Page 19 of The Case at Castle Rock Cove (Beau Monde Secrets #4)

T he first few days of his betrothal were among the happiest Ben could remember. Nearly every day, he and Willa met. Either he called at Mrs. Trimmer’s house in Newell, or he and Willa met for an afternoon walk on the Marlowe grounds.

Aunt Faith and Grandfather Marlowe both approved of Ben’s intended, but not of the way he treated her. When Willa and Lady Inglewhite dined at the Tower one evening, Aunt Faith watched the sweethearts, her brow furrowed in perplexity.

After the Selwyn ladies left, Ben’s aunt scolded him. “Ben, I don’t understand why you did nothing but sit in silence with Lady Wilhelmina all evening. I know you enjoy reading, but you could read a book any time you want. Why didn’t you spend your time conversing with her? Making her feel welcome?”

Grandfather Marlowe chimed in with his agreement. “Yes, indeed. You should be spending this time getting to know her better. You will have the rest of your life to read books.”

“I am getting to know her,” Ben insisted. “Reading in a room with Willa is different than reading alone.” Her presence in a room added an ineffable quality to the experience. It made Ben happier, though he could not explain why.

“I hope, for your sake, she feels the same way.” His aunt’s voice sounded tart, but a faint smile lurked in the corners of her mouth.

Seeing that smile, Ben turned the conversation to his advantage. “You can see how well suited we are,” he pointed out. “ She made no complaint about how we spent the evening.” If she did not mind quietly reading at his side, why should anyone else mind?

“I do not understand the young people of this generation.” Grandfather Marlowe shook his head, though he, too, now looked amused rather than angry. “But I suppose there are worse things the two of you might do.”

Ben wondered what his family would have thought if they had known the true purpose of the afternoon walks he and Willa often took together. They inevitably went towards Castle Rock Point. There, they sat on the wrought-iron bench, and Ben read aloud from Terror at Carringford Park while Willa worked on her embroidery.

Ben’s plan was to read the first volume of the novel up on the point, far above the waves. When they reached the second volume, they would walk down to the beach, starting out closer to the cliffs and gradually moving out towards the water. That was very similar to what his father had done with his hunting dog. What worked for dogs ought to work even better for people, who were more intelligent than dogs. Or so Ben reasoned.

As for the third volume of the novel... he secretly hoped that by then, Willa would feel comfortable enough to sit in a boat. Not a little dinghy, of course, but something a bit larger. It was rather a pity Ben did not know anyone who owned a yacht, but there were certainly boats enough to be found in Newell.

They were within two chapters of the end of the first volume when an unexpected visitor disturbed the peace at Marlowe Tower. Ben came back from a ramble with Cato to find that, this time, two of his cousins had arrived for an unannounced visit. Marlowe Milllington had returned, bringing his older sister with him.

Almeria beamed at Ben when he walked into the drawing room. “Ben! I hear that you have been felled by Cupid’s arrow at last. My felicitations on your betrothal!”

He flinched. Whereas Marlowe oozed soft-spoken charm, Almeria’s bold voice carried from one end of the house to another. This trait would have been useful if she had been a schoolmistress; she could have easily called a class to attention without employing a bell. Unfortunately, her voice had always grated on Ben’s ears.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping no one had noticed his initial recoil. “I am very happy about the betrothal.”

“I should think so, marrying an earl’s daughter! How on earth did you land such a catch, Ben?” Marlowe laughed, as if it were nothing but a witticism, but it carried the usual bitter sting.

Ben shrugged, pretending he didn’t mind his cousin’s discourtesy. After all, it was nothing new. “I am indeed very fortunate.” He forced a perfunctory smile to his lips, then changed the subject. “What brings the two of you to Dorset?” He wouldn’t put it past Marlowe to travel all this way purely for the purpose of harassing Ben.

Almeria put a hand over her heart. “We have all been so very concerned about Aunt Faith. Our mother thought we ought to come see for ourselves how she did.”

“She has recovered quite well,” Ben assured them. Aunt Faith did complain of a few lingering stomach pains, but apart from that, she seemed to be enjoying her usual health. “You can carry a good report back to your mother when you return to Winchester.” He hoped that would be soon.

“And, of course, Almeria would like to meet Miss Selwyn,” Marlowe put in.

“Lady Wilhelmina, you mean,” Ben gently corrected. The system of aristocratic ranks and titles seemed rather silly to Ben, but he could not stand to hear Willa spoken of with disrespect.

“Of course, of course. I meant no offense.” The familiar sneer on Marlowe’s face undermined his apology. He knew perfectly well how to address the daughter of an earl, so he must have omitted the title to irritate Ben.

