“Lady Beauchamp?” Sir Farnsworth took a step toward her, but she held up a hand.
“I’m all right, good sir. It’s just the baby…” She held her breath as another contraction hit. “I would greatly appreciate it though…if you could ask my butler to send my lady’s maid to attend me. And summon my physician, Dr. Morton.”
* * * *
Six weeks later
“It looks as though the rain has stopped at last, my lady. There will be a beautiful sunset for certain, later this afternoon.”
Cradling James’s beautiful and immeasurably precious daughter in her arms, Elizabeth moved to where Nanny Robinson—a young widow whose husband had not returned from the field in Belgium last year—stood by the nursery window and looked out onto the grey day outside. The nurse was indeed correct. Although the cobbles in the street below were still stained to a dark grey by the weeks and weeks of constant rain, and the lime trees dripped in the square beyond, the clouds had thinned a little and watery sunlight filtered through the veil.
Toward the direction of Hyde Park, she could even see a small patch of pale blue sky. It was mid-September and it seemed that summer had only just now decided to put in a very belated appearance.
Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to her daughter’s tiny face. Jane was beginning to stir from sleep, her eyes crinkling and her sweet rosebud lips puckering as the light from the window drifted across them both. Her spirits lifting, Elizabeth smiled then glanced up at the nurse. She had an idea. “I think after Lady Jane has had her afternoon tea, we might be able to risk taking her for her first walk in the perambulator, don’t you?”
Nanny Robinson clasped her hands in front of her white pinafore and smiled with barely suppressed glee. “Oh yes, my lady. That would indeed be a fine idea. I will make sure Lady Jane is well-rugged up mind you, and that the footman carries lots of umbrellas, just in case.”
Finding it difficult to resist the infectious enthusiasm that radiated from the nurse, Elizabeth’s smile widened. “Very good then.”
As she settled into a comfy armchair by the fire and began to feed Jane, Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted, as they inevitably did, to where James was and what he might be doing right now. After Jane’s arrival, she had written to him as she had promised, to inform him about the birth of their child. And Hugh’s untimely death.
But that had been six weeks ago. It would have only taken two weeks at the most for her letters to arrive…
Elizabeth sighed and stroked the dark, silky hair on the back of Jane’s tiny head as the baby suckled noisily at her breast. She prayed the missives hadn’t gone astray. But then she’d sent two letters—one to his Edinburgh address and one to Eilean Tor—so it was unlikely that both would have failed to arrive. She’d assumed that if James had been in London at the time of Hugh’s death, he would have heard the news and all of the rumors that were undoubtedly circulating throughout the ton, about the scandalous death of the Earl of Beauchamp. And the sudden arrival of Lady Jane Elizabeth Harcourt on the very day he died.
Even if James had met someone else, she thought he might have called on her by now, to at least meet their child.
But she’d heard nothing. Not a word.
You told him to forget you, Elizabeth. You can hardly blame him if he took you at your word.
Nevertheless, his silence stung.
In the immediate weeks following Hugh’s death and Jane’s momentous arrival, she had been so caught up in the tumult of events that she had not really had a chance to dwell on when James might make contact with her.
Arranging Hugh’s funeral and attending to his affairs had claimed much of her attention at first. Indeed, she had been quite flagrant in ignoring Dr. Morton’s advice for once, and had travelled with a barely week old Jane to Scarwood Hall, where Hugh was laid to rest in the Beauchamp family vault, located within the local parish church.
Despite Hugh’s position and title, it had been a quiet and relatively small ceremony, attended only by herself, Hugh’s solicitor, Mr. Beasley, a suitably mollified Lord Kendal— Lord Blaire was still indisposed—and the Scarwood estate’s staff and tenants. Like herself, Hugh had been an only child and his parents had both passed away during his adolescence. His heir—the distant cousin he had mentioned to her—was currently being tracked down by Mr. Beasley. The new Earl of Beauchamp was rumored to be an employee of the East India Company and was currently living and working somewhere in India.
