Page 25 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)

Dutifully, and without a word of protest, the ladies hurried off.

The reverend rubbed his hands together, well pleased with this development.

“Well, this has been a rare treat, my lord. I do hope you will call on us again if you are staying close by. I shan’t join you on your walk, though, so don’t fret.

You young people enjoy a lovely stroll, and perhaps you should call in at The Mermaid’s Tale for refreshments.

They do the most marvellous ices. Bound to work up a thirst on such a hot day. ”

“We shall, sir, I thank you,” Beau said, before shaking the man’s hand and bidding him a good afternoon.

Beau and Stonehaven went to the front garden to await their companions, and Beau looked to his friend, awaiting what he might say.

“Certainly a duke,” Stonehaven said with a grin. “She ought not to lower her sights to a mere marquess, and yet—”

“Behave,” Beau said brusquely.

“As if I wouldn’t,” Stonehaven retorted indignantly, hand on heart.

Any reply Beau might have made, he stifled as the front door opened and the three ladies appeared.

Stonehaven immediately took possession of Miss Beatrice and Miss Isabelle, demanding each take his arm and looking like the cock of the walk the moment they did.

Beau shook his head and offered his arm to Miss Honeywell, who was regarding him with speculative interest. Awareness still thrummed between them, but Miss Honeywell had clearly got herself in hand and he knew she would do nothing to acknowledge it.

Not unless he provoked her. It was a tempting thought, but one he resisted, at least for now.

Stonehaven and his new friends walked off, with Stonehaven chatting easily and doing his part to put the ladies at ease. Beau slanted a glance at his companion, her frank gaze as unsettling as always.

“You are trying to read my brain again, Miss Honeywell,” he complained, startling a laugh from her, which pleased him.

“I am,” she admitted. “I simply cannot fathom what you are doing here.”

“I told you, we were en route to a friend’s,” he said, aware he sounded a trifle defensive.

“Yes, so you said,” she replied, not sounding convinced. They walked on a little farther. “Stonehaven seems an amiable fellow.”

Beau looked at her sharply, wondering if she had been beguiled so easily.

Certainly, most women found Stonehaven to be a fascinating fellow, almost magnetic.

Of course, his lofty title did not hurt, either.

Beau studied her face, making her turn to look at him.

She glanced away quickly, and he smiled, relieved he had not been trumped.

“He is,” Beau agreed. They walked on a little further in silence.

After a while, he felt her studying his face, and allowed her to do so without comment, knowing she would ask whatever it was she wished to know shortly.

“How have you been? Have you truly recovered from your illness?”

Beau glanced back at her, rather touched by the sincerity of her question, which seemed more than simple politeness. “I have, thank you, and Cousin Edwin is coming to terms with life in France. At least now the war is over, he is in no danger of being accused of spying,” he added wryly.

“Could a man who wears purple striped waistcoats with yellow pantaloons and a green coat be accused of spying?” she wondered idly. “He doesn’t exactly escape one's notice.”

Beau grinned at her. “A despicably clever one, perhaps.”

“A double agent,” she agreed, laughing.

“Good lord. Cousin Edwin, a spy,” Beau said, his mind boggling at the idea. “Well, he’s sly enough, I’ll grant you. Just not terribly bright.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the cooler temperatures beneath the shade of the trees, and made their way along the path to the beach.

There were birds singing, and he wondered if he’d ever noticed such a thing in London.

He must have done whilst at Cavendish House, and yet there was something very peaceful in this moment, as if the place had a magic of its own that cast a spell over one.

It was pleasant too, he supposed, simply being away from the dirt and the noise of town life.

Not that he’d admit that to Kirby for the world.

“How is Mr Kirby?” Miss Honeywell asked, and Beau looked at her, wondering if perhaps she could read his thoughts after all.

“Well, he’s stopped sulking for the first time in over a month, so I count that as progress,” Beau replied gravely.

“Oh, dear. Whatever is the matter with him?” she asked, a smile in her eyes that made his gaze rest upon her for a moment longer than it ought.

“He is most disappointed in me for returning to town. I believe he wishes me to establish myself in Little Valentine.”

