Page 32 of Appointment in Bath

Returning to Beasley today as the storm set in and the driving rain soaked his greatcoat, Ivo had been convinced he’d never see her again.

He’d only discovered she’d be in attendance after he’d arrived at the vicarage. The news had knocked him back a step. Her appearance moments later, wearing a dinner dress of form-fitting gilded silk, had knocked him back again.

She was uncommonly pretty in her riding habit. Out of it, she was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Her gown shaped to her figure with aching detail, as alluring in its simplicity as Aphrodite’s girdle. The sensuous effect of it was only aided by her loosely knotted coiffure. No longer twisted into compliance, her vibrant red locks were gently caught up in a pair of opal-studded combs, with curling tendrils left free to frame her gold-dust freckled face.

He found his gaze drifting to her throughout the meal, even as he conversed with Mr. Pinnock about the railway and Miss Colfax about, among other things, his two brothers.

“Lord St. Clare is expected home for Christmas, too, I hope.” A glimmer of feminine expectation shone in Miss Colfax’s usually placid face. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen him in church.”

Ivo cut into his roast potato. He wasn’t surprised she should be asking about his older brother. James Beresford, Viscount St. Clare was the heir to the earldom. He was also, objectively, the best looking of all the Beresford brothers. Ladies were perpetually swooning over him wherever he went, undeterred by James’s starchy demeanor. Ivo felt rather cruel to encourage any of them, especially someone as decent as Miss Colfax.

James would never, after all, lower himself to marry a mere vicar’s daughter. He had his sights set on someone grander. A duke’s daughter, very probably. Someone from a morally upright, well-established, and well-monied family. It wasn’t a mercenary ambition on James’s part. It was a redemptive one. Practically from birth, his sole concern in life had been to rehabilitate the Beresford family’s scandalous reputation.

And it was rather scandalous, truth be told.

Their grandfather had turned highwayman for a time. And niggling rumors still persisted that their own father, Lord Allendale, had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. James had taken the old gossip to heart. He considered it his duty to right the wrongs of the past and firmly establish the Beresfords as a respectable family.

Ivo supposed it was because James was the heir. The majority of the burden had always been on him. Whereas Ivo and Jack had been free to live and to love as they liked—within reason, of course.

“St. Clare is still in Hertfordshire with my parents,” he said. “He’ll return on the eighteenth. My sister’s expected shortly thereafter.”

“I shall be glad to see her again,” Miss Colfax replied.

He gave her a vaguely curious glance. His sister had never mentioned the vicar’s daughter in any of her letters. “Are you acquainted with Kate?”

“We’ve taken tea together several times since I arrived in Maidenbridge last year. She’s very…” Miss Colfax’s forehead puckered, at a loss for what she could say to describe the rebellious Lady Kate.

Ivo didn’t wonder. The two young ladies were as different as chalk and cheese. “Yes, she is very,” he agreed with a chuckle. “She certainly was when last I saw her. I’m pleased her character has resisted reformation.”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything about her character,” Miss Colfax said. “I found her exceptionally amiable. She’s a great sportswoman, is she not?”

“A persistent one. She doesn’t concede defeat easily.”

“I expect she’ll be returning from London having made a conquest of all who met her.”

Ivo wasn’t so certain. Not every gentleman appreciated Kate’s spirit. To be sure, there had been some fellows over the years who had found her conduct downright alarming. But she was beautiful and had a generous fortune to her name. That carried more weight with the male sex than Ivo cared to admit.

He cast another discreet glance at Miss Burton-Smythe.

Doubtless she was possessed of a generous fortune, too. Her father wouldn’t have settled it all on that wastrel, Roddy. Not if he cared for his only daughter, that is.

When the next course was served, Ivo made an effort to refocus his attentions on Mr. Pinnock. The tradesman was loud and opinionated. It wouldn’t do for him to go around the village spouting nonsense about railway vibrations driving people mad.

“Have you ridden on a train?” Ivo asked him.

“I’ve not had that pleasure, no sir.” Mr. Pinnock’s spoonful of boiled custard paused briefly on the way to his mouth. “If it is a pleasure.”

“It’s an exhilarating experience, not an unpleasant one. The convenience alone is enough to fire the senses. A man can run up to London in no time at all, without the trouble of coaching inns or the danger of injuring his cattle.”

Mr. Pinnock swallowed his mouthful of dessert with a cynical smile. “I suppose you require investments.”

“As any business venture would. Though the costs of subscriptions are vastly outweighed by the benefit to those who endorse the scheme.”

“You’ve met with Mr. Horsley and Mr. Standish?”

“I have.” Ivo had dined with them earlier in the week.

“What do they have to say about a railway in Maidenbridge?”