My Lord Beaumont

by Unknown

  "I see."

  Sophia risked a peek at him from beneath her lashes and was disappointed. His face was as expressionless as his answer had been. It was impossible to tell how he'd received the news, with relief or pique. "There's no reason to rush it, after all," she prodded hopefully.

  "Apparently not," he replied wryly. "Perhaps we should consider going downstairs however. The guests must be arriving soon. I would not like to disturb your mother by arriving late for the reception line."

  "I'll just go see what's keeping Danny."

  Adrian's brows rose. "She hasn't gone down yet?"

  "She was a little delayed getting started," Sophia supplied. "Only wait for us here. I'll fetch her in a trice, and we can all go down together. Danny will be more comfortable with some moral support." She had no intention of telling him Danielle had been delayed because she'd plumped up so nicely in his absence that they'd had to let the seams out in the waist of her gown. Danielle had been in tears about it, though Sophia thought it was more because she was afraid she'd 'outgrow' her beautiful gowns, and nerves over the ball than anything else. She couldn't truly believe she was running to fat when she wasn't even filled out as she should be. In fact, Sophia was a little surprised that she'd put on weight at all. She would've been willing to swear the child was so moped about Adrian's absence that she'd scarce eaten a bite the whole time he'd been gone.

  Danielle threw her an anxious look as she came into the room. Sophia dismissed the maid, coming forward to put the finishing touches on Danielle's coiffure herself, studying her young friend critically in the mirror. She was relieved to see that the traces of her tears had vanished. "What a lucky girl you are, Danny! If I'd wept like you did while ago, I would still be sporting a shiny red nose and look as if someone had punched me in both eyes!"

  Danielle reddened, but a husky chuckle escaped her. "I can't think why I behaved so silly."

  "It wasn't silly in the least. It's a feminine prerogative to weep in the face of disaster, however minor the disaster. There! All done. Now stand up and let me see you."

  Danielle stood obediently and turned slowly. "Well?"

  Sophia sighed. "You'll do." She laughed at Danielle's crest-fallen look. "Silly girl! You know very well you look stunning."

  Danielle smiled her relief. "Well, the gown's stunning, anyway." She gazed down at it rapturously, fingering the cool, rose colored silk reverently, then looked up and grinned. "It's almost worth the torture I've endured only to get in to it!"

  Sophia laughed but shook her head in bemusement. "Go along now. I'll catch up to you in a minute. I just want to go back to my room and get my necklet."

  "I'll wait for you at the stairs, shall I?"

  Sophia's eyes twinkled. "Yes, please do."

  Danielle saw him the moment she stepped from the room and came to a dead halt. Her heart seemed to drop to her toes before it rebounded and lodged itself in her throat. He looked, she thought, more achingly handsome than he had any right to and more remote. She couldn't seem to reaccustom herself to the unapproachable Lord Beaumont. Each time she looked at him, she expected, hoped, to see Adrian, her Adrian, the man he'd shown her in their travels through Florida and Georgia. Instead, she always saw the remote lord now, the polite stranger.

  He looked up at almost the same moment she realized that she'd come to a halt at sight of him, and she willed herself to walk towards him with the appearance, at least, of unconcern. He froze as he saw her, as she'd frozen, though his eyes moved over her from head to foot, slowly, almost as if he didn't know her.

  Adrian felt the blood rush from his face when he caught sight of Danielle. She was, if possible, more beautiful than he remembered. She was dressed magnificently, but he was scarcely aware of what she wore. His eyes, his thoughts, his whole being was focused upon her. He wanted her with a desperation in that moment that sundered all rational thought. It was only the happy, or unhappy, circumstance of finding himself struck nearly senseless that kept him where he was, frozen in place, so that he was unable to make the mistake he so badly wanted to make. Even so, his eyes devoured her as she approached him and finally came to a halt scarcely more than a foot from him. It wasn't close enough. He swallowed, painfully, audibly, trying to find his voice. It emerged, when he found it, in a disconcertingly hoarse croak. "You look . . . achingly beautiful, infant. You'll break hearts," he managed, smiling a little crookedly.

