Page 6 of The Song of the Siren (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #2)

The green-eyed monster.

Bea shifted on the hard wooden bench. Her father was in fine form this morning, delivering a very entertaining sermon whilst counselling upon the perils of judging people upon appearances.

Having heard the sermon several times during the week as the reverend perfected it, her mind drifted and she found herself studying the congregation.

Be honest, Bea , she scolded. For it was not the congregation that was holding her attention, but Lord Stonehaven.

He sat on the opposite side of the church, and she smiled as he turned his face, showing her his profile.

His nose had certainly been broken, possibly more than once, for it was not entirely straight, and his physiognomy was far from what might be considered perfection in a man.

Yet it added strength to a face that was already full of character and charm, and those sparkling hazel eyes held a magnetic quality that Bea found impossible to ignore.

She knew she was foolish, for despite her much vaunted looks, he barely noticed her.

But he was just so very vigorous and male, and, despite her best efforts, Bea could not look away.

Perhaps it was for the best, she realised with regret, as at that moment she watched him turn his head and stare at Mrs Adamson.

Anne looked splendid, as she always did.

Dressed in a gown of pale green muslin with a deeper apple green spencer, her bonnet was trimmed with green ribbons and white ostrich feathers and her red curls gleamed, even in the dim light of the church.

For the first time Bea could remember, she looked down at her own gown, which though one of her best was sadly out of date, and felt suddenly dowdy.

Though Clementine had begged Bea to let Beaumarsh give her a London season and deck her out as befitted the sister-in-law of an earl, the very idea sickened her.

Though Bea did not regret her decision, she could not help but feel a pang of sorrow for her refusal to take any money from her new brother-in-law.

Whilst she was grateful beyond measure that he would take care of her little cousin Caspar’s schooling, and provide dowries for Isabelle and Daisy, his generosity in providing for her too was already far more than they had any right to expect.

The idea of him paying for her clothing on top of all that, when she wasn’t even having a season, was just too mercenary.

Clementine had assured her he was rich enough not to notice what he viewed as a trifling expense, but that had not seemed relevant to Bea.

It was not so much her gown that made regret lodge in her throat, however, as the realisation that Stonehaven had an interest in Anne.

They had a history, that much was obvious.

When he had arrived in Little Valentine, Anne had recognised him and had not been pleased by his arrival.

Was he the mysterious marquess with whom she was rumoured to have had an affair?

Had she told Clementine to warn Bea off because she did not want anyone else poaching on her preserve?

Determinedly, Bea told herself it was none of her business.

Anne was a lovely woman and Stonehaven had excellent taste if he admired her.

It was not for her to feel set aside and she refused to allow herself to indulge in jealousy.

And if Anne had told Clementine to warn her off because she had feelings for Stonehaven, Bea could hardly blame her for it.

Still, she could not help but watch the marquess as he watched Anne Adamson and feel as though she had lost her opportunity to win before she’d even had a chance to throw the dice.

Anne tried to concentrate on the sermon the reverend was delivering.

He was a very clever man, though he tried hard to hide it, and his aura of bumbling vicar was played to a nicety, when in truth he was a shrewd judge of human nature.

He held the congregation in the palm of his hand, making them laugh, and making them think without boring them to tears or frightening them half to death with threats of hell and eternal damnation.

Yet no matter how witty the man’s words, she was rivetingly aware of Stonehaven watching her.

Damn him. If he kept this up, there would be talk soon enough. How long before the story that she had been mistress to a marquess was on everyone’s tongues? And, lo, here was a handy marquess to pin the label on. And the arrogant buffoon was doing everything in his power to make them think it.

Lord save her from aristocratic men and their inflated egos! They all needed a lesson in humility and considering how their actions impacted others. Now, there was a sermon she wouldn’t mind listening to.

Finally, the reverend brought things to a close, they finished with a hymn, and everyone began filing out into the sunshine.