“Good heavens, what a distressing idea,” she said with gleeful horror. “Imagine, such a pink of the ton, buried in a hole-in-the-wall town like this.”

“You are mocking me, Miss Honeywell,” he observed, remarking the delight shining in her eyes.

He liked that she would poke fun at him; it was a novel experience.

Though it saddened him to admit, most women were after him for his money and his title and flattered him at every turn.

He had not understood quite how tired he had become of it.

At least Miss Honeywell had never been impressed by his earldom, or anything about him, he thought ruefully.

“Oh, no, my lord, never that,”

“Lying through your teeth now!” he exclaimed with a bark of laughter. “You, madam, are beyond the pale.”

“Oh, good. I’ve always wished to be reprehensible, but never quite had the stamina for it.”

“You are a strange creature, Miss Honeywell,” he said, with admiration behind the words. She was engaging in a way he was unfamiliar with, and he found he enjoyed her irreverence greatly.

“Ah, my secret is out,” she lamented. “And now you know why I shall never find a husband.”

Beau studied her curiously, not believing that for a moment.

This woman was lovely and funny and kind and the sort to be relied upon.

She had a splendid figure, and he suspected she was bold enough to be an entertaining lover.

Yet she was also a capable creature who could run a household and raise children and keep anyone who crossed her path from falling into disaster or mischief.

She would be a friend to her husband, and entirely loyal.

She would certainly never have affairs behind his back.

He stopped in his tracks, remembering the things he had said to Stonehaven about wanting his wife to at least be his friend.

A woman like Miss Honeywell would make a home for her husband, a home that was calm and peaceful like the vicarage.

It would be orderly, and any children she was mother to would be sensible and quiet and kind like her.

Funny, too, for she was funny. It would be good to laugh with the woman he married.

His heart gave a terrified thump, and whilst a large part of him wanted to dissolve into hysterics at the idea, he could not deny that it made a good deal of sense.

He believed they could be friends. Surely, they were already a good way towards being friends, and he had not the least problem with the way she looked, either.

The sight of her in her nightgown had plagued him for weeks after, and he was not about to forget their recent accidental intimacy either, so the getting of heirs would be no hardship whatsoever.

More importantly, Miss Honeywell would not betray him.

She was decent to her bones, and utterly trustworthy.

He was certain of that. This assurance seemed to quiet the hectic rhythm of his heart, and he let out a breath.

“My lord?” She watched him anxiously. “Is there aught amiss?”

“No.” He shook his head, but she did not seem comforted.

“Are you quite certain you have recovered your health?” she asked, with the solicitous manner she no doubt reserved for old ladies. “It is rather hot. We might find somewhere to sit, if you prefer?”

Beau glanced ahead to see Stonehaven was some distance away from them and considered the merits of a quiet spot and a serious conversation.

No, she would laugh her head off if he asked her such a thing out of the blue, and quite rightly.

Then he remembered the forthright manner in which she had explained why she would never marry a man like him if her life depended on it.

Ah, yes. That.

Well, no matter. He could win her over. Besides, that had been bluster, surely provoked by his ill manners. He had seen fascination in her eyes, curiosity. That he could work with. Besides, now they were on more intimate and friendly terms, she had thawed a degree or two. Hadn’t she?

“No, I’m quite well, I assure you. Let’s carry on. Tell me, how have you been? Has life in Little Valentine kept you busy since I left?”

She looked at him oddly for a moment, as if deciding if he really wanted to know or was just going through the motions of polite conversation again.

“Yes, I have been well, and busy with keeping Papa in order, though I admit I have been a little bored of late. I believe I need a new challenge and have been considering starting a club for the ladies of Little Valentine. They need a place where they can meet and exchange news and perhaps do something for the benefit of the town.”

She enjoyed organising people and events, which spoke well for someone taking on the role of countess, he noted with approval. “A fine notion. What would be your first project?”

Her expression grew troubled for a moment, and she opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps we shall raise funds for the girls' school,” she said with a smile. “It’s about time someone helped Papa to make it happen.”