Page 27 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)
An afternoon at the seaside with delicious ices, and such lovely muscles.
Clementine detached herself from Lord Beaumarsh once they reached the shore, needing to put distance between them.
The feeling of his muscular arm beneath her fingers was doing strange things to her equilibrium, though acting like a girl just out of the schoolroom was something that made her cringe inwardly.
Never in her life had she blushed and become so het up and flustered over a man as she had today, not even when she had been fresh out of the schoolroom.
Yet her heart gave an odd little jolt in her chest whenever he looked at her and she knew it would not do.
Why he was regarding her with such admiration, or taking such an interest in her, she could not fathom, but it must just be a passing fancy.
His friend had no doubt heard about the eccentric Honeywell family and Beau had indulged him by arranging this visit.
Likely, they were just enjoying a pleasant interlude on the way to their friend’s hunting lodge and would not give them all a second thought once they had gone.
The idea dispirited her, and to such a degree it was horribly clear just how much trouble she was in.
She had only ever wished to be his friend, nothing more, but that had been before she had spent those bone melting moments sprawled on top of him and felt…
felt such a rush of heat and attraction.
Yes, attraction. There was no point in beating about the bush.
One must call a spade a spade. She was attracted to Lord Beaumarsh.
Well, it was hardly shocking. Half the beau monde were attracted to him, from all she’d heard and read.
She had spent the past month since he had gone determinedly not thinking of him.
Now she knew why it had been so difficult, why he would creep in her thoughts at odd moments despite her best efforts.
She had simply refused to notice him that way before.
She had been on her guard, and rightly so.
But now the scales had been pulled from her eyes, and she could not unsee him.
He was right there, all golden good looks and dancing blue eyes.
The Earl of Beaumarsh was beautiful. She had known it from the first, yet now it was a problem.
Drat the man. Why had he come back today and stirred everything up again?
She might have forgotten him if he had not, but now…
Honestly, was there ever such a fool?
“What do you think, Miss Honeywell?”
Clementine looked up with a start. “I beg your pardon?” she said, belatedly realising Lord Stonehaven was addressing her.
He smiled, and she suspected he was well aware of how his friend was flustering her as he repeated the question.
“I am told The Mermaid’s Tale serves the most delightful ices and I, for one, could do with something refreshing.
It’s dreadfully hot and I should be pleased to indulge us all with a cool treat. ”
“That sounds a splendid idea,” Clementine said, though she glanced at her sisters to see them both looking at Lord Stonehaven with frank admiration.
How funny, she thought, wondering how they could admire him so when Lord Beaumarsh was present.
Stonehaven was certainly a magnetic presence among them, his sheer vitality and masculinity impossible to overlook, but he was the dark to Lord Beaumarsh’s light.
For the life of her, she could not understand why they would turn to the night sky when Beaumarsh’s smile made you feel you were bathed in sunlight.
Oh, dear heaven , Clementine thought in disgust. This must stop at once. Somehow, she had to put an end to this visit and get the man firmly out of her mind.
Beau did not insist that Clementine take his arm as they made their way to the elegant hotel.
He was aware he had unsettled her and did not wish to provoke further alarm.
So, he kept his distance and instead tried to draw Beatrice into conversation.
She was far shyer than either of her sisters; Isabelle was chatting animatedly to Stonehaven, who seemed to be enjoying himself enormously.
“I understand your sister is determined you will enjoy a London season?” Beau said with a smile, immediately regretting his words as the girl’s rosy glow disappeared, leaving her pale, her blue eyes startling against her fair skin.
“Oh,” she said, a frown tugging at her blonde brows. “That is just a fancy of Clementine’s. She is a darling, always wanting the best of everything for everyone, and she has this notion that I can make a brilliant match, but it will come to nothing, I’m sure.”
“How can you be certain?” Beau asked, relieved she had rallied enough to make an answer. “Miss Honeywell seems to be a very determined female.”
She smiled fondly at that, and once again Beau realised Miss Honeywell was correct. The curve of Miss Beatrice’s lush mouth might scatter a man’s wits to the four winds with no effort whatsoever. He, however, was not so afflicted. He wondered at that.
“That much is true,” Miss Beatrice admitted.
