Page 9 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

S everal days after meeting Lord Leighton in the park, Beatrix was losing all hope.

Lord Filton was becoming more insistent, and she was desperate to avoid what was probably inevitable.

“I think we should go to Bath, Papa,” she said as they sat in the library after supper.

A fire was roaring in the grate, and Papa looked as though he might drop off to sleep at any moment.

But Beatrix didn’t want to wait to discuss the plan.

The idea had been on her mind for a few days, and the more tenacious Lord Filton became, the more she wanted to leave town.

“Now? In the middle of the Season? It’s not really…”

Beatrix took advantage of Papa trailing off to jump in with her reasons. “I know that. But it is far from my first Season. I do not think anyone is really paying attention to me. And you have been struggling with your health for some time now. Perhaps taking the waters will help you.”

Papa screwed up his face and Beatrix shoved her needlework to one side. “It’s worth a try, Papa. There are balls in Bath, too—it’s not as though I shan’t be able to socialize at all…”

“But Lord Filton…”

Beatrix bit her bottom lip. She had thought Papa favored his suit, but she had been hoping it was not true. How could he think to marry her off to such an old man? She knew they were friends, but she found Lord Filton odious. And she could not bear the thought of sharing his bed…

She had come to the conclusion that perhaps if he was the only option, it was not an option she wanted.

“Papa. He is a pleasant man”—she lied in order not to upset her father—“—but he is too old to be my husband.”

Papa sank down in his chair, looking even smaller than he normally did. It was sad how age had taken a formidable man and made him diminutive. Beatrix struggled to picture him as he had been in her youth.

“I know. But Bea, sweetheart… You haven’t had an offer in quite some time.”

Of course, she knew that was the truth. And she had been very honest with herself that she was aging fast and no longer a débutante who young men would be clamoring to dance with.

But there was a difference in knowing it and hearing one’s father confirm it. That her only hope was a man old enough to be her grandfather. Tears filled Beatrix’s eyes, and she had to look away so that her father would not see.

It broke her heart.

“You know I would happily have you by my side forever. I have no wish to send you off to be wed to anyone. But my health is not what it was…”

More tears filled her eyes at this morbid statement, and she knew she could not hold them back for long.

“Papa…” There was so much she wanted to say, but the knot in her throat prevented her from doing more than speaking his name.

“It is the truth. We do not know how long I have left, and I do not wish you to be alone and unprotected in this world. With no husband, no brothers, no sons… It’s a harsh world for a female alone, even one of your status.”

What he said was sensible, and Beatrix knew that, even though she did not wish to admit it. If one was a wealthy widow, that was one thing, but being alone in the world and having never been married was an entirely different matter…

“I cannot pass my title to you. And you know I would if I could. But when I do go—no, sweetheart, do not get upset, it will happen sometime—then the new heir, my cousin however many times removed, will turn up and have every right to put you out onto the street.”

“I could find employment,” Beatrix said with a sniff, reaching into her pocket to find a handkerchief. “I could be a governess, or a companion…”

Papa held out his hand. Beatrix gave up her search for a handkerchief and reached forward and took it, wishing she could hold on to him forever.

“You could. But I don’t want you to be desperately trying to find paid work, worrying about whether you will have a roof over your head. I raised you as the daughter of an earl, and I do not want you to have to lower yourself in the world. Lord Filton may be older than you—”

“He’s older than you , Papa.”

“Yes. But he’s not a cruel man, and he has a vast fortune, and an estate that you loved as a child…”

Beatrix nodded. She could see that her father only wanted what he thought was best for her. But it was hard to truly believe that marrying a man who was surely approaching five-and-sixty was the path to happiness for her.

“I won’t push you into it. But I want you to seriously consider him. He would give you a safe future when I am no longer here.”

It wasn’t a topic that Beatrix wanted to discuss, but clearly her father was convinced that his death was in the not-too-distant future, so she needed to be prepared.

But it didn’t need to be decided today. “Can we go to Bath for a little while? To take the waters…and to give me some time to think?” Beatrix pleaded.

She couldn’t imagine agreeing to wed the aging earl, and he surely wouldn’t wait for an answer for long, considering how quickly he had started searching for a new wife after the death of the last Lady Filton.

“You know I would do anything to make you happy, my little bee.”

Beatrix smiled through her tears; he hadn’t called her that in a long time. Things were simple back when she had always been his little buzzing bee, and her mother had been alive, and no one would have even considered betrothing her to an old man.

Where had it all gone wrong?

“I’ll instruct the staff to ready us to depart the day after tomorrow,” Beatrix said, embracing her father. “The waters will work wonders—you’ll see.”

She would do anything to have more time with her beloved father. And on top of that, if her father’s health was better, she wouldn’t have to marry in such haste…

But marriage needed to be on the cards, and soon. There could be no more waiting around for cupid’s arrow to strike.

*

“I just wished to inform you both that I shall be out of the city for a while,” Spencer said, sipping his whisky in the quiet corner of the club that they had been frequenting of late.

Timothy frowned. “Are you heading to the countryside already? No one will be leaving the city for weeks yet.”

It did not seem that Timothy understood Spencer’s desire to be away from people—but he had no plans to go to the countryside. There were too many memories there.

“No. To Bath… I’ll be back before the end of the Season.”

“What can Bath offer that London cannot?” James asked, lighting a cigar.

Fewer people, for one. And no memories of his father or brother, since he had never visited the city with them. But he wasn’t sure his friends would understand either of those.

And neither did he wish to share the real reason he had made the sudden decision to visit the spa town of Bath: to take the waters. He would have laughed at himself for such a notion a few years ago.

Did he really believe the waters could heal what ailed him?

He wasn’t convinced—but he wanted things to change.

He wanted to be able to converse with his friends and young ladies like he had done before.

He wanted to be able to sleep without waking screaming, haunted by the memories of what he had witnessed in France.

And people flocked to take the waters in Bath in order to cure themselves of all sorts of ills. Perhaps it would work for him, and he could return to being the man he once was.

“I just wish for a change of scenery.”

He wasn’t sure whether they believed him, but the next day his carriage was packed with his belongings and rattling its way to the city of Bath.

He chose to ride ahead, preferring to be saddle-sore than bored and stuck with his own thoughts in the carriage.

The light drizzle didn’t bother him as his horse made good progress toward the inn he planned to stop at for the night. He could never completely escape his thoughts, but with the wind whistling in his ears and the rain spraying his face, he was at least distracted.

He was specifically trying not to think of Lady Beatrix. She was a temptation he knew he could not give into. She set something alight in him that he had thought was long dead. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to press his lips to hers and pull her body close…

He was not doing a very good job of not thinking about her.

He barely knew her, and he wasn’t sure why she was on his mind so much. And yet he found himself imagining what her golden hair would look like fanned out on his pillow, or how bright her blue eyes would look after he had kissed her senseless.

It was nice for his mind to wander to such a positive place, even if none of it could ever happen. He wasn’t fit to be anyone’s husband.

Bath was almost as busy as London, although Spencer hoped he would not be recognized as he often was in the city.

He was not known in Bath, and nor was his family; he would be quite happy if everyone he was acquainted with was busy enjoying the London Season, and he could be anonymous as he tried to find the Spencer he had been before the war.

He had brought his valet Allan, and the townhouse he had rented for his visit was equipped with a cook and a maid, but he did not require any more staff.

After all, he was not planning on socializing or attending any functions, other than visiting the Pump Room to take the waters.

At least in Bath, he would not need to worry about making a fool of himself in front of the beguiling Lady Beatrix.