Hero escorted Beatrix to the couch opposite them.
She spoke with a shaky breath. “No, I don’t believe I do, but Lord Hero mentioned something about a legend.”
Hero had forgotten he’d said anything about it but was now glad he’d not shared. His father seemed anxious to do the honors, and Hero wished to give him every joy he could before he went.
“It is a grand legend,” Ayers said. “It began with my great-great-great—”
Reddington cut in. “Richard, you’re the tenth Duke of Ayers.”
“And it goes back even further than that!” Ayers said with great excitement.
Beatrix laughed. “Oh, this is thrilling! Where does it begin?” She was leaning forward, giving his father her complete attention.
“Father tells the best stories,” Valiant said. “Do tell her, Father.”
Hero settled in to hear the tale that was more myth than reality.
“It was a time when demigods populated the earth.”
Beatrix looked at Hero with a serious expression. “I’m not about to learn that you’re a descendant of Zeus, am I? You know, I always suspected as much, dear Hero.”
Ayers and Reddington chuckled.
Hero rolled his eyes. His lips twitched. He loved her sarcasm.
Valiant burst into joyous laughter.
Ayers went on, his eyes shining brighter than they had in the last few days. “In a bid to lower the numerous descendants of such powerful beings, Zeus started a war.”
Beatrix narrowed her eyes. “You can’t mean…”
“The Trojan War,” Reddington chuckled.
“Yes,” Ayers said. “My great-great—”
“Richard,” Reddington called again.
They all laughed as tea was brought in.
“Corbenaius fought alongside Brute of Troy,” Hero’s father said. “And when Brute came to Britain, he gave a kingdom to Corbenaius. The end of his name is where you get Ayers. He named his first son Calburn.”
“He was king in his own right,” Valiant said. “Though, not officially.”
“Amazing,” Beatrix said.
“It doesn’t end there,” Hero murmured.
“No, it does not,” Ayers said. “One of our forefathers was actually the first to pull Excalibur from the stone.”
Reddington laughed. “Richard!”
“It’s true!” Ayers shouted. “My great-great, well… Curbain was a Knight of the Round Table. It is written in Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain, though our family history claims him to be the one who handed the sword to Arthur.”
“I thought Arthur was a myth,” Beatrix said.
“Who knows?” Valiant wiggled her brows. “We have an old sword at our family estate. Grandfather claimed it was Excalibur.”
“Caliburn,” Ayers said. “That was its original name, named after my great-great…”
Now Beatrix was laughing.
Hero did as well.
“Sit tibi bonum faustum tibi Opes honores,” Ayers said.
Beatrix looked at Hero.
“Let good be thy fortune and honor thy wealth,” he told her. “It’s our family creed, has been for over six hundred years.”
Beatrix was clearly impressed. “No wonder honor means so much to you.”
“Honor,” Ayers began, “is something the Curbains live by. It is bread and air. It is what makes our title one of the oldest in Britain. Honor is taught to every descendant and not just the eldest son. Hero can tell you. We come from a line of warriors, knights…”
“Gods,” Valiant giggled.
“And it is important that such honor is never broken,” Reddington said more seriously.
“Yes,” Ayers agreed. “Without honor, our name means nothing. It is something that every member of the family must live up to.” He gave both Hero and Valiant a stern look, one they’d received frequently in their youth.
“Sit tibi bonum faustum tibi Opes honores,” Hero said. He’d lived by it and had likely learned it before he could walk.
His father lifted his teacup in a toast.
Beatrix was still smiling, though he noticed it didn’t meet her eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked her as his father and Reddington began to argue again about King Arthur's sword.
She nodded. “I’m simply amazed to be sitting in the presence of such greatness.”
“It’s all legend,” he told her. “Nothing can be proven.”
“I don’t even know my family creed and can hardly think it something my father lived by… or me.”
Was that what was bothering her? Was she comparing their families?
“Never forget how we met,” Hero said. “You showed great dignity the night you saved me, and you continue to do so with your kindness to others.”
Her smile brightened slightly but still, he detected some sadness.
There was no more time to discuss the matter as Beatrix was soon pulled further into the discussion about his family’s history. Yet while Hero listened, a large part of him hoped that one day she would become part of his family’s history as well.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 1
“You’re getting very good at this,” Lore said as his horse trotted beside hers through the park. Then he passed her and said, “Keep up.”
Beatrix kept her form in the fashion that Lore had taught her and then leaned forward. The horse, feeling the slight change in the saddle, began to move at a quicker clip.
She caught up with him quick enough.
They were riding during the fashionable hour today for the first time. Lore thought her ready and so did Beatrix. She’d not feared the saddle or the horse, and she’d beamed at Lore’s comment that she was a natural.
The first time he’d taken her to the horses, he’d told her to watch how the horse was groomed.
“Even though you’re a lady, I believe that one should be prepared for anything,” he’d said as they’d watched the groomsman check the horse’s hooves for stones.