That meant that Elizabeth would still have a little time to relocate to the unentailed residence Hugh had bequeathed to her, a small but elegant townhouse just off Berkley Square.
Jane pulled away from her breast, and Elizabeth lifted her warm, tiny body to rest against her shoulder, inhaling her sweet baby scent. It was the most beautiful smell in the world, other than the lingering memory of spicy sandalwood soap and the man who used it.
Stop torturing yourself, Elizabeth. If he still loves you and wants you, he will come.
And if not…
She had the blessing of their daughter. And James could never have given her a more precious gift than her.
* * * *
Fortunately, it looked like the rain was going to continue to hold off as Elizabeth—with Nanny Robinson pushing Jane’s perambulator and a footman bringing up the rear—walked the short distance from Grosvenor Square to the Park Lane entrance of Hyde Park.
As they wandered quietly down one of the wide meandering paths between sodden lawns, hedgerows and garden beds, Elizabeth glanced skywards every now and again, encouraged to see increasingly more patches of soft blue appearing between the clouds that seemed to have darkened the heavens for most of the year. She smiled, not caring a bit when she subsequently splashed through a puddle in her completely frivolous purple walking boots, and the hem of her smart lavender-grey walking gown became stained.
Although she was still supposed to be in deep mourning, she had decided to flout convention this afternoon, and had donned an outfit that was more suitable for the period of half-mourning. Aside from her new gown with its matching spencer, she’d also given into the whim of wearing a jaunty black bonnet trimmed with violet ribbons and a waving grey ostrich plume. She’d already received a censorious look from Lady Newbury—one of the prickliest of society’s grand dames—as the countess had passed by in her fine barouche. But after everything she’d endured, Elizabeth no longer gave a fig.
The ton’s opinion be damned.
It wasn’t until they paused beneath a large weeping willow beside the banks of the Serpentine that Elizabeth’s buoyant spirits unexpectedly plummeted to earth again. Casting her gaze over the still grey water, she spied a pair of mute swans drifting toward them. The memory it invoked of another day in another park was so strong, her throat constricted and her eyes brimmed with tears.
Sometimes she missed James so much it hurt to breathe.
She surreptitiously dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve—she didn’t want to invite questions from Nanny Robinson—then turned her back on the swans and the lake.
Only to see her whole world blown into a million, jagged pieces.
Bowling along the path at a cracking pace, in the direction from which they had just come, was a stylish black curricle. And the man driving the fine pair of matched greys was none other than James.
But he wasn’t alone.
Seated beside him, clinging to his arm, was an exceptionally beautiful, dark-haired young woman, dressed in the height of fashion.
“Slow down, James,” the woman admonished on a peal of breathless laughter as they flashed past her.
James. She’d called him James.
Elizabeth pushed her gloved fist against her mouth to stifle the involuntary sob that rose in her throat. Her worst nightmare had come true. James had moved on.
And she only had herself to blame.
Blindly, she stumbled onto the path and turned in the direction of home.
“Lady Beauchamp…my lady.” Nanny Robinson called after her, bu
t she couldn’t stop. She had to get away from here before she collapsed into a heap on the muddy ground.
It had been over ten months—almost a year really—since she and James had parted. She should be happy for him. This is what she’d wanted for him.
But that had been before Hugh had died.
She was not far from the main gates when she heard the thunder of hooves drawing closer and the whicker of a horse.
“Beth. Beth, stop…wait…”
At the sound of that deep voice, the most loved voice in the world, she stumbled to a halt by an oak tree and grabbed hold of its trunk, her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing ragged and uneven.
Foolish, Elizabeth. Why are you doing this to yourself?
She really had no idea. It was as if her body had a will apart from hers. Her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot like the oak she clutched, her body unable to resist the powerful, magnetic pull of the man whom she now sensed close behind her.
