Page 26 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)
Beau narrowed his eyes, watching her closely. He felt certain she was hiding something. “Admirable, of course, Miss Honeywell, but that was not what you had been going to say. Tell me what is really on your mind.”
She stared at him, clearly startled by the observation. “Are you sure you cannot read my brain, my lord?” she demanded.
Beau laughed. “Certainly not, but I believe I am improving at reading your expressions. You have the most telling face, my dear. If I may give you a little advice, never play cards for money. You will lose.”
She huffed but the corners of her mouth ticked up, so he felt certain he had not offended her. “I am troubled,” she admitted. “And I do not know what to do.”
He held her gaze as she looked back at him, her blue eyes searching his face as if weighing up his trustworthiness. “Tell me.”
“You cannot tell a soul,” she said, gazing at him with such ferocity he wondered what she might do if he broke her confidence. String him up by his nether parts, judging by that look.
“You have my word as a gentleman.”
She nodded, satisfied, which surprised him a little. Her opinion of him when they had first met must have undergone a change, for he felt sure she had not trusted him an inch then.
“There is a lady in this town whose husband beats her. Everyone knows it, and no one will lift a finger to help her. To be honest, no one can help her, for she refuses all overtures from any of us. The appalling truth is that we are all helpless. She is his property in the eyes of the law and, unless he actually kills her, he may do as he pleases. My father has tried to intervene, but her husband has taken him in such dislike that I fear he will do Papa an injury if he continues, and to add to it, each time we help, or try to, I am certain his wife suffers worse consequences. I am at a loss, and it is driving me distracted.”
“That is…” Beau began, a little startled to hear a young lady speak of such subjects, let alone wish to intervene and find a solution. “Horrifying,” he said, unable to find another word for it.
“It is,” she agreed with a sigh. “And I am so tired of noting how little power some women of this town wield. There are those who are capable and strong-willed and have carved out a place for themselves, but those are the fortunate ones. What of the others who have no power, no voice, and no way to make themselves heard should they try to do so? That must change.”
Beau stared at her. Such radical ideas ought to shock him, for he had gone to school with boys whose parents had taught them that women were a foolish, fragile sex, to be looked after and not to be taken seriously.
This way of thinking had been reinforced at school.
Yet Beau’s mother was neither fragile nor foolish, despite her sometimes frivolous ways, so experience had tempered his opinion.
“I have shocked you,” she said, her voice cool now.
Beau shook his head, not wanting her to believe him the kind of man who thought women ought to be treated as children.
“No. Well, yes, a little, but not in the way you think. I am afraid I have simply never considered such ideas before. An arrogant devil, am I not?” he added, before she could do so.
Her expression softened, and she smiled at him, which was a relief.
“I cannot blame you for that. You are a man of wealth and title. Very few of your ilk would give such matters a second thought. But to unmarried ladies of a certain age, these considerations have rather greater significance. I am most fortunate, for my family have made provision for me, but if not I might be forced to live with an unwelcoming relative, unwanted and at risk of being cast out at any moment if I do not do precisely as I am told. It happens all the time, you know.”
The idea of Miss Honeywell being at the mercy of some cruel relative made Beau’s stomach cramp with distress.
That would not happen to her, whether or not she agreed to his proposal, he reminded himself.
She had financial security; she had said so.
Yet an uneasy sensation remained squirming in his gut.
“So, a ladies' club, no doubt created under the guise of making corn dollies or knitting for charity, yet at heart seething with revolutionary ideas? Is that about the gist of it?” he asked, smiling.
She grinned at him, such a delighted expression that her nose crinkled, and Beau was arrested by how lovely she looked in the dappled sunshine beneath the trees.
“Quite so,” she agreed. “We shall write pamphlets full of seditious ideas, calling for women all over the country to march on parliament and demolish this domineering male society once and for all.”
“You terrify me, Miss Honeywell, for I believe if anyone could do it, that person is you,” he said, hearing the admiration in his voice again and wondering at it.
Surely he should mock her, not adopt this note of teasing approbation, for she was only funning.
Yet he meant it, and he knew there had been a note of sincerity behind her fantastical words too.
Miss Honeywell must have noted the depth of his regard, for she blushed, staring at him as if he had turned into someone she had never seen before.
Beau smiled and she looked away, clearly unsettled.
He regretted having spooked her and changed the conversation back to more serious matters to return it to safer ground.
“And how will this club help the unfortunate woman you spoke of?” he asked with genuine interest.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know if there is any way we can help her. Perhaps we could raise enough money for her to run away and start a new life, but she was born and raised here, so I doubt she would take it.”
There was such frustration in her voice, he realised it truly pained her to be unable to fix the problem, to make the hateful husband mend his ways, or to go away.
“You cannot be responsible for everyone’s happiness,” he told her gently.
She laughed at that. “Now you sound like my sisters. You know I live in fear of becoming that terribly nosy old lady who will always stick her oar in. Yet sometimes I truly cannot help myself. If I can see a way of making a situation better, I must intervene. It’s a curse, I’m afraid,” she said with a sigh. “And one you are very well aware of.”
“One I believe you are much admired for,” he replied gently.
“Oh-ho! You have been speaking to my father,” she said, the sparkle returning to her eyes as she dared to poke fun at him. “For I know you did not hold such a favourable opinion. If I remember correctly, I was asked in no uncertain terms to refrain from meddling in your affairs.”
Beau shrugged, pleased to see she had regained her good humour.
“And yet you meddled with such delightful efficiency, Miss Honeywell. If you remember, I thanked you very prettily and admitted I was in your debt. I think it most unkind of you to remind me of words I said in the heat of irritation, when I did not yet understand the depths of your cleverness and the workings of your diabolical mind.”
She regarded him for a long moment with frank admiration. “Do you know, I cannot tell if that was a compliment, or a set down? Well done, my lord.”
“Wretched girl,” he snorted, making her laugh in return as they emerged from the trees and followed the path down to the shore.