Page 15 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

U nable to understand why anyone would insist on being admitted to a house so recently bereaved, Beatrix shook her head. “I will inform whoever is trying to barge in to a home in mourning that it is not a suitable time.” She swept from the room, her misery fueling her anger.

The man on the doorstep was not one whom she recognized. He was tall, with ashen blond hair and blue eyes that were a little too small for his face. He looked at least ten years her senior, if not more, and she drew herself up to her full height to inform him she did not wish to have any visitors.

“Lady Beatrix,” he said, with a bow. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She did not bother to enquire his name. “I am afraid I am in mourning, as you are aware, and shall not be entertaining guests at the time. So good day.”

And she was going to turn and allow Samson to close the door in the rude stranger’s face—until he laughed.

“I am afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, Lady Beatrix. I am here to take my rightful place, as Lord Haxbury.”

Beatrix’s blood ran cold. That name should not belong to any other than her father.

And she had thought she would have time before the new heir, some distant cousin of her father’s, came knocking.

Of course, a letter had been sent upon her father’s death, but that had been mere days earlier.

She had not thought he would arrive so soon, or be quite so keen to take his place in society…

She swallowed, forcing back more tears, and made herself curtsy.

She would be polite to this man. She had to be—he was the only one with any power to make sure she did not end up on the streets.

She had no brothers, no uncles, no one to take her in.

She had not married, as her father had advised, in order to protect herself in this ghastly situation.

She was alone in this world, and this man had everything that had once been hers.

“Lord Haxbury,” she said, the words sticking in her throat. “My apologies. I was not expecting you. Please, come in.”

It felt odd to welcome him into the home that technically belonged to him. Most of her father’s wealth and properties passed on with his title to his heir—and that, of course, could not be her, a mere woman.

“Samson. We’ll take some tea in the drawing room, please.”

In the week since she’d lost her father, Beatrix felt like she’d forgotten how to make conversation. Her heart ached too terribly for what she had lost, and when she thought of the future, it terrified her. How could she make small talk in the wake of such pain?

“Allow me to say again how sorry I am for your loss. I hear your father was a fine man.”

Beatrix smiled with watery eyes. “He was. Did you ever meet him?”

“Alas, I did not get the chance. The family link between us is quite distant—I just happen to be the only other male on this side of the family.” His snake-like smile made her feel a little queasy.

There was something about him she did not like, but she told herself it was just the grief talking.

She wouldn’t have liked anyone who came in to take her father’s place and her childhood homes.

“Indeed. It is a strange system of inheritance we have in this country.”

Lord Haxbury pursed his lips, but the arrival of the tea stopped him from saying anything in response.

“Will there be anything else, milady?” the footman asked Beatrix.

“I—” she began, but then looked to Lord Haxbury. “Will you be staying, my lord? I have not made any arrangements for myself yet, I am afraid to say…”

He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Do not worry, my dear. There is time to sort all of that. But yes, I will stay.”

“A room made up then, for… Lord Haxbury.”

The footman’s eyes widened. “Yes, milady. Milord.”

It was his house. Of course he could stay. And yet it wasn’t really appropriate for them to be under the same roof with no other female of their class present… She would have to make a plan soon, if she did not wish for her reputation to be besmirched.

She hoped the staff would not make up her father’s room for this new lord.

Of course, it was his by rights—but she could not cope with the idea of someone else in it just yet.

She had not even had a chance to sort through his belongings—the personal ones of no value, that she would surely be allowed to keep.

They were left alone to sip tea in an awkward atmosphere, and Beatrix tried to focus on being polite, when all she wanted to do was retreat to her chamber and hide from the world.

“Did it take you long to reach London?” she asked, trying to remember where the solicitor had said he was sending the missive to the new heir.

“I was actually already on my way, to see some friends at the end of the Season,” he said with a toothy smile.

“And then they had invited me on to a house party. Naturally, I shall no longer be attending—there is much to be done. I was rather surprised when my stable lad came riding at full speed from my home, to inform me an important letter had arrived.”

“I can imagine.” It was hard for Beatrix to comprehend how the worst event in her life could be the best in someone else’s.

This gentleman—whose name she didn’t even remember, beyond the fact that he was now Lord Haxbury—clearly had plans now that he was an earl.

Plans that she was sure would not include the spinster daughter of the old earl. She needed to make a plan of her own, and fast.

“I would be happy to go through the accounts with you, if it would help. Alongside my father’s man of business, I helped to run the estates while my father was ill.”

He had been ill for so long, and yet she had always thought he would recover. She’d never truly imagined being alone in the world, both her parents gone, with no one to support her.

“How wonderful,” Lord Haxbury said, in a tone that was laced with sarcasm. “Thank you, but I am sure I can go through everything with Mr. Mellor myself, without needing to take any of your time.”

Feeling thoroughly put in her place, Beatrix sipped her tea and tried not to let her irritation show on her face.

“I need to make a plan, for my future,” she said, preempting any thoughts he might have of when she would move on. “I hope you can allow me to stay until I have accommodation secured.” She thought she was better to presume he would be generous, rather than asking if she could stay.

She had some jewelry she could probably sell, and a little pin money saved up—but aside from that, nothing to pay for her keep. Becoming a paid companion or a governess seemed like her only option, even though her father had been quite against the idea.

She wanted to cry whenever she thought of him, but that would do no good. He was gone, and she had not married when he had suggested it, so now she was alone in the world.

“Of course, my dear,” he said, with a generous, if patronizing, wave of his hand through the air. “As I said, plenty of time to worry about the details. I have some thoughts about your future, if you are willing to entertain them.”

Her smile was tight and forced. This man was taking everything she had ever known, and now he thought he could direct her future?

She was not under his guardianship; she was a grown woman of twenty-five, and while she could not inherit an earldom or the fortune that came with it, she could make her own decisions about where her life would take her.

If only she had some viable options. “I would of course be interested in your thoughts, my lord.”

“We will discuss it tomorrow, once I’ve had some time to settle in,” he said, and she knew she would be anxious about whatever it was he had to say until that time.

She needed to get copies of any magazines that carried advertisements, and find out what paid positions there were for a titled lady with nothing.

Unbidden, her thoughts flitted to Lord Leighton.

She had not heard from him since she had returned from Bath, nor since her father’s death.

She doubted she would ever see him again.

And yet his handsome face came to her mind—even though he could not help her in this situation.

The best option, clearly, was for her to wed…

But she could not wholly give up on wanting to marry someone she loved.

Or at least held in high regard. She did not want some ancient earl…

But it had been a long time since anyone else had offered.

She was well and truly on the shelf.