The dancing continued. Beth changed partners, and he watched for several minutes, waiting for her to finish her dance with Rogue. When the pair of them moved away from the other couples to an open window, obviously in conversation, he headed in that direction.
He could hear their conversation before either of them saw him.
“Your wife, my lord, seems to be a very strong woman, and if I have any sense of these things, she would be driven mad by you hanging about to wait upon her, though it is your inclination.” She spoke with her hands, gesturing, touching, fidgeting with them, all very natural and easy, and more than a little amusing, judging by Rogue’s expression.
Malcolm caught Rogue’s eye, and he dipped his chin in acknowledgement, keeping his attention fixed on Beth.
“I like the sound of her,” Beth added warmly, “and I do understand your distress. Would you permit me to call upon her? I have a bit of time on my hands, and no real taste for Society, so the country would be a welcome reprieve. Unless you think I would be a bother.”
Malcolm barely avoided scoffing at that.
Rogue managed his version of a smile, though Malcolm could tell he would have laughed. “I think Amelia would like that very much. I’d allow it, so long as you send me very detailed reports of her, as she seems to think I don’t deserve to know anything at all.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises,” Beth chirped with a laugh.
“Pardon me, Miss Owens,” Malcolm interrupted softly.
She turned and beamed at him, which caught him squarely in the heart. “Lord Montgomery!” She curtseyed quickly, and very properly. “I didn’t know you were here, what a pleasant surprise!”
“It is a pleasure to see you again,” he complimented, wishing he could get the image of an angel out of his head as he looked at her now, with her pure white gown and glistening golden hair. “I wonder if I might possibly have a word with you?”
Her smile turned playful, and she narrowed her eyes. “Have you finally decided what to do with me, then?”
Rogue coughed a little in surprise but raised a questioning brow.
“Yes, I have,” Malcolm told them both indirectly, “and I should like to discuss that with you in private.”
Beth dipped her chin in a nod. “Of course, my lord.” She turned and smiled at Rogue. “If you will excuse me, my lord.”
Rogue bowed more perfectly than Malcolm had ever seen him do. “Of course, Miss Owens. Thank you for the dance, for your company, and for keeping me from making more of a fool of myself.”
Beth chuckled a little, shaking her head. “Not a fool, my lord. Never that.” She curtseyed and nodded at Malcolm when he gestured the way.
Rogue grabbed his superior’s arm quickly before he could follow. “I’ve changed my mind,” he hissed. “I approve. Take her and take her now.” He released Malcolm and turned away, leaving the earl to stare after him in shock.
Then, Malcolm’s sense caught up with him, and he followed Beth to a quiet parlor just off the music room, catching Lily’s eye at the pianoforte as they left.
She gave him a knowing smile and an encouraging nod.
Malcolm nearly groaned. Did everybody know what he was about? He looked into the room and saw Beth staring fondly at a mediocre piece of art within, perfectly oblivious.
Apparently, there was at least one person who was still ignorant. Unfortunately, that was the one person who ought to know.
And in a few moments, she would.
“Please sit down, Miss Owens.”
Chapter Four
Good heavens, Beth thought breathlessly, how was a sensible woman supposed to think properly with a man staring at her like that? He’d been handsome enough when she’d first met him in his regular, everyday attire. But in the finery of his evening wear? He was so close to perfect, it buckled her knees.
Everything was perfectly fitted, from his bone-colored breeches to the almost gold waistcoat and the midnight blue coat and tails… Even his cravat was perfect, with just the right amount of style and none of the ridiculous. His hair was darker than she recalled but still golden, possibly amber in color. He looked powerful and imposing and virile…
She swallowed with difficulty. Heavens… That was quite enough of that.
She continued to stare at the painting on the wall without really seeing any of it. She had no idea why Lord Montgomery wanted to speak with her privately again, but she was already tempted to say, “Thank you, my lord,” which would have been entirely improper.
He cleared his throat politely. “Miss Owens?”
She jerked and realized he’d been trying to speak with her. “Yes, my lord?”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Please, do have a seat.”
Beth swallowed and nodded, not at all composed, and moved to sit in one of the gold-leafed chairs in the alcove. She fidgeted with her borrowed dress, praying she would not smudge it. Rosalind had been so kind to lend it to her, and if she stained it…
“Miss Owens.”
Beth raised her head, not entirely sure when she had lowered it, and fixed her gaze on the man now standing before her, looking far too serious.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Do you know why I asked to see you again?” he asked, clasping his hands stiffly behind his back.
She shook her head slowly, feeling rather slow and stupid at the moment. “No, my lord.”
He looked a little disconcerted. “Would you… would you mind not answering as if you were a girl in the schoolroom? It’s making this harder.”
Beth managed to smile, and that seemed to put him more at ease. “I apologize, my lord. I shall try to loosen my tongue and be a little more impertinent.”
“That would help a great deal, thank you.” He smiled, sort of, and then took a few pacing steps, stopping before her again. “Miss Owens, allow me to be perfectly frank with you and not mince words.”
