Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

H ere we go again , Oakley thought as he ascended the stairs to Penrith’s first floor. He thought it exceedingly unlikely that Miss Lilly Talbot should be able to remove Bess from his mind—or even make him forget her temporarily—but he was trying. Failing, but still trying.

“You look very well,” Frederica said warmly after he was shown into her drawing room. “A new waistcoat?”

“Is it?” Oakley looked down at himself. In truth he had not really noticed what his man was putting on him, but now that he saw it, it was very nice indeed. A blue coat and a pale gold waistcoat shot through with darker blue threads. “Let us hope Miss Talbot thinks so.”

It was not until they were in the carriage that Frederica delivered the bad news. Or perhaps it was good news. Oakley could not say.

“As it stands, Miss Talbot is lately acquainted with Mrs Beamish.”

It always gave him a bit of a jolt to hear her name spoken. “Good to know,” Oakley managed to say, “in the event that she might speak of her.”

Frederica gave Penrith a glance, then said, with too much compassion, “It is likely that Mr and Mrs Beamish will be there. I had already accepted the invitation when Lady Talbot told me who would be joining us, and I could hardly refuse then. It would have looked excessively odd.”

“No, I would not have had you do that.” Oakley adjusted himself on the bench, then pointed at his brother-in-law. “Ten to one that Beamish does not appear.”

“He must appear some time, surely!” Frederica protested. “He has not been seen!”

“Twenty to one,” Oakley said firmly. “Penrith?”

“Those are odds I cannot resist,” Penrith agreed and extended his hand across the carriage to shake.

It was a wager that, it turned out, would go some way towards covering the cost of Oakley’s new waistcoat for, as he had predicted, Beamish was not present. Bess, sitting alongside her brother, was already in the drawing room when Oakley entered behind his brother and sister. She was perched on the edge of a dreadfully ugly, muddy grey chair that only emphasised how lovely she was. She had on a dark blue gown that did wonderful things to the colour of her eyes. Oakley greeted her in his best, most correctly sedate manner, just as she had said she wished him to, and then hurried off to the other side of the room to lean against the mantelpiece until it was time to be introduced to the daughter of the house.

Leighton rose and came to stand with him. Oakley smiled to see him approach. Bess’s brother was just the agreeable, sensible sort of fellow that he liked. Good-humoured without descending into silliness and nonsense, and if he tended to go about looking dishevelled, what did it concern him? Not a bit. In some ways, Oakley regretted the loss of him as the brother he would have been to him, had he married Bess. He repined the loss of the family in total; he should have liked to belong to the Leightons.

“Do you mind if I join you here?”

“Of course not.” Oakley angled his body differently, and the two quickly fell into easy conversation on subjects of no real consequence. He considered asking Leighton what he made of the fact that his new brother-in-law was so rarely with his wife but decided against it. He was perhaps no scholar, but neither was he fool enough to keep asking questions no one wished to answer.

The gentlemen were interrupted soon enough by the arrival of Miss Lilly Talbot and her parents, Sir Edmund Talbot and Lady Talbot. Oakley did his best to ignore the interested looks of the room—especially Bess’s—while he and Leighton were being introduced to Miss Talbot. She was a pretty girl, very nearly as fair as Adelaide and Scarlett were save for the fact that being introduced had led to a flame-red blush over her chest and countenance.

“I understand this is your first Season?” he enquired gently. “How are you finding being in town?”

“G-good,” she stammered.

Lady Talbot, a large woman with determination on her countenance, ordered, “Tell the viscount about the play!”

“W-we saw a play last night,” she murmured. Her chin had sunk to her chest, and her blush had grown even more red.

“What play did you see?” Oakley asked.

The girl shot her mother a terrified glance. Lady Talbot offered, her voice strident, “Something Shakespearean, I believe. Lilly loves Shakespeare, do you not, Lilly? Tell the viscount how you excelled in poetry at school.”

Miss Talbot murmured something in the direction of her shoes that sounded like an agreement with her mother.

“I lately saw Coriolanus . Quite good, I enjoyed it enormously,” Oakley replied brightly. “But perhaps your inclinations run more towards concerts, Miss Talbot?”

“She adores concerts,” her mother replied. “Particularly as she is so often able to come home and replay what she heard on her own instrument. My daughter is exquisitely talented on the pianoforte and the harp, Viscount Oakley!”

“Excellent,” Oakley said, wondering whether the girl would ever speak for herself or if he was meant to make love to her mother in some sort of courting by proxy.

They were rescued from further agonies by the announcement of dinner. Oakley was meant to escort Miss Talbot in and sit next to her, and so he offered his arm, hoping that the absence of her mother would make the girl easier. It did not—not if the trembling he perceived was any indication.

He caught Bess’s eye as he was helping Miss Talbot into her chair. It seemed as though she had been watching him but jerked her eyes away hastily when he caught her at it. Such a circumstance occurred several times over the course of the dinner, and each time, her eyes lingered just a little longer.

Unable to draw Miss Talbot out, no matter what subject he introduced, Oakley resolved himself to carrying the conversation with stories from his youth, his time at school, and his own recent forays into society. Miss Talbot seemed appreciative of his efforts and even went so far as to look at him occasionally.