  Just looking at her did something almost unbearably painful to his own, for his chest ached with such a tightness that he could scarcely breathe. He knew he shouldn't touch her, knew it would be the worst mistake of his life, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Like a sleepwalker, he lifted his hand slowly and caressed her cheek.

  She lifted her hand to lay it over his, holding it against her cheek, though he hadn't had any notion of taking it away. "You think I look presentable?"

  He swallowed with some difficulty and withdrew his hand, tapping her playfully on the tip of her nose. "Did I not say so already? But, I see you've an insatiable appetite for compliments. Yes, poppet, you're presentable, more than presentable. I shall be as proud as a peacock when I lead my beautiful ward out for her first dance tonight."

  "Will you?" she asked, surprised but enormously pleased. "Even though I'm not . . . ."

  He put his finger to her lips, shaking his head. "Don't say it. Don't even think it. Any man would be proud to have you by his side. You're a lovely lady, Danielle Cooper, not by any device of my own but by virtue of who you truly are. Never forget that."

  She studied him for a long moment then looked away. "I . . . I missed you, my lord," she said quietly.

  Adrian felt so powerful a combination of pain and pleasure shoot through him at her words that he closed his eyes against it. He opened them again after a moment, studying her bowed head, fighting the urge to touch those coppery curls as he'd once had the right to. He no longer had the right, however. He'd given it up. "I missed you too," he managed finally, smiling wryly as she looked up at him in pleased surprise and at the understatement he'd made.

  Sophia, who'd sneaked a peek to see how her ruse of throwing them together had worked, ducked back into Danielle's room, putting her hands to her flaming cheeks. "Lord help me, Thomas! If he'd ever looked at me like that, I might well have forsaken you!" she whispered. She gave them several moments more and herself a little time to recover before she marched out with a flurry she hoped they couldn't fail to notice.

  "I found it," she said triumphantly, studiously avoiding meeting either pair of eyes as she waved her necklet, as if she'd only just found it. "You must put it on for me, my lord," she added, handing it to Adrian and turning so that he could fasten it for her. His hands, she noted without any real surprise, had a noticeable tremor as he obliged her without demur.

  "He guards her well," Robin said in a voice that was carefully noncommittal.

  Sophia glanced up at her brother. "It is his responsibility, or do you think it unnecessary? Speaking for myself, I can only be glad of it. She really isn't up to snuff yet. And though I really can't think Shelly's much of a threat, there are a few others I could name who are."

  "You can not mean me, dear sister," Robin objected, all innocence.

  Sophia bit her lip, searching his face worriedly.

  "Good God! You do, don't you?"

  "No! No! I know you wouldn't think to cause intentional harm, but she is awfully young, Robin. She might misconstrue . . . ."

  "She isn't likely to misconstrue my intentions, at least, not in the way you mean."

  Sophia's eyes widened, and Robin smiled wryly. "Now don't leap to any rash conclusions, sister! I only said she could not mistake me. There aren't likely to be any announcements in the near future. As it happens, I've been tactfully warned off."

  "He refused to consider your suit?" Sophia asked, torn between indignation on her brother's behalf and hope that the refusal might have meaning for her.

  "Not precisely," he
said coolly, watching Adrian and Danielle as they glided around the room to the strains of a lilting waltz through narrowed, speculative eyes. "He seems to share your opinion, that she isn't quite up to snuff yet. He considers it would be best if she has a season first.

  "Well, and so she should," Sophia put in. "You can not keep her all to yourself. She needs to get out a bit more, meet people before she settles down."

  "I've hardly had her all to myself," Robin retorted dryly. "Even you can not accuse me of monopolizing her time when I have escorted her to supper once and danced perhaps four dances with her at the past six of these damnable affairs we've attended."

  Sophia bit her lip to hide a smile. Robin, handsome devil that he was, was not accustomed to being thwarted where it concerned women. Surely it could only be a salutary lesson for him if just this once he failed to win the maid he'd set his sights on? "Perhaps not at the dances, but she does stay with us after all. You may see her as much as you like there."

