Page 22 of On a Midsummer Night
“It means she doesn’t trust you. Yet,” Oliver added, enunciating thetwith a click. He tilted his head to the side. “And I don’t blame her.”
Raising his hand to signal to the footman to bring him another glass of brandy, Henry allowed his aggravation to stew. What had Beth not disclosed? And why did it even matter in this situation? He’d been very clear with Oliver about why he’d courted Lucy, so Henry could not understand why Beth’s supposed secret had anything to do with it.
His annoyed musings were cut short when the footman delivered Henry’s drink.
“Will you be attending the Weatherton ball tonight?” Oliver asked. “Beth asked me to escort her, and I agreed.”
“I had planned to, but now that I’m no longer courting your cousin, the idea of willingly spending my evening at a ball seems like unnecessary torture.”
“But misery loves company, and I am asking you to bemycompany,” Oliver said.
“When you word it like that, how can I refuse?” Henry drawled.
Oliver’s loud bark of laughter made Henry chuckle in turn, and the men carried on as they used to, before secrets and hidden scandal had severed their friendship.
* * *
“You look quite lovely in green, Lucy. I’m surprised you do not wear it more often.”
“Mother is not fond of the color.” Her cousin considered her reflection in the mirror, her hands holding out the lush green skirts of her ball gown for inspection. With its gold stitching and brocade design, it was truly stunning. “But she agreed to let me purchase this gown because even she could appreciate its craftsmanship.”
“I’m proud of you for insisting on purchasing it and wearing it tonight. You’re beautiful with your flaxen curls and pretty pink cheeks,” Beth murmured, smiling at her cousin in the mirror.
“Thank you, Beth,” Lucy whispered, swishing her dress about her. After a moment, she looked up and said, “Mother and Father do not know that I’ve spoken with Mr. Ramsgate about ending our courtship.”
Beth snorted. “I figured as much when Aunt Meredith instructed you to save your supper dance for him.”
“Yes, well . . .” Lucy knotted her fingers together. “There was no good time to broach the subject.”
“I suppose there’s a possibility you won’t have to tell them.” Beth rolled a pair of black gloves up her arms. “When they notice his lack of attention this evening, they may assume his interest has waned.”
“And Mother would blame me if it did.”
Beth pivoted about to face her cousin. “And I will be by your side when you state that is an unfair thing to say.”
Lucy pressed her lips together and fidgeted with the seam at her waist. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Would you be interested in a courtship with Mr. Ramsgate? The two of you seem quite fond of each other.”
Beth went still. She couldn’t help it. Anytime someone said Henry’s name, her body tensed, and her senses flared. Watching him mend his friendship with Oliver had soothed a part of her soul she had not been aware needed fixing and spending the hours with him laughing and jesting, as all three of them had back in Bristol years ago, had kept a smile on her face all day. And she was to see him tonight.
But he still needed a bride. Oliver had told her about the uncomfortable position that necessitated Henry’s courtship of Lucy as if it would encourage Beth and Henry down a path to romance. Yet the idea Henry would only desire to marry her because her surname would appease his superiors was a hurt that she refused to inflict upon herself. Beth wanted Henry to propose because he loved her, not because he needed to advance his career.
Beth did not explain this to Lucy. No one needed to know how quickly she had fallen back in love with him, especially because she wasn’t as certain as her cousin was that he returned her affection.
Clearing her throat, she offered a wan smile. “Mr. Ramsgate is Oliver’s friend, which means he’s my friend. Nothing more.”
Lucy peered at her, but Beth refused to meet her gaze. Her cousin could be perceptive at inopportune moments, and she was determined that this would not be one of them.
Not when she was struggling even to perceive herself.
Chapter Eight
“I thought you would come rescue me from Aunt Meredith’s cloying conversation,” a voice whispered in her ear, “but instead, you left me to the wolves.”
Beth nudged her elbow back into the speaker’s gut, smothering a snicker when the air rushed out of him in a whoosh. Angling her head up, she met Oliver’s pained gaze. “One could say you’ve leftmeto the wolves these last few months.”
