The Perfect Lady (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  The women hugged as they greeted each other. They’d last seen one another at Almack’s two nights ago and then again at Hyde Park. Lore, after learning that Beatrix could not ride, had taken it upon himself to teach her.

  He was an excellent horseman and was growing to be as good of a friend as his sister.

  Beatrix had only seen Hero once in the last three days. He’d been at Almack’s as well, but he’d not approached her and had done nothing more than nod his head in acknowledgment.

  Even that had held the ability to make her temper grow.

  Both Lore and Valiant had spent a day trying to get her to forgive their brother, blaming it on the war and his position in the army. Beatrix had softened somewhat, but her ire had not allowed her to break, and they’d soon realized that more discussion would do them no good.

  Lore had accompanied them to both parties that evening but now broke from the women to speak to some of his friends.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come,” Miss Rider said. Then she turned to her cousin. “Byron Rider, Lord Pellton, I am very pleased to introduce you to my friends Lady Beaumont and Lady Beatrix Gillingham.”

  Lord Pellton took their hands one at a time and bowed over them. “Lady Beaumont, Lady Gillingham.”

  Beatrix had never met Byron Rider. His father, John Rider, had taken the seat after Lily’s father, his uncle, died. Byron had been away at either Eton or Cambridge while growing up.

  He had fair looks and a warm smile. He was not beautiful but rather had a monarchial bearing that made him attractive in much the same way as Hero.

  They were both imposing and resplendently proud.

  It nearly made her dislike him on sight and yet Beatrix forced herself to give him one of her brightest smiles. Her anger with Hero had begun to make her rancorous where all lords were concerned.

  “Lady Gillingham,” Pellton began. “My cousin tells me that you are neighbors. It means you might know a few of our acquaintances from the village.”

  “I did, though I’ve not seen them in some time,” Beatrix responded.

  “I’ll have to find you later and tell you how they are faring.”

  Her smile became true. “I would like that.”

  Valiant led her away and said, “Did you notice that there was no Lady Pellton at his side and no mention of a wife?”

  “Yes.” Her expression had returned to dull. Indeed, she blended in fairly well with the other women around her who were trying to appear apathetic.

  Beatrix took control of her mood and told herself she would not allow Hero to make her bitter. She would smile and dance and make merry. Perhaps she would even find love this night.

  What she would not do— as she’d done the last few nights— was touch her throat where his mouth had been or think of the feel of his hand at her back, possessive and commanding. She’d not think of those things, she promised herself.

  Tonight was about finding a man she could spend the rest of her life with. Someone she could enjoy herself with. Someone who liked art and she could easily engage in conversation.

  She ignored the fact that both conditions fit Hero.

  “Mr. Carey is here,” Valiant said.

  Beatrix turned and found him. Carey was with a group of others, as usual, and there seemed an abundance of merriment to be had. She immediately rushed over, ready to participate in a good time and forget Hero.

  She halted at the edge of the group when she noticed who else was standing in the circle of revelry.

  Hero was there, actively telling a story from the war. A soldier had tried to start a dalliance with a farmer’s daughter while in France but had been chased away by the farmer’s pig in nothing more than his stockings.

  It was a hilarious story, though made more so by the way Hero strung it all together. Though he still held the command of a general, it was clear from his eyes that he was relaxed.

  Until his gaze met Beatrix’s. Then it closed.

  Beatrix had been too shocked to join in with the others who’d nearly fallen to their knees with laughter, yet once they’d noticed her presence, it was far too late to retreat without a good excuse.

  She tried to think of one, but Hero’s eyes distracted her, bore into her.

  He was wearing a dark green coat and gray breeches. He looked magnificent, as usual. Clearly, whoever cut his clothing made sure it always emphasized his shoulders and slim waist.

  The woman at his side spoke to him suddenly, drawing his attention. “General, you’ve made me especially thirsty.” The lady was dark haired with a dark complexion. She was of average looks with a long face and large teeth. She’d seen the woman approach Hero at the other party they’d both attended. Now she was here again and had managed to gain Hero’s attention once more.

  The lady fluttered her lashes as she gazed up at Hero expectantly.

  “Allow me to remedy this situation and escort you to the refreshments.” Hero offered the woman his arm.

  It was the perfect excuse to get away from her, to keep his distance.

  Beatrix clenched her fan, nearly crushing it.

  The lady clung to him as though he were a well-won prize as they moved away from the group.

  Carey took over the entertainment and while Beatrix pretended to listen, her mind was on Hero and the lady.

  He’d barely acknowledged her and had fled at the first opportunity.

  Good.

  It was exactly what she’d wanted.

  It was what she’d asked of him.

  And she should have expected that while she wished to keep her distance, other women had the extreme opposite intention.

  He was an honorable man. He’d kept his word and was staying as far away from her as possible.

  It had been her idea, after all.

  So, why did it make her so angry?

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  2 3

  Hero escorted Lady Hugh to the punch bowl and though he assumed an expression that he hoped left the appearance that he was listening, he was in fact not.

  His thoughts had settled on Beatrix.