  "Yes, and cozy it is, too, just the two of us, with you, Adrian and William, Mama and Papa fully half the time and Thomas all the time. When, by the way, do you mean to cut the poor sap loose?"

  Sophia glared at him. "If you are referring to Mr. Clanton, he is not a sap, and I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

  "Cut line, Sophie. You know precisely what I mean. It isn't like you to be cruel. Cut the poor devil loose and be done with it . . . before you announce your betrothal."

  Sophia glared at his back as he sauntered off, fighting the urge to burst into tears. She knew the very moment Thomas came up beside her and felt the urge recede and calm surface to take its place. She turned to look up at him, smiling a little tremulously. "Hello, Thomas. Have you come for our dance?"

  His slow, lazy smile dawned, his gray eyes lighting with amusement. "Surely, darlin'. It's the highlight of my nights."

  She chuckled huskily, rapping him playfully with her fan. "I believe you Thomas, truly I do, you heartbreaker, you," she said, mock serious, as she slipped her arm through his.

  His smile widened to a grin, but a dark flush stole beneath his swarthy complexion. It was, Sophia reflected, one of his most endearing traits, the fact that she could bring him to blush far more easily than vice versa. He chuckled then, and she felt a warmth steal through her at the sound. She loved the way he laughed, the way he smiled, the way the laughter danced in his eyes when he smiled that slow, bone-melting smile of his. She loved everything about this tall, raw boned, loose limbed man; the way he walked, the way he talked, everything, even the fact that his big frame left him somewhat lacking in grace was a thing she found infinitely endearing.

  She had no intention of 'cutting him loose'. If he was miserable, then good! She was miserable, too, and she wanted him miserable enough to overcome his silly scruples about not offering for her only because Adrian's father, not Adrian, had beat him to the punch.

  It had been a particularly fine October's day for a ride. Still, Danielle was glad when they settled finally upon a place for their picnic and dismounted. She'd become a competent equestrian, which meant she'd learned how to stay in the saddle until someone other than the horse helped her to dismount, but she didn't really care for it. She had found that horses didn't particularly care for her.

  Thomas stepped forward to help her down, then reached up to unstrap her basket that had been tied behind her saddle, carrying it to the place Sophia had chosen beneath a large, spreading oak at the edge of the creek. Sophia and Danielle then spread the picnic blanket between them and set about unpacking the hampers while Adrian and Thomas took the horses to the creek to water them.

  The talk was desultory as they ate, for it was just the sort of day that inspired a comfortable lethargy, particularly when shared with friends one could be at ease with. And they had become that, the four of them, so that they didn't feel compelled to make small talk only to be polite and were content with companionable silence.

  When they'd finished, tossed the remains of their meal into the woods for the animals to feed on and stacked their plates in Danielle's basket once more, Sophia reached into her own basket and withdrew a package wrapped in thin silvery tissue paper. Danielle stared at her in bemusement as Sophia deposited the package in her lap and sat back, smiling expectantly. "Happy birthday, Danny."

  Danielle blushed so hard she felt as if her cheeks had caught fire. She put her hands to them to cool them, sending Adrian a doubtful look before she returned her gaze to the gift in her lap. Finally, she picked it up, examining it thoroughly before she grinned at Sophia sheepishly. "It's beautiful! It's just the loveliest thing! Thank you so much, Sophie."

  Sophia chuckled in delight. "I knew I would surprise you! Thomas says I can never keep a secret. Well, aren't you going to open it, goose?"

  Danielle gaped at her in astonishment. "There's more?"

  "Well, of course there is, silly!" Sophia cried, laughing. "Did you think I'd only given you a wad of wrapping tissue?"

  Danielle blushed in chagrin, biting her lip, but managed a credible shrug of unconcern. "Of course I didn't. I just didn't want to mess it up, that's all." When she had unwrapped it, she simply stared at it while slowly it blurred before her eyes. "Sophie," she whispered. "Oh, Sophie! You shouldn't have! You really shouldn't!"

  "But you like it?" Sophia asked eagerly.

