Beauty in Breeches(18)
‘Then allow me to enlighten you. I have three middle names and several lesser titles I rarely use,’ he told her. ‘No doubt Constance—Lady Merrick—will give you a rundown of my character. I have a great deal of business to attend to so I shall not be able to give you my full attention—and I shudder to think what you might get up to left to your own devices. You really do not have the slightest concept of the importance of appropriate behaviour, do you, Beatrice? Didn’t you learn anything under your aunt’s tutelage?’
‘Yes, but with all her attention fixed on Astrid and knowing it wasn’t important how I turned out since finding me a suitable husband was not on my aunt’s agenda, I could never see the point of it.’
Julius stared into her stormy green eyes and flushed face, wondering why, from the very first, she had been able to affect him like no other woman in a long time, wondering why he felt this consuming, unquenchable need to possess and gentle her without breaking her spirit.
‘James and Constance Merrick are old friends of mine and very close to me,’ he told her quietly. ‘Don’t worry. They will like you when they recover from their surprise that you are to be my wife. Constance is a woman of enormous consequence; she shamelessly adores forcing society to bend to her will. She will not permit anyone to say an unkind word to you or about you in her presence. She is an excellent example of how you ought to conduct yourself in society. You would be wise to observe her behaviour and emulate her.’
Beatrice felt like a naughty child who had just been told it must follow someone else’s example. ‘How long will it be before the wedding?’
‘Three weeks—enough time for the banns to be read—unless you are so impatient to become my wife you would like me to apply for a special licence,’ he said with a mocking twist to his lips.
‘No,’ she said tightly. ‘Three weeks will be fine. Where will it be?’
‘It will be a quiet affair, the venue of my choosing.’
‘Isn’t that supposed to be the bride’s prerogative?’
‘Not in this case. I shall let you know when it is arranged.’
He continued to converse, questioning her about herself, about her life at Standish House, her interest in horses and her relationship with George and Astrid. What he didn’t do was talk any more about himself, which, in Beatrice’s experience, was what most people did best, or at least most frequently, but apart from what he had told her about his father and how he had restored the Chadwick fortunes, his private life remained exactly that.
Beatrice found herself in some kind of indeterminate state, suspended not only in time but in emotion. Julius had been right about Lord and Lady Merrick. A middle-aged couple who had not been blessed with offspring, they were warm and friendly and went out of their way to make her feel welcome. Lord Merrick was a gentle, delightful soul, very much under his wife’s dominance. Lady Merrick was quite tall with a majestic bearing and almost as formidable looking as Aunt Moira. She had a pair of penetrating hazel eyes and an imperious expression and always believed in speaking her mind, but Beatrice soon discovered that beneath it all she was very thoughtful, kind and warm and was genuinely pleased to have her stay with them.
‘There is no need to describe to me what happened when Julius visited Standish House, Beatrice. I am well aware of it as is nearly everyone else in society. For a young lady to ask a man to marry her is not a civilised thing for her to do. But however it came about, I cannot suppress my exultation that, by your actions, it has prompted Julius to take a more serious interest in marriage. He needs my help in assisting him to introduce you into society. I have no control over wagging tongues, but I will do my very best.’
Beatrice was grateful for the time Lady Merrick took arranging her wardrobe. Julius had insisted that she be fitted out for every occasion and that no expense was to be spared, and Beatrice was shocked to find that Lady Merrick took him at his word and visited some of the most fashionable modistes in London. She took her on shopping expeditions to Bruton Street and Bond Street and the larger warehouses of Covent Garden and the Strand.
‘I am putting you to so much trouble,’ Beatrice said, feeling some expression of gratitude was due after one particular heavy shopping trip. ‘I realise my wardrobe was hardly up to town standards and it is indeed kind of you to give up so much of your time for me.’
‘Nonsense. I enjoy doing it, so indulge me, Beatrice. Julius is the son of my dearest friend—tragically she is no longer with us. Indeed, I will even go so far as to say he is the son I never had. His happiness is paramount.’
