Page 9 of The Case at Castle Rock Cove (Beau Monde Secrets #4)

May, 1822

“S o tell me, who exactly is this Lady Willow-whatever that we’re going to meet?” Marlowe Millington sprawled across the forward-facing carriage seat, taking up far more than his fair share of space. A lock of dark hair fell in front of his eyes, and he pushed it back with what looked like a practiced gesture.

Ben, sitting rigidly upright, faced his cousin from the opposite side of the barouche. A combination of irritation and anxiety kept him tense all the way from the tower to Mrs. Trimmer’s house, where they were to meet the Selwyn ladies.

“Lady Wilhelmina and Lady Phoebe are the daughters of the late Earl of Inglewhite. They were ill this winter and have come to Newell for their health.” Irritation grated in Ben’s voice. This was hardly the first time he’d explained that to Marlowe.

Marlowe was probably trying to ask a different question entirely, but Ben was not in the mood to play guessing games. If there were something Marlowe wanted to know, he should speak more plainly.

“But how did you come to know them? Pardon my saying, but I hadn’t thought you were in the petticoat line.” Marlowe might have intended his expression to be a smile, but it looked more like a sneer.

Ben rolled his eyes and stared out over the side of the open carriage. Sunbeams danced in and out of shadows cast by the fluffy clouds overhead. Birds sang their most enthusiastic spring songs, and the breeze was just brisk enough to waft the briny odor of the ocean inland. Such a shame that this lovely spring day had to be shared with one of his most annoying relatives.

But it would be rude not to answer Marlowe’s question. “I fell into conversation with Lady Wilhelmina by purest happenstance, and we discovered we had some mutual interests.” Ben saw no need to explain that at one point, he’d assumed he was corresponding with a “William” rather than “Wilhelmina.” He still inwardly cringed whenever he thought of that.

By now, he’d gotten past his initial disappointment. Lady Wilhelmina’s gender created complications for their friendship (i.e. the need for chaperones), but Ben had begun to hope her being a girl was not the insurmountable barrier he’d originally feared it would be.

Marlowe, on the other hand, might be a real obstacle. Bad enough that he showed up unannounced yesterday. Today he’d invited himself along on the outing to Caseton. Worst of all, he’d brought a whole trunk with him and had spoken of staying on at the Tower during the summer season, meaning he might be planning on sticking around for months.

Ben’s scowl deepened as he contemplated that dreadful possibility. The only person who seemed happy to see Marlowe had been Ben’s grandfather. As Joseph Marlowe’s oldest grandson, Marlowe had long been assumed to be the future owner of Marlowe Tower. Ben, who would inherit his father’s comfortable estate and a baronet’s title, did not begrudge his cousins any of the Marlowe family wealth. But he did wonder why his grandfather had singled out Marlowe , of all the Millington children. Normally, Grandfather had better taste!

The carriage slowed to a stop, and Marlowe reached across the footwell to tap Ben’s knee. Ben glared at him. His cousin knew he didn’t like unexpected touches! At least, he ought to know that by now.

Marlowe turned to look at Mrs. Trimmer’s handsome stone house, and his mouth fell ajar. “I say, Ben, do you mean to tell me that that pretty girl is your friend?” he whispered.

Ben turned to look too. Sure enough, Miss Hadfield and the Selwyn sisters spilled out of the house into the front garden, armed with bonnets, reticules, and parasols. Mrs. Trimmer followed them out, waving cheerfully.

“You’re going to have to move over to make room,” Ben hissed. Fitting five people into a carriage meant to seat only four was already going to be a challenge, and Marlowe’s outstretched limbs would make it even harder.

He need not have worried. Though Marlowe saw no need to show respect to his younger cousin, the Selwyn ladies received quite different treatment. Marlowe lifted his hat and bowed to them. “Good morning, ladies. I hope you do not mind me tagging along on your outing. I am delighted to meet any friends of Ben’s.”

Miss Hadfield glanced at Ben, raising her brows in inquiry.