Ben worried about how his cousins might behave when face-to-face with Willa, but when Willa next dined with them, Marlowe and Almeria were on their best behavior—at least when talking to her .

Willa wore the same white evening gown she had worn the first time she dined at Marlowe Tower, but this time, she also wore the sea glass pendant Ben had given her. When it glinted in the candlelight, it was almost as bright as her azure eyes. The jewelry could not have looked so lovely on anyone else in the world, Ben decided.

Before dinner began, Almeria chatted with Willa about fashion, travel, and resort towns. Somehow, Almeria sounded sophisticated and worldly, though Ben knew for a fact that she’d spent most of her life in a quiet cathedral town.

Naturally, Marlowe kept up his usual practice of slipping jibes and sneers at Ben whenever he could, but he only did so when the women couldn’t hear him. Altogether, the evening could have been much worse.

Even so, by the time dinner ended, Ben felt exhausted. He sat in a quiet corner with a book, though the light was not good enough for reading. He did not particularly want to read this treatise on chemistry, anyway. He merely wielded it as a shield to deflect unwanted conversation.

When he did listen in on the conversations around him, he overheard Almeria asking his aunt a series of disconnected questions—about what kind of tea she drank, whether she took sugar in it, and did Grandfather Marlowe still have a sweet tooth?

Grandfather answered the last question for himself. “Too many foods disagree with me these days! I do not eat cakes and cookies anymore, though I do still take sugar with my tea.”

Ben was not surprised when Willa drifted over to his side of the room shortly after that. “Why on earth is Almeria talking so much about food?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe she’s hungry. Maybe she means to ask your grandfather to visit her home, and she wants to know what food to serve.”

“She lives with her mother still,” Ben explained, “and I don’t think their house is big enough for entertaining guests.” He could be wrong about that, though. It had been years since he’d visited his Millington relatives in their own home.

“Do you take sugar in your tea?” A teasing glint shone from Willa’s eyes.

Ben smiled. Unlike Marlowe’s jibes, Willa’s gentle teasing always left him feeling warmer. “No, but when I drink chocolate, I take it with sugar. When it is unsweetened, it is too bitter for me.”

“I like chocolate either way.” Willa covered a dainty yawn. Then she glanced across the room to where her mother sat in conversation with Ben’s grandfather.

Ben was not surprised that the Selwyn ladies soon departed. Sadly, he did not see the last of Almeria and Marlowe for a few more days. Finally, they returned to Winchester, leaving Ben glad to see the back of them. With any luck, it would be months before he’d have to tolerate Marlowe’s snide little comments again.

*

With his Millington cousins gone, Ben hoped life would return to normal. More accurately, to the new normal that included Willa. But the very day after they left, a new visitor arrived.

Ben’s aunt joined him at the window to watch a traveling chariot pull up in front of the Tower. It bore a familiar coat of arms—familiar, in this case, meaning the Radcliffe coat of arms.

Ben exchanged puzzled glances with his aunt. “Were you expecting more visitors?” He’d heard nothing from his parents about a visit to Dorset.

“No, but—” She paused as a footman opened the carriage door.

A man nearly as tall and lean as Ben stepped out of the carriage. His brown hair, once darker than Ben’s, was now dusted with gray at the temples. Ben knew that figure as well as he knew his own form. It was his father, Sir Lewis Radcliffe.

“I suspect your father wishes to speak to you about your betrothal,” his aunt predicted.

Ben sucked in his breath, suddenly worried. “You don’t think he objects to the engagement, do you?” Most people would think Ben was marrying above himself, given Willa’s rank. If her family had no objections, what grounds for objection could Ben’s family have?

He did not learn the answer to that until after dinner. Tonight, Grandfather Marlowe disappeared into his study as soon as Aunt Faith withdrew from the dining room. Ben and his father were left alone with their wineglasses. He wondered if his father had planned it that way.

“Now, Benjamin,” his father said, “let us have a comfortable chat about this betrothal of yours.”

Benjamin? Normally, his father called him “Ben,” like everyone else. The use of his full name was not a good sign.

Knowing he would need all his wits about him, Ben put down his glass of port. His father’s “comfortable chats” sometimes turned out to be grueling interrogations.

He eyed his father warily. “What would you like to know? I believe the Selwyn family’s solicitor has already contacted Williamson about settlements, so he will know the financial details better than I do.”

Ben had been rather shocked when he learned how large Lady Wilhelmina’s dowry was, but that money would all be settled on her future children. Still, it was nice to know that their newlywed income would not depend solely on Ben’s allowance.

“I am not concerned about settlements, Benjamin. I am wondering why you wish to marry at such a young age. What made you rush into a betrothal?”

