Page 26 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)
“I trust,” Aunt Elspeth said as Beatrix took her leave, “that you will continue to follow the sensible path which you have begun to follow, and not veer off it on some childish whim.”
It took a lot of effort for Beatrix to keep her face impassive as she nodded. “Thank you for your counsel, Aunt.”
“And set the wedding date sooner rather than later. I shall not be able to attend, of course, but write to me and tell me as soon as you are wed. Your future will be all the safer with that wedding band on your finger.”
“Yes, Aunt. I shall write soon. Make sure you rest and stay warm.”
“I am perfectly healthy,” her aunt said in a tone even more irritable than the one she usually employed. Beatrix wished to point out that if she were perfectly healthy, she would be able to travel for the wedding of her niece, or would have come to visit her niece in mourning—but she did not.
She had no intention of bringing the wedding forward. She would remain in mourning for as long as she could, and Thomas had agreed to wait.
It was with a heavy heart that she climbed back into the carriage, where Jemima was already waiting.
She was not sad to be leaving Aunt Elspeth; she had not found the solace with her relative which she had hoped.
But leaving her aunt meant returning to London, to Thomas, to everything she had hoped from which she might find an escape.
And yet there was no escape. Her aunt had merely confirmed that marrying Thomas was the best, and indeed her only, option.
She wished the thought didn’t fill her with such misery.
“Are you well, my lady?” Jemima asked as the coach rattled along the road, through the foggy countryside.
Beatrix sighed. “Physically, yes. But my heart aches…”
Jemima reached out and squeezed her hand. They had often overstepped the boundaries between servant and mistress, and Beatrix welcomed the comfort. There was no one else in the world to comfort her.
“All will be well, my lady.”
“I do not know how it can be,” Beatrix said with a sigh. “If I wed Thomas, then I am secure, and my children will inherit everything Papa built. But I will be married to a man…a man I do not really know.” A man I am wary of, she added in her head. A man I do not think I can love.
“And if you do not marry him?” Jemima prompted.
“Then I will leave with nothing,” Beatrix said with a sigh.
“And will have to hope I can find paid employment, or someone else to marry me…or I will be homeless. There is no one who will take me in.” And of course, her loyal maid would likely too be out of work and homeless, for she could not pay for a maid herself if she left with nothing.
What could her maid say to comfort her? There was only one logical choice. She just needed to ignore the silly romantic part of her heart that wanted a different man.
Because he didn’t want her. Not as a wife. And there was no use pretending otherwise.
*
When Spencer joined the rest of the house party for a late breakfast, he was rather surprised to see Miss Louisa with a bright smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes.
There was a lot of chatter in the room, but he presumed it could not be about the debacle the previous evening—because if it had been, she surely would not have been smiling.
He took his seat and glanced around at the excited company. He was not one to pick up on the subtleties of society normally, but this was too obvious even for him to miss.
“Leighton!” Montgomery said, his booming voice filling the room. “Have you heard the happy news?”
Spencer shook his head, bemused. “I’m afraid I have not.”
“Well, this little house party will be ending in rather a romantic air!”
Spencer felt his pulse quicken. This surely had nothing to do with him. He had not agreed to any of the ridiculousness the night before.
“Oh?” he said as calmly as he could, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes! Miss Louisa Trentbridge—”
His heart began to thud harder than it ought to. No. He could not marry her. He could not.
“Has this very morning become betrothed to Lord Fount.”
Spencer’s jaw dropped and his eyes darted to James—who looked both happy and a little awkward at meeting Spencer’s eye.
“Well, my congratulations,” Spencer said when he could speak again.
“And not long after, Miss Jennifer Trentbridge agreed to become my wife, also.”
“Goodness!” Spencer said, although a much stronger word, not suitable for polite company, had initially come to mind. “What a…busy morning. Congratulations.”
The excitable chatter bubbled up again as Spencer helped himself to some fruit, feeling rather relieved. Two betrothals, and neither involved him. And he was pleased too, that in spite of her scheming, that Miss Louisa had found a way to avoid the marriage she had been dreading.
It had all worked out for the best.
And yet, as they promenaded around the gardens on this their final afternoon of the house party, which the sun had kindly decided to shine upon, for some reason he did not feel full of joy.
That was not unusual for him, but he was surprised to find the feeling that welled up inside him as he watched the two happy couples strolling arm in arm was…jealousy.
Not for either of the women. He had been honest with James: he had no desire to wed Miss Louisa. And though her sister was equally pretty, he had no wish to further his connection with her, either.
No, he envied the ease of the relationship. The way they seemed so happy and confident in one another’s company. The fact that they would have someone by their side, for the rest of their lives.
He didn’t want to be alone, forever.
He didn’t think he could be a husband…but he didn’t want to be alone.