Lore became a different person once horses and their care were brought into the discussion. Gone was the playful gentleman who always seemed to hold a joke behind his eyes. He was very serious about the great beast and thus Beatrix had also become quite serious.
She’d agreed with Lore’s logic of knowing how to maintain one’s horse on their own. Beatrix knew better than anyone else how quickly plans could change. One day, she’d been the daughter of an earl and the next, she was working in the Smithfield Markets only to eventually find employment at a tavern by the docks.
Now, she was a lady once more and would remain one so long as she secured a husband by the end of the Season.
And then there was Hero.
It seemed every day she was given new reasons to love him. Yesterday, she’d learned about his family legacy and in every tale of danger and heroics, she’d pictured Hero as his long-ago ancestor, fighting dragons, defending kingdoms, and gaining more dignity for his family line.
It made her hesitant about their match. She’d not shown her family honor when she’d refused to marry the man her brother had chosen for her. In fact, she’d been quite dishonorable and would hate to be the one to bring his family ruin.
She wasn’t sure if anyone had caught the severity in Reddington’s eyes when he’d spoken about his friend’s prestigious family line. Though Reddington had forgiven Beatrix for her family’s faults, she suspected he’d not forgiven her father. What had her father done to him? She didn’t want to know.
Did Ayers know? She didn’t think so and she prayed he never did.
She’d tossed and turned through the night, but by morning, she’d decided that she’d simply try to be more honorable and prove her worth to Ayers. Hero deserved the perfect wife, and she would be that for him if he so chose her in the end.
She sat straighter in her horse.
Hero, who’d been trailing behind with Valiant and speaking to the others who were on horseback, caught up with her
just then with a few others.
She’d never seen a finer man on horseback. He was truly one with the beast, large masculine beauty and standing out in a way that had nothing to do with rank or title. Hero was magnificent and even more so when he smiled as he did now.
“My brother is right,” Hero said. “With your quick skills, one would think you’d been born on a horse.”
Her face grew warm. “Thank you.” At times, it was hard for her to stop herself from recalling their kiss, which seemed to have taken place so very long ago. It had yet to be repeated and Beatrix thought that to have much to do with Hero’s honor, since she desperately wanted another.
And if his eyes were any indication, so did he.
But a lady could never be as forward as to begin such a thing and Beatrix had a family past to make up for, a house to restore some dignity to.
Mr. Carey was also near and said to Hero, “I’m planning a country party for the end of the Season. I was hoping you would join us. When do you leave for India?”
Beatrix turned to Hero and waited for his response.
“I can’t say,” Hero replied. He glanced at Beatrix and then at Mr. Carey again. “But if I am here, I’ll gladly accept the invitation.”
“Excellent.” Carey went on to mention the others he planned to gather there. Beatrix had been invited but hadn’t yet accepted, because her plan was to wed before then and after that, all decisions of that sort would be decided by her husband.
Her horse began to slow, and it was only then she realized that her fingers had tightened on the reins. The horse had obediently slowed and come to a stop.
She felt numb.
Was Hero still planning to go to India? She did wish to be his wife, but what kind of life could they have if he was always away? She was tired of being alone and even though she loved Hero, she knew she’d not be happy with him gone for most of the year.
Her heart ached, but she kept it from her face. The others around her went on, almost unaware of the worries that grew in Beatrix’s mind.
“Is your horse giving you trouble?” Hero asked some time later.
She blinked and looked ahead to find that she’d indeed fallen out of line with the other riders. She looked over to find she and Hero were alone, or at least as alone as one could be at the fashionable hour in Hyde Park.
She saw no reason to avoid asking the question that was on her mind. “Are you still intent on going to India?”
* * *
Hero struggled to come up with a response to Beatrix’s question, but in the end, all he could say was, “I don’t know.”
He was close to becoming a Field Marshall. He knew that within another year or less, he’d have reached his goals. Was he truly ready to give up when he was so close?
His father’s talk about legends had him thinking more and more about his path and what he would leave behind when he died. He was a Curbain and that had to mean something.
He and Beatrix had not discussed this since the night they’d kissed, and Hero didn’t think it best to discuss it now in the park, but it was clear that the topic worried Beatrix.
“You don’t know?” she asked. “Did you know when you kissed me?” It was a bold question.
So, he gave her a bold answer. “You asked me that very night if I would marry a woman who could handle a soldier for a husband and I told you yes.”
“And that is the only woman you’d be interested in?” she asked. “One content to remain in England alone while you’re away meeting death at every turn?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I meet death so that you might live, or do you forget that?”
Her eyes darkened with anger. “But you asked if I would want you if you weren’t a general.”
“I also asked if the same would be so if I were not your benefactor or a lord, yet these are things that cannot be changed. I am, in fact, your benefactor and the son of a duke and a general. There is nothing else.”
“There is so much more,” she whispered. She sounded pained, and her face showed it.
He looked away to keep from reaching out for her in front of the public. “Let’s ride ahead. I don’t wish to have this discussion where others are watching.” There was a line of trees that would block them from sight.
Beatrix started her horse and Hero followed until they reached the line of trees.