“Clementine is an extraordinary person. Sometimes I am quite certain she keeps the entire town from falling into the sea. I confess, I often wish I had even a fraction of her intelligence and wit. Still, even she cannot turn pebbles into guineas,” she said, with obvious relief.
Beau laughed at that, and she returned a shy glance, that was still alight with mischief He suspected perhaps there was more to Miss Beatrice than just a pretty face, if a fellow had patience enough to draw her out.
The Mermaid’s Tale was quiet today as they presented themselves at the desk and rang the bell. A moment later, Mrs Adamson appeared. Once again, she looked ravishing in an apple-green gown that complemented her riotous red curls.
“Lord Beaumarsh,” she said, smiling with genuine warmth. “Why, I did not expect to see you again, but how delightful! How may I—” She broke off, the pleasure in her expression replaced at once by a look of chilly annoyance. “Oh. I see you have company. My Lord Stonehaven. How do you do?”
She performed a negligent curtsy, and Beau watched with interest as his friend smiled at her with far more warmth.
“Mrs Adamson !” he exclaimed, the words said in a way that implied something Beau could not put his finger on. Certainly, they knew each other. The devil. Who was she to Stonehaven, and had he known all along he could find her here? “It is a pleasure to see you again, and looking so well.”
Mrs Adamson gave a slight incline of her head but otherwise did not react, instead returning her attention to Beau. “How may I help you, my lord?”
“I believe we and our charming company would like to enjoy some of your ices. They are very good, I’m told,” he added, earning himself a pleased smile as the woman determinedly ignored Stonehaven. What an interesting turn of events.
“Well, we may not be Gunter’s, and our selection is limited, for keeping the ice is rather a challenge, but they are indeed extremely good.
If you would care to take a seat, I shall bring you the menu,” she said, leading them up onto the terrace and ensuring they were comfortably settled before she hurried off again.
“You know Mrs Adamson?”
Of course, Miss Honeywell would be the one to question Stonehaven.
“A little,” Stonehaven agreed. “Our families live very close to one another.”
Miss Honeywell nodded, and was far too well-mannered to press for further information, though Beau suspected she was dying to know more.
Mrs Adamson returned with a maid in tow and the menus, handing them all to Beau so he might give them out, and did not acknowledge Stonehaven.
“If you would excuse me, I have business to attend to, but Martha here will take your orders and look after you. Good afternoon, Lord Beaumarsh, Stonehaven, ladies.” With that, she curtsied again, without looking at Stonehaven, and left them with the maid.
Martha smiled at them brightly. A pretty girl of perhaps twenty, she waited with an expectant air as they perused the menu. As Mrs Adamson had explained, there was not a huge choice, but rose, lavender, raspberry, strawberry, and blackcurrant were all available.
Stonehaven chose the blackcurrant with very little deliberation, whilst Miss Beatrice said raspberry was her favourite. Miss Honeywell seconded this, with Miss Isabelle choosing the rose flavour. Beau plumped for strawberry and Martha noted down their orders and hurried away.
As they waited, the ladies got up to stand at the rail, looking out at the expanse of blue sea and the stretch of pretty buildings that followed the seafront. Beau hesitated, noticing that Miss Honeywell was standing alone. He went to stand beside her.
“Well, that was intriguing,” he said in an undertone.
She glanced up at him, her lips quirking. “Don’t,” she warned. “Yes, I am desperately curious, but I am not yet that nosy old lady I fear becoming. I do respect people’s privacy and, unless the situation was dire, I would not dream of interfering.”
“I know,” he replied mildly. “But isn’t it devilishly hard not to ask?”
“Not for me,” she replied, laughing. “Happily, I do not know Lord Stonehaven enough to be so dreadfully bold, and I respect Mrs Adamson far too much to pry into her affairs.”
“Whereas I have known Stonehaven since we were boys and can be as bold and provoking as I like. But if you are not interested, I shall not tell you if I discover anything.”
“Oh! Why, you—!” she exclaimed, outraged and entertained all at once.
Beau grinned at her. “Go on, ask me to write and let you know. I shan’t think any less of you.”
“Never in million years,” she said, looking back out to sea, her chin up.
“Stubborn creature,” he murmured, finding himself captivated by her profile, by a long, straight nose and thick lashes a deeper shade of blonde than her hair.
“You have no idea,” she said darkly, making him laugh.