Sharon Sobel (23 page)

“Of course, Lord Raeborn. I told Lady Larkspur we were old acquaintances.”

“But you did not tell her we were …” Lord Raeborn paused, looking acutely uncomfortable.

“Lovers?” Miss Hathawae supplied. “And that you wanted to marry me? I did not, though surely there is no harm in it. Lady Larkspur is too wise to fear a rival of over thirty years ago.”

“Indeed. It is nothing to a rival of the present. Especially if one is a young man vying against rank and wealth,” Raeborn said.

Lark felt the warmth leave her face and dared not look at Mr. Queensman. What had he said to his older cousin when they were closeted at Seagate? He could not have been so indiscreet as to confess to a certain interest in the young lady entrusted to his professional care. As her heart started to beat erratically, Lark knew a flush began to spread across her features, and she looked to Miss Hathawae for guidance.

But Miss Hathawae just smiled beguilingly, looking ever so much younger than her years.

Mr. Queensman cleared his throat. “Would you not like to accompany me to the game room, Miss Hathawae? I understand you are remarkably proficient at billiards.”

The lady laughed out loud. “I must not admit it in the presence of a gentleman. Lord Raeborn will think very ill of me, I am sure.”

“That, my dear, is quite impossible,” Raeborn said graciously. “But I would like very much for you to teach my young cousin a lesson. He is altogether too complacent about his talents.”

“So he should be, Benedict. He has the trust of the—”

“Let us away, Miss Hathawae,” Mr. Queensman said hurriedly. “I am sure Lord Raeborn would like the luxury of a private interview with his beloved.”

Raeborn rubbed his hands in satisfaction as the two departed and he did not speak until their footsteps could no longer be heard along the polished floors of the corridor.

“My dear,” he began, “I must first inquire after your health.”

Lark had rehearsed her answer many times over, for although she challenged Mr. Queensman’s authority at every turn and would have liked to take the wind right out of his sail of disclosure, she still could not bear the thought of returning to London on the arm of her aged suitor.

“It remains faulty, my lord,” she said in a whisper. “I am still quite weak and unable to leave my chair.”

He did not seem so very disappointed.

“And yet all the town is singing your praises. I understand you have acted bravely and altogether worthy of the Raeborn name.”

“But I am not a Raeborn, my lord. Am I not able to still give credit to the Leicester name? Surely it is as worthy.”

“It is an excellent name, or else I would not have thought to align myself with it.”

“Do you prefer the name to the person?”

Lord Raeborn looked stupefied.

“I cannot understand why else you would wish to marry me,” Lark went on. “You know me not at all.”

“I know you as well as I wish,” Raeborn said gruffly. “It is not for you to question it.”

“I have been jilted by other men. Do you suppose they had a reason for it?” And before he could answer, “I am known for my willfulness and temper.”

Raeborn seemed to consider this, though not nearly long enough.

“You will learn to do as I say when you are my wife.”

“Do you propose to beat me, or starve me? It would not serve you very well, my lord. An unhealthy woman is likely to have unhealthy children.” Lark nearly choked on the words, but Raeborn looked apoplectic.

He grasped the edge of a table and bowed forward, as if recoiling from a blow. What remained of his thinning hair fell forward and dangled before Lark’s eyes like string edging a shawl. She knew then she had gone too far, but she could not help but wonder if too far was yet far enough.

“My lord?” she asked, more gently.

Raeborn looked up at her, his face very close to her own. Lark expected to see anger, frustration, and even cruelty. Instead, she was surprised to see something resembling sadness.

“You do me wrong, Lady Larkspur. I am no villain in this piece, only a gentleman who seeks to make up for what I could not achieve in my life. I would have you honorably and would treat you fairly. Those who know me know no wickedness in me, nor can they discredit me in any way. You have painted a very black picture of me, and perhaps of yourself as well. By all reports, you would make a very desirable wife.”

Lark swallowed and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Perhaps she had wronged him, in all her indignation and desperation to avoid her arranged marriage. Indeed, her own dear father was as much an accomplice against her as the man who made a respectful and even chivalrous offer. She
realized that she resented Raeborn purely for what he was, rather than for who he was.