When the servants began to clear the second course, Oakley permitted himself a respite, turning to Frederica, on his other side. “What do you think?” she asked him immediately in a low voice.

“Very sweet,” he replied automatically. “Good appetite. Enjoyed the mackerel, though I myself could not abide the smell of it.”

Frederica laughed and gave him a discreet swat on the arm. “It is her house after all, perhaps mackerel with fennel is customary here.”

“Served at every meal,” Oakley agreed with a chuckle. “She is very timid. Barely speaks a syllable.”

“Mr Leighton seems to have overcome that difficulty.” Frederica gave him a little nudge, and he looked back at his dinner companion who now very nearly had her back to him. She was speaking, with some animation, to Leighton, and Leighton was more than a little delighted by it, if the look on his face was any indication.

Oakley turned back to Frederica. “Well, how about that now?”

“It does not mean she did not like you! Perhaps after dinner?—”

“All told, I have been by her side for nearly two hours now,” Oakley informed his sister. “And I do not think I got as many words from her in two hours as Leighton has got in the last two minutes. It is all very well; let love flourish where it will.”

He happened to glance back at them then and again perceived Bess looking at him. This time when caught, she only gave a little wry smile to him, following an expressive glance towards her brother. Oakley smiled and gave a small shrug, wishing her to know he was not distressed by the lady’s defection.

The ladies and gentlemen separated after dinner, as was customary and common, and Leighton was shame-faced for a moment. “Quite stole your thunder, my friend, forgive me.”

“Think nothing of that.” Oakley waved his hand as if to whisk the words away. “We did not get on as the pair of you did, and who am I to stand in the way of such natural harmony?”

“She was everything lovely,” Leighton enthused. “An angel in every way!”

“Do you think so?” Oakley tilted his head. “Hm, well in that case perhaps I ought not to yield so easily.” Then he laughed and gave Leighton a little punch on the arm to let him know all was right and tight.

Leighton chuckled but then grew sober. “My father requires me to travel with him in two days’ time. I only hope I can call on her before we leave.”

“Where will you go?”

“Bicester.”

“Bicester?” Oakley laughed. “For what?”

“Likely nothing, but perhaps…something.”

Oakley found his curiosity roused. The other men were all clustered about the other end of the table, sampling something that Sir Edmund had brought out in multiple small, dark bottles. Their loud joviality made it easy for Oakley to pull his chair closer to Leighton. “What sort of something do you seek?”

Leighton pursed his lips for a moment, then admitted, “Beamish.”

“Beamish?” Oakley exclaimed too loudly, and several of the gentlemen at the other end of the table looked over.

“I knew it was strange how he was never about with his wife,” he continued in a hushed voice when Leighton shushed him. “Where has he gone? That rotter! I should very much enjoy dragging him back to London myself!”

Leighton shook his head. “No, no, I have said too much. Only…only if you hear anything of it, will you get word to my father or me?”

“Yes, of course, you may depend upon it. But…if I hear anything of what , precisely?”

“Just anything. Anything at all that strikes you as…odd.”

Blast if Leighton was not being strange! Everything about all of it was odd! Oakley had no notion what to make of him.

“Very well,” Oakley agreed. “Anything strange.”

There was a short silence until, with some delicacy, Leighton mentioned, “I understand there is some talk about your deceased uncle…”

“Being a jewel thief?” Oakley sighed. “You are not the first to speak of it to me.”

“Is there truth in it?” The look of concern on Leighton’s face was gratifying in its sincerity.

“I cannot yet say. My father and I have heard of a man in Fleet Street who says he has information on the matter. We have not yet met the man, but we will. Not sure what, if anything, will come of it, but we think it will likely come to nothing. We only wish to have forewarning if there is further scandal to come about.”

Whatever Leighton might have said to that was lost, for Sir Edmund rose, giving a little clap to draw the twenty-odd men in the room to attention. “I daresay we have left the ladies to their own pleasures long enough!”

When Oakley entered the drawing room, he was urged to join Miss Talbot at the instrument by her mother who evidently had not observed her daughter’s preferences at dinner.

“Viscount, you will surely wish to turn the pages for her?” she said loudly while Miss Talbot made embarrassed noises nearby.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I daresay Mr Leighton here may be more qualified to perform the office, are you not, sir?”

Leighton, who had been slightly behind him, said immediately, “I should be honoured to assist your fair daughter in any way I can, Lady Talbot.”

Lady Talbot seemed reluctant, but Miss Talbot looked up at Leighton, a pale pink blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr Leighton. Stand here, if you will?” The spot she directed him to was quite near, and Oakley, with a short bow, left it in his friend’s hands and walked away, nearly colliding with Bess.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as he did likewise. They both paused.

The arrival of men into a drawing room always made things seem closer and warmer. Voices rang louder, steps were firmer, and music played louder above the din. Oakley was immediately made weary even hearing the beginnings of it. On an impulse, he asked, “Will you come outside with me?”

After the briefest hesitation, she said, simply, “Yes.”