“Beth…”
She felt his hand on her arm; the contact burned through the wool of her sleeve and her whole body shivered. Trembled, like the leaves above her. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t turn around. Seeing him again, with that other woman would just kill her.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she somehow dragged in enough air to speak. “I…I’m sure the woman you’re with…your companion is quite lovely, James, and I should wish you every happiness…but please…” She choked back a sob. “Please, just let me go…”
James’s grip on her firmed. “Never again, you beautiful ninnyhammer.”
Ninnyhammer?
Elizabeth whirled around to face James. Even though the corner of his wide mouth had tipped into a smile, there was the unmistakable sheen of tears in his dark brown eyes.
“I’m sorry I took so long to get to London, my love,” he murmured, reaching forward to stroke her wet cheek with the back of his fingers. “But with all the rain we’ve had, the roads were an absolute quagmire. And then my sister, Helena…” and he inclined his head back towards the woman still seated in the curricle on the opposite side of the path, “…slowed proceedings down by insisting on dragging the whole family along to London as well. But I must say, her presence did help immensely when I arrived at Harcourt House. Your butler wouldn’t say where you were, or when you were expected back until my dear sister unleashed her charms on him.”
Elizabeth swallowed, hardly daring to believe what her ears had just heard. “That’s…the lady with you…she’s your sister?”
James ran a long finger down her nose then lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his dark, soft-as-velvet gaze. “Yes, just my sister… Surely you know that my heart belongs to you. And only you.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and heat crept into her cheeks. As he stood before her, his gaze drinking in her features like she was the only thing in the world that could sustain him, she realized how truly foolish she’d been to doubt him. A ninnyhammer indeed.
Nevertheless, she felt compelled to defend herself, even just a little. “I told you to forget me,” she said, her voice no more than a husky whisper of sound.
He smiled gently and brushed his thumb across her trembling lower lip. “As if I ever could.”
Apparently indifferent to the more than curious glances of passers-by on the path behind them, James suddenly pulled loose the violet ribbons beneath her chin, and then cast her bonnet to the ground. “I hope you’re not terribly fond of that hat,” he murmured as one of his hands slid into the artfully arranged curls at the nape of her neck. “Because I think it just landed in a puddle.”
“What hat?” James could have thrown her into the puddle right at this moment and Elizabeth wouldn’t have minded.
Without conscious thought, her gaze flitted to his wide, oh-so tempting mouth, and in an instant, James’s amused expression changed.
His gaze darkened and became entirely focused on her lips. “My beautiful Beth,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with longing. He raised his other hand and caressed her tear-stained cheek. “God, how I’ve missed you.” And then, at long last, he kissed her.
The instant James’s lips touched hers, luscious warmth washed through Elizabeth’s entire body, curling her toes, and rendering her boneless.
Such a perfect, rapturous, delicious kiss.
With sinuous slowness his mouth glided over hers, soft as silk, while his tongue languidly explored the recesses of her mouth. When his teeth pulled gently on her lower lip she was unable to suppress a moan.
Yes. She didn’t care they were in the middle of Hyde Park, in the middle of the afternoon making a spectacle of themselves for all the world to see. Because this was true and this was real. And this was what she’d craved all of those long, lonely nights she’d lain awake just aching for James. The intoxicating taste of him. The dark spicy scent of him. The feel of his strong, lean body beneath her hands.
Her pulse raced and her heart sparked to life. It was as if the sun had come out again.
“Lady Beauchamp?”
James broke the kiss and they both turned to find Nanny Robinson, mouth agape, standing a few feet away with the perambulator. The sage footman, an older man who had been in the employ of the Beauchamp household for an eon, stood further behind, intently studying the wet grass beneath his feet.
The obviously horrified nurse glanced at James, blushed furiously, then focused on her mistress again. “My lady…I’m…I’m so terribly sorry to have…interrupted…”
Despite the fact that she knew she looked like a woman who had been flagrantly well-kissed, Elizabeth summoned a smile. “That’s quite all right, Nanny Robinson. I expect you were just concerned about me.”