And he apparently was no more than a lonely, somewhat dissipated old man who hoped to make one more bid for immortality.

Lark was chastened, and momentarily regretful, but caught herself before her better nature could entirely overwhelm her stern resolve. Raeborn might be a decent old soul, but that did not make him qualitatively more desirable as a husband. She did not love him, or desire him.

And in her moment of new insight and understanding, she also realized she had not even understood what those two words meant until she came to know Benedict Queensman.

“I cannot do as you wish, my lord. I am not well enough to marry.”

“You were well enough to pull Martha Gunn from the water and dare a rescue of which many men could not prove capable.”

“Reports have surely been exaggerated. I did hardly anything. Miss Hathawae and Miss Tavish were as much involved.”

“But I do not wish to marry Miss Hathawae and Miss Tavish.”

Lark said nothing, reflecting on the brief but bold reunion between the former lovers. They had been startlingly frank, and yet something remained elusive. She could not help but wonder what it might be.

“I wish to marry you, Lady Larkspur.”

“I am not well enough to marry,” Lark repeated, emphasizing each word.

Lord Raeborn settled back in his chair, with a smile of great satisfaction upon his face. Lark felt a moment of distress, unable to pinpoint what she had said to make him so happy.

“Perhaps you did not understand me, my lord,” she began.

“My dear, darling child. I understand you well enough,” Raeborn said and rubbed his hands together. “If the state of your health remains your only objection to this marriage, the decision is entirely out of your hands.”

Lark bit down on her lip, remembering that the decision never was in her hands. Indeed, she would not have had to revert to such a deception if she had ever been given any power to determine the course of her own life.

“I am not sure I understand, my lord.”

“It is no complicated affair, my girl. You tell me you are not well, and I am no expert to understand it one way or another. Therefore, we both must defer to my young cousin.” Raeborn looked over her shoulder at the open door and the sound of approaching footsteps. “Let Benedict Queensman be the judge.”

Lark swallowed, and tasted the blood of her cut lip.

“
Y
ou have allowed me to best you this day, Mr. Queensman,” Miss Hathawae said knowingly as she put down a cue nearly as tall as herself. “Are you not aware every lady is sent out into the world with the admonition to defer to gentlemen in all games of skill? I shall surely be reviled by all if it is ever known I proved myself a worthy adversary for you at a gentleman’s game.”

Ben laughed as he replaced the balls in their rack. “I daresay your reputation is strong enough to withstand such criticism, Miss Hathawae. And in any case, I have the feeling it would not be nearly as troublesome to you as you make out.” He paused, thinking of his own talents for a moment and realizing how strongly they had been compromised by his distraction over Lord Raeborn and Lady Larkspur. It would not be fair to say he had allowed Miss Hathawae to win, but neither did he put up a very strong fight. “And, in any case, would it not be my own reputation suffering if word of this match ever came out? There are those who would be amused to learn I could not prove myself more skilled than a smallish woman of questionable health. I daresay I would be considered unmanly.”

“Dear Mr. Queensman,” Miss Hathawae began and slipped her slim arm through his elbow, “the consequences of a game of billiards could not possibly matter to you or me or anyone else. You would be considered unmanly only if you let something of great value or importance to you slip from your fingers. What was then lost could not be easily replaced, and the deprivation could plague you for the rest of your life.”

Ben glanced down at the small woman at his side and wondered what she knew of his tumultuous passions and desires. He did not think Lark would be so indiscreet as to compromise her own schemes, nor so innocent that she would discuss certain intimate events with a near stranger. And yet, of what else might Miss Hathawae be speaking?

He put his hand over hers as he led her from the room, taking comfort in her warmth. She was right to challenge his strength, for he had never felt so indecisive in his life as he did this moment. He would have liked nothing better than to prolong their return to the large social hall, or to avoid it altogether. For, like a desperate commander in he midst of battle, he knew he could not win, whatever his action.