She stopped once more and turned to him. “Why?” she asked with hard green eyes. “Why must you go?”
“It is my duty, Beatrix.”
Her eyes flashed. Then she turned away and said, “Forgive me. Of course, you must uphold your duty. You are a Curbain, after all.”
Though his horse stood still, his heart galloped with speed. “Beatrix, let us reason with one another. I only need another year.”
She turned her horse around with a skill that astonished him. She truly was meant to ride, but it was her anger that fully gained his attention. “What happens in a year?”
“I become a Field Marshall and likely gain a title.”
After a lengthy pause, she said, “Is that what you want? A title?”
What he wanted?
What he wanted was her.
He was about to say so when her gaze was diverted from him to someone over his shoulder. He looked back and stared into the crowd on the park, seeing no one in particular. He turned to her again. “What’s the matter?”
She blinked and then shook her head before meeting his eyes again. “Nothing, it’s simply… nothing.”
“Tell me?” He looked back again and noticed a man looking in their direction. The stranger’s gaze moved to Hero, and his eyes widened before he turned away and started walking down a different path.
Beatrix said, “It’s nothing really. I’ve simply seen that man a few times, here and at the terrace Lord Beaumont is allowing me to use. Perhaps, he is a servant of a neighbor.”
The man hadn’t been dressed like a servant of Mayfair, whose clothes usually reflected the wealth of their employer. Even the servants at Beatrix’s terrace wore finely tailored uniforms.
Instead, the stranger’s well-worn shirt and trousers announced him as something else.
“Find Lore,” he said to Beatrix. “I’ll find out who the man is.”
Beatrix moved her horse alongside him. “I don’t know where Lore has gone. I can’t see Valiant and the others either. Do you think it necessary to follow him? It could be nothing.”
He looked at her. “I would like to be sure. Stay close to me. Since I don’t wish to lose him, you’ll have to remain with me. I want to see where he’s going.”
Hero led them toward the crowd. At the sight of the horses, the crush parted and then he could see the man again, his attire making him stand out starkly against the others.
They followed until they came to the end of the park and watched the man cross the street and walk into a nearby terrace.
Beatrix gasped.
Hero turned to her and stilled.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 2
Hero’s shout and the feeling of her horse stirring underneath her were the only things capable of bringing Beatrix’s mind out of her tormenting thoughts and back to the present.
She was ruined.
She knew the home. The one with the blue door. Though she’d never been inside of it herself, she knew who lived there.
Hero managed to help her trembling body down from the horse. Then he stepped back and positioned himself to meet her eyes. “Beatrix, you nearly fell from your horse. What’s the matter?”
“The house belongs to Thump’s cousin,” she whispered. “So, if his cousin is aware of who I am, then it means…” It meant she was ruined.
When word spread that she’d once worked at a tavern, no one of good society would allow her in their home. She’d be banned from Almack’s. How could she face Lord Ayers again? She could never marry Hero if he were to ask. She’d stain his family.
“No one is supposed to know,” she said aloud.
&
nbsp; “Stay with the horses,” Hero said. “I’ll so and speak with the men.”
“What will you say? Hero, I fear there is nothing you can do. Perhaps, this was meant to be. Perhaps, I hoped for too much.”
“Never think it,” he told her. “Beatrix, I wish I could touch you right now. Hold you, but there are too many people about and this is not the place. Though, I imagine my being inappropriate would take your mind from your worries.”
Life bloomed in her skin and heated her cheeks. She looked around to make certain they’d not been heard. They stood near some trees on the edge of Hyde Park. There were less people on this side of the park but still enough to notice if they did anything inappropriate.
Beatrix smiled. “What will you do?”
“Reason with him,” Hero said. “Then, if he cannot be reasoned with, I will become very unreasonable myself.”
She grew worried again. “Please, don’t fight him or do anything that will get you in trouble. I would hate for anything to happen to you.”
His voice was warm once again when he said, “I know.”
And suddenly, the quarreling they’d done seemed quite silly. What woman wouldn’t be willing to make sacrifices for a man like this? His mother had named him well.
“I will return,” he said. “Don’t move.”
* * *
Hero was eagerly received into the home of Mr. Simms and after instructing a footman to go and wait with Beatrix across the road, he was escorted into a lovely yellow breakfast room where the first meal of the day was being served to a small party.
Two of the couples present he’d met before, gentlemen and their wives who had relatives who were lords or ladies.
Everyone stood as Hero was announced.
Mr. Simms, who Hero had never met, rose and greeted him with a heavy bow. “It is an honor. Truly an honor, my lord.” He straightened. “Had I known I’d be entertaining the son of the Duke of Ayers and a general in Our Majesty’s army, I’d have prepared a feast.” Mr. Simms seemed pleasant. He did not speak haughtily like his cousin Mr. Thump—who also happened to be present, Hero noticed—but with kindness that seemed genuine.
But if the man had designs to ruin the woman he loved, he’d show him less mercy than he’d showed the Frenchmen in war.
The Perfect Lady (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 16