Beth gave him a nod, folding her hands together formally. “Excellent, I do not like to have my words minced.”
He paused a moment, looking at her curiously, and she clamped her lips together to keep from laughing. Or apologizing.
He cocked his head slightly, and his brow furrowed again. “Miss Owens, I would like to ask for your hand in marriage.”
He would… like…
Oh…
It was suddenly impossible to breathe or swallow, but somehow, she found a way to try to do both at the same time, which caused her to choke and sputter, hardly a decorous way to form an answer. Not that he had actually asked.
He had only said he would like to ask.
Would this be an inappropriate time to point that out?
“That would…” she managed to gasp, somehow breathing without coughing, “be acceptable. My lord.”
Lord Montgomery looked mildly surprised. “Would it? Really?”
Marry him? Instead of becoming a governess? Surely, he was joking.
Beth nodded, and then found herself unable to stop nodding. “Yes, it would. Very acceptable.”
“I’ll have to get your father’s permission,” he said abruptly, pacing again.
“He’ll give it,” she assured him, though his comment was not directed at her.
“And there is no need for haste, so we can simply have the banns read.”
“Indeed.” She continued to watch him pace, wondering if he was aware of what he had yet to do.
“And I’d have to bring the children down from Knightsgate, but we don’t need to…”
“My lord,” Beth tried to interject, but he was not fully aware of her anymore.
“But in all fairness, we could not exclude them,” he continued, still pacing. “And there would be no need for a honeymoon trip.”
“My lord,” she said again, louder this time.
He frowned more earnestly. “And there is the matter of a ring, but I think that should be a simple enough errand.”
Beth sighed and winced at what she was about to do, then simply blurted out, �
��Monty!”
Lord Montgomery came to a sudden halt and blinked in surprise.
“I apologize for the familiarity, my lord,” she began, trying her very best to look submissive, “but you were rambling on, and I feel the need to point out that… well… you haven’t asked me anything… yet.”
He stared at her for a moment, then his mouth curved a little. “I haven’t, have I?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
He turned to face her fully and bowed formally. “Miss Elizabeth Owens, would you do me the honor of consenting to marry me?”
A hot burst of delight lit her heart, but she contained it well and merely offered a prim nod. “Yes, my lord, I will.”
“Really?” he asked with mild interest.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding once more.
“No hesitation?”
“None whatsoever, my lord.”
He made a faint noise that she could not interpret. “I thought it would take a good deal of persuasion for you to agree.”
Beth smiled, shrugging a little. “Well, perhaps this is a good sign.”
His gaze fixed on her then. “Of what?”
“Our marriage could be a much smoother affair than we think.” Marriage. Her marriage. To him. She could not help smiling at the thought.
“Or, it could be a disaster,” he pointed out with a warning look.
Beth shook her head, still smiling. “If you thought that, Lord Montgomery, you would not have asked me.”
His expression became thoughtful. “No… No, I would not.” Then his face changed, and he became formal once more. “You should not expect a marriage of affection.”
With him proposing a week after meeting her? Even she was not that fanciful. “I understand,” she promised.
“Does that bother you?” he asked, his tone formal once again.
“No.”
He did not look remotely convinced. “It would bother most women.”
She opted to give him a frank look. “Then perhaps you oughtn’t marry one of them.”
At last, he rewarded her with another sort-of smile, and she felt her own smile grow. But like the sun darting behind a dark cloud, his smile vanished.
“Stop smiling like that,” he ordered. “I’ve just told you this will not be a marriage of affection.”
“I know, my lord,” she said, now positively beaming.
His frown deepened. “Miss Owens, I do not love you.”
That made her laugh a little. “I would be quite surprised if you did.”
The more she confirmed her understanding, the more flustered he seemed to become, which only amused her further.
“Miss Owens…” he began impatiently.
“My lord,” she broke in, shaking her head slowly, still smiling her delight, “you once described me as a creature of sense. I do wish you would believe your own words and understand me when I tell you that I am fully aware, and I fully comprehend the nature of this marriage, with no expectations or sentimentality.”
Lord Montgomery stared at her for a long moment. “Forgive me, of course I believe you, but you are smiling so. It just…”
Beth took pity on him and laughed. “My lord, you’ve just told me that not only will I not be forced to become a governess, which I would have done quite dreadfully, but now I will shortly be married to a respectable gentleman with a title. Of whom my dear friend Lily thinks very highly. There is a great deal for me to smile about, even if this is not a love match.”
“I never considered that,” he murmured absently, sinking down into a chair near her. “I hope you don’t consider this a rescue. I’m not trying to be heroic.”
“Not at all,” she assured him, “even if it does feel a little heroic to me. But you have need of a wife, a countess…” She broke off, eyes wide. “Good gracious, my lord, do you think I could pass as a countess?”
Now he smiled a little. “My dear Miss Owens, you do not need to pass as anything. You will be a countess.”
