"Are these the manner of things you think it necessary or appropriate to say in the usual sort of courting ritual that women endure from rich dukes and barons?" she asked bluntly, surprised even at herself for having said it. She cleared her throat and an awkward silence followed. He shifted in his chair, watching her intently, and she wasn't certain her question would elicit an answer, and hoped that it would pass ignored, so that she could stick to her plot of remaining indifferent and leaving.
"To be perfectly honest, m'lady, I can't quite say I'm aware of the frivolities of the generic aristocratic courting ritual. If I was, I suppose this would probably be a far more successful and far more entertaining dinner between us," he responded rather casually, laughing softly, perhaps at himself. His response utterly infuriated Lady Havenshire... because it broke her composure, and she found herself grinning stupidly, just the same as he.
Damn it all, she thought to herself. The man bloody did it again; he made her feel something. He made her laugh, and smile.
"Are you certain? I think it'd be equivalently boring, myself," she snickered.
"Am I boring you? Blast it," Lord Beckham intoned sarcastically. "I suppose Lady Henrietta was wrong about me, after all. Quite a shock, right? As she's renowned for her truthfulness, and honesty, and for her ability to close her mouth, and all."
"You already made jokes at poor Lady Henrietta's expense, m'lord, you're not going to catch me with those again," Lady Havenshire teased playfully.
"Clever girl, she's on to my tricks," Lord Beckham quietly hissed. "Quickly, let's return to our discussion of precisely how boring I am. That had far greater possibilities."
"I've a better question for you," Nadia said, tapping her chin. "My father told me you were espousing some rather unorthodox thoughts to him, in your discussions about me. What, precisely, did you say to him that's got him thinking you're some sort of kindred spirit?" she hummed.
"Well, I expressed to him my feeling that you're a rather bizarre woman, and I'm a rather bizarre man, and us, being bizarre people, would do a wonderful job of terrifying the rest of the country together," he explained with joking pedantry, earning warm laughs from the lady, who nonetheless grew insistent.
"Tell the truth! I'm quite interested, now," Nadia smirked. Lord Beckham took a deep breath, glancing away.
"I'm certain that if I were to tell you, now, you'd take it as a simple ploy to whisk you away, marry you, and force you to have my children, or some other such lovely fantasy that I'm certain you're no stranger to," he admitted. "You'd think of my words as a ploy, and not as sincerity."
"Perhaps, but if you instead refuse, it's likely this conversation will die out the same as our previous conversation did, and I don't imagine that was much of a pleasant experience for either of us, was it?" Lady Havenshire admitted.
"What? I quite enjoy sitting in awkward silence with beautiful, intelligent women. It's good for one's soul," he joked.
"Then my speaking just now must have set you on the path to the devil, is that right?" Nadia returned with a wicked grin. Lord Beckham smiled, but collected himself and with gravity returned a genuine answer.
"Your father has an understanding of the rather unbecoming way in which our world treats women," he grudgingly admitted. "Nevertheless, he confessed to me his health has failed him, and that he hasn't the time to change all the world's hearts and all the world's minds, and instead hopes that before he passes he can marry you away. In our conversation, I admitted agreement with some of the methods of argument I'm certain he's heard from you, about how smart women ought to determine their own destinies. Those manner of things, you know," he said with a shrug.
"Not words a man says lightly in this sort of environment," Lady Havenshire offered. "I..." she, too, fought with herself about revealing what she had insisted she wouldn't about herself. "...I got a feeling from you, that night we met. You felt... different, from the sort of braying, selfish 'gentleman' that infects social circles. The sorts of men my friends all married. When I heard about your sister, I..."
"I loved my sister. A great deal. Leah had been my best friend, for most of my life," Lord Beckham interjected, overtaken by his emotion on the subject. "I... I believe, a part of what I feel, about you, about your father—your situation... I want to pay for what I did to Leah."
"Have you spoken to your sister, of late? Does she hold it against you?" Lady Havenshire asked, confused as she was concerned.
"Leah... the death of father, the ruling of the magistrate, the estate... it all took her far too suddenly, and poisoned her heart. She left home, and I've not heard from her since," Lord Beckham recalled, voice full of melancholy. "I know... what you want, what your father wants. It's... not a marriage of love, but a marriage of... well, of convenience. One in which you bear my name, to carry on your line, and your wealth, and title, but... none of the burdens expected of a woman in a marriage. You need help, but want also to maintain your freedom. I feel that, if I... can't make up what happened to Leah, on my own. Perhaps I can do a small favor, to help unwrap this grand, terrible thing wrought upon the mindful women of this world."
