Page 11 of The Case at Castle Rock Cove (Beau Monde Secrets #4)

B en resolved to wait until Marlowe returned to Hampshire before seeking out Lady Wilhelmina again. He did not want to endure another afternoon of Marlowe’s sneers and jibes. And he would rather have Lady Wilhelmina’s company all to himself.

How anyone could pursue a courtship surrounded by watchful guardians and chaperones mystified Ben. Since the relationship between husband and wife was both intimate and permanent, one would think prospective spouses should spend a good deal of time together before binding themselves in matrimony. Instead, propriety made meeting alone with a respectable young lady nearly impossible.

Aside from that, Ben wanted his cousin gone for other reasons. During his unwanted visit, Marlowe knocked over Ben’s jar of peppermints, spilling the candy Aunt Patience had made all over the floor.

Marlowe also scattered a box of seashells across the counter. Ben ejected Marlowe from his workshop, but the damage had been done. He had to throw out all the candy, and some of the shells were chipped or cracked.

Things didn’t go much better in the house itself. For nearly a week, Marlowe followed Aunt Faith around, asking impertinent questions about everyone’s health and eating habits. He barged in on Grandfather Marlowe, waking him from naps and disturbing him while at work—rather a risky choice, if he wanted to keep Grandfather’s favor.

“Grandfather certainly seems to be feeling his age these days,” Marlowe observed to Ben. “His temper is much worse.”

“That’s only because you interrupted him when he was writing,” Ben explained. “The editor of The Current Review asked him to write a response to someone’s criticism of Alexander Pope. He’s been working on that for weeks. Surely you know he never likes being interrupted while writing.” Or when he was reading, for that matter.

“Oh, Alexander Pope,” Marlowe scoffed. “I didn’t think anyone read that stuff anymore! The work of modern poets is much more natural. I quite side with Mr. Hunt on that point.”

“I would avoid saying that where Grandfather can hear you,” Ben warned. “He may be a little hard of hearing, but he doesn’t miss much. And he can still out-argue a lawyer.” He shuddered, remembering some of the convoluted arguments he’d had with his grandfather since moving to Marlowe Tower.

“Still, don’t you think his health is waning?” Marlowe pushed. “What about this dyspepsia? He seems to suffer it quite often.”

Ben shrugged. Aunt Faith thought Grandfather’s dyspepsia was nothing more than his body rebelling against too rich a diet. But he did not want to explain that to Marlowe. What business was it of his what Grandfather could or couldn’t eat?

He limited himself to saying, “His health seems as good now as it was when I moved into the Tower, and that was over a year ago.” Had he really been here that long? “He hasn’t had one of his chest colds in months.”

“When he writes to my mother, he always complains of ill-health,” Marlowe said. “Mother was a little worried.”

“Oh, that.” Ben smiled. “Yes, he does like to complain. And it is true that he has many of the complaints one would expect of a man his age—arthritis, bad teeth, and so on. But I assure you, his physician is quite pleased with his progress. You may tell your mother there is no cause for concern.”

Marlowe stared at Ben, an odd expression on his face. “That is good news.” He sounded unconvinced, but he dropped the argument.

Fortunately, all bad things come to an end, and Marlowe finally left Dorset, returning to Winchester and his work. As soon as Marlowe’s carriage disappeared around the first curve in the road, Ben dashed off a note to Lady Wilhelmina, inviting her to go for a ride with him as soon as the weather allowed.

She returned the note with an acceptance but requested that Miss Hadfield accompany them.

Miss Hadfield is an experienced equestrienne, but rarely gets the chance to ride these days, since my sister does not care for horse exercise. If you can loan her a suitable mount, we would be most appreciative.

Ben did not, for one minute, think that Miss Hadfield wanted to accompany them purely out of a fondness for horses. She would be present to chaperone Lady Wilhelmina. As if Ben were going to do what, exactly? Persuade Lady Wilhelmina to gallop off to Gretna Green with him? Rather a long way to ride on horseback!

And probably unnecessary , he thought more seriously. Given the friendly reception he’d received from Lady Wilhelmina’s family, Ben had no reason to think they would disapprove of his suit. Assuming that he did intend to court Lady Wilhelmina, which he had not yet decided.

But if Ben met with Lady Wilhelmina to go riding together, wouldn’t people assume he was already courting her? This was exactly why Ben usually tried to avoid interacting with women; he never knew how much or how little attention would be taken as a sign of interest.

Ben shook his head, but his concerns did not stop him from sealing his reply and sending it back with the servant who had brought Lady Wilhelmina’s message. This time, he was willing to risk the possibility of an entanglement.

*

When Lady Wilhelmina showed up for the scheduled ride, she arrived without her chaperone.

Ben stared blankly at her, but before he could inquire after her companion, she explained. “Miss Hadfield had to stay behind on account of a cold. My mother said I could ride with you anyway, so long as we had a groom accompanying us for the sake of propriety.”

“Splendid!” Ben said and meant it.

Ben often had trouble following the conversation in a group setting. Having only one person to talk to would make things easier. He would only have to evaluate one person’s reactions, too, rather than trying to watch two people’s faces to see if he’d somehow blundered.

