Page 29 of Appointment in Bath

Mr. Beresford had met Miss Colfax only once as far as Meg was aware. Only once and he was already eager to dine at the vicarage. He must have been smitten at first sight of the vicar’s daughter. He must not have wanted to delay furthering the acquaintance, not for a single moment.

Although…

He’d said nothing about Miss Colfax when he and Meg had met at the river. And when Meg had suggested that he might want to ride with the angelic Miss Colfax instead of Meg herself, he’d swiftly disabused her of that notion.

“I’d be glad of your company,” he’d said.

“My father has arranged the dinner in order to introduce Mr. Beresford to Mr. Pinnock,” Miss Colfax explained. “Mr. Beresford has business to discuss with him, I believe. I’m not clear on the particulars, but I do know it has something to do with Mr. Pinnock’s influence in the village.”

The railway.

All at once, Meg understood. That was why Ivo Beresford was dining at the vicarage. Not because he had designs on Miss Colfax but because he aspired to bring the railway to Maidenbridge.

Some of the tightness in Meg’s chest eased. It didn’t disappear completely. She sank her voice so the servants wouldn’t overhear. “M-My father wouldn’t approve of m-me dining in company with Mr. Beresford,” she said. “Or with any Beresford.”

Miss Colfax regarded her solemnly. “Yes, I’ve heard about the difficulties between the Beresfords and the Burton-Smythes. Tell me, do your families have no intercourse at all?”

“Very little in my lifetime.”

“But you have met them?”

“I have.” Some more frequently than others, Meg privately added. “But it isn’t my opinion of them that matters. It’s m-my father’s.”

“Will he forbid you attending?”

Yes, he would. There was no question about it. If, that is, he knew about the dinner beforehand. But if he didn’t…

The prospect sent an anxious thrill through Meg’s veins.

Her dissatisfaction with her father had been growing by leaps and bounds since Miss Adams’s departure. Absent her governess, Meg was meant to be treated as a grown-up young lady. One deserving of respect. One worthy of a season. She’d expected as much. Instead, she was fast coming to realize that her father didn’t care about her future. Not enough, anyway. Certainly not when it might put his own pride at risk.

In the absence of his attention, Meg resolved to attend to that future herself. It was the only way forward.

“I will c-come to your dinner,” she replied. “Regardless.”

Miss Colfax exhaled in relief. “I’m so pleased to hear it. But…what will you tell Sir Frederick?”

“I shall d-deal with m-my father,” Meg said firmly. “Leave him to m-me.”

Chapter Eight

Meg arrived at the vicarage on Friday evening dressed in her newest gown. Made of gold silk, printed with a delicate, contrasting stripe and a subtle floral design, it boasted a snug pleated bodice, long, tight sleeves, and a full pleated skirt that fell into graceful folds around her legs. Meg’s corset had been cinched extra tight to accommodate the unforgiving silhouette. She’d felt a little breathless ever since she’d departed Letchford Hall in her father’s carriage.

Her corset was only partially to blame.

The true source of her unsteady pulse was seated in the vicarage’s parlor, along with the vicar, Miss Colfax, the Pinnocks, and a heavyset black-bearded fellow Meg had never seen before. They were all of them talking companionably, with Mr. Pinnock’s voice echoing the loudest. He was a robust man of decisive opinions who didn’t shrink from uttering them.

The housekeeper interrupted the gentlemen’s conversation to announce Meg’s arrival to the vicar. “Miss Burton-Smythe, sir.”

Mr. Colfax promptly rose from his chair and came to meet her. The rest of the gentlemen stood as well. They each of them acknowledged Meg with a bow, looking at her with varying degrees of attention. But it was only Mr. Beresford’s attention that mattered to Meg. She felt his unfocused gray gaze all the way to her swiftly beating heart.

He was, once again, without his spectacles, but he seemed to see her nonetheless. There was warmth in his eyes and a hint of a smile edging his mouth.

“Miss Burton-Smythe,” Mr. Colfax said. “We began to despair of you.”

“Am I very late?” Meg asked worriedly.

Miss Colfax crossed the room to join them. She took Meg’s hands, pressing them gently in greeting. “Not at all. You’re exactly on time.”