The lord's speech ended and met with deafening silence. Her mind churning over the words, Lady Havenshire sat with her mouth slightly agape in surprise. She now felt only venom for herself for her presumptuous nature; for how quickly she had judged the lord in their last meeting. She lost her doubts in his sincerity; she saw in him something she had never truly expected to see.
Perhaps unlike the other gentlemen of England, when he said something... he meant it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Today Lady Havenshire needed no servants to wake her; no vigorous and irritated rappings upon her door by Ms. Mulwray, excoriating the young woman for not rising before the sun did, nor needed she chiding summons from her father for spending a day in the bed. No, today instead Nadia rose at the first smell of early-morning dew wafting through her opened windows and between swaying, gossamer white curtains; before the sun had even set its eyes out across the fields, she smelled the new day, breathing its airs with aplomb, and rushed excitedly to face whatever it had to offer.
She could scarcely bring herself to admit it, but a little bit of excitement brimmed, bristled, burned in her heart; it's not a feeling she had ever had before, instead generally reserving her heart for feelings of contempt and questioning of men like Lord Beckham. But today, she awoke with new thoughts; new purposes. New dreams. Her cheek had met her pillow with her mind buzzing full of thoughts on the words he'd spoken; on the new side of this odd man she had seen set at the table, across from her; lamenting the loss of his sister, lamenting the way women must live in the cage that Nadia had spent her whole life trying to escape. Yet she tempered her excitement, as she rushed to the window to smell the scent of blooming flowers carried on gentle, cool breezes; she couldn't let herself get too carried away with the thoughts buzzing about in her mind.
Lord Beckham, confess as he might feelings of insecurity, or distaste with the nature of the life of 'gentlemen' in England - was nonetheless still a man, and she struggled to find it in herself to trust in his words or honesty. Though she reminded herself as dreams left and day began that she must remain wary, she couldn't stifle this sense of excitement. Today, Lord Beckham had agreed to visit the Havenshire manor - and here, in her own home, her own world, she would show him her own strengths; her convictions, her talents, and everything she'd learned. Thankfully, they'd be doing something together she had no questions of her talent for - riding. He had shown an interest in the horses' stables last he visited, hadn't he? Her mind ran away with thoughts of her, galloping freely atop Shadow's back, laughing into the wind as they raced together; for, she knew, every English gentleman knows how properly to tame a wild horse, does he not?
She had no way of explaining her feelings of excitement to herself; she'd not felt like she did, rising from bed today, since her youth; since days spent chattering with boys in their fathers' oversized jackets, gossipin
g and kissing one another on the cheek in the gardens outside the Emerys estate. As she breathed the fresh air, her cheeks burned a soft reddish hue, positively embarrassed by how odd she felt over this particular man. She remembered their first interaction and swallowed hard, stilling herself, trying once more to remind herself that this man had benefited from this system she so hated, even if he hated estrangement from his sister.
Such dark thoughts didn't become her, though, and she pulled her gown over her curves and thrust open the door to her bedroom, proudly striding into the corridor without and taking in the faint dim glow of sunlight through the hallways, and the tangy-sweet scent of lemon and essential oils, a fresh pronouncement that Ms. Mulwray had been up early preparing the house with the staff, cleaning and polishing every surface spotless before the sun took to its midday disposition. She dashed through the ornately-carved reliefs and pristine, soft carpets of the corridor outside her bedchamber, grinning as she had when she was an excited young girl, spiritedly jaunting through the Emerys gardens. Bouncing into her wardrobe, she offered a distinguishing eye to the collection of colored gowns and outfits - it would only be proper for a lady to ride on horseback wearing her finest gown, side-saddle, but Nadia grinned deviously, imagining the particular, witchy face Ms. Mulwray would scowl when she saw Nadia wearing her riding outfit. Nadia snatched her long, white jodhpurs from the shelf of the wardrobe, collecting her gloves and boots from shelves hidden behind flowing, white and lacy dresses and shawls in every manner of color imaginable. Her conspiratorial smile widened as she imagined her erstwhile suitor's curious expression when he saw Nadia dressed not for a leisurely gallop along the roadways, but for a quick and exciting trek across the Emerys holdings. She wondered, as she searched for her long navy-blue riding jacket, whether he would arrive wearing the same - just how serious, she pondered, was Lord Beckham in the matters equestrian? Another exciting question to find the answer to, soon.