“Heavens…” she breathed, fanning herself slowly, having not considered that. She was barely a peripheral member of Society, and now she would be expected to be a leader of it?
“After your performance in the music room earlier, do you expect me to believe that you cannot manage the duties of a landowner’s wife or navigate the societal seas of London?” He gave her sardonic look and shook his head. “That will be no problem for a lady of your qualities, Miss Owens. You have grace, poise, and charm. All you lack is experience.”
“Thank you,” Beth replied lamely, plucking at her borrowed gloves. “I think.”
He missed her sarcasm and smirked a little. “What else were you going to say?”
Her mind raced backwards to their previous conversation. “Oh!” she recollected, shifting more towards him in her seat. “Lily says you have darling children. It would be a pleasure to be their…”
“They have a mother,” he snapped coldly, his eyes flashing as his expression turned thunderous. “You will not be their mother.”
Beth was stunned by his outburst and blinked slowly in response. “Of course not,” she answered with great care, her heart pounding unsteadily. “I was going to say ‘their friend’. That is all I want to be. I do look forward to meeting them and helping them along.”
He still looked markedly upset as he stared at her, but she suspected that he was not looking at her so much as through her.
This might all be much harder than she thought.
“I would never try to replace their mother, my lord,” Beth told him softly. “No one ever could.”
He seemed to come to himself then, though the shadows remained. “You don’t need to ‘my lord’ me anymore. You may call me Monty, as you did before.”
“Yes, my lor…” she started, then she caught herself and smiled sheepishly. “Yes, Monty. And if you would be so kind, I should like for you to call me Elizabeth. Or Beth, if you like. I’ve never gotten used to Miss Owens, so it doesn’t really suit.”
Monty grunted and got to his feet. “Well, you will have to adjust to being Lady Montgomery soon enough, so we shall see how well that suits.”
“Heavens,” she muttered, rising without waiting for him to help her. “What if it doesn’t?”
He paused and gave her an assessing look. “Then perhaps you will have made a hash of something after all.”
Beth snorted into her glove and raised a brow at him.
He returned the look and led her back out into the music room just as dinner was announced. She managed to walk gracefully into the dining room on his arm and found her assigned place.
Beth could barely focus on anything at all during dinner. How could she? She was betrothed! She, Elizabeth Anne Owens, was engaged to be married to the Earl of Montgomery! A handsome lord who made her knees shake, had four children who needed a woman’s guidance, a country house, influence, wealth… It was rather a lot to take in for one evening. Or for a lifetime, for that matter… but she supposed she would get used to it. She looked across the table, and several seats down, her betrothed sat beside her friend Lily. He glanced up at her at the same time.
Beth couldn’t help it. She smiled at him, relieved and delighted and excited. If she were to be perfectly honest, she was already slightly in love with him, despite her earlier words. She couldn’t help it; he was handsome, he was kind, he wanted to marry her… It was undoubtedly gratitude and infatuation, but it certainly felt that it could be love if she tried hard enough.
But he didn’t need to know that.
Monty watched her for a moment, and then he, too, smiled.
Sort of.
Malcolm sat in his London office and fidgeted with his quill pen, scowling at the list of necessary errands that still had to be completed. He hadn’t enjoyed planning his wedding the first time around, and he’d been mad for the woman he was marrying then.
This time he was only mad.
Thankfully, Beth was a fairly simple girl who did not want any sor
t of fanfare, so the details themselves were fewer and not of as much concern to him. The trouble was actually accepting the fact that he would be marrying again.
It felt like the worst sort of betrayal, though he knew full well that it was nothing of the kind. Had Caroline been able to give him any last words, knowing her fate, she would have told him to move on and take care of the children. She had never been one for overt sentimentality, though she had certainly filled his heart with words of love enough for three lifetimes. She would have scolded him soundly for his current feelings, and he often wondered if she were not standing behind him, watching him with her arms folded and a disapproving expression on her face.
More than once, he had looked behind him just to be sure.
He knew he was fortunate to have found Beth, though she was a surprising choice. His men all approved heartily, his friends in Society thought he was after her pretty face, and his children…
Well, he hadn’t actually told them yet, which may have been a problem, as the wedding was a week away. But they would be arriving in London tomorrow with Mrs. Franklin, and Beth would meet them a few days after. There was still time to sort that out.
He didn’t think it would be much of a problem with them, as they were young and well-behaved. Jane had not mentioned her mother in some months, and Archer had kept the others firmly in line, surprising him for a boy of eight. The youngest two no longer cried for their mother, so he must assume that they had forgotten her.
That pained him to no end, but what could he do? He could barely endure saying her name aloud. Discussing her… Well, it would not be possible for him.
All the better to give them a new face to consider in a maternal sense. But not a mother. Never that.
“Cap, Rook is coming in now.” A young clerk interrupted Malcolm’s reverie, his face suddenly appearing in the doorway with his spectacles askew and his ginger hair slightly disheveled.
A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3) Page 5
