometimes people do not know how to be kind until they are shown kindness. We do not know what has made the woman so bitter and cantankerous, but it is she herself who is hurt most by it. Far more than Clara. Indeed, I find Clara a wonderfully wise young woman. She is a calm soul and does not allow her aunt’s sharp tongue to wound her. ”

“It’s difficult to be kind to a woman who cannot find a single nice thing to say about anything, let alone the niece who looks after her so well and whom she treats like a dog. Indeed, I should take issue with anyone treating a dog with such a lack of respect,” she said hotly.

Her father smiled and patted her shoulder. “Don’t fret, love. Clara is stronger than you think, and I believe Lord Beaumarsh will miss us more than he expects to.”

Clementine started, staring at her father in shock. “I wasn’t talking about Lord Beaumarsh,” she said, bewildered.

“No. You weren’t,” he replied, a too knowing glint in his eyes.

Clementine huffed. Papa had too fine an understanding of human nature and was oddly omniscient at times. “I will not have you thinking that I am pining for the man, for I am not.”

“I know,” he said soothingly. “But he brought a bit of sparkle into our lives, did he not? I found him most interesting to talk to and wish I’d had the time to know him better, but he’s not a happy fellow, I fear.

He’s searching for something, but he does not know it, and so he does not know what to look for. ”

Clementine said nothing, having had similar thoughts about the man herself.

“I would have liked to be his friend,” she admitted.

“You are his friend, I think,” the reverend said placidly, linking their arms together as they walked the rest of the way home.