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Chapter Nine
Beatrice reserved the wearing of the Candleton rubies to mark important events—and tonight was one such occasion. Not only was it the last ball of the Season, hosted by a duke no less, she was certain the night would spark great romance.
Oh, not for her, no, but for her friend, Clara Chadbourne.
For months, Bea had suspected some sort of awakening on Clara’s part, who glowed from within and had recently admitted a change of heart about marrying. She denied having any peer in mind, but was determined to have children—something Bea could understand most heartily.
William awaited Bea at the bottom of the stairs, taking in not only her jewels but her gold damask gown. “You shine, my lady.”
“Quite literally,” she said, looking down at the sheen of the luxurious fabric, and they both laughed.
A year and a half had passed since his last, agonizing visit to her bedchamber, but they had regained their footing as friends, at least. If she was nearby when William returned home, she made a point of greeting him pleasantly, but she no longer ran to the foyer to welcome him like a hound eager for affection. They spent as much time as everen famille, and she took her duties as society hostess to heart, continuing to support his career through her efforts. They had even returned to lighthearted card play and reading aloud to each other after dinner.
On the way to the ball, their carriage was mired in the predictable stoppages, including behind the line of vehicles in front of the duke’s residence. William bent her ear on political issues, and she obliged him readily, with compassion for his worries and pointed opinions as warranted.
“You’re distracted,” he observed after she was quiet for a while. “Clara?”
Nodding, she smoothed her gown. William had not entirely approved of Bea having pulled strings with the Duchess for Clara’s invitation, who would not have earned a ticket based on her own social merit. As with many things, her husband had indulged Bea’s wish to remain friends with the spirited spinster, but only so long as they kept their outings to certain realms. They saw each other at Grosvenor Chapel, where Clara and her brother attended services, and William had remained generous with his time chaperoning evenings to the theater and to concerts.
But a duke’s ball?
“I know I pushed rather shamelessly to include Clara this evening, and I thank you for your support,” Bea said with genuine gratitude. “I know you don’t wish to be involved in romantic intrigues, but surely, the Viscount’stendrefor Clara can’t have escaped your notice.”
“Viscount?” William, debonair in his evening finery, blinked. “Viscount Chavasse?”
“Yes! He’s taken with her, I assure you. Don’t you recall him visiting our theater box so suspiciously last month?”
Frowning, he looked at the ceiling of the carriage as he recalled. “He asked questions about the abolition of the Corn Laws.”
“Precisely! The abolition finally went into full effect, but did the Viscount ever show any interest in the subject these past years? Or since?” She giggled when his mouth opened haplessly. “No! And his gaze strayed to Clara repeatedly. You weren’t in the park when she and I encountered him during a ride, but it was the same then.”
“Chavasse is a fine man, but marriage? With Clara?”
“She’s an earl’s sister,” Bea reminded him. “And my friend.”
“A delightful one. Come, I know how important she’s been to you since you were girls. But we both know that as long as the Earl persists in trade, and with the scandals of the past, that family is…”
Bea raised her chin. “A marriage to Viscount Chavasse could be just the thing.”
“True, true,” he conceded. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I apologize. I had sought to rehabilitate Anterleigh’s reputation with my offer to work together in Parliament—and failed. You, however, are an even greater force to be reckoned with. If you have deemed it worth the risk tonight, I concede to your judgment wholeheartedly.”
“Thank you, William. Rest assured, it’s not my only aim tonight. I won’t forget to take Lady Lansfield aside to thank her for his lordship’s last vote.”
An hour later, as David and Clara Chadbourne’s arrival was announced at the ball, Bea felt so hopeful she couldn’t help but squeeze her husband’s arm. William smiled indulgently.
“Good evening, Clara,” she greeted her friend, noting her healthy glow. It confirmed her suspicions that something lovely was bound to transpire this night; Clara looked primed.
Not long after the Chadbournes’s proper greetings to the surrounding group, Clara freed her brother to join some of his acquaintances elsewhere. Bea wondered at the look on Clara’s face as she watched him depart, a mixture of affection and sadness. Their aunt had died a few years earlier, and they had only each other now.
Bea and Clara exchanged a brief amused look when the Earl received quite a stirring reaction from the hopeful women who watched him sail past. Admittedly, the man cut a dashing figure.
As did Viscount Chavasse, though it soon became clear that Clara remained as unaware about the man’s interest as William had been. He was a bit bookish to be widely popular, but the Viscount was sincere, relatively young at just past thirty, and importantly, not put off by either Clara’s intelligence or her age—six-and-twenty.
Whatever her apparent ignorance of the Viscount’s interest, Clara was all too aware of her place in the social order. After their greetings, she drifted toward the edge of their group. Nonetheless, Bea shared an enthusiastic look with her later when not only a string quartet gathered near the piano but several horn and flute players. The Duchess had not skimped on entertainment for this lively event, which was set to become quite the crush.
As was customary, Clara danced her first set with her escort, her brother, who returned to fetch her. The two were tall and stately, and Clara danced with enthusiasm. Beatrice knew that she herself could not compare, and William, while handsome in his own right and faithful to the mazurka’s steps, likewise did not stand out for his dancing.
Nonetheless, when her husband offered his arm gallantly to escort her to the dance floor, she did not miss the warmth and appreciation in his gaze. “The night I proposed to you, Bea, I knew you would do justice to the Candleton rubies.” His eyes dropped to the deep-red gems in the necklace. “What I have learned, since, however, is that their beauty and value pale in comparison to yours.”