  Every day, he grew more frustrated with himself about how he’d handled his jealousy with her at his father’s house. He’d hoped that by now they’d have at least had another tête-à-tête and would have come to an understanding and some semblance of the friendship they’d once had.

  But then she’d give him a certain haughty look and he knew it would not be so.

  Though he could never regain her trust, he had decided it best to keep his word and not approach her, yet every part of his being told him he was doing the wrong thing. He was letting the hurt fester when he should have demanded she speak with him.

  He found it a struggle to know what thoughts to act on. His mind told him to hold onto his honor while his heart told him the distance did nothing good.

  The questions forced him to think about his future, both the promises he’d made to his mother and the future his father clearly wanted for him.

  Did he remain in His Majesty’s army until he gained Field Marshall and a possible title, or did he accept Lord Murray’s offer of Secretary of Foreign Affairs?”

  He poured Lady Hugh a cup of punch and even laughed at something she said, but he had no recollection of his movements or her words.

  “Lord Hero.” She finally managed to capture his attention. She was a pretty young woman. A widow. She’d married a man much older than her and had been left with his wealth after he died.

  They’d been introduced at a party he’d attended a few days ago and by the end of their first dance, she’d made her intentions very clear.

  “I had no idea you knew the Pelltons,” she said.

  “I don’t. Not well. I was only introduced to Miss Rider a week ago, but she sent my family an invitation to the party.”

  “How very kind of her, yet had I known you were coming, I would have worn a color that heightened the stunning depths of your eyes.” The amusement in her eyes was contagious.

  He smil
ed. “Ah, but my lady, isn’t the point of one’s wardrobe to make themselves look better?”

  She moved closer. “Yes, but by standing together, everyone will see just how wonderful a couple we made.”

  He laughed. Yes, the woman had indeed set her sights on becoming his lady.

  “I’m to return to war,” he said. “A life as my wife would be a very lonely one.”

  “Oh, but I’m sure you’d make up for it when you returned.” She batted her eyes again.

  Hero stared at her. He had truly begun to give her proposition some thought, or rather not her, but marriage in general. It was a rare woman who could handle a marriage with her husband away for most of the time.

  There was a rush before he could reply— not that he knew exactly what he’d have said— as Carey flew by him. He was holding Beatrix’s hand.

  Their gazes caught.

  “I must show you this,” Carey said to her and the others from their group who’d followed. He turned to a footman. “I’m in need of a wine bottle. Be a good lad and fetch me one.”

  The footman bowed. “Does my lord prefer Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon?”

  “For once,” Carey said. “I’ll take whichever is empty.”

  This gathered some laughs.

  Carey went on, “Then, fill it with water.”

  The footman left quickly.

  Carey turned to Beatrix. “You should prepare to be quite dazzled, my lady. I paid a gypsy quite a bit to show me how to do this trick.”

  Beatrix’s expression was amused, but she said nothing. She stood diligently at Carey’s side as others gathered around the refreshments table.

  “What do you think he’s about? Something indecent, you suppose?” Lady Hugh asked in a cool voice. Her words reminded Hero of his own reaction to Beatrix’s little show of skills.

  Lady Hugh touched his arm. “I hear Lord Pellton possesses a garden to be envied.”

  “Indeed?” His eyes remained on Carey as the bottle filled with water was finally presented.

  “And the night air is lovely at this time. Why don’t we go for a stroll?”

  “No.” He glanced at her and then his gaze returned to Carey. “I’m actually interested to see what Mr. Carey plans to do.”

  Lady Hugh made an impatient noise but said no more as Carey showed the bottle to Beatrix, who confirmed it was filled with water. There was no cork in the bottle either. Then without further ado, he flipped the bottle over.

  The women screamed.

  Beatrix hastened away, but there’d been no need for the commotion. The water did not leave the bottle.

  Hero frowned and then smiled as everyone began to clap. The trick was very impressive.

  Beatrix was busy pouring the water from the bottle and into several cups.

  Carey said, “Now, if only someone could turn the water back into wine.”

  There was more laughter.

  Lady Hugh sighed. “Well, that was… something. Now, about our walk?”

  “Lord Hero,” Carey called, drawing his attention. “I’m sure the soldiers did not receive such entertainment when they were away in France.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” he countered. “Though, it will take more than a single trick to impress me after what we saw Lady Gillingham perform. Never before have I seen such skills. She is as adept as she is beautiful.”

  Carey lifted his cup of water in toast, then took a sip and frowned, to everyone’s great joy.

  Beatrix was staring at Hero with shock, the bottle forgotten in her hand.

  The look ate at his soul. Had he been so callous that even a simple compliment could astonish her?

  He turned to Lady Hugh and said, “I’m ready for our walk.”

  * * *

  “Wasn’t that brilliant?” Valiant said as she came to stand by Beatrix. “How do you suppose he did it?”

  She knew how he’d done it. Standing as close as she had been, she’d seen a thin substance over the lid of the bottle. It was likely the lining of animal intestines, a firm yet giving material. While working in Smithfield, she’d seen children play with the discarded parts of pigs and sheep, had even seen some blow them into balloons.

