Page 44 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine

“Well, a very wise reverend has told me that miracles do happen,” Mrs Adamson said with a wry smile. “So, we shall go forward with the highest expectations, Miss Honeywell.”

“Indeed, we shall, and thank you for everything, Mrs Adamson. I believe you will be critical to our success.”

Rather to Clementine’s surprise, the lady’s cheeks grew pink with pleasure at her words.

“Thank you,” Mrs Adamson said, her tone sincere. “You and your father and sisters welcomed me from the moment I arrived, and I am so grateful. It is for that reason that I hope you will heed my words carefully and believe I mean them for the best.”

“Of course,” Clementine said, wondering to what on earth she was referring.

“Have a care with Stonehaven. He can be remarkably charming, and it would be far too easy for a naive girl to form a tendre for him, but he is not the marrying kind. I would not like to see either of your sisters hurt by a man who does not comprehend what tenderness is.”

Clementine nodded, her own concerns only underscored by the woman’s warning. “Thank you, Mrs Adamson. I confess I had come to the same conclusion, but I doubt we shall see the marquess again anytime soon.”

Mrs Adamson smiled, but did not look confident. “I hope you may be right, but Lord Stonehaven is used to having everything his own way, and to getting what he wants. Take care of your sisters, Miss Honeywell.”

Clementine agreed she would certainly do so and walked out of the hotel, intending to go down to the beach. As she did so, she saw a young woman walking down the hill. Clementine had never seen her before and was suddenly reminded of Miss Edith’s request that she make herself known to Miss Marwick, who would be renting one of the seafront cottages.

“Good day to you!” she called.

The woman paused at hearing her voice, and for a moment Clementine thought she saw a glimmer of irritation, but it vanished so quickly, replaced by a bright smile, that she felt certain she must have imagined it.

“You must be Miss Marwick,” Clementine said, holding out her hand to the woman as they drew near.

“I am,” she said, and Clementine realised she was very young, perhaps twenty years of age.

“Forgive me for waylaying you. I am Miss Honeywell. My father is Reverend Honeywell, of All Saints' Church. I shan’t keep you, for I can see you are busy, but I wished to welcome you and your brother to the town, and to invite you both to tea. My father loves meeting new people,” she added with a warm smile.

“You are too kind, Miss Honeywell. My brother travels a good deal, I’m afraid, and is away from home for the time being. Perhaps when he returns. Things are so topsy-turvy with only me and two maids to get everything put to rights. You know what men are for rushing off when there is housework to do,” she added ruefully.

Clementine nodded reassuringly. “Of course. But please know that we would very much welcome a visit when the time is right.”

“Thank you. That is so very kind of you. I shall be pleased to do so very soon.”

Clementine smiled and bade her goodbye, reassured that there was nothing nefarious about the girl, and glad that she could put Miss Edith’s mind to rest. Watching as Miss Marwick waved a friendly goodbye, she turned away and carried on down to the beach.

The breeze was cooler down on the sand and Clementine welcomed the faint prickle of sea spray as the waves frothed and bubbled upon the shore. She stood for a long time, watching the rush and foam, the tumble of shells and pull of sand as each wave drew back, taking and giving with each new back and forth. It was calming, somewhat hypnotising, and allowed her to put Mrs Adamson’s disquieting words into perspective.

In the first place, Bea was a sensible girl, and no marquess in his right mind was going to seduce a vicar’s daughter in a hole–in-the-wall town like Little Valentine. Bea was beloved by all, and the scandal would be appalling. The man would be a fool to consider it. But would he offer marriage, and ought Clementine to stand in her way if he did? She wanted her sister to marry well, did she not? Well, yes. But for love. She might believe Bea capable of snaring a duke, but Clementine would never force her into such a marriage if it did not make her happy.

“Good lord!” she said out loud, raising her head and staring up at the sky where the seagulls wheeled far above her, astonished that she’d had her sister both seduced by and married to the brute in the space of a few minutes. “Clementine Honeywell, what on earth are you thinking?”

“Ah, that is the eternal question, is it not? How I should like to know the answer.”

Clementine gave a little shriek of alarm and turned to find the Earl of Beaumarsh’s laughing blue eyes gazing down at her. She stared, disbelieving.

“Talking to the birds again, Miss Honeywell?” he asked, his slightly mocking tone softened by the warmth of the smile that accompanied it.

“Oh, drat you!” she said with a huff. “How is it you are always coming upon me in the most embarrassing situations? Are you trying to mortify me?”

He laughed at that and shook his head. “I promise I am not, and I find your desire to talk to wildlife most endearing, so please, do not feel even a twinge of discomfort on my behalf. I talk to my horse all the time. He is one of my most trusted advisors,” he added gravely.

“I’m sure that’s not the same thing at all, and I was not talking to the birds, but to myself,” she added, uncertain whether that made matters better or worse.

“Oh, that’s definitely worse,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he answered the question she had not voiced.

Clementine rolled her eyes. “How has someone not shot you in a duel? Are you this provoking to all your acquaintances?”

“Oh no. Only my very dear friends.”