Page 42 of The Song of the Siren (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #2)

The course of true love never did run smooth.

“You said Westerham.”

Mr Marwick was a good-natured young gentleman and had been most kind to Bea, but she could tell he was becoming somewhat exasperated.

She didn’t blame him in the least. It was growing dark, and she did not know exactly where to go.

She had insisted on stopping at every inn from Chipstead and through Brasted, seeking news of Stonehaven to no avail.

“Well, probably Westerham. If you would only let me down when we get there, I’m sure I can find my—”

“Certainly not, so stop asking it of me. Whilst I have a far higher opinion of women and their capabilities than most men and believe they should have autonomy over their own lives, that does not mean I will allow you to walk about alone when you’ve no more experience of the world than a babe.

Indeed, I think you had best tell me exactly what is going on,” he said, a steely note to his voice.

“Who is it you are chasing all over the county?”

Bea swallowed, startled by his words, and not a little curious about his opinions. She had put the poor man to so much trouble, yet she did not wish to explain to a perfect stranger a story they were likely to find shocking in the extreme.

“Miss Honeywell,” Mr Marwick said gently.

“It is obvious to me that there is a man involved in this. I presume he left Little Valentine this morning, that you realise you have fallen in love and either neglected to tell him, or perhaps there were cross words or a misunderstanding, and now you fear all will be lost if you do not tell him everything.”

Bea gaped at him, and he smiled in response.

“How did I do?”

“Rather well,” she admitted.

“Well then, please will you consider me your friend, perhaps even a knight errant, come to aid you in your quest, but I cannot do so if you will not confide all to me. Who is this man?”

Bea hesitated for a moment but saw nothing in Mr Marwick’s eyes but the sincere desire to be of aid to her. “Lord Stonehaven.”

There was a flicker of surprise across his fine features. “Westerham, then. Likely the George and Dragon, that’s where the quality go. Walk on,” he said, clicking to the pony, who began moving and then obligingly trotted out.

“You must be wishing me to perdition,” Bea said, feeling perfectly wretched.

Marwick glanced at her, his well-shaped lips quirking at the corners. “No. I only beg that if ever my sister finds herself in difficulty that you or your sister will remember my aid this day.”

“Oh, you may rely upon it,” Bea said at once. “Indeed, we should have done so whether or not we had met this day, so it is a simple thing to promise.”

“I believe you,” Marwick said, studying her face.

He looked remarkably surprised, and she wondered where the Marwicks had lived before, that they had not been able to trust their neighbours might help them if required. “Stonehaven? That’s the fellow blinded in the accident, wasn’t it? He was staying at the vicarage, I recall.”

Bea blushed but agreed that it was so.

Mr Marwick nodded. She sensed no condemnation from him, nor anything more than mild curiosity, but he did not probe further.

It was full dark by the time they reached Westerham and Bea’s stomach twisted.

What if Stonehaven was not here? What if she’d missed him on the road, or he had gone much farther ahead?

What if he had taken a different route entirely?

What if she were alone here, miles from home, at night , with a man she did not know?

“Courage, miss. Don’t lose heart now,” Marwick said briskly, pulling the tired pony up in the yard of the George and Dragon as an ostler came over to see to them.

“Give him some hot mash and a good rubdown, for he’s a game little fellow,” Marwick instructed, tossing a coin to the fellow, who grinned.

Leaning over the back of the cart, Mr Marwick grabbed his bag.

“I hope you were not meeting anyone in Sevenoaks, they will wonder what has become of you,” Bea said, so anxious now she did not know if she could force her feet to carry her inside.

“Don’t you fret about me. I’m in no trouble. Now, let’s see if we can find Stonehaven.”

Bea nodded, tugged her battered hat lower over her face, and thrust her hands into her pockets. Walking in the loose, easy fashion Mr Marwick had taught her, she moved to stand beside him.

“You’ll do,” he said approvingly, and led her into the inn.

It was a busy place, but Bea saw at once why Mr Marwick thought it Stonehaven’s most likely destination, for the clientele were of a higher social standing than those in the last few establishments she’d entered.

Indeed, the George and Dragon was rather elegant, and the scent of something rich and meaty drifted on the air, making Bea’s stomach growl with hunger as she remembered she had eaten little that day.

Marwick led them up to the innkeeper, a red-faced man who was busy directing his staff.

