Lady Margaret looked at her son and her eyes went wide. She shook her head slightly as if questioning Peter’s assessment, but he only nodded.
“It’s true, Mother. I saw her myself. This same young woman whom Callum claims has stolen something of value has apparently been kept sequestered in one of the empty servants’ rooms since the day of the incident. He told me as much at Northam’s and he was in a very low state of mind over it. Only now, I saw her today out riding with him…” He glanced at his father briefly and lowered his voice to a whisper to add, “…without a chaperone!”
“What is he thinking?” Lady Margaret asked, clutching at her chest. “That is a certain road to ruin for a man of his position! Why, she could make any sort of claim against his reputation!”
“I don’t know, Mother. But surely there’s something else to their tale that I’m not understanding. You should have seen her, she was dressed rather strangely for riding.” Peter silently plucked at the legs of his trousers to indicate the woman’s attire, and his mother’s expression was one of sheer disgust. “All we can do is trust his judgment to keep his wits about him!”
“What are you two blathering on about?” the Earl demanded, looking up from his report. “You’re worse than two old hens playing at cards and talking about the ton!”
Peter straightened up and his mother looked out the window, neither of them taking the initiative to explain. Seeing his father’s look of consternation, Peter eventually said, “I was only telling Mother about the woman who’s been staying at Bellton’s house. The one I told you about.”
“What woman? You don’t mean… you mean the woman you mentioned the other day?” his father demanded, his face growing a dangerous shade of red.
“Yes, at least that’s what Callum said this morning,” Peter acknowledged. “But how did you know she is one and the same?”
“I don’t! But a thief is a thief. That woman was supposed to leave under arrest!” the Earl said angrily. “I called the officials in London myself and reported her for the crime of ambushing one of our friends and attempting theft!”
“Why would you do that?” Lady Margaret asked. “Surely young Callum has his priorities and his reasons. Besides, it’s not as if it’s any of our affair.”
“Well, it’s as I said. We have to look out for one another,” Weavington said suddenly. “Who’s going to look after that young man and his best interests if we don’t assist when needed?”
“I don’t know, perhaps his father could prove useful in these matters?” Peter asked dryly. The Earl glared at his son.
“Don’t get cheeky. You know how far his father’s estates are from here. I shall write to the officers again and demand they do something about a thief in our midst!”
The Earl stood to go to his desk but the butler opened the door to the drawing room, announcing the arrival of their long-expected guests. The Earl muttered something about remembering to do it later, then he affixed his most endearing smile to welcome his son’s future fortunes.
Throughout the proceedings, Peter sat nearly silent, watching the negotiations. There were signatures to be signed, seals to be placed, and documents to be rendered in triplicate, all to ensure that the marriage was both sound and fruitful. There were clauses as to what would happen if either party should seek to divorce, statements of settlement if the marriage failed to produce an heir, pages upon pages of what would happen to the joint wealth and titles should either Peter or his bride—whose name he couldn’t find anywhere on the documents—die an untimely death.
It was the most boring event he’d ever sat through, and yet, all of it was supposed to be thrilling. He was signing his life away for the love of a woman… any woman, apparently, so long as she had the proper connections.
“Earlier today,” Peter suddenly remembered, “that woman… she and Callum had looked at each other with something like camaraderie, friendship of the strangest sort. They’d even cast these odd glances at one another when they thought I hadn’t noticed. It was so odd…”
But that is what Peter wanted. He wanted to gaze upon another human being with an air of contented joy about him, just as he’d seen his friend do. He wanted someone—anyone, thief or noble, it did not matter—to return that same look and be filled with longing.
“And so sayeth the officers of the court on this date, do you enter into this agreement with sound mind and body?” the solicitor asked in a very formal tone.
No one spoke for some time, and Peter was rather shocked when he felt a sharp kick to his ankle. He jumped and looked around at the displeased faces before him.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked, and his father very nearly growled.
The solicitor looked vaguely alarmed, but nonetheless he repeated, “And so sayeth the officers of the court on this date, do you enter into this agreement with sound mind and body?”
Peter blinked and looked down at the documents in front of him, all of which were ready to be signed in his hand. He looked to his left and stared at the face of his father, who now wore an expression that Peter couldn’t remember seeing before. Over his father’s shoulder, his mother stared at him, her face suddenly a mask of nerves.
Looking between them, Peter was struck by the fact that his own parents had certainly made an arrangement such as he was about to enter into. They had always been cordial to one another, if not enamored, but he knew that to be only a stroke of luck. Largely due to his mother’s easygoing nature and the fact that she had been the one to bring the wealth to the marriage through her father’s trading company, his father had seemed to develop an affection and respect for her.
Could Peter expect the same? And was “fondness” all he could hope for from a wife?
“My son,” the Earl of Weavington said through clenched teeth, “the official has asked you a question.”
“Oh, that. Yes, yes, I agree. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere for a moment,” Peter said, coughing nervously. “So, do I sign something?”
Chapter 18
Beatrix barely made it back to her room before the tears began to pour. What had she been thinking? She had allowed the Marquess to kiss her, and worse, she had kissed him back as well. How could she have bared her heart in such a way, knowing that it cannot possibly end well?
Worse were the words that came after:I’m sorry. Lord Bellton had actually apologized for what had been the single most wonderful moment of her life, a moment she had never dared dream could be so magnificent. And then he destroyed even the memory of it by acting as though he’d done nothing more than step on her toes while dancing!