Ben set his irritation aside to make the necessary introductions. “Lady Wilhelmina, Lady Phoebe, Miss Hadfield? May I introduce my cousin, Marlowe Millingford? He is visiting from Winchester.” Ben would like to have apologized for Marlowe’s unwanted presence, but he could think of no way to do that without offending his cousin.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Millingford.” Despite her perfunctory smile, Miss Hadfield looked concerned rather than pleased.

But the two Selwyn sisters smiled, nodded, and murmured soft greetings. If they were unhappy about having a stranger tag along with them, they concealed their feelings well.

Of course, they had no way of knowing how obnoxious Marlowe was.

Miss Hadfield took charge of the seating problem. “Mr. Radcliffe, if you sit next to your cousin, I believe the three of us can squeeze together on one seat. We will all be quite cozy.”

“An excellent plan!” Ben ought to have thought of that himself. Rather, Marlowe ought to have moved to make room. “Marlowe, will you join me, so the ladies may have the forward-facing seat?” Ben hated facing backward as much as anyone, but courtesy required gentlemen to give the preferred seat to the ladies.

“Ah, yes.” Marlowe smiled winningly at Miss Hadfield as he settled next to Ben. “I very much appreciate your kindness in letting me accompany you to Caseton today. Otherwise, I’d be rambling around the tower with nothing to do but play backgammon with my grandfather.”

“There’s nothing wrong with backgammon,” Ben protested. Besides, he doubted that Marlowe had ever played backgammon with Grandfather Marlowe. Marlowe’s youngest sister often played it when she visited, but Ben had never seen Marlowe doing so.

“Yes, I used to love playing it with our great-aunt.” Lady Phoebe smiled brightly for a moment, and then her smile faded. “Unfortunately, Aunt Agatha passed away a few years ago. I don’t believe I’ve played backgammon since.”

“If you ever visit Marlowe Tower, I’m sure my grandfather would oblige you with a game,” Ben told her.

Ben only meant to console the child, but when her eyes widened with surprise, he worried that he’d said the wrong thing. He darted a glance at Miss Hadfield, half-expecting to see the sort of stern look he’d often received from his tutor. But Miss Hadfield’s face showed no sign of irritation or surprise, so he allowed himself to relax.

By the time the carriage reached the nearby market town, Ben reluctantly admitted to himself that Marlowe’s presence had been a blessing in disguise. Whereas Ben struggled to think of appropriate things to discuss, Marlowe had a gift for conversation. Some might even call him charming—though Ben disagreed. He still remembered the many times his cousin had mocked or bullied him over the years.

What bothered Ben most was the way Lady Wilhelmina replied to Marlowe. She brushed aside Marlowe’s few attempts at gallantry, but she met his humorous remarks with witticisms of her own. She did not laugh out loud as often as her younger sister did, but she smiled frequently.

Too frequently. It was unfair that a man as cruel and selfish as Marlowe Millington could make a favorable impression on such a pleasant young woman.

Ben sat in silence, unable to find a way to join the conversation, until Marlowe decided to tease him. “What are you glowering at, Benji? You look like you have a stomachache!”

Lady Wilhelmina turned toward Ben, her eyes soft with concern. “I hope you are not still sick! I would not have agreed to this excursion if I thought you were unwell. I should feel terrible if you suffered a relapse because we dragged you with us.”

“I am not the least bit sick,” Ben assured her. “And no one had to drag me along today.”

“You must excuse my cousin,” Marlowe said. “Being tongue-tied is quite his usual state. I’m afraid he inherited our grandfather’s taciturn disposition. We ought not expect more than a handful of words from him today.”

To a stranger, Marlowe’s grin might have looked playful, but Ben recognized it for the mockery it really was. He tightened his jaw and clenched his hands into fists. This was precisely why he hadn’t wanted his cousin to join their party.