"Lady Havenshire! M'lady!" Nadia's eyebrows bounced in surprise as she heard Ms. Mulwray's voice bounce through the hall outside, and the young noblewoman hurriedly fastened the buttons of her white riding blouse, before pulling her jacket overtop her curves and hurriedly wrapping her length of flowing hair into a single tail, bound with a pretty, silky white ribbon fetched from the drawers of the nearby vanity. She held her shoulders broad, her chest high, and her face brimmed with confident, curious satisfaction as she looked at her reflection, straightening down her jacket and pulling her boots taut and proper across her calves.
"Lady Haven—Nadia!" Ms. Mulwray's voice grew louder as she stepped through the door to the expansive wardrobe; she gulped and stepped back in shock at seeing Nadia clad in her riding outfit. "C-certainly you're not intending to wear that to ride with Lord Beckham today! He's a proper gentleman, you know, and he'll certainly expect a woman he's sought to pursue to wear proper clothing," she scolded.
"Are you certain of that, Ms. Mulwray? How well do you know Lord Beckham, hmm?" Lady Havenshire teased, thinking on her past conversations with the unusual man, full of excitement at seeing just how he'll respond to a woman clad in the trappings of a professional, and not a dainty, helpless thing.
"M'lady, any man searching for a lovely lady to marry has no interest in seeing her dressed up in these sorts of... things," Ms. Mulwray spat.
"I think he'll like to see me in these things just fine," Lady Havenshire spat the word back with playful venom at the stern housekeeper. "You may find yourself surprised about Lord Beckham, Ms. Mulwray."
"Lady Havenshire, I've lived a life more than twice the length of yours, and I know only that if any charming gentleman searching the world for a suitor bore interest in a woman who so shamelessly paraded in the garb of a horse-jockey, he was rather reticent about it," Ms. Mulwray said judging, arms crossed atop her chest. "Think of your father for once, m'lady."
"I've thought plenty on him. Why do you think I went on that absurd dinner-date he pushed me in to, last night?" Nadia retorted, pulling her riding gloves over her fingers.
"And something quite positive came of it, didn't it? Perhaps you ought to listen to him more often," Ms. Mulwray heeded. Nadia hated to admit it, but... Ms. Mulwray and her father, in some small way, had been right, though perhaps not in the manner each of them expected. They had been right only on a technicality, with Lord Beckham proving far more a gentleman - the real, actual sort of gentleman - than she had expected. "You ought to make haste, m'lady - you wouldn't want to make him wait for too long, would you?"
"Lord Beckham's here already?" Nadia asked, stunned.
"Of course, m'lady - he's been waiting for you for nearly a half an hour!" Ms. Mulwray exclaimed. Nadia could answer only with surprised stutters; her heart throbbed at the thought that Lord Beckham, too, had spent the entire evening as vexed as she had been, contemplating the nature of their relationship; contemplating just what tomorrow would hold.
"I'll—I, I should—" Nadia swallowed hard and, after another quick glance at her reflection, she rushed through the door, nearly tripping over her own feet in her dashing hubris, swirling around corners like a galloping steed, bounding down the stairs so quick she nearly fell onto her face when she skipped a whole step at the foot of them. She looked excitedly to the front door of the foyer - only to see Egan, standing attentive, arms crossed. Her heart throbbed briefly; had he waited too long? Had he grown bored and simply left? Had she lost her chance at meeting with him once more?
"Egan, where's Lord Beckham? Ms. Mulwray said—" she gasped, barely able to breathe. "Ms. Mulwray said that he'd come, has he gone? Has he left?" she demanded, her voice wobbly. Egan looked upon Nadia in utter bafflement, before gesturing to the couch near the stairwell - right in a blind spot, where Nadia's hurried gaze had failed to take notice of a man seated, patiently waiting. A stormy man with eyes deep as a swirling ocean.
"That sound in your voice, I quite enjoyed hearing it," Lord Beckham commented coyly as he rose, humbly approaching Lady Havenshire with a nod and a respectful look. "Was it just a hint of desperation, perhaps, that made it such a pleasant stew of a sound?"
