Page 22 of The Incident at Ingleton (Beau Monde Secrets #3)

“I suppose this has been rather a strange visit for you,” Ivy said. She stood next to Walter as they watched the groom loading Walter’s trunk onto the back of the travelling chariot.

Walter grinned down at her. “That might be an understatement.”

Over the last three months, he’d dealt with embezzlement, blackmail, and underhanded scheming. He’d made the acquaintance of a marquis’s daughter, a newborn cousin, and a ruthless scoundrel. He’d helped protect a damsel in distress, catch a criminal, and identify a possible blackmailer.

And he’d bruised his heart a little. Nothing that wouldn’t heal quickly, though.

Lord Inglewhite stepped out through the open doors of the castle to join them. “I’ll let you know when I hear about Lord Crowthorne’s whereabouts, Walter.”

The earl spoke softly, so that there’d be no danger of a servant overhearing. So far as Walter could tell, no one was supposed to know that Lord Inglewhite had any means of contacting Lord Crowthorne. For that matter, even Walter did not know how Lord Inglewhite meant to contact a man who had vanished after he reached America. But he did not need to know. That was clearly someone else’s secret.

“Thank you, my Lord. And of course, if you should have any need of me, you have only to drop me a line.”

He shook hands with Inglewhite, bussed Ivy on the cheek, and climbed into the carriage. All that was left was a wave good-bye, and the pair of sturdy bays drew the carriage away from the castle.

Walter leaned back against the squabs and smiled as he discovered how well-padded the seat was. Though he’d refused to borrow the Marquis of Reading’s carriage for the duration of a journey, Walter had not been allowed to refuse the assistance of Lord and Lady Inglewhite. Thus, he would make his journey home in the comfort of a plush, well-sprung traveling chariot rather than a cramped post chaise. He couldn’t say he minded.

After a few moments, he pulled a journal out of his carpetbag and began to read about a cholera epidemic in India that had claimed the lives of a number of British soldiers. Medical experts debated how far the disease might spread, given that this outbreak was worse than previous ones.

Good thing there was no such thing as cholera in England! It sounded like a dreadful disease. Bodily functions did not normally make Walter squeamish, but the description of the “rice water purgings” stage was too much even for him. Ugh! He decided to skip ahead to the report about Dr. Parkinson’s work on the shaking palsy.

Thanks to Inglewhite’s assistance, Sir Henry Skelton had invited Walter to interview for the position at the children’s hospital in a few months, once the plans for the charity were formalized. Walter knew his lack of a medical background would put him at a disadvantage, so he wanted to impress Skelton with his knowledge of recent advances in the field.

He dropped the periodical in surprise when the carriage came to an abrupt halt in front of the parish church. The coachman seemed to be talking to someone, although Walter could not see who. Rose or Frank, perhaps, running out to say a final farewell? He’d said his good-byes at the vicarage yesterday, but he would not mind repeating them.

But the face that peered in through the carriage window was neither his cousin’s nor her husband’s. It was Lady Hester Bracknell, looking as pale as ever, but not at all as composed as usual. In fact, she looked well-nigh distraught.

Walter opened the carriage door and leaned out. “Is something the matter, my lady?” His heart lurched as he remembered how easily young babies sickened. A cold that might be nothing to an adult could be deadly for a newborn. “Not something wrong with the baby, is there?”

“Oh! No! Alistair is fine.” She stared at him, biting her lip. “May I have a word with you, sir?”

He frowned. “Of course. Would you care to take a turn about the garden? Or—would you rather sit in here?” Though it was the full height of summer, there was a cool breeze abroad this morning, and it might make a walk unpleasant.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “What I have to say won’t take but a minute,” she said. “It’s only that... when I spoke with you yesterday, I had not realized that you were leaving today. I mean, I hadn’t realized that it was our last chance to speak.”

“Oh? Was there something you wanted to say?”

She lowered her eyes, and a delicate blush pinked her cheeks. “If you don’t mind, I believe I shall sit with you for a moment after all.”

“Of course.” Before Walter could help her into the carriage, the groom was already assisting her. Then he politely stepped away, leaving them in relative privacy. “You seem unsettled, my lady. Is something amiss?”

Her thick, dark eyelashes fluttered. In another woman, he would have thought that a hint of coquetry. But she seemed genuinely embarrassed about this meeting. He could not imagine what on earth had brought her running out of the vicarage to flag down his carriage.

“Is there something you wish to say to me?” he gently asked. Something related to Butler’s upcoming trial, perhaps? Or to her brother’s blackmailer?

She gulped audibly, then whispered so softly that he had to lean closer to catch her words. “I cannot stop thinking about how I shall miss you.”

Walter was stunned into speechlessness. His traitorous heart, though, pounded heavily. “I...I am honored.” Was that really the best response he could give her?

She looked at him from underneath her lashes in that shy way that always made his heart flutter. “I was wondering, if I might be so bold as to ask... what do you think of me, Mr. Haworth?”