The nurse nodded furiously. “If you w-would like, my lady,” she stammered, her gaze flickering to James again before returning to her, “I could take Lady Jane for a turn about the rose garden…”
“Soon, Nanny Robinson.” Suddenly feeling breathlessly shy, but bubbling with happiness at the same time, Elizabeth turned to James. She was delighted to see that he looked almost boyishly anxious with anticipation as well. She took his hand. “Come and meet Lady Jane Elizabeth, Lord Rothsburgh.”
James followed her over to the perambulator and looked down at his sleeping daughter. She saw him swallow and heard his breath catch as he gently touched one of Jane’s rosy baby cheeks with the tip of a finger.
“She’s as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. When he looked up at Elizabeth, she noticed his eyes were unnaturally bright. It was suddenly difficult for her to see clearly through the sudden mist that had appeared in her eyes as well.
Behind the shield of the perambulator’s side, one of James’s hands suddenly slid to the plane of her belly. “Next time, my love,” he whispered against her ear, “I will take great delight in watching your belly grow large and round, and I will not miss a single thing.”
Next time…Oh my… She felt her cheeks grow warm, but she did not have time to dwell on the implications of what he’d just said as his sister, Lady Maxwell, called out.
“All right, James, you’ve had first look. Please come and help me down from this wickedly high curricle. I don’t wish to break my neck before I get to see the baby.”
James laughed and after dodging a passing barouche, crossed over to his sister and helped her to alight.
Helena, tall and graceful as a willow, approached Elizabeth and grasped her hand between hers. “Lady Beauchamp. I’m Helena, James’s sister,” she said smiling. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you at long last. I’ve heard so much about you from my dear brother.”
“Oh…it’s lovely to meet you as well, Helena. And please, call me Beth.” She wondered how much James had told Helena about their…situation. Probably everything, knowing James.
But Helena was smiling at her with such warm sincerity, it was obvious that she didn’t give a farthing about their far-from-conventional history. And now she wanted to meet Jane.
“Thank you, Beth.” Helena’s wide elegant mo
uth, not dissimilar to James’s, curved into another smile. “I must confess, since James told me about Jane’s arrival, I’ve been dying to meet her. Would you mind if I take a peek at her too?”
“Of course you can,” Beth said smiling back at the lovely woman. “And when she wakes, you are more than welcome to a hold.”
Helena’s eyes glowed. “Oh, I’d love that.”
“Not before me you won’t,” James growled playfully at his sister.
Helena poked her tongue at him then dropped her gaze to Jane. As they all looked into the perambulator, the still sleeping baby grimaced a little, then pushed her tiny baby thumb into her mouth and began to suck.
“Oh heavens. She’s gorgeous,” whispered Helena. She looked up and gave Beth a dazzling smile, her brown eyes, a shade or two lighter than James’s, twinkling with merriment. “I know this may sound awfully presumptuous, even wicked—and I wouldn’t suggest this at all except I suspect that you and James have a bit of catching up to do—but would you mind terribly if I stole Jane and your nurse, and took a turn about the rose garden over there?”
Beth smiled. “Not at all. Take as much time as you like.”
James pointed an admonishing finger at his sister and gave a mock frown. “Remember I get first hold.”
Helena rolled her eyes but continued smiling. “So bossy. I really don’t know what you see in him, Beth.”
As Nanny, the footman, and Helena wandered away, James grasped Beth’s hand and led her over to the side of the path again, beneath the shade of the oak, but on the other side of the trunk this time, away from the prying eyes of passers-by.
Beth’s heart began to pound in earnest when he next stripped off her gloves, stuffed them in his pocket, and then took her hands in his again.
“That’s better,” James said, his deep voice a caress in itself. “I’ve missed holding your hands.” He stroked his thumbs along the underside of her wrists, sending hot shivers through her, then raised her fingertips to his lips.
Lady Beauchamp's Proposal Page 32
