“As you wish, my lady. Good day. And thank you again, my lord, for driving me to the garden.”
That summary of their afternoon together should put the interlude in proper perspective, Laura thought as she escaped from the salon.
“Beau, escort me to my chamber, please?”
“Ride me on your shoulder, Uncle Beau!”
Grinning, Beau bowed. “As my ladies command.” After inducing a series of giggles by throwing Catherine up to her post, he offered Ellie an arm. “Are you truly ‘fine'? Wentworth would never forgive me were something to happen to you while under my care. Nor should I forgive myself.”
“You know I want this too badly to take any risks. It nearly drove me mad to progress so slowly, but I forced myself to call a halt as soon as I tired or,” she added with a rueful grimace, “when the motion of the carriage overcame me.”
“Marna casts up her accounts,” Catherine informed him. “Mostly every day. It’s nasty.” She wrinkled her small straight nose.
“Nasty indeed,” her mama agreed with a sigh. “I shall be just as comfortable here as at home, and easier of mind, since I can see myself how Kit progresses. So if … something should happen, you cannot be blaming yourself.”
Beau grimaced. “Is it so obvious?”
Lady Elspeth squeezed the arm she held. “Mac told me you had a cot placed so near Kit’s bed, his every restless breath woke you. And that you scarcely slept or left his side the whole first week, as if you would hold him to life by strength of will alone.” She paused, then added softly, “You cannot keep us from all harm, Beau.”
The sound of a horse’s scream, the smash of impact and shriek of shattering wood echoed out of memory. Forcefully he shut them out. “You are my charge, El-lie.”
“I pray daily that all will go well, but what happens is in other hands. You might do well to remember that.”
Beau nodded at the rebuke. “I shall, Madam Confessor. Now, scamp—” he eased his niece down “—here’s Mary to take you to the nursery.”
The girl clung to his arm. “Please, don’t make me go! I want to ride with you!”
“It’s too late today for a ride, poppet. But if you’re a good girl and go without teasing your mama, I’ll come up later and have tea with you.”
The small hands at his shirt cuff stilled. “With rasp’ry jam and macaroons?”
He nodded solemnly. “Devon cream, too.”
Lady Catherine sighed deeply. “And a ride tomorrow?”
“If the weather is fine.”
“And I get to see Uncle Kit?”
“If the doctor says you may.”
The pointed chin nodded agreement. With quaint dignity she dipped him a perfect curtsey, back straight, skirts spread gracefully. “As you wish, Uncle Beau. Good day, Mama. I shall go with you now, Mary.”
Hiding a smile, the maid took the hand Lady Catherine offered. “Very good, miss.”
Her mother stood looking after her, affection and despair mingled in her face. “She’s such a scamp! One moment she’s climbing trees, her petticoats in tatters, and the next she makes a curtsey that would not cause a blush at the queen’s drawing room.”
“Ah, the hearts she will break,” Beau said with a chuckle.’ ‘I shall have to have all my unmarried friends transported the year she debuts.”
“Thank heavens that won’t be for a decade! Now, come sit with me a moment.”
“Should you not better rest?”
Elspeth slanted him a knowing look. “As the lady managed to slip away, you must come in yourself and tell me all about Mrs. Martin.”
Since his sister possessed an intuition superior to his own and powers of observation only scarcely less acute, Beau knew he’d not be able to avoid her questions without raising suspicion. Better to answer directly—but with care. He wanted no well-meaning “assistance” in the delicate matter of Mrs. Martin.
“She’s been a godsend,” he admitted as they took their seats. “Her quick action saved Kit’s life the day he was wounded, as I’m sure Mac’s informed you. She’s been the mainstay of caring for him through this difficult first week. Her remedies were most effective with fever, and the infusions seemed to calm Kit’s restlessness.”
“She’s a widow, the squire told me.”
“Yes.”
“And lives here alone, without other family?”
“Her aunt, who bequeathed her their cottage, died only recently, I understand.”
“She’s not nearly the old crone I was imagining.”
Beau smiled. “No.”
“In her mid-twenties, I would say. Hideous gown, which totally disguises her form, but her complexion is lovely and that auburn hair, what little I could see beneath that awful cap, is striking.” She paused.
Grinning inwardly, Beau schooled his face to polite interest. “Yes, I agree. She is rather younger than I’d expected and quite attractive. As you’ll doubtless see, our host has strong proclivities in that direction.”
“Indeed!”
“It would not be so unusual a match.”
Elspeth studied him a long moment. He maintained a face of bland innocence. “Perhaps he would do, if there are no younger contenders to hand. Or perhaps—she is of gentle birth, the squire said—I shall take her to London with me next season. So young and lovely a widow should have more choice in settling her future than is available in this country outpost.”
“Is it so essential that she remarry?”
Elspeth gave him an exasperated look. “Certainly! What else is a woman to do? If what you say is true, she has no family to assist her. Who is to protect her if she falls ill or someone threatens her? Besides, she has no children, and she’s certainly young enough to hope for some. No woman would wish to be deprived of that joy.”
The bittersweetness in her voice made his chest ache. Poor Ellie had suffered much for her babes. To lighten her mood he replied, “Does Mrs. Martin have any say in this?”
Elspeth blushed. “Of course. But our family owes her an enormous debt, you must allow. I’m merely considering how we might best go about repaying it.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Martin has plans of her own which will obviate your needing to intervene on her behalf.” Or mayhap someone else does, he added mentally.
“Perhaps. But if not … I shall certainly do my possible. Now I really must rest. Don’t let my minx of a daughter tire you out. She can be exhausting!”
Beau leaned to kiss his sister’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Ellie. I’ve missed you.”
She gave him a quick hug. “And I you, big brother.”
Beau’s smile faded as soon as he exited his sister’s chamber. Having the determined Elspeth play matchmaker for Mrs. Martin was a complication he certainly didn’t need. The mere idea of that lady giving herself to any other man, even in marriage, roused in him immediate and violent objections, though he would hardly voice them to Ellie.
For one, Mrs. Martin responded to him as she did to no other man in Merriville. True, he was hardly a disinterested observer any longer, but in his most professional assessment she’d displayed no such attraction to the squire, nor had her behavior indicated she harbored marital intentions.
Remarriage was certainly one remedy to her current insecurity, the most