"D-desperation? No, I'm just..." Nadia tried to collect herself. It had been a hint of desperation, though she would never admit it. "...I had hoped that I had no offended you by making you wait, is all." She looked at him, confused, seeing he had come to the manor wearing only his usual sort of breeches and jacket - dark and expensive, and he looked quite exceptionally handsome in them, as he had before, but... "...have you brought with you riding gear, m'lord? I had intended for us to ride together today, if you quite recall." An awkward silence fell as the duke glanced away, clearing his throat, and all at once an impish grin of glee spread across Lady Havenshire's face as she realized something quite salient.
"I suppose I had intended simply to ride in my usual manner of attire, m'lady," Lord Beckham conceded, clearing his throat.
"Don't you find that sort of riding rather uncomfortable? I had intended for us to ride rather seriously, after all," Lady Havenshire teased. "You'd find yourself much more comfortable, and safer, in the proper attire... don't you think?" Lord Beckham grunted, once more nervously focusing his attention on the door.
"I think I shall do just fine as I am, m'lady," Lord Beckham bristled, and Nadia stifled a laugh. He couldn't ride quite at all, could he? Oh, she couldn't wait to savor the sight.
"Shall we make for the stables, then, m'lord?" Lady Havenshire asked with a devious, toying lilt to her voice. "I hope we can have quite an exhilarating ride before noontime."
"Erm... yes," Lord Beckham stated authoritatively, trying as best he could to play the role of the proper suitor and gentleman in front of the household staff. "Yes, of course, m'lady. Let's make for the stables." Lady Havenshire hid away a smirk and excitedly grasped the lord by the cuff of his jacket, leading him to the front door and throwing it open. The sun had begun to lift across the horizon, its yellowed morning light glance through the thick trees that covered the furthest fringes of the
estate; with her tossle of wrapped hair bouncing behind her, Nadia giggled as she rushed along the side of the manor, down the stone path to the stables, where the horse's keepers had already begun their morning work, the horses grazing along the vast, grassy field, fenced and reserved just for them.
"Monsieur Therriault! We've come to take your finest steeds from you for the afternoon," Lady Havenshire announced proudly as she threw open the swinging door to the stables. Lord Beckham behind her seemed to feel utterly out of place, as he glanced at the horses still lazing about in their stalls. The horses' lead keeper, a whisper of a man in white working clothes with a dirtied beret atop his head, spoke with a Parisian accent thick as beaten cream.
"M'lady Nadia, always a pleasure to 'ave you in this part of the estate. Shadow 'as missed you so greatly in your years away from the estate," he crowed, his tone throaty. "She 'asn't let anyone ride her since you've been gone." The horse, which Nadia recognized as her beloved Shadow, whinnied as the door to its stall opened; the creature was quick to dart through the dirt and the straw to be at Nadia's side, and she soothed it with a gentle hand swaying across its bridle.
"I had expected no less a loyalty from her," Nadia smiled. "My sweet Shadow, the finest steed England's ever seen. Perhaps you'd like to take her riding for the day?" Nadia's smile turned devilish as she made the offer to Lord Beckham, who cleared his throat and stepped back.
"She seems to quite favor you, m'lady," he said, making an excuse. "Perhaps another horse for me? Shadow seems to have missed you upon her back."
"Oh, I'm certain any sort of proper gentleman could tame the wild heart of a girl like Shadow, could he not?" Lady Havenshire teased. "Come now, you'd not shrink away at such a chance to woo the heart of a wondrous woman such as I, would you?" she needled him. Monsieur Therriault looked on apprehensively as Lord Beckham sighed and accepted the churlish little challenge, moving alongside Shadow with his hands on the creature's back. Shadow whinnied in protest as Lord Beckham searched for some manner of mounting the creature, and it became quite immediately apparent that Lord Beckham in fact possessed practically no skill in the realm equestrian at all. Nadia's impish smile turned to stifled giggles as Lord Beckham awkwardly positioned himself at the animal's side, and then the other side; he finally, lopsidedly threw one leg atop the beast and nearly fell flat onto his back at that; when Shadow lifted her back in a roaring objection, Lord Beckham grasped one of the stable's support beams to stop himself from cracking his skull open upon the ground.
The Duke's Headstrong Woman: True Love In London (Regency Romance: Strong Women Find True Love Book 2) Page 8
