Page 34 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)
Seagulls, upside down or otherwise.
Beau watched his fiancée carefully as the house erupted in chaos around her.
Shouts and exclamations of surprise and joy rang out and the children ran about madly, not understanding the commotion but reacting to it all the same.
Throughout everything, Clementine remained composed, smiling and receiving hugs and kisses, and thanking everyone for their words of congratulations.
He suppressed a twinge of anxiety, knowing she was still in shock, that he had overwhelmed her and nigh on blackmailed her.
He had held out the carrot of his wealth and position to secure not only her sister’s happiness and that of her family, but the female population of the entire town.
It had been a dirty trick, but he had needed her to say yes.
He had not realised how much he had needed a positive answer until he’d been making his case, then it had become imperative that she agreed for reasons that he was disinclined to wonder about.
He smiled as the nanny and the cook and the maid of all work came rushing up from various parts of the house, chattering with excitement.
They were all included in their celebrating, and he felt the warmth and love that lived in this house wrap about him.
It was almost tangible, and he realised what a responsibility he had taken on.
He would remove Clementine from the home where she was a beloved and cherished presence, and take her to his own.
If he did not do things correctly, she would not flourish there, and all the colour and sparkle that he delighted in when in her company would wither and die.
He could not allow that to happen. No matter what he had to do, he would ensure her happiness, first and foremost. He had made a promise that she would never regret giving him this chance, and he had meant it.
He would not let her down. The realisation that he had something, some one , to live up to now might once have irritated him, or concerned him, but it was strangely satisfying to know he had a reason to do better.
“Congratulations, my lord,” Reverend Honeywell said, beaming at him and shaking his hand vigorously. “Or may I call you ‘son?’” he added, a merry twinkle in his eye.
Beau laughed, relieved and bolstered to know her father seemed to hold none of the reservations that he did. “You may. Or Sylvester, if you prefer.”
“Sylvester,” the man repeated, as if trying it out. “I like that. A good, strong name. Mind, you’ll need to be strong and adaptable to keep that girl of mine out of trouble. Headstrong, she is, and clever with it, but you know that.”
“I believe I do, sir,” Beau replied, smiling as he watched Clementine across the room.
She looked up then, perhaps feeling the weight of his gaze and colour flooded her cheeks.
The sight made heat rush beneath his skin, the knowledge that she would be his now giving him a strangely possessive feeling he had never known before.
It settled in his chest, a warm sensation that grounded him as he realised he belonged to her too.
They would be joined together, a partnership of a kind he had never expected to have.
She would celebrate his successes with him, as he would celebrate hers, and if he behaved like an arse, she would have something to say about it too.
The thought was both shocking and reassuring.
He’d never been accountable to anyone, not since he'd reached his majority… or even before that, given he’d become the earl when he was just a boy.
His mother counted, perhaps, up to a point, but she had spoiled and indulged him to such a degree her scoldings had only ever been superficial, and she had delighted in his scandalous reputation.
Her words been no more than lip service, she simply didn’t mean them. Clementine would mean them. Every word.
“It’s an excellent match,” the reverend said, and Beau assumed he meant for Clementine, for her future security, but as he turned and met the man’s eyes, he realised he was a fool to think it. “You’ll be the making of each other,” he told Beau, his voice quavering a little.
Startled, Beau watched as the reverend fumbled for his handkerchief and wiped his eyes before giving his nose a vigorous blow. Beau opened his mouth to say something, but found himself at a loss.
“You’ll be as happy as I was with her mother,” the reverend added, misty-eyed. “I can see that you will.”
Once again, Beau tried to speak, a denial ready to burst from him. No. Certainly, they would be content, but not that… that terrifying depth of feeling. No. Not that. Yet, he could not say it. Not to this man. So he simply swallowed the anxiety the reverend’s words gave him and smiled blandly.
“Excuse me. I believe I should like to steal my fiancée away for a while. If you have no objection.”
