Page 49 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine

Once again, Beau tried to speak, a denial ready to burst from him. No. Certainly, they would be content, but not that… that terrifying depth of feeling. No. Not that. Yet, he could not say it. Not to this man. So he simply swallowed the anxiety the reverend’s words gave him and smiled blandly.

“Excuse me. I believe I should like to steal my fiancée away for a while. If you have no objection.”

“Goodness, no. Of course, you must. Take her for a walk. There’s no rush. Young people in love must have their privacy,” the fellow said, beaming as he called for Clementine to fetch her bonnet so that Sylvester could take her for a walk.

A few minutes later, Beau walked out of the vicarage garden with Clementine on his arm. They promenaded in complete silence for a few moments before she glanced up at him.

“Well, this is awkward.”

Beau laughed. “And here I was racking my brain for ways not to draw attention to that fact. I ought to know better.”

“You really should. If we are to be married— Goodness, but I still cannot believe I am saying that out loud,” she said in bewilderment. “But if we are, you must understand that I am not the kind to beat around the bush. If a thing needs saying, I shall say it, whether you like it or not, I’m afraid. So, if you wish to cry off, now is your chance.” She slanted an expectant glance at him and Beau grinned at her.

“Sorry, love. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You’ll have to try a good deal harder to dissuade me.”

She sighed and shook her head. “You poor fool. I do not think you have the slightest notion what you have done.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve done the only sensible thing in a life filled with inanity and foolishness.”

“I cannot abide inanity,” she warned him, though her eyes danced with mirth. “I am very fond of the ridiculous, and I believe I have a lively sense of humour, but I have no patience for foolishness.”

“Nor for fools, yet here we are,” he remarked dryly.

She tutted at that and rolled her eyes. “You are no fool, my Lord Beaumarsh. The face you show the world might be that of a shallow fribble, but the truth is far different. I have learned that much of you, else we would not be having this conversation.”

“I am glad you think so,” he said, covering her hand where it rested upon his sleeve. “I shall try to make you proud of me.” She looked so startled by this remark that he frowned. “Do you not think I can do it?”

Clementine shook her head and for a moment his breath caught until she said, “I am proud of you!”

He waved this away. “Yes, yes, for being an earl, for having a handsome face and form, I know that, but those things were given to me. I didn’t earn them. I should like to earn your respect.”

“You already have it, my lord,” she replied, her voice soft, curiosity alive in her eyes.

“No,” he said impatiently. “You do not understand. But you shall, I promise.”

She smiled then, a sweet smile that stole his breath and shifted in his chest. “I am certain I shall,” she said, a quality to her gaze he had never seen before.

Was that trust? He hoped so, but if it was not, he would earn that too.

“When will you be married?” Izzy asked, a combination of excitement and sadness in her voice that touched Clementine deeply.

It was late, past midnight, and yet none of them were ready to sleep, too overwhelmed by the events of the day. They sat cross-legged on her bed like they had often done as children, a plate of biscuits between them.

“Papa must read the banns, so in two weeks, after the third Sunday. Lord Beaumarsh does not wish for a long engagement,” Clementine said self-consciously.

Bea smothered a giggle, and Clementine elbowed her.

“It’s all happening rather quickly,” she admitted with a bewildered laugh. “And I feel utterly wretched about the club. What on earth is to be done about Mrs Jenner and her vile husband? I can’t forget about her and leave her to her fate. I have responsibilities, and then there’s the everyday things, what about the word games and riddles for the paper? Who will do those?”

“Oh, Clemmie, don’t be daft,” Bea said at once. “This is your future! You cannot give it up for anyone. We will not forget Mrs Jenner and will find a way to help her, so do not insult us by believing otherwise. If you still want to do the word games, you can always send them. You’re going to Kent, not Timbuktu, and think of all the good you will do as the Countess of Beaumarsh.”

“That’s what he said,” Clementine replied wryly. “You should have heard him listing all the reasons I ought to marry him for the good of the family and the women of England, never mind Little Valentine. He’s far craftier than I gave him credit for.”

“It’s true, though,” Izzy agreed. “You can be our patron.”

Clementine nodded slowly. She was still coming to terms with the fact that she would be a wealthy woman with money of her own. “He said he would give me a generous income and not question what I do with it.”

“Goodness,” Izzy said in wonder. “What else did he say, Clemmie? Does he love you?”