Page 6 of Beth: A Regency Romance Novell

Beth reached the seats near the French doors. Mrs. Grayshott was not seated there nor was she on the terrace. She frowned. “Now where has she gone?”

“The ladies were discussing their mutual passion for gardening.” Lord Ramsey looked faintly apologetic. “I wonder if they might have gone into the gardens?”

“I don’t have time to search the gardens for them.” Beth grew more aggravated by the minute. “I’ll have to leave her a note.”

From his coat pocket, Lord Ramsey produced a notebook and pencil. “Allow me.”

“You are too kind, sir.” Greatly flustered, Beth hurried to a console table against the wall, and slipping into the chair, scrawled a hurried note advising the lady of the accident which had caused her departure, and requesting she make her excuses to their hostess. Seething with impatience, she searched for a footman.

“Miss Harrismith.” Lord Ramsey placed a calming hand on her arm. “If you’ll permit me on such short acquaintance, please allow me to convey you to your sister. My carriage awaits. As I have mentioned, I am about to embark on a journey to Windsor.”

Desperate, Beth grasped at this solution. “How kind,” she murmured, still searching around her for the rude woman. She couldn’t make sense of her behavior, nor the letter. Jenny and Andrew would surely have reached Castlebridge some hours ago. Why would they be in Twickenham? “I can’t imagine…” She put her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, might we go now, my lord? I’ll just give this note to the footman.”

“Allow me. I shall join you at the front door.” He took the note from her tense fingers and disappeared among the chatting guests.

Lord Ramsey joined her again a few moments later as she donned her evening cloak and gloves.

“My carriage awaits your pleasure, Miss Harrismith!” he said with a gesture to the black coach drawn up at the entry, the carriage door open, the steps put down.

Beth took a deep breath of the cool night air. Not caring about how such behavior would be viewed by the ton, she allowed him to assist her inside where she sat on the burgundy velvet squabs. Ramsey’s carriage was elegant, but the patterned silk walls had faded, the cushions slightly worn.

She gazed out the window as they drove through the gates onto the road. Even if it caused gossip for a month of Sundays, there was no alternative. She smoothed her gloves over her nervous fingers. “I do hope this will not take you too far out of your way?”

“Not at all. Only too pleased.”

He removed his hat and sat back a smile lurking in his eyes. The carriage rocked through the night. Beth fell silent, her throat too tight for conversation. She sat stiffly clutching her reticule. Was Jenny badly hurt? And what of William?

Chapter Two

Finally able to excuse himself from the men surrounding Lord Liverpool, Marcus made his way through the crowd in search of Miss Harrismith. The supper dance was about to be called. He had promised Andrew to keep an eye on his sister-in-law, but trusted it hadn’t been necessary. She seemed a young woman with a good head on her shoulders. And a very pretty head it was, with her pale gold hair and eyes as blue as a summer sky. Surprised at the perfect peach Andrew had been keeping from him. He must not be tempted t

o compliment her again. She had frowned at him, which was not the usual response he got when he sought to charm a lady. She’d surprised him. Most debutantes tended to drop their gaze from his, but she’d studied him frankly, her expressive mouth making him contemplate inappropriate thoughts.

Miss Harrismith and her chaperone were away from their seats, and as the dance floor was empty as the supper dance had not yet been called, he went in search of her in the antechambers. As he crossed the gallery, in the hall below a woman’s voice was raised on the edge of hysteria. Curious, Marcus descended the staircase. He recognized the lady before he reached the bottom stair: Mrs. Grayshott, addressing the butler in ringing tones.

He made his way over to her. “May I be of assistance, Mrs. Grayshott?”

She spun around and glared at him. “Here’s the gentleman! Mr. Nyeland! Where is Miss Harrismith?”

“I’ve no idea. Why? Are you unable to find her?”

“You didn’t go off with her?”

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “No I certainly did not.”

“It wasn’t you then who took her away?” she asked, breathing heavily.

He gazed at her mystified. “It was not.”

The lady reached out and took a firm hold of his sleeve. “Would you please help me, Mr. Nyeland? These stupid servants can tell me nothing! I am at my wit’s end. Miss Harrismith appeared to be such a quiet little thing. But my goodness, such a sly one.”

He eased her hand away. “You must explain all to me, Mrs. Grayshott.”

She put her hands to her reddened cheeks. “I have failed in my duty! What will the duke think of me?” She nodded her head violently, the feathers in her headdress flapping like wings, while her scowling daughter stood mute beside her.

Marcus drew the distressed lady to a chair and ordered the footman to bring her a glass of Madeira. Afraid she’d faint, he took her fan and applied it vigorously. “Now, please tell me exactly what has happened.”

“It was after you and Miss Harrismith danced.” Mrs. Grayshott glared at him. “You did not return her to me, afterward, sir.”

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