“A ruse, if you will,” Beatrice said.
“A ruse!” Van Doren said, downing his champagne and signaling the footman for another.
“Yes, just a ruse. We did not tell you as we were all certain you would not approve.”
“All?” Van Doren asked. “Do you say your father is aware of this…ruse?”
“Father?” Beatrice said. “Well, no, of course not my father. He does not like to be troubled by such things.”
“You did not tell him because he would not have approved.”
“Perhaps not, but I really believe he will approve in the end,” Beatrice said, attempting to keep the defensiveness from her voice.
Of course, they had all very happily concluded that the earl need not be told as there was no cause to trouble him. They had all perfectly well known that was a happy excuse for not telling him, as he likely would not approve.
“He ought to know,” Van Doren said.
“Do not make that your business, my lord,” Beatrice said.
“I see,” Van Doren said. “So you are decided on this gentleman you wished to draw out, then?”
“I have decided nothing,” Beatrice said. How could she have decided when she had not yet even met her tortured gentleman?
Van Doren was staring morosely at his champagne. He must not know that her tortured gentleman had not yet stepped forward.
Beatrice was beginning to wonder if that mystery gentleman ever would come forward. She was beginning to wonder how much she cared if he did or not. After all, how manly could he be if he were still hanging back? Should not a manly tortured gentleman be willing to overcome his torture? Or at least try?
As she considered the idea, she realized she was becoming rather fascinated by this new and temperamental Van Doren. She cautioned herself not to be carried away by it, though. Once he’d sobered himself, he’d likely be the same steady Van Doren she’d always known.
At least, she thought so.
Chapter Fifteen
Matthew waited tomount his horse until the Benningtons had got in their carriage. He’d informed the earl that he would escort them all home to protect them from thieves and other unsavory sorts who lurked in the streets late at night.
It was all nonsense, of course. The earl’s coachman would be well armed, and they were not traveling far. In truth, he wished to ensure that Conbatten did not have the same idea of escorting the carriage home. The man might have the effrontery to try it, just as he’d given himself leave to collect Beatrice’s card.
The duke, fortunately, was nowhere to be seen, and so they set off.
What an evening! His head hurt already; he should have never had so many glasses of champagne. He was grateful that the journey was to be short, rather than clear across London. He was very much looking forward to his bed.
The morrow would be soon enough to decide what to do about this ridiculous ruse Beatrice had involved herself in. They had all conspired to draw out a particular gentleman and though Beatrice had not owned it, he knew very well that the duke was their target. Anybody with eyes could see it.
It was astounding that Darden would have consented to such a scheme. If he understood his own sister at all, he would know Conbatten was not right for her. And what if the ruse was successful and prompted a proposal? Would not the duke eventually realize he’d been tricked? Would not Beatrice, should she wed him, pay the price for that? A marriage could not be built on trickery!
They made their way through the darkened streets, only the sound of horses’ hooves clip-clopping and Miss Mayton’s chattering in the carriage to accompany them home.
Matthew maneuvered his horse round a corner as they neared Portland Place and came upon a group of street urchins. They had cornered a dog and were pelting it with stones.
“Blast!” he said, reining his horse in and leaping down.
The Benningtons’ carriage came to a stop and he heard Beatrice calling out the window. “Do make them stop, Van Doren!”
The Benningtons’ coachman was climbing down from his box. “On my way, my lord.”
The ruffians understood in a moment that they were to be entirely outmanned. Particularly since the coachman had decided to wave a pistol at them. They set off at a run, but for the smallest who had fallen on the cobblestones.
Matthew grabbed him by his shabby coat collar and hauled him up. “What do you mean by it, boy?”