“John, the fellow in room three ordered a bath, see to it. Mary, them three nitwits in the taproom want sandwiches, and that lot in the private parlour ordered wine. Get the burgundy I bought last month. Peter—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, my good man, for I can see you are busy,” Marwick said, gaining himself a look of frustration.

“I am at that, sir,” the fellow said peevishly.

“I won’t keep you above a moment. I work for Lord Stonehaven, who is expecting me. If you would just give me his direction—”

“Oh.” The innkeeper’s expression cleared. “Certainly. Room six. It’s our finest, see. Up the stairs and turn left, last door on the right. Tell him if he liked that Bordeaux I sent up, I’ve another he’ll enjoy just as much.”

“I will do, sir, I thank you,” Marwick said, grabbing Bea’s elbow and steering her towards the stairs.

She climbed them numbly, heart thudding. He was here. He was really here.

“You’re certain about this?” Marwick asked, noting her sudden pallor.

Bea nodded. “Yes, only a… a little daunted. He does not expect me, you see.”

“I should hope not, else I would like to know what manner of gentleman allows a lady to hare about the countryside in his wake.”

Bea reached out and grasped his hand. “I cannot thank you enough, Mr Marwick. You have been so very kind and most gallant.”

To her surprise, he blushed a little. “Not at all,” he said, rather gruffly.

“I’ll be downstairs in the taproom with the three nitwits for the next couple of hours, and I’ll take a room here, if there is one.

If not, I’ll bed down with the pony. Come and find me if there’s the least bit of trouble, and I’ll take you straight home. ”

“You are too good,” Bea said, squeezing his hand before turning to face the door.

“Remember to stand up for yourself,” Marwick said, moving farther along the corridor to give her privacy. “Don’t take any nonsense from anyone.”

Bea smiled and raised her hand to knock. “I won’t,” she promised.

A moment later, George’s face appeared at the door, and relief washed over her. “Yes?” he asked, frowning at her for a moment before his eyes grew wide. “Mis—”

Bea slapped her hand over his mouth, shaking her head and looking around to see if anyone but Marwick was watching. George gasped and, grabbing her arm, yanked her inside and closed the door.

“What in the name of everything holy…?” he whispered, so flummoxed by the sight of her there, and dressed as oddly as she was, he could only goggle.

“I must speak to him, George,” she said, breathless.

There was a crash from the far side of the room. Bea turned towards it.

“Sally?”

Her heart leapt at the sound of Stonehaven’s voice.

George frowned, looking at Stonehaven in confusion.

“Y-Yes,” Bea said, before George could answer. “And… n-no.”

“Miss,” George said, his tone urgent.

“Oh, George, I know you don’t understand, and I know I am putting you in a terrible position, but please, go away!” she begged.

“Yes, George, go away,” Stonehaven agreed, moving towards her, his right hand on the wall as he navigated the narrow space at the end of the bed.

“Oh, your head!” Bea cried in warning, a second too late as he cracked it on a low beam.

Stonehaven cursed, clutching his head, but still moving towards her, regardless.

“Oh, do be careful. Your poor head,” she exclaimed, rushing towards him.

She reached up to examine the place where he had hit it, but he pulled her into a crushing embrace.

“You came,” he said in wonder, his hands finding her face and cradling it gently. “Sally, it’s really you? I’ve not lost my wits entirely?”

“But, sir,” George said, dithering by the door, not knowing what to do for the best.

“Go away, George!” they both said in unison.

“Aye, but—” he began doggedly.

“Please. I shall explain everything, I promise,” Bea said desperately. “Please , George.”

“Damn me, I’ll be flayed alive for this one way or another,” George said morosely, but made his way out. “I’ll be outside the door, mind.”

The moment the door closed, Stonehaven’s lips came down upon hers, hungry and desperate, and Bea could only reciprocate, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Sally, Sally, my love. I cannot believe you are here. What have you done?”

“More than know, my lord,” she said, hiccoughing a little. “I’m afraid I am a wicked creature, and you will be rightly very cross with me. Indeed, I fear you will wish to send me away again you will be so angry.”

“Oh, no. Never that,” he said gently. “How can I be angry when you’ve made me so very happy?”

“Because you don’t understand. I must explain everything, but before I do, I need you to know that… that… I love you, and I want to be with you, always.”

The words came tumbling out in a rush, the desperation to tell him what she felt before she lost her nerve, or something else happened to thwart her. She had told him she loved him before, but she had not implied that she would do anything, go to any lengths to stay beside him.

Stonehaven went very still, though his chest rose and fell with increasing vigour.