The word ‘tragic’ and the sudden pain that she saw in Lady Merrick’s eyes stuck in Beatrice’s mind and she wondered why. Not wishing to pry, she dismissed the thought.
The society columns were full of her impending marriage to Julius and the nuptial date. News of the race had already been splashed across the front pages of the Times and the Gazette and the journalists were having a field day with the lurid gossip surrounding this very unconventional marriage.
For two weeks Beatrice saw nothing of Julius. She was afraid to think about him—certainly to feel more for him that she could possibly help. Each day she became more settled in the Merrick household—she would be loath to leave when the time came for her to go and live with Julius as his wife and in his house, wherever that may be. The more she got to know about him from Lady Merrick, the more she began to realise the enormity of what she had done. Hidden away in the country it hadn’t mattered, but here in London everything was different.
Apparently women had been throwing themselves at Julius for years, all of them eager to trade themselves for his title and his wealth. When he wasn’t sailing on one of his ships to some far-off location, he was sought after by every hostess in town and every ambitious mama, and treated with the deferential respect that his immense wealth and his title commanded amongst the ton. He abhorred the attention he drew and rarely attended any of the major social functions, for he understood and despised the reasons why he was coveted. As a result his attitude towards any respectable female of his own class was cynical and jaded, and when he had time to relax away from his offices in Lombard Street, he preferred to spend it at his club in St James’s with friends, or at the theatre.
‘The longer he’s remained unattached, the more of a challenge he’s become to all unmarried females,’ Lady Merrick told Beatrice as they sat nibbling buttered scones and sipping tea in the morning room, taking a well-earned break from the seamstresses, who had been stitching Beatrice into the taffetas, silks and gauzes that would equip her to be Lady Chadwick, the Marchioness of Maitland. ‘Failing to find a woman who can see beyond his wealth and his title and his estates, Julius is convinced she doesn’t exist. He merely tolerates those who trail after him and treats them with amused condescension; if one irritates him, he is capable of delivering a crushing set down that is guaranteed to reduce the unfortunate young woman to tears.’
‘Oh dear. He is that bad? Well…’ Beatrice sighed ‘…I am not intimidated by him and nor am I in awe of him, and I am certainly not dazzled by his rank, his wealth or his power—although I admit that his wealth was a deciding factor when I decided to ask him to marry me, since it will go some way to renovating Larkhill. I suppose you could also say that I did make it difficult for him to back out of marrying me.’
Constance Merrick believed her. Even though she had known her for such a short time, she had become very fond of Beatrice. Her husband and the servants were completely enchanted by her friendly, unaffected cordiality towards everyone.
‘I knew your father, my dear, and from what I know, no doubt part of Julius’s decision to accept your proposal owed itself to the fact that in some way he felt responsible for your plight.’
‘Which he is,’ Beatrice was quick to point out.
‘Not…necessarily,’ Lady Merrick said hesitantly, averting her eyes. She would have liked to defend Julius, but to do so she would have to divulge the truth about what really happened on the day Beatrice’s father lost Larkhill in a game of cards—and the terrible events that had ensued. Julius had asked both her and her husband not to speak of it to Beatrice and Constance would abide by that. Three people were bound by a guilty secret, but it hurt her terribly to hear Julius wrongly maligned.
‘Your father was not blameless in all of this. He was a compulsive gambler—but I am sure you know that. But that doesn’t mean that things won’t turn out for the best. You are a young lady of excellent character and breeding and considerable pluck. There is also a gentle strength about you, a compassion and understanding that I believe will make you the perfect wife for Julius. I know him well. I have seen the way he looks at you. He already cares for you a great deal—though he may not know it yet.’
‘That is something I would question, Lady Merrick,’ Beatrice murmured sadly.
‘Nevertheless I suspect you will be good for him and that the two of you will pull off the best match in years.’