Page 80 of Appointment in Bath

“Oh, but I do.” Mrs. Church followed Meg to the fire. “Do you imagine I didn’t see you from your father’s window walking across the fields toward Beasley Park? Do you imagine I didn’t realize at once what you were up to?”

Meg stilled in the act of unlacing a boot. “Did you t-tell him?”

“Sir Frederick was resting after taking his tonic. I wouldn’t disturb his sleep. But you may be sure he’ll hear about it in the morning. It’s my duty to apprise him of what you’ve been about. He’ll know how to act.”

“A shame.” Mrs. Stapleton draped Meg’s wet cloak over the back of a chair. “No handsome lad is worth tarnishing your good name.”

Meg finished removing her boots. She’d been so upset, and had walked so quickly across the pasture, she’d scarcely noticed her fingers and toes turning into blocks of ice. But she noticed it now. She leaned closer to the fire, holding her hands up to the heat. The flames crackled and popped, sparks flaring as a piece of wood crumbled beneath the blaze.

The numbness in her limbs dissipated, but the numbness in her heart remained.

“Not only hers.” Mrs. Church carried away Meg’s boots. “The master’s name, too.”

“Foolishness,” Mrs. Stapleton said. She bustled about the kitchen, pouring Meg an earthenware mug of tea and thrusting it into her hands. “Walking about after dark when there’s snow on the ground? And you in an evening dress with only that cloak to protect you?”

Meg cradled the mug with both hands. “It wasn’t that long of a walk.”

Mrs. Stapleton exchanged a knowing look with Mrs. Church.

“I expect you think it worth a bit of frostbite,” the old cook said. “Hoping he might propose, are you?”

“I daresay he made you promises,” Mrs. Church said. “Did he tell you he’d marry you? Many a well-heeled scoundrel has employed just such a tactic to dishonor a girl.”

A surge of sadness took Meg unaware. She knew what the housekeeper and cook were thinking. It was what everyone would soon be thinking. But it wasn’t true. Ivo Beresford didn’t look at her that way. He never had. After tonight, Meg knew it beyond all doubt. If Ivo ever thought of her at all, it was only with something akin to pity.

“Mr. Beresford is a gentleman,” she said. “And our nearest neighbor. That’s all there was to his invitation. Nothing more.”

“Hmm.” Mrs. Stapleton didn’t sound convinced. She poured herself a nip of brandy before joining Meg in front of the fire. “I saw the young man when he came to meet with the master. A handsome gentleman, to be sure.”

“Handsome is as handsome does,” Mrs. Church muttered.

“Even so,” Mrs. Stapleton went on, “you must have had a jolly time at Beasley Park.”

“Yes, quite jolly.” Meg sipped her tea.

She might have realized the two servants would expect a thorough report. They thrived on village gossip, and a Burton-Smythe attending a dance at Beasley Park was tittle-tattle of the juiciest sort.

If only Mrs. Church and Mrs. Stapleton realized how scandalous it had truly been!

Meg wanted to weep just thinking about it. The pain was still too fresh.

And she couldn’t even fully blame Ivo for inflicting it.

He’d clearly thought he was acting in everyone’s best interests—presenting his stubborn family with a fait accompli. It had been a generous impulse. One aimed at repairing the breach. In the end, all it had done was make Meg feel small and self-conscious and completely out of her depth.

She knew now that she had no place in his world.

“Was the family all in residence?” Mrs. Stapleton asked. “Miss Honeywell and Lord St. Clare?”

“Not Miss Honeywell any longer,” Meg said. “As for Lord St. Clare—that title belongs to her eldest son n-now, not to her husband, the earl.”

Mrs. Stapleton chuckled. “That’s my age you’re hearing. She’ll always be Miss Honeywell to me. I remember her of old. And that dashing husband of hers—still a rogue, I take it?”

“Still devoted to her,” Meg said. Despite his air of glacial reserve, that much had been plain. Lord and Lady Allendale had formed a united front from the moment Meg had entered the drawing room. United against her.

“What of their children?” Mrs. Church asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “Their other sons and their daughter?”

“They were all excessively civil.” Meg took another drink of her tea. “They had guests staying as well. A Lieutenant Heywood and his younger sister.”