Page 17 of The Case at Castle Rock Cove (Beau Monde Secrets #4)

Y ou are the only person I have ever met who understood. Her words revolved in Ben’s head, rising like bubbles in champagne.

Ben thoroughly understood the experience of being misunderstood, of being an anomalous segment that clashed with the rest of the pattern. The times when he encountered the opposite situation—when he knew, deep in his bones, that someone else shared and understood his experience—were both rare and precious. He wanted to store this moment in his memory so he could treasure it forever.

Unfortunately, Wordsworth was right when he wrote, “The world is too much with us.” The sweet rapport Ben felt with Lady Wilhelmina vanished when a strident voice hailed him from farther up the path.

“Master Benjamin? Did you know that your aunt is looking for you? Why are you standing out here in the rain?”

Rain? It wasn’t—oh! When he tipped his head up to look at the sky, a raindrop fell into his eye. It was raining. For some reason, he hadn’t even noticed. Now that he paid attention to his surroundings again, he saw that Lady Wilhelmina had already opened an umbrella. When had that happened?

“Master Benjamin?” the footman called again.

“I will be with you shortly! Tell my aunt not to worry!” Ben called back.

“I suppose this is where we part,” Lady Wilhemina suggested.

Ben peered up at the sky again. Dark clouds laden with rain stretched as far as the eye could see. “You had better not walk home in this rain. I will have our coachman drive you back into town.”

The corners of her mouth lifted, and she looked relieved. “I would appreciate that.”

He hurried them into the house. The French doors opening out of the library were closest, so he headed there rather than going all the way around to the formal front entrance.

Then disaster struck. Ben opened the door for his guest and gestured her into the library. When he stepped in after her, he saw, to his dismay, that the room was already occupied. His grandfather sat by the fire, accompanied by Mr. Traherne, the vicar. Both men held brandy glasses in their hands and wore matching expressions of surprise.

Grandfather Marlowe rose to a belated stand. “Good morning, Lady Wilhelmina. I was not aware that you had come to call. Is Mrs. Trimmer with you?”

Rosy pink color spread across her cheeks. “No, I am alone.” She shot a nervous glance at Ben, though he could not tell what he she meant to communicate. “I mean, I went for my morning walk and happened to meet Mr. Radcliffe. I sought shelter here because of the rain.”

“Yes, I thought I would have Jamison drive her back to her cousin’s house,” Ben explained. “So she would not have to walk back to town in the rain.” That was a perfectly reasonable proposition. Why, then, did his grandfather look so grim?

“Of course we will send your friend home in a carriage.” Grandfather’s frown faded as he addressed Lady Wilhelmina herself. “In the meantime, why don’t you come to the drawing room and take a cup of tea to warm you up, my lady?”

She directed another one of those nervous glances at Ben, as if she expected him to help her out. Between her concern and his grandfather’s glowering, Ben felt under siege. Why couldn’t people simply ask for what they wanted, or say exactly what they wanted, instead of expecting him to interpret cryptic looks or furtive glances?

Grandfather’s voice softened as he coaxed Lady Wilhelmina into accepting the invitation. “It will take Jamison time to harness the horses. You might as well come in and warm yourself.”

After that, everything went smoothly, and Ben wondered if he had imagined the frown on his grandfather’s face. But as soon as the coach pulled away, his grandfather’s affability vanished.

He cleared his throat to get Ben’s attention. “We had better sit down in the library and talk, Benjamin.” He used precisely the tone he had used back when Ben was a child who had gotten into trouble.

But Ben was not a child by any definition of the term. He was a grown man. Other men his age kept chambers in London, or lived at the Inns of Court, and got into all manner of mischief without being scolded as if they were twelve rather than two-and-twenty.

He would have to remind his grandfather of that, he decided. As he followed Grandfather Marlowe into the library, he prepared a mental list of bullet points to use in his argument.

Ben’s grandfather did not give him a chance to make an argument. As soon as he settled back into the most comfortable chair, he attacked. “Benjamin Radcliffe, do you expect me to believe that story of you encountering Lady Wilhelmina by accident?” He shook his head. “I thought it was odd that you chose to walk on Newell Beach rather than the Cove this morning. You went there to meet her, didn’t you?”