  Still, the trick had taken much practice and, as one artist to another, she’d not reveal Carey’s secret. “I’ve no clue. Perhaps, it was magic.”

  Besides, her mind was elsewhere.

  Beatrix put the bottle down and looked around the room. She’d nearly forgotten where she was and how she’d gotten there. She excused herself from the refreshment table and went to the room that had been reserved for the ladies.

  Valiant followed. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Fine,” Beatrix lied. “Did you hear what your brother said? Suddenly, he seemed to not mind my vulgar act.”

  “Beatrix, it’s been a week, and we told you he didn’t truly mind it,” Valiant said. “And tonight, he only said the truth. You are beautiful and clever.”

  He’d called her beautiful once on the morning he’d come to find her in Westminster, but Beatrix wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Even if he was lying, the fact that he’d stated his pleasure at her card tricks in such a group setting did settle her anger some.

  Along with the memory of his claim of missing her, it had nearly wiped it away, but there was still the question of what had angered him so severely that afternoon in his father’s house?

  What had she done?

  She’d gone over the event again and again and could not come up with a good answer.

  A part of her mind whispered something she knew couldn’t be true.

  Was he jealous? Likely not.

  But then there had been his lips over her pulse. Hero was far more romantic than she suspected he knew.

  Beatrix turned to Valiant. “If that is how he truly feels, why was he angry that day at your house?”

  Valiant straightened. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him if you wish to have an answer.”

  But gaining any answer from Hero would involve speaking to him, and she was not quite ready to do it. She should likely forgive him, especially after what he’d said moments ago, but Beatrix feared letting him close again.

  She needed to stay away before she did something foolish like fall in love.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  2 4

  “Terrible creature,” Lady Hugh said. “I never understood the appeal of keeping animals underfoot much less holding any affection for them. They are but children that never age.” The lady held up her skirts as she marched toward the house.

  She and Hero had barely been in the garden for five minutes before Lady Gurney’s small terrier lifted his leg and soiled Lady Hugh’s skirts.

  It took every bit of strength Hero possessed not to laugh as a few others did. He was forced to cough and cover his mouth to hide his smile.

  He’d been ready to part from Lady Hugh before they reached the garden. They would never suit, and he couldn’t stop himself from comparing her to Beatrix or thinking about how much he’d rather it be Lady Gillingham on his arm.

  But such thoughts were a waste of time.

  “What is it that possesses people to take in filthy animals?” Lady Hugh asked. Then her eyes lifted to his, and he realized the question was not rhetorical

  “Well, I will say that unlike people, animals are likely to love you forever with very little effort on your part.” He thought about Hatcher. The dog had always been pleased to see anyone and needed nothing more than a pat on the head for comfort.

  Lady Hugh laughed. “Ah well, I suppose that is one way of looking at it, though why keep a dog when you can have something far more enjoyable?” She touched his arm.

  He smiled at her though made no comment. “Are you heading to the lady’s boudoir?” He tried to keep his anxiousness from his voice.

  “Yes, I’ll need a maid to see to my gown. If the stain cannot be removed, I’ll be forced to leave.”

  Hero was returning to the house with Lady Hugh just as B
eatrix was leaving with Lord Pellton.

  Lady Hugh spoke to their host about her dilemma, lifting her voice with outrage. Again, Hero compared her to Beatrix, who he knew was more likely to handle a situation on her own than make a scene.

  Beatrix met his eyes but then looked away.

  “You should truly forbid animals from these sorts of gatherings,” Lady Hugh went on. “They’re nothing more than an inconvenience.”

  “Please.” Pellton held out a hand to her. “Allow me to see you to the lady’s boudoir. I’m sure Marie can see to the stain. She is very good at getting them out.” To Beatrix, he said, “I hope you understand.”

  “Of course.” She stepped away without fuss and offered him a smile. “Don’t worry after me. I’m having a splendid time. Thank you again for the invitation. I’d not have missed it for the world.”

  That seemed to settle Pellton.

  Beatrix had a way of doing that to people.

  While Beatrix looked away, Hero allowed his eyes to peruse her and drank his fill of her beauty. He wondered how long it would be until he’d no longer have the right. She’d be married by the end of the Season. He knew it and once she belonged to another man, he’d no longer be able to have her for himself.

  “Lady Hugh.” Their host gestured for her to walk ahead.

  Lady Hugh seemed pleased that she was being attended to and left with Pellton but not before giving Hero a wink.

  Hero cut his eyes away just in time and started past Beatrix but was arrested by her words. “How are the gardens?”

  He turned to her and then looked around to see if it were possible that she’d been speaking to someone else. Seeing no one near enough to have heard her question, he turned to her again. “I… wouldn’t know.”

  “Of course. I’m sure Lady Hugh was great company.” Was there bitterness in her tone?

  “Actually, we’d hardly passed the threshold before the incident with the dog occurred,” he said.

  “Ah.” She became flushed. He noticed it when she turned away. The light from inside made it clear.

  He should leave. He told his feet to move.