If he pronounced Lark well, her anxious suitor would have her away from Brighton before the sun would rise again. If he pronounced her ill, the result would be very much the same, though Raeborn would exercise more caution in the moving of his beloved back to London. Then Ben might continue to see Lark, though never dare touch her again and be driven mad with wanting her. For Raeborn would have her, either way.

If he pronounced Lark well even as she remained in her chair, Raeborn would come to understand how she had deceived him and how she would have continued to do so if her masquerade had not been uncovered. And if he pronounced her ill, and her ruse was later discovered, his own integrity as a doctor would be severely compromised. And Raeborn, who had already confessed his admiration and plans for Ben’s future, would abandon all confidence in him.

“You are very quiet, Mr. Queensman. Are you considering my words?”

“Indeed I am, Miss Hathawae.” Ben did not quite lie. “I daresay you are speaking of my hospital. It has been the most important thing in my life for many years.”

Miss Hathawae waved her hand dismissively.

“It is a very noble endeavor. You will ever be admired for the good work you do there. But I do not believe you are in any danger of losing it. In that regard, I was thinking of something else. Someone else.”

They continued down the long hallway, their footsteps echoing eerily in the silence.

“She does love you, you know.”

“I do not know,” he said firmly. “Nor does it provide any comfort to hear you say it, even if it were true. I will not take what is not mine, no matter how desirable such a thing is. It is purely a matter of self-respect.”

“I do not see it purely a matter of anything, sir. The important things in life rarely are.” Miss Hathawae slapped his arm, like a demanding governess. “And I would not be so quick to dismiss the lady’s affections. Remember, she is as much caught in a spider’s web as you.”

“But it is not of the spider’s making. In truth, it is the lady herself who has designed her own trap. If not for her cursed cleverness, she would not have required the services of a physician, nor would she have been in Brighton to weave him into her plan.”

Miss Hathawae drew back slightly. “Now you are most certainly being unmanly, sir. Need I remind you that the spider’s web is made only of gossamer? You are quite free to pull out whenever you wish. The lady cannot hold you unless you wish to be held.”

And, as they walked through the double door into the large hall, Ben realized Miss Hathawae was perfectly right.

Lark looked up as soon as she heard the pair of footsteps at the door, anxious for a reprieve from her ardent suitor and even more anxious to know what might be Ben Queensman’s pronouncement on the matter of her health. But what she saw disconcerted her.

She knew Mr. Queensman for his arrogance, his superior confidence, his ability to plot a course through uncertain waters. Indeed, she loved him not only in spite of it but perhaps because of it. And yet none of those qualities were evident upon his face when he returned to the room.

He no longer looked like the cool, dispassionate physician who was obliged to examine her in London, nor the dutiful visitor to Knighton’s who greeted her close upon her arrival. He scarcely resembled the man who consistently challenged the authority of Colonel Wayland and Gabriel Siddons or who proudly showed off his hospital to his visitors. He did not look like the man who had once held her in a passionate embrace or who had held her steady against the rolling sea.

He looked troubled, uncertain, as if he wrestled with an unhappy truth. Lark knew better than anyone what it might be, and longed for the chance to reach out and touch him and bring the confidence back into his eyes. Indeed, she needed something of it herself.

But before she or anyone else could say anything, the door opened again without ceremony, and Mr. Siddons burst upon them, awakening his dozing uncle by doing so.

“Oh, I am sorry,” he said. “I did not realize there was a private party in here. I came only to see my—”

“Come in, come in, my boy. Have you brought your friends with you? The men I met—”

“I did not,” Mr. Siddons said, too quickly. “They do not enjoy the same luxuries of time as I.”

The colonel chuckled. “No, indeed. No gentlemen they, but the sort who spend their days industriously.”

Ben Queensman cleared his throat. “Might I point out there are gentlemen who are rarely idle with their hours?”

“Ah, Queensman, are you already returned? You are correct to point out my error, but I am sure you need not expound upon your virtues in the presence of this young lady. She is already quite set upon you.”

The colonel’s words had the effect of a bucket of icy water thrown on the company. No one answered, and no one dared to meet another’s eyes. After the initial shock, Lark felt the blood returning to her face, but rather too quickly, so she felt herself aflame. She realized if she did not dispute the point, no one else would.