Ben’s eyes widened. He had not expected this line of inquiry. “I wish to marry because I found someone with whom I wanted to spend my life.” It wasn’t a particularly good answer, but he didn’t think the question deserved a better one. “Why else would anyone want to get married?”

Sir Lewis frowned. “You have years yet before you need worry about choosing a wife or setting up your nursery. You would do better to spend some time sowing your wild oats in London. You would pick up some Town-bronze, and you might make useful acquaintances.”

On second thought, Ben might need the fortification of alcohol after all. He took a healthy gulp of port and tried not to think too deeply about what his father meant by “sowing wild oats.”

“I have no desire to spend a fortune in gaming hells or set up a mistress,” he said bluntly.

His father shook his head. “Of course we don’t want you gambling away the family coffers! As for a mistress, do you have any idea how expensive a high-flyer is?”

Ben narrowed his eyes. How did his father know how much it cost to keep a mistress? He opened his mouth to ask, but Sir Lewis did not give him the chance.

“Nevertheless, there are other means of gaining experience in, ah, adult life.” Sir Lewis stared into his wineglass rather than look Ben in the face. “I would like to see you get your feet wet a little before you take the plunge into matrimony.” He took a gulp of wine, evidently feeling the awkwardness of this conversation every bit as much as Ben.

Starting to get lost in his father’s metaphors, Ben decided to get straight to the point. “If you mean to suggest that I should visit a brothel in order to lose my virginity, I can assure you I have already done that.” Ben had visited Schools of Venus a handful of times, usually under pressure from acquaintances at Cambridge. He had mixed feelings about those experiences, but he could not deny that they’d been instructive.

His father sputtered. He covered his mouth, but not quickly enough to prevent wine from spraying onto the table. His ears turned red, too. Evidently, Ben’s bluntness made him uncomfortable. Good! Ben saw no reason to keep all the awkwardness of this conversation to himself.

“I did not mean only that,” Sir Lewis clarified. “Although that is certainly one of the experiences I had in mind. My point is that a man can satisfy his physical desires in many different ways. Being tired of celibacy is hardly reason enough to enter into a permanent—”

Ben interrupted his father before the conversation could get any more mortifying. “I think you are laboring under a misconception, sir. I did not propose to Lady Wilhelmina because I was desperate to, er, satisfy my physical desires.” He did look forward to going to bed with his new wife, but he had absolutely no desire to discuss that with his father.

He paused only to catch his breath, not wanting to give his father time to interrupt. “I proposed to Lady Wilhelmina because I have enjoyed my friendship with her, and I thought our betrothal—and subsequent marriage—would foster the development of our friendship.”

His father drew his brows down, but he looked confused rather than unhappy. “Benjamin, people do not marry their friends.”

“ I do.” Ben took another sip of port. “At least, I plan to marry this particular friend. I would not marry any of my other friends.” For many reasons, not least because he’d never wanted to kiss any of his other friends. Fortified by wine, he turned the tables. “Father, have you any reason to believe Lady Wilhelmina would not be a good match for me?”

His father lowered his gaze. “No,” he admitted. “So far as her connections and situation in life go, it is an excellent match. Your mother and I would never have expected you to marry into the aristocracy. If you were a few years older, I would not have the least objection.”

“I am of age,” Ben reminded him. “And I don’t see why I should have to wait years to get married if I have already found the person I want to marry.”

Sir Lewis turned his wineglass around in his hand, apparently mesmerized by the swirl of the tawny port. “Fair enough,” he grudgingly responded. “What if you agreed to wait one year to marry?”

Ben’s eyes widened. A year? Most engagements lasted no more than a few months! “That would make sense if I were still a minor. But I am not. As for Lady Wilhelmina... surely you don’t think she is too young to marry?” She was only a couple of years younger than Ben.

His father put down his wine glass. “I would be a hypocrite if I thought so, since your mother was only seventeen when we married.” He sighed, then looked Ben in the eyes again. “I suppose I have no reason to ask you to wait so long. Will you at least allow enough time to call the banns? I see no need to procure a license from the bishop.”

The anxiety that had weighed Ben down lifted, leaving him feeling light enough to float away. “I can promise that,” he assured his father. “Lady Wilhelmina’s family prefers the wedding to take place in Lancashire. It will take time to arrange everything.”

Though her family had moved around a bit after her father’s death, Willa said she still considered Selwyn Castle her home. It should be easy enough to arrange for the banns to be called both there and in Ben’s home parish at Walbourne.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Sir Lewis did not look precisely happy, but some of the concern had left his face. “Now that we have settled that, when will I get a chance to meet your intended?”

Ben leaned forward and began to happily plan that important introduction. With his father’s approval, nothing stood in the way of the marriage.