“Really?” Lady Wilhelmina raised her brows, turning her friendliness into hauteur. A hint of chill entered her voice as she told Marlowe, “I have heard Mr. Radcliffe speak quite eloquently on subjects that interest him.” She turned back to Ben. “Have you found any noteworthy pieces of sea glass recently?”

A tight knot at the center of Ben’s chest loosened. Lady Wilhelmina had just given him an entrance into the conversation. And she had spoken to him with far more warmth than she showed Marlowe.

Not that her reaction mattered, of course. It was not as if the two cousins were competing for her attention.

“No new sea glass,” he informed her, “but I did find a scrap of pottery. That’s much rarer than glass, at least around here.”

He opened his mouth to tell her about his jewelry-making plans, then hesitated. Would it not be better to keep that a surprise? Especially since propriety forbade a gentleman from giving gifts to a young lady, unless they were betrothed. Ben was most certainly not betrothed to Lady Wilhelmina, and he didn’t want to be.

Did he? For a startling moment, his heart seemed to stop. Why wouldn’t he want to marry Lady Wilhelmina? She was beautiful, intelligent, and well-mannered. When Ben inherited his father’s title and estate, he might benefit from having a wife who could help him navigate social settings.

But he was getting ahead of himself. An earl’s daughter might very well intend to marry into the peerage. She and her family might not consider a future baronet as an eligible suitor. It was presumptuous of Ben to assume Lady Wilhelmina might encourage his suit.

“Lord, Ben, your wits have gone wandering again! What are you dreaming about now?” Marlowe chuckled to take the bite out of his words.

Heat flushed Ben’s face. “Sorry, I became distracted.” He snapped his mouth shut and tightened his lips.

He would like to have continued exploring the startling possibility of pursuing a courtship rather than friendship with Lady Wilhelmina, but he did not foresee many quiet moments of reflection occurring in the next few hours. He would have to think about it later.

“Is this the shop that sells fossils?” Miss Hadfield asked.

Ben forced himself to pay attention to his surroundings again. “Ah, yes. Bartlett’s started off as a curiosity shop, but it has a large collection of fossils. Bartlett sells sea glass, agates, and other such souvenirs, too.”

The shopkeeper also repaired jewelry. If Ben had been here alone, he might have asked if Bartlett knew anything about making jewelry from sea glass. He was not likely to have the opportunity today, unless he found some way to separate himself from the rest of the party. Could he come up with some pretext for running back to the shop while the others were at the bakery or bookshop?

Lady Wilhelmina’s musical speaking voice broke through Ben’s woolgathering. “Why, thank you, Mr. Millington.”

Ben immediately swiveled his head around, curious about what Marlowe had done to win Lady Wilhelmina’s gratitude. His heart sank. While Ben had been lost in his own head, Marlowe had stepped out of the barouche and was now helping the Selwyn sisters out of the carriage.

Marlowe caught Ben’s eye, and one side of his mouth curled up in a smug smile. “It’s nothing, my lady,” he suavely replied. “Any gentleman would have extended the same courtesy—assuming he was awake enough to notice when his help was needed.”

Ben glared at his cousin, but he could hardly argue with him. Ben ought to have thought of helping the ladies. Losing the chance to display his courtesy left him feeling like he’d lost a hand at a card game.

Of course, this was real life, not a game. There weren’t winners and losers. Right?

When Marlowe gallantly offered Lady Wilhelmina his arm to escort her into the curiosity shop, Ben revised his opinion. It looked as if Marlowe was playing to win. When they were children, Marlowe usually had won when it came to games of strength or agility. Ben lacked his cousin’s athletic ability.

On the other hand, when it came to games of strategy, Ben generally triumphed. Marlowe did not have the patience for a long game of chess. Nor did he possess Ben’s knowledge of fossils, seashells, and other treasures found on the beach.

When it came down to it, Ben really held the trump card in this round, didn’t he? At least for this part of the outing—and maybe for the visit to the bookshop, too. Marlowe had never been much of a reader. Ben squared his shoulders, offered his arm to Miss Hadfield, and picked up the hand he’d been dealt.