“Goodness, no. Of course, you must. Take her for a walk. There’s no rush. Young people in love must have their privacy,” the fellow said, beaming as he called for Clementine to fetch her bonnet so that Sylvester could take her for a walk.
A few minutes later, Beau walked out of the vicarage garden with Clementine on his arm. They promenaded in complete silence for a few moments before she glanced up at him.
“Well, this is awkward.”
Beau laughed. “And here I was racking my brain for ways not to draw attention to that fact. I ought to know better.”
“You really should. If we are to be married— Goodness , but I still cannot believe I am saying that out loud,” she said in bewilderment.
“But if we are, you must understand that I am not the kind to beat around the bush. If a thing needs saying, I shall say it, whether you like it or not, I’m afraid.
So, if you wish to cry off, now is your chance.
” She slanted an expectant glance at him and Beau grinned at her.
“Sorry, love. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You’ll have to try a good deal harder to dissuade me.”
She sighed and shook her head. “You poor fool. I do not think you have the slightest notion what you have done.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve done the only sensible thing in a life filled with inanity and foolishness.”
“I cannot abide inanity,” she warned him, though her eyes danced with mirth. “I am very fond of the ridiculous, and I believe I have a lively sense of humour, but I have no patience for foolishness.”
“Nor for fools, yet here we are,” he remarked dryly.
She tutted at that and rolled her eyes. “You are no fool, my Lord Beaumarsh. The face you show the world might be that of a shallow fribble, but the truth is far different. I have learned that much of you, else we would not be having this conversation.”
“I am glad you think so,” he said, covering her hand where it rested upon his sleeve. “I shall try to make you proud of me.” She looked so startled by this remark that he frowned. “Do you not think I can do it?”
Clementine shook her head and for a moment his breath caught until she said, “I am proud of you!”
He waved this away. “Yes, yes, for being an earl, for having a handsome face and form, I know that , but those things were given to me. I didn’t earn them. I should like to earn your respect.”
“You already have it, my lord,” she replied, her voice soft, curiosity alive in her eyes.
“No,” he said impatiently. “You do not understand. But you shall, I promise.”
She smiled then, a sweet smile that stole his breath and shifted in his chest. “I am certain I shall,” she said, a quality to her gaze he had never seen before.
Was that trust? He hoped so, but if it was not, he would earn that too.
“When will you be married?” Izzy asked, a combination of excitement and sadness in her voice that touched Clementine deeply.
It was late, past midnight, and yet none of them were ready to sleep, too overwhelmed by the events of the day. They sat cross-legged on her bed like they had often done as children, a plate of biscuits between them.
“Papa must read the banns, so in two weeks, after the third Sunday. Lord Beaumarsh does not wish for a long engagement,” Clementine said self-consciously.
Bea smothered a giggle, and Clementine elbowed her.
“It’s all happening rather quickly,” she admitted with a bewildered laugh.
“And I feel utterly wretched about the club. What on earth is to be done about Mrs Jenner and her vile husband? I can’t forget about her and leave her to her fate.
I have responsibilities, and then there’s the everyday things, what about the word games and riddles for the paper? Who will do those?”
“Oh, Clemmie, don’t be daft,” Bea said at once.
“This is your future! You cannot give it up for anyone. We will not forget Mrs Jenner and will find a way to help her, so do not insult us by believing otherwise. If you still want to do the word games, you can always send them. You’re going to Kent, not Timbuktu, and think of all the good you will do as the Countess of Beaumarsh. ”
“That’s what he said,” Clementine replied wryly. “You should have heard him listing all the reasons I ought to marry him for the good of the family and the women of England, never mind Little Valentine. He’s far craftier than I gave him credit for.”
“It’s true, though,” Izzy agreed. “You can be our patron.”
Clementine nodded slowly. She was still coming to terms with the fact that she would be a wealthy woman with money of her own. “He said he would give me a generous income and not question what I do with it.”
“Goodness,” Izzy said in wonder. “What else did he say, Clemmie? Does he love you?”
“Don’t be silly,” Clementine said at once. “It’s not that sort of marriage.”