Page 34 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine

“My lord,” Clementine said, dipping a curtsy. “Please, do come inside.”

Miss Honeywell left them in a cheerfully sunny parlour whilst she went to fetch her father. She could hardly look at him, and yet she couldn’t not look at him either. It was rather hard to keep the stupid grin from his face. Beau watched her go, still wishing he could have made their rather unorthodox meeting last a little longer. He’d been sorely tempted to put his arms around her, but he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of the situation. Not too much of a gentleman to enjoy it, though.

It had been no hardship to feel her plastered against him. He hadn’t cared a fig for the fact there was a pebble digging into his hip, or that his immaculate person was likely covered in dust. He had cared that her lush breasts were pressed hard against him, and the feel of her hands pushing against his chest made him think of far more intimate situations where she might be in such a position. She had been so appalled, so terribly flustered, and yet he thought he had seen curiosity in her eyes, fascination even, and believed she had rather enjoyed the interlude herself, despite her embarrassment. He hoped so.

“I begin to see what you mean,” Stonehaven remarked, looking about the room with approval. Though the furnishing were a little worn, and the curtains faded at the edges, the room had a welcoming, homely air and Beau could well imagine many convivial afternoons and evenings spent in such a place.

“What does that mean?” Beau asked, praying he had not made a mistake in bringing Stonehaven here. He was an honourable fellow, but he could be the very devil when the mood took him.

“It’s peaceful here. It seems to be a world away from London, almost another country, and yet it is not far at all.”

Beau nodded, pleased that his friend understood the appeal. “It’s a spa town, though the spa seems to be nothing but a thin trickle of water in a hidden spot, no fashionable pump room, and I should pay ten pounds to see you drink a glass of the vile stuff. I’ve never tasted worse,” he said with a laugh. “No one seems to know about the place, charming as it is. The few visitors are mostly very old and middle class, from what I understand.”

“Well, that will change soon enough, for I shall spread the word,” Stonehaven said with a smile.

Beau opened his mouth to demand Stonehaven do no such thing. He did not wish for Little Valentine to change, but that was selfish, wasn’t it? People needed to live and prosper, and how much easier it would be for those who lived here if their town became fashionable with the arrival of the beau monde.

He had no time to consider the matter further, however, as the reverend appeared.

“My Lord Beaumarsh!” the man exclaimed, his face lit with genuine pleasure. “How good of you to remember us and return to our little town. I told Clemmie you would not forget us, but she did not believe me.”

Clemmie blushed and avoided Beau’s gaze, which pleased him to no end. She had changed her gown and tidied herself, and looked pretty in a dress of sprigged muslin trimmed with blue ribbon. It was several years out of fashion, but suited her and showed her figure to advantage. Suddenly, Beau remembered the sight of her in her nightgown and found his gaze riveted to the way the material fit snugly over her bosom and then fell to skim her hips. There was a lovely little waist beneath that fabric, he thought with a smile. He glanced at Stonehaven and noticed with some irritation that he too was looking at her as if he was aware of how she looked in her nightclothes.

Beau turned his attention to the reverend and smiled. “We are only passing, but a friend of ours has a hunting lodge close to here. As we were on our way, and I had told Stonehaven about my stay here, he was fascinated and wished to meet you, sir.”

“To meet me?” the reverend repeated, beaming at this information. “Why, you flatter me, my lord. I cannot think what possessed you, but I am most pleased. Most pleased indeed. Though I suspect my lovely daughters are more of a draw. Now, make yourselves at home, we do not stand on ceremony in this house. Clemmie darling, is tea coming?”

“Yes, Papa,” Clementine said.

“And your sisters?”

“They were in the garden but shall be with us presently.”

Beau looked at her as she sat and smoothed down her skirts. She had recovered her equanimity, for which he was a little sorry. Miss Honeywell in a fluster was terribly endearing, but now there was the sensible, no-nonsense creature he knew… somewhat, at least. Perhaps aware of his scrutiny, she glanced up, and this time held his gaze. He felt the determination behind the action, and it made him smile. There was something else too, as she refused to look away from him, a subtle pull, a flickering of interest, and the spark of curiosity that had been lit by their sudden proximity.

He had never exerted himself where Miss Honeywell was concerned. She had made her feelings about him so plain there had seemed little point in trying to flirt with her as he did with most women. He had simply relaxed in her company and been entirely himself, which had been a novelty. Now, however, he wondered how she would react if he used his wiles upon her. Give him a tremendous scold most likely, he thought with an inward chuckle, not finding the idea at all disheartening.

“I hope you are in good health, Lord Beaumarsh?” she asked politely.

“I am, thank you, and yourself?” he asked, wishing they could dispense with the small talk and feeling certain she was just as irked by the need for polite chatter. If only they had not had a witness earlier, perhaps he might have stolen a kiss. He wondered what she would have done if he had. The thought intrigued him more than he might have expected, and he found his gaze falling to her mouth as she answered.

“Quite well, thank you,” she replied, gazing at him uncertainly. “You had a pleasant journey, I hope?”

“Yes, indeed we did, and returning here so soon was an unexpected pleasure. I am so very glad Stonehaven suggested it.”

Beau knew his eyes were saying something else entirely as he stared at her, unblinking. Did she read his face, his words, correctly? And would she take him to task for it the moment they were alone? He rather hoped so. He bit back a laugh, but she clearly saw something in his expression, no matter how she interpreted it, for she stared back at him as if daring him to misbehave in company.

The door opened, and two young women walked in. Miss Isabelle, whom he had met before, was a lovely girl of perhaps eighteen years, and even the spectacles she wore could not diminish that fact. Indeed, they gave her face an interesting quality, a little owlish perhaps, but quite charming. Her sister, however, well, well. Miss Honeywell had been quite correct. Miss Beatrice could capture a duke, dowry or no. She was quite simply breathtaking.

“Ah, well, gentlemen, here are the lights of my life. Clementine, you have met, of course, but here is Miss Beatrice and Miss Isabelle,” the reverend said, with obvious pride as the girls both made their curtsies.

Beau glanced at Stonehaven to see his expression of astonished delight at finding himself in the company of three such lovely creatures. Fair and blue-eyed, each was a step closer to perfection, with Miss Beatrice at the zenith. Part of what made her so lovely, he realised, as he watched the two young women sit themselves beside their older sister on the settee, was her complete lack of awareness of the effect she had on those around her.

London society would eat her alive, Beau thought with sudden concern and wondered if Miss Honeywell would be doing the girl the good turn she believed, if she gave her sister the season she desired for her.

The tea tray arrived, and, for a while, all was quiet whilst Clementine poured and prepared a cup to everyone’s liking. There were cakes too, little vanilla sponges that were as light as clouds, and sugar biscuits, which Stonehaven devoured with unabashed pleasure.

“Have you just escaped the heat of the town, my lord?” Honeywell asked them with interest.