Timothy, the groom who accompanied Ben and his guest, trailed so far behind the two young people that they might as well have been alone. Things couldn’t have fallen out more perfectly.

Ben and Lady Wilhelmina talked about horses, riding, and driving. Ben knew how to drive a one-horse carriage, but had never driven a pair or team, while Lady Wilhelmina had never learned to drive at all.

“Is it harder than riding?” she asked.

Ben frowned as he considered that. “Not harder, but different. You don’t have to worry about your seat, but you do have to be aware of how much space there is in the road. If you miscalculate, someone might get hurt.” He had run his tilbury into a hedge once or twice, but at least he’d never crashed into another vehicle.

“It sounds like fun.” She must have realized how wistful she sounded. “Of course, riding is a good deal of fun, too. I am lucky to have learned that. Many girls don’t ride at all.”

“If you wanted,” Ben said hesitantly, “I could teach you how to drive. Although I suppose we’d have to have a groom with us, for propriety’s sake.”

She grimaced. “Propriety be damned!” She glanced back over her shoulder at the groom.

Ben looked, too, but saw nothing to worry about. If Timothy had overheard, his impassive face showed no reaction. Ben turned back to Lady Wilhelmina and smiled. “You must get rather tired of having to worry about your reputation all the time.”

“I most certainly do.” She spoke softly, but fiercely. “Being a young lady means no one ever trusts you to do anything on your own.”

“Is it you they don’t trust, or the people around you?” Ben wondered.

Her mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “Probably both. Which seems ridiculous, doesn’t it? It isn’t as if all men are wolves waiting for a chance to swallow an innocent lamb whole.”

“I don’t think wolves can swallow a lamb whole,” Ben argued. “A chick, maybe, or a baby rabbit, even, but—”

Lady Wilhelmina laughed. “I did not mean it so literally.”

“Of course not.” Ben’s face burned with shame. He knew that! The metaphor of wolves preying on sheep was such a common one that there was no excuse for his pedantry. “I suppose I agree with you. For the most part.”

On the other hand... he frowned as he remembered scraps of vulgar conversation he’d overheard at school. “Men can be quite lecherous,” he warned. “Even gentlemen.” He’d seen some of that behavior firsthand at Cambridge.

“No doubt,” she agreed, “but I know many men who are upright and decent, even when they think no one is watching. I’m certain that my Uncle Richard, for example, has never been anything but a gentleman.” She glanced askance at him. “I don’t for one moment believe that you would behave badly towards a woman, Mr. Radcliffe. I am sure you could be trusted alone with a lady.”

Ben looked away, lest she read his mixed feelings. On the one hand, he hoped he would never be predatory in his treatment of women, whether they were of his own class or of the lower orders.

On the other hand, he was a man. He admired an attractive woman as much as anyone else. In fact, he admired Lady Wilhelmina a great deal. He would have liked to do more than admire, if the situation allowed it. For instance, a loose strand of hair had escaped from underneath her riding hat, and he longed to tuck it behind her ear, maybe letting his fingertips linger on her cheek...

But the situation most certainly did not allow that. He could not even tell her how much he wished he could touch her, how much he wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked...

“Do you have any beaus?” he blurted out.

“Do I have any what ?” Her eyes widened.

“I just thought a young lady like you would have, you know, suitors. Admirers. Or something.” That tell-tale blush burned on his cheekbones again. “My apologies, my lady. It was an impertinent question. Please forget I said anything.”

Instead of taking offense, she answered him. “I do not have a beau, Mr. Radcliffe. I had a few suitors during my first Season, but none of them... well, there were none whom I cared for well enough to entertain an offer.”

Ben hoped she could not see the relief on his face. “I suppose it must be hard to get to know people during a London Season.”

“Have you never been to London during the Season?” The surprise in her voice brought his eyes back to her face.

“Me?” He chuckled somewhat bitterly. “Indeed not! Remember, I do not like London, and I would like tonnish events even less. I do not care for noisy parties, houses filled to bursting, or having to exchange idle chatter with strangers.” He fought the urge to shudder at the wave of revulsion that swept over him. “I attended the Bath season for a few weeks last year, but I did not care for that, either.”

Grandfather Marlowe might have enjoyed exchanging reminiscences with other elderly men, but there was little to entertain Ben in either the Pump Room or the Assembly Rooms. Besides, the water from the hot springs tasted terrible. He refused to believe it had any medicinal properties.

“I don’t mind large crushes, but I prefer country parties myself,” Lady Wilhelmina admitted. “At a small country dance, one is sure to likely to know most of the guests, which is not true in London or Bath.”

“Yes, I quite agree.” He hoped that meant Lady Wilhelmina would not expect her future husband to spend the Season with her in London every year. Not that that mattered to Ben, of course. It wasn’t as if he had decided to offer for her.

All the same, her answer relieved Ben. Even the profoundest romantic love couldn’t transform an oddity like Ben into one of the sprigs of fashion who flourished in tonnish drawing rooms.