Reduced to speechlessness, Ben opened and closed his mouth like a hungry goldfish.

His grandfather raised his eyebrows. “You cannot deny it, can you? You really arranged a secret rendezvous with a respectable young lady?”

Ben flinched. “You are making it sound far worse than it really was. Lady Wilhelmina and I met up to take a walk together. There is nothing scandalous about walking along a public beach with a young lady, is there?” He refrained from mentioning that part of their walk had taken place on private property.

“Even on a public beach, it would be better to have a chaperone accompany you,” his grandfather insisted. “But the walk itself is not my real objection. What concerns me is how secretive you were. Did Lady Wilhelmina’s family know she was meeting up with you?”

Ben’s mouth hung ajar. “I... don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably not.” If they’d known she intended to meet Ben, they would almost certainly have sent someone to accompany her.

“As I thought.” Grandfather Marlowe shook his head slowly. “Benjamin, when a man has honorable intentions towards a woman, he does not hide his meetings with her.”

Ben leapt to his feet. Hot anger ran through his veins, sending a flush to his face. “I assure you, I have no dishonorable intentions towards Lady Wilhelmina or any other lady!” He clenched his hands.

His grandfather looked taken aback, but he rallied quickly. “You are not acting honorably by her. If anyone discovers that you arranged a clandestine meeting with her, her good name would be dragged through the mud. Such actions can ruin a young lady. For all you know, you may have already destroyed Lady Wilhelmina’s reputation.”

He tightened his fists, driving his nails into his palms. “Not if I marry her!” he retorted. “A betrothed couple is allowed to take walks alone.” At least, he thought they were. But he often struggled to understand the niceties of such social regulations.

“Are you betrothed to her, then?” This time, there was a distinctively skeptical cast to Grandfather’s arched eyebrows. “Because if so, my felicitations. If not, then I stand by everything I have already said, and I suggest you avoid any further contact with the young lady.”

Ben blinked and slowly relaxed his hands. Those were his only options? Become betrothed to Lady Wilhelmina, or end their friendship merely to preserve her reputation?

It took him only a moment to decide. Friendship had never come easily to Ben. Too often he misunderstood other people, or they misunderstood him. He could not bear to abandon a promising friendship because of potential scandal.

“We are not betrothed yet,” he admitted. “But I am going to propose to her today. Right now, in fact. Will that make you happy, sir?”

“Yes.” His grandfather scanned Ben from head to foot. “You may wish to change your clothing first. And for goodness’ sake, comb your hair!”

Ben bit back an angry retort. How humiliating it was to be treated like a child even when he was on the verge of offering his hand in marriage to a woman! Would his family ever recognize his maturity?

Worst of all, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw that his grandfather was right. He did look a right mess. He would have preferred to rush off and pop the question right away, before he lost his nerve, but he conceded that he ought to appear his best on such an important occasion.

Though he usually walked into town, the steady rain prevented that today. Fortunately, he dressed himself in time to catch Jamison before the horses were unhitched. Jamison was probably not happy about turning the carriage around and heading right back into Newell, but he made no outward complaint.

Ben didn’t remember the gift he’d set aside for Lady Wilhelmina until he climbed into the carriage. “Wait a moment,” he called to the coachman. “I have to fetch something.”

He’d fashioned the sea glass trinket despite his doubts about whether it would be an appropriate gift for a gentleman to give a lady. No such doubts need trouble him now. If she accepted his proposal, no one would think it untoward for him to shower his betrothed with gifts.

He had no intention of spending a king’s ransom on precious gems. The Radcliffe family owned an heirloom set of pearls for formal events, and amethysts for day wear. That ought to be enough jewelry even for an earl’s daughter—oughtn’t it?

Now that he thought about, he had no idea how much jewelry a woman from the aristocracy might wear. All of his relatives belonged to the gentry. What if the Selwyn family objected to him on that account? His stomach lurched as he realized that betrothal and matrimony might turn out to be more complicated than he’d anticipated.

Too late to back out now! He had told his grandfather he was going to make an offer to Lady Wilhelmina. Time to make good on that promise. He retrieved a little wooden box from his bedroom, returned to the carriage, and ordered Jamison to drive on.

For all he knew, he might be riding towards failure. Even so, he might as well get the failure over with so he could move on.