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“I offered to spend a few hours at the clinic prior to coming here. Surely you don’t object to my tending to the poor,dear sister.”
Bea rolled her eyes. Lord, but she executed it to perfection. At least she had learned something at their mother’s knee. “I’m not talking about the fact you were late to my party. I’m talking about your romantic entanglements.”
“Entanglements, plural? I have no idea what you might be implying.”
“Really, Timothy. You’ve been courting Lady Honoria for five months, but the way you looked at Miss Pratt mere moments ago . . .”
He opened his mouth to object, and Bea held out a silencing hand.
“Don’t deny it. Years spent as a wallflower have honed my observation skills quite well, thank you very much. Besides, I know you better than most people know themselves. There is something between you and Miss Pratt, and I, for one, wish to know what it is.”
He narrowed his eyes, hoping to imitate their mother’s look of disapproval. “I don’t owe you anything. I might remind you I’m a grown man and capable of managing my own love life.”
She met him stare for stare. “Are you? Truly?”
“Motherhood has softened your brain. You’re imagining things.”
“And you are evading the question. So apparently my brain has not become assoftas you think. Are you about to break Lady Honoria’s heart for the likes of Miss Priscilla Pratt?”
Fury boiled inside his chest, his voice escalating in volume. “What on earth do you have against Miss Pratt?”
Andrew Weatherby—who had been passing—stopped, blinked twice, sent a concerned look toward Bea, then hurried away when she shook her head.
Timothy lowered his voice. “What has Miss Pratt done to deserve such vitriol from you, of all people?”
“Do you really have to ask me that? What she did to Ashton is unforgivable.”
“She’s trying to make amends. Haven’t you ever made mistakes you regretted, Bea? Might I remind you that you yourself staged a compromise? With none other than Lord Nash Talbot?” He wanted to spit the man’s name out to rid his mouth of the foul taste.
“That was entirely different.” She at least had the decency to blush.
“Oh, so the fact you were attempting to extricate yourself from an engagement rather than enter one excuses you? Deceit is deceit, Bea.”
Bea recoiled as if he’d actually struck her. Guilt swirled in his gut. The fact that he himself experienced the effects of such deceit only made his accusation more egregious.
Reaching out, he took her hand, but she slipped from his grasp as if his touch burned her skin. “Bea,” he said, his voice softening with regret. “I’m asking you to give Miss Pratt a chance. She’s a friend, nothing more.” The lie pricked his conscience.
“Friend?” Bea’s chin dipped and her lips pressed together in a straight line as if she wished to say more but exhibited an uncharacteristic bit of restraint.
“Lady Honoria and I are helping her rebuild her reputation. She’s truly sorry for what happened and only wishes to make amends so she may secure a good marriage within society. Can you blame her for that?”
“No. I suppose not. But I would be remiss in my duties as your sister were I not to caution you about her. Promise me you will be on your guard.”
“I promise.” In truth, an invincible fortress surrounded his heart, guarding it against any interloper.
“As for Lady Honoria, it would be best to make your intentions known as soon as possible. Propose and announce your engagement. That should protect you from any unwelcome advances from unscrupulous females.”
Truth rested in Bea’s words, and Timothy saw the wisdom in them. Yet, knowing what he should do and doing it were two different matters.
Masculine laughter drifted in from the terrace, reminding Timothy that Nash still lurked about, leaving Priscilla open to his advances.
“Now, we should get back. Your guests will be missing you.”
Bea gave him one more eye roll for good measure, then threaded her arm through his and led him back outside.
* * *
Never in herlife had Priscilla enjoyed a garden party less. Oh, it was a perfectly lovely party, to be certain. Fresh flowers scented the cool spring breeze. Liveried servants offered refreshment for every imaginable taste, artfully displayed on shining silver trays. Dulcet notes from a string quartet rose from the side of the terrace.