His jaw dropped. Proper young ladies did not ask questions like that. No matter how smitten they might be, young ladies were supposed to wait until a man declared his love, making his intentions clear, before they let out even a hint of their own feelings.

Had Lady Hester been waiting for Walter to declare himself? The idea seemed absurd, presumptuous, mind-boggling. But he could not imagine what else would have brought her here this morning. And even now, she was left waiting for an answer!

“The truth is that I admire you, and um...” Where on earth was he going with this? He had absolutely no idea what to say. What did people say in this situation? He ought to have asked for advice from Frank and Inglewhite. Both of them had managed to successfully propose to a woman.

For some reason, a phrase from Pride and Prejudice popped into his head. What was it Darcy said during his first proposal to Elizabeth? You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Well, that was no help. Walter couldn’t make a speech like that.

He drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He was not romantic. He never had been. All he could give her was the honest truth.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he blurted out. His face burned, and he knew he’d probably turned the color of a ripe strawberry. Nothing he could do about that but keep blundering on! “When I first met you, I thought you were—” cold and proud, he meant to say, but what a terrible way to begin a proposal of marriage!

Now that he thought about it, he might do better not to use Fitzwilliam Darcy as his model. Darcy had most certainly butchered his first proposal to Elizabeth.

“You thought I was what?” Lady Hester lifted her chin so that she could meet his gaze. He liked that she was tall enough that she did not have to tip her head far back to look him in the face.

Walter blundered on, though he suspected he was saying all the wrong things. “I thought you were very elegant and polished, but... as I observed you in my cousin’s household over the last few months, I saw what lay underneath that veneer. I mean, I saw how warm and supportive you were when your sister-in-law had need of you, and how honorable and upright you were in all your dealings with those around you. I believe that I could love you deeply. That is, if you thought you could return those feelings.”

Lady Hester blinked rapidly. “Then why didn’t you say anything about it? Why didn’t you declare yourself to me?”

A good question, Walter supposed. “I didn’t think there was any chance you would accept a proposal of marriage from me,” he admitted. “You see, I believed you were a distant star.”

“A distant star?” She furrowed her brow in confusion.

This was why Walter preferred science to poetry! He was not good at figurative language. “I mean like a bright and beautiful light, far beyond my reach. Far above my reach,” he clarified. “I did not think you would entertain the suit of... well, a solicitor whose family was only a generation removed from selling sugar. So, I decided not to ask.”

She continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, waiting to hear more. He swallowed and forced himself to admit something else. “I suppose I was a coward, Lady Hester. I was afraid you would reject me, so I never gave you the opportunity. But”—a grin unexpectedly tugged at his mouth—“I will give you that opportunity now.”

Lady Hester looked more confused than ever. “The opportunity to do what?”

His grin broadened. “To formally reject me, if you like. Now is your chance! I suggest you make the most of it.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up in response. “But what if I don’t want to reject you?” She spoke softly, but her eyes shone with an unidentifiable emotion.

“I would never be so ill-mannered as to demand a woman reject me if she did not want to do so. I mean, I wouldn’t make her not marry me if she didn’t want to not marry me.” Sheer happiness made him giddy, and he knew that if he kept speaking, he would only utter more nonsense. “In such a case, I would probably have to kiss her, assuming that she didn’t want to remain unkissed.”

His lady love looked on the verge of laughter. “I’m afraid I’ve lost track of all the negatives in this conversation,” she admitted. “I can only say that I do want to marry you. And I do want to be kissed. By you.” She flushed that adorable shade of pink again.

“That,” Walter said, “I believe I can help you with.”

He leaned towards her, and she met him halfway. He’d meant to do no more than tenderly brush his lips against hers, but the sweet warmth of her mouth invited him to linger. She caught his lower lip and teased it a bit before breaking the kiss. She was almost certainly more experienced than Walter, which was probably for the best. He was so eager to learn that he bent his head down for a second kiss.

They might have kept kissing for an eternity if Rose had not popped her head out the vicarage door and shouted at them. “I say, Walter, what on earth are you doing out there? Did your carriage break down?”

Walter broke away from Lady Hester—no, from Hester, his betrothed—and laughed. “I think we are going to have some explaining to do,” he warned her. Then he yelled up at the coachman: “I am afraid I will have to delay my journey, James. If you would kindly just drop me off here, then you may go back to the castle.” His journey would have to be deferred, given how many things there’d be to discuss regarding the betrothal.

“But what shall I tell his Lordship?” James sounded well and truly shocked.

“Tell him there has been a change of plan,” Hester suggested.

Walter and Hester clambered out of the carriage so they could go explain themselves to their family. It would, Walter supposed, be the first of many such explanations he’d have to make. And the worst of it was that Rose did not even attempt to look surprised! She merely smirked at them, as if she’d expected this all along.

For all he knew, Walter might be the only person not expecting this turn of events. But for once, he didn’t mind the surprise.