  "Like it? Sophie, it's the most beautiful thing. But I couldn't take it. Really, I couldn't. It's far too fine!"

  "Don't be a goose!" Sophia admonished, reaching over to hug her impulsively. "Of course you shall keep it! I wouldn't hear of anything else, and see, it opens, just like my locket," she added, and she showed Danielle how to open it as they knelt with their heads together.

  Danielle stared down at the tiny rendition of Adrian for several moments in stunned silence before she looked up at her friend. Sophia smiled a secret smile, closing the locket, closing Danielle's hands over it. "Our secret," she whispered and kissed Danielle on the cheek before she rose. "I believe I'll walk to the meadow just over the hill and gather a bouquet of those lovely fall flowers that grow there. Would you care to walk with me, Thomas?"

  "Is it your birthday?" Adrian asked quietly when they had gone.

  Danielle shook her head miserably but refused to look at him.

  "Why did you tell her that it was?" he asked gently.

  Danielle shrugged, gnawing her lower lip to master the urge to burst into tears. "She asked," she said finally. "And I didn't want to tell her I didn't have one, and I couldn't do that anyway because I'm supposed to be someone, and I would've known. See?"

  "So you made one up?"

  She sniffed but shook her head again. "Vicar Pugh gave me a birthday. He said I should have one, so he picked the day I came to him. But it's not mine! It's not mine! I can't remember mine!" She looked up at him at last. "I want to go home! I wish I could go home!" she wailed, and then, somehow, she found herself in Adrian's arms.

  "Where, Danielle? Where's home?"

  She shook her head, weeping louder. "I don't know, to Mother and Father."

  Adrian held her tightly, fighting the blinding rage he felt building inside him. "Who are they? What are their names? Tell me, sweetheart. Only tell me who they are and I'll find them for you. I swear it!"

  "I don't know," she wailed. "I don't remember anything else. But they sent me away. They won't let me go back."

  "When, love? Do you remember that?"

  She shook her head. "B . . . before I w . . . went to Vicar Pugh. When I went to the other place."

  "What do you remember, sweetheart? What happened? Why did they send you away?"

  "They argued."

  "About you?"

  Danielle nodded. "I think so. Father said he'd seen Fitzgerald, and I had the look of him. He said the coloring was unmistakable. There wasn't another family in England that had the trait of black brows and fiery red hair, and he knew I was Fitzgerald's whelp, and he wouldn't be made a laughing stock,
allowing himself to be cuckold by the two of them. He wouldn't have the little bastard under his roof another instant, and mother said 'Fine! Get rid of it! I never wanted it anyway! And they sent me away, and they wouldn't let me go back."

  "Hush, precious. Don't cry any more. I'll find them for you."

  "It won't do any good. They won't let me go home."

  Adrian didn't trust himself to speak for several moments. "I wouldn't let you go back to them, not after what they've done to you. But I will find them."

  One, at least, could be found without difficulty, for her 'father' had been right about Danielle's sire. The Earls of Fitzgerald were known for those particular traits Danielle had inherited. He couldn't believe he hadn't made the connection before. But the plain fact was, he'd simply accepted that he'd recognized Danielle from their first encounter and hadn't probed the mystery any further, particularly once he realized her antecedents no longer mattered to him.

  Unfortunately, the man was prolific. If there was any substance to the tales about him, he'd sired upwards of fifty bastards over the years. It would take time to have them all traced, and the only clue Danielle could give him was that the man she'd known as father hadn't been familiar with the Fitzgeralds.

  It wasn't much of a clue.

  No matter. He would write to his father. His father would know someone who could get the information for him.

  He couldn't erase the terrible years from Danielle's past. He couldn't give her legitimacy. He couldn't give her her father's name when he'd withheld it himself from the child he'd sired. He couldn't even give her the name of the man her mother had married since that 'father' had denounced her as a bastard. She was entitled to her mother's family name, however, and he could give her her birthday.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sophia tried not to look as dismayed as she felt. But she very much feared she knew what was coming, and it was difficult to keep her agitation to herself, to remain calm, to think.