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"And do you think that's a problem of her birth? Or a problem of how we do things here?" Lord Beckham presented the question with a tap on his chin.
"Now you're beginning to sound like her," Lord Havenshire guffawed, before a coughing fit stole his breath away. He slunk onto one of the stablekeeper's stools. "She's quite the firebrand, and I know the other gentlemen... they see no value in a woman who's been across the world. They think she's... mad, or that some ill-mannered ideas have tainted her like a disease," Lord Havenshire lamented.
"She certainly seemed... lovely, when I spoke with her," Lord Beckham hesitated to say, though he meant it.
"That," Lord Havenshire exclaimed, "that. Is precisely why I've invited you here, Marshall. You know how our world works - even if it's not how we want it to work, not how Nadia wants it to work. If you could just, perhaps, help to teach her - help to convince her, that while the idea of women as equals is noble... it's just not how it works. Coming from you—"
"Father? The servants told me you'd gone to the stables," a voice crept through the stable doors; Lord Beckham's heart froze, his eyes widened. He heard her - her pleasant but plucky voice, and with his eyes set on the swinging stable doors, he saw her, dressed in the manner of an equestrian, her pants tight and tall and white, clung to her sweet curves, her expression bright, her hair tied back, a jacket fit snug over her torso. Her eyes gleamed... until they fell upon the sight of Lord Beckham, a familiar face that inspired so many different, clashing emotions in her mind. She swallowed hard, her own expression mirroring the shock in Lord Beckham's.
He appreciated seeing her... even if it came at so disastrous a time.
"Nadia! You recognize this man, don't you? Lady Henrietta told me you two had quite a time sitting next to one another last night at Lord Perrywise's banquet," Lord Havenshire exclaimed in the loudest, congratulatory tone his ravaged throat could muster. "I've invited him to see the horses, and I was just exhibiting Shadow to him."
"Y... yes, I know of... of Lord Beckham," Nadia gulped, watching Marshall closely. He regarded her with his own sense of suspicion, of praise; he had no inkling of how offended she had been after their failed conversation, or even if he had any hope to make good their potential relationship. "I'm not certain what Lady Henrietta believed of our relationship, but... we're simply acquaintances, nothing more," she said, rather cuttingly.
"Y... yes, acquaintances," Lord Beckham responded, crestfallen.
"And so is here to purchase a horse, then?" Nadia asked curtly. "...with the fortune he secured from beneath his sister's feet?"
"Lady Havenshire, I had hoped we could speak about—" Lord Beckham blurted, ire stoked by her comments.
"Speak about? Speak about what?" she retorted, arms crossed atop her chest.
"Nadia, you're not being courteous to our guest," Lord Havenshire rumbled. "Act like a proper lady, I know for certain I and Ms. Mulwray taught you properly."
"Guest? He's a guest, is he?" Lady Havenshire scowled. "I'm not quite so stupid as you seem to believe, father. I've guessed astutely at the purpose of his visit, and I'm quite certain it's not simply to fawn over the horses."
"That's not how I taught you to speak to your peers, Nadia," Lord Havenshire grumbled, coughing as he shifted along the uncomfortable stool.
"M'lady, I had no intentions of offending you, but I was scarcely going to simply ignore the plea of a sick man to visit his estate, whether Lady Henrietta was behind it or no," Lord Beckham protested. "I apologize for offense my situation may have caused your sensibilities, but—"
"But you knew you had offended me, yet you accepted my father's invitation, knowing full well who had had a hand in it, and what he - and Lady Henrietta - had hoped would come from such a meeting," Nadia bristled, her long equestrian boot stamping into the dirt as she punctuated each word harshly. "Taking that into account, I don't think you're quite sorry for your words or situation at all. I think you're taking full advantage of the position afforded you as a man."
"I had no intention of offending you, again," Lord Beckham growled, "but I'd be betraying myself and my estate if I so crassly refused—"
"Such simple excuses," Nadia scoffed.
"Nadia, I've invited this man to our estate and now you're insulting him, and I'll not tolerate it," Lord Havenshire's voice gurgled out through a cough.
"Father, you've invited this man to try to marry me off, just as you called me back home to marry me off. And now, you're conspiring to take away my agency, simply because you think it'd be in my best interests. And how are you to say I'm not capable of acting in my own best interests? I'm a grown woman, with a mind, one that's seen far more of the world than a man like this," she sneered, before turning in disgust and storming from the stable door. Deflated, Lord Beckham realized he had, by now, done too much damage to any hope he had held on to to reignite that spark; to strike the flint once more and create a raging fire of emotion between them. He had failed, just as he had failed Anna.
"You see what a dying old father has to deal with?" Lord Havenshire coughed loudly, shaking his head. "She's lovely, really, beneath the layers of willful scorn she wears like heavy plate armor, I promise. She takes from me - not her mother, who was as lovely a woman as the moors have ever seen. No, I was willful as she is when I was her age, and I blame myself for letting the world change her, make her hardened, and not the woman she should be, looking for a husband," he lamentled. "I apologize for her."
"You needn't," Lord Beckham shook his head. "Willful, yes, and perhaps far too judgmental for her own good. But I would never fault a woman for thinking of her own freedom. Isn't that what all men do?" Lord Havenshire regarded him curiously, still stunned to hear these sorts of things said by a man of northern England.
"Lord Beckham, I have to be brutal in my honesty to you. I've not told anyone, not even Nadia, but... I've not got much time of my own left on this world. She's not stupid, and so I'm certain she grasps the urgency of my situation, but she... Ms. Mulwray, they've all deluded themselves into denial. The truth is that without some manner of intervention, I'll die without seeing her married, and she - and our family estate - will be lost," Lord Havenshire confided, his voice shaky. "You, though - you've shown an unusual sort of tolerance for my daughter's ideas, and... well, I can't be certain what was said between you, at that dinner, but I think that you're the only man I can say this to, right now, in confidence that you'll understand."
"It's gracious of you to trust me, m'lord, but..." Lord Beckham hesitated; he heard thunder begin to rumble, and as the sound stretched across the sea of grass waving beyond, he swallowed, flashes of the day on the Delshire Moors bringing fresh trauma to his mind. "...I'm not deserving of your daughter; or of any wife, in honesty. I've only disappointed those I've fallen in love with, and I've no doubt your daughter - finding herself a prisoner in her estate - would fare any better."
"A disappointment? Marshall, you're anything but," Lord Havenshire insisted. "Your tolerance for my daughter's odd ideas means you're the only man I've known capable of corralling her. Of convincing her of the importance of marriage."
"I..." Lord Beckham's voice trailed away as he thought on the old man's words. Perhaps Lord Havenshire had a point. Lord Beckham knew the sorts of men cluttering the aristocracy; outwardly they loved to play the role of the deferential gentleman, but within they harbored all those same predilections and basal passions that drove all the misery and woe of the world - greed for power, greed for control; greed for wealth and fortune. He knew she needed marriage - even if she didn't want it - and she knew that any other man would keep her in the cage she feared, and would stifle all those thoughts of hers.
"Lord Beckham, I beg you to at least, please consider the thought. I know how Nadia appears, but she's a lovely woman," Lord Havenshire pleaded, tears rolling at the edges of his eyes. With a weighty sigh, Lord Beckham glanced away, holding his eyes closed.
"I'll... consider it, m'lord," he answered in a deep, thrumming tone. "I'll... I'll consider it closely."
CHAPTER NINE