Anne stood, nodding politely to Major Hancock, who smiled warmly at her and stood aside to let her pass.

As she turned to thank him, Stonehaven moved past her, giving her a cool nod of acknowledgement, before greeting Beatrice with all the charm she knew he possessed.

He flashed that wickedly endearing crooked smile and said something that made the girl turn pink and gaze up at him with a dazed expression Anne could remember only too well.

The poor little goose. Hadn’t her sister warned her about him, as Anne had instructed her to do?

With hindsight, that had probably been a terrible idea.

Any girl with an ounce of spirit would immediately form a tendre for a fellow she had been warned away from.

Oh, drat you, Stonehaven. Why could he not just go away?

Seething with frustration, Anne stalked back to the Mermaid, firm in her resolve to have a word with Reverend Honeywell.

The man might be a superb judge of human nature, but he seemed to be a mite too trusting with his daughters.

They were only human, and she knew all too well how easy it was for everything to go awry.

One misstep and your entire life could change.

Even the best of men did not fully appreciate how fine the line women walked every day was, and how very easily one could plunge into chaos.

Perhaps it was about time someone spelled it out.

Bea sat at a table laden with far more food than they usually saw on a Sunday lunchtime.

Having had her nose put out of joint by Mrs Fairway’s gloating, Mrs Adie had been in alt to discover she would cook Sunday dinner for a marquess.

After all, giving a recipe over was one thing, but feeding an entire meal to such an illustrious guest was something else entirely.

“We’re going to be eating leftovers for a month,” Izzy said, sotto voce, as she too regarded the lavish display before them.

“I did try to rein her in.” Bea winced. Having taken over the running of the household from Clementine, this was entirely her fault. Sadly, unlike Clementine, Bea was no match for Mrs Adie’s enthusiasm and had not had the heart to diminish her opportunity to shine.

Izzy laughed and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, love. It’s not like we’ll starve.”

Bea smiled, glancing up the table to look at Stonehaven, who was asking Caspar about the parade of lead soldiers he’d lined up in front of his plate. He was very good with the lad, talking amiably and sounding not in the least condescending.

Stop it , she told herself, turning her attention back to her plate.

She had too many reasons to admire the man as it was, there was no point adding to them.

Especially not considering his behaviour in the church.

Bea was used to being underestimated. Most people looked at her and thought her a pretty ninny, but if Stonehaven thought she had not realised his charming greeting and the flourish with which he had escorted her from the church had been for Anne’s benefit, he was the fool.

The meal was superb, and Bea enjoyed both the food and the opportunity to listen to Stonehaven converse with her father and the rest of the family.

Though she forced herself to join in from time to time, she was too aware of the man sitting across the table from her, and too conscious that she was not the woman who had caught his attention.

Oh, he flirted prettily with her, giving her smiles and compliments, but she did not believe it was anything more than habit for him to act so.

The realisation made her quieter than usual and she imagined he must find her a very dull creature.

When the men retired to her father’s study to linger over their port, Bea found she was restless, something close to irritation seething beneath her skin.

Not wishing to allow anyone else to see she was out of sorts, she took herself off to the back parlour where they kept a small pianoforte.

It had been a bequest to their mother from a lovely old lady whom she had taken care of during the last years of her life.

It was a precious thing, being both the source of much entertainment and a memento of their mother and the happy times they had shared.

Though Bea did not play as well as Izzy, she enjoyed doing so.

It gave her the chance to feel peaceful and let herself get lost in the music as she sang quietly to herself.

People said she had a lovely voice and that compliment always meant far more to her than any comment upon her beauty.

So, she played and sang and did not notice she was being observed until she felt a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck. Turning, she saw her father and Lord Stonehaven standing in the doorway.

“Forgive us, my dear, we did not have the heart to interrupt, you were playing so beautifully.”

“That’s quite all right,” Bea said, getting to her feet. “Are you leaving, my lord?”