Page 30 of The Captain's Midwinter Bride
Based on her pinched expression, it was obvious she hadn’t.
The older woman tugged on her gloves, the better to showcase the fact they were made of the finest kid leather. “It is not well done for a proper young woman to toss over her a gentleman of good breeding. People will talk.”
“Then let them talk.” Phillip crossed his arms over his chest. “A young woman is perfectly within her rights to call off an engagement, if she so chooses. And unfortunately for Mr. Newell, Beth has decided she no longer wishes to marry him.”
“Was it something I did?” the younger man blurted out, jumping to his feet and prowling back and forth across the carpet. “Did I not show you attention and offer you compliments?”
Annalise did not believe Beth owed the man any explanation, but her daughter was much more gracious than she was.
“I just do not believe we suit, Mr. Newell.” She folded her hands in her lap, all unflappable grace. “Better to realize it now before we are forced to spend the rest of our lives unhappy in our marriage.”
“What does happiness have to do with marriage?” Mrs. Newell growled. “Silas has already made financial decisions assuming he would be in possession of your dowry. They are decisions that cannot be undone, you ungrateful chit.”
Clamping her mouth closed, a blush crept over the older woman’s cheeks. Annalise suspected she hadn’t meant to reveal such a bald detail.
Before she could respond, Phillip’s gaze bore into her. She bit her tongue grudgingly.
Pacing away from the fireplace, her husband sank into the armchair next to Beth’s seat, and looked at Mr. Newell with a placid expression. His mien was one of boredom, but Annalise knew better. Phillip’s reserve disguised a fiercely loyal man who loved their daughter and would not allow her to be mistreated by anyone.
“Tell me, Mr. Newell,” he began politely, “why do you want to marry Beth? Aside from her dowry, that is.”
Ignoring his mother’s indignant gasp, Annalise watched Mr. Newell as his eyes darted about the room. Smoothing his hands over his lapels, he cleared his throat. “She’s a pretty, lively girl who would make an excellent political wife—with the proper mentoring, of course.”
“Of course.” Phillip nodded. “So when you returned to Bristol after your father’s death and discovered he had left you with a respectable name, but massive debt and empty coffers, your mother must have recommended you find a wealthy bride post-haste.” He paused, leaning forward. “It must have galled her, then, when you chose the daughter of a simple naval captain. Beth’s grandfather may have been gentry, but as he has died, his influence was non-existent. So while your mother wanted you to marry, she had hoped you would find a more worthy candidate than my Beth, even though her dowry was quite fine for your purposes. Is that not right?”
Mr. Newell held his tongue, although his Adam’s apple bobbed with the force of his swallows. For her part, Mrs. Newell simply studied the folds of her skirt.
Beth stared at the older woman with a slight curl to her lip.
“My daughter deserves a gentleman more worthy of her hand. It is not her responsibility to save you from financial decisions you made of your own accord. The settlements had not yet been signed, so you have no legal right to her dowry, and she has no reason to honor the engagement.” Looking to Beth, Phillip raised his brows. “And you no longer wish to marry Mr. Newell, is that not correct?”
“You are correct, Father,” Beth said staunchly.
“But we have guests coming for the wedding.” Mrs. Newell’s voice rose, her tone shrill. “Some from London. So many illustrious guests were going to be present for the ceremony. What am I supposed to tell them now?”
Annalise smiled. “Tell them that instead of a wedding celebration, they are welcome to celebrate Christmas with you and Mr. Newell. Surely that is a most appropriate alternative.”
Mrs. Newell glared at her before swinging her gaze to her daughter. She pointed a bony finger at Beth. “I told Silas you were not good enough for him. And I was right. He will be humiliated in front of the entire community.”
A small smile softened the irate lines on Beth’s face. “Of course Mr. Newell will not be humiliated. I daresay there will be numerous young ladies thanking the good Lord for allowing them a second chance to earn his notice. Rather than fret about the broken engagement, I would think you’d be cheering the idea that he may still marry a young woman you can approve of.”
Pressing a handkerchief to her mouth, Annalise did her best to contain her laugh. Beth had responded perfectly to the older woman’s vitriol, and a warm glow of pride in her daughter filled her chest.
Apparently unable to think of an appropriate response to Beth’s logical argument, Mrs. Newell rose to her feet and swept out the door. Her son made to follow her, but he hesitated at the doorway.
“I had looked forward to marrying you, Miss Dalton. You really are the prettiest young lady of my acquaintance.”
“But I am much more than pretty, Mr. Newell,” Beth said, standing to face him, “and I fear our marriage would have suffered when you realized this truth for yourself.”
Mr. Newell cast his eyes to the floor and nodded. After a long moment, he finally said, “Have a good day.”
Annalise darted her gaze to Beth, words of praise on her tongue, when the young woman collapsed onto the settee next to her.
“That was much more difficult than I anticipated.”
“You made it look effortless, my dear,” Phillip said.
“Oh, but my hands were shaking the entire time.” Beth knotted her fingers together in her lap. “But I’m ever so relieved it’s done. I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”
