Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I n the seconds and minutes that followed Bess’s extraordinary statement, Oakley scarcely knew what happened. Shock, delight, confusion…everything wonderful suffused his being. His legs closed the small gap between them, his arms reached to gather her to him, his lips were on hers, and there was exquisite felicity, an altogether too brief period of bliss.

She pushed him away.

“Forgive me, only I was carried away. My darling! Such excellent news! Hang Beamish then, we can?—”

“It is not excellent news!” Despair filled her eyes. “All of society thinks I am married. I cannot simply be unmarried now. No matter which way it is, I will be seen as ruined. I am ruined. And yes, Beamish might well be hanged, and where should I be then?”

“I care nothing for that,” Oakley replied warmly.

“But I do .” Now Bess did cry, producing a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressing it to her eyes while her weeping turned into quiet sobs. Hesitantly Oakley pulled her into his arms again, unable to stop himself from thinking how very right it felt to have her there. Eventually her tears ceased and, with his arm still around her, he led her to the nearest sofa, and they sat.

“Would you like some wine? Some tea, perhaps?” he asked gently.

“No, but…some air might do me good. There is a small courtyard at the back; will you join me there?”

“Of course.”

He followed her from the room, down the back stair and out into the area between the house and the coach house. It had been beautified by someone into a charming space with benches and flowers in abundance.

“We might see a servant or two on their way hither and yon,” Bess told him. “But the air is nice.”

There was a short pause while she seemed to be gathering her thoughts. He had been just about to prod her into continuing their conversation when she burst out, “I have been such a fool! Such an addle-pated idiot! I am ashamed, so very ashamed of myself for having been so thoroughly gulled!”

She began, as was her custom, to chafe her hands against one another. “We were caught, Beamish and I, in an embrace at a party. I-I wished to speak to him. For many years I had supposed he would eventually propose to me, and I think he thought I would always be there, always his little Bess. I felt I needed to tell him about you, and how I had fallen in love with you. He was glad to go outside with me, perfectly civil when I told him there…there was an understanding between you and I. But civility soon became something…less pleasant. Certainly not wanted.”

Oakley felt his hands clench into fists. “Do you mean to say he imposed himself upon you?”

“He… Well, yes. If I am honest, he kissed me no matter that I had no wish to be kissed and his…embrace grew more ardent with every protest I uttered. He… I was cornered, you might say, and he was very insistent.”

Rage was not an emotion Oakley generally experienced, but he did now. He thought he ought not to distract Bess by an expression of his own feelings, but privately he vowed that when and if he met Beamish, he would tear the flesh from his limbs to answer for this.

“All I could think of on that terrace,” she confessed, “was you . How if you knew of it, you would think me untrue. Pray tell me you believe me? I could not bear it, all these months, for you to be thinking me capricious or that my attachment to you had wavered. It never did, never once.”

He took both of her hands in his own, stilling them momentarily. “Of course not,” he assured her, even if he had, once, feared it was so.

“My father and mother felt the matter would be soon enough forgot—it was hardly as if I was ruined! But nearly every day Beamish was on Stratton Street making my poor mother’s nerves just flutter with tales of how fierce the gossip was about us. For the sake of my reputation, he said we needed to marry, and quickly.”

“The gossip was fierce? About a kiss on a terrace? That sounds like a bag of moonshine.”

“I think it likely was, else half of London should be embroiled in scandal.”

“Well they are, but it is not for kissing.”

That made her giggle, and Oakley was inordinately pleased with himself for having made that happen.

“He had my poor mother in such an agitation! Thus my father agreed to a hasty wedding, to calm the supposed gossip. Reverend Margrave was, of course, out of the question—given all that had happened with Scarlett—but Beamish said not to worry, his friend was lately ordained and would be delighted to perform the ceremony. He said he had already obtained a special licence?—”

“Special licence?” Now Oakley was truly incredulous. “Those are?—”

“Rarer than a hen’s teeth for mere gentlemen, I know, but he claimed to have some special connection with the archbishop, and my family were grown very anxious about all the gossip that was ostensibly circulating, and so we were willing to overlook any irregularities. Including the parson himself…who turned out not to be a parson at all.”

She looked at him full in the face then as she said, “Hanson. It is why we argued that night. One of the reasons anyway.”

“Hanson!” Oakley reared back with shock. The sins of that thieving wretch deepened with every hour that passed! “He is no more ordained than I am.”

“That is true. In any case, I believe I misspoke once and accidentally told you that Damian had been at my wedding breakfast? It was not precisely true, for the breakfast was no more than my family and Beamish gathered round some ham and eggs in an inn. Damian appeared in the middle of it, and he and Beamish closeted themselves for the rest of the day. It was my first indication that all was not what it should be, but what could I do? It was done by then.”

Bess stood and went to a large container filled with a rose bush, absently removing the faded heads from them as she continued her tale. Oakley went behind her, watching the action of her hands as they moved among the roses.

“Everything happened too quickly for any of us to recognise we were being bamboozled. The object of it all was my dowry. Beamish was mightily displeased when he learnt that, as I was only twenty, he had to wait to receive it. It was only a month or so until my birthday, but he was distant from the beginning, and always seemed angry with me. In any case, he had it soon enough, and once he did, the absences began, growing longer each time.”

“How did you learn the truth of the matter?”

“Beamish did not only deceive us, he deceived Hanson as well. I do not know all that the pair of them were involved in, but in this caper, Hanson was not given his due. Fool that he is, he came to my father, threatening to expose me if he was not paid.” Tears again filled her eyes, but she blinked them away, her gaze still on the flowers. “My poor papa did as he asked, all for fear of scandal.”

“This is dreadful indeed,” Oakley said sympathetically, placing one hand against her back to soothe her. “And now? You do not know where Beamish has got to?”

“I have not seen him in above a twelve-month,” she replied. “Before that I would, on occasion, see him, in London, or a few times in Stanbridge. He claimed matters of business kept him travelling here and there, but as of a year ago, he disappeared and seems to be completely gone. His father has taken very ill—he is in his bed most of the time—and if nothing else, one might imagine that should bring him home. Alas, it has not. My father and brother are looking for him, but it must be done quietly, so as not to alert the gossips that something is amiss.”

“When did you learn of the jewellery scheme?”

“I found out quite by accident. I went, of my own accord, to Beauvis—you found me there, when you came to give me Scarlett’s note warning me about Damian. Beamish had never taken me there—he always said it was better that I remained with my mother while he travelled. I was angry with him at the time, believing he had gone to Bath. I have never been to Bath and begged him to allow me to accompany him, but he refused. I decided then that I should go to Beauvis and make myself at home, for after all it was my home, even if I had never seen the place. I had only even met my father-in-law once, and that had been many years prior to marrying his son.”

Oakley nodded. “You went to Beauvis alone?”

“I persuaded my mother to go down with me,” she said and then cried out. She had pricked her finger among the roses. Oakley took her hand in his, noting the small bead of blood that had risen up on one finger. Removing his handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it against her finger.

“Perhaps we ought to leave the roses to their day,” he suggested with a smile. “I fear such distressing conversation along with thorny plants will lead to further injury.”

Smiling, she went back to the bench with him. He immediately took the injured hand again and held his handkerchief to the affected finger.

“I am sure my hand is well,” she told him.

“I think I had better keep holding it, just to be certain. One cannot be too careful with these things,” he said with mock gravity. “But do go on with your story.”

“Where was I?” she said, thinking for a moment. “Oh yes, Beauvis. They were all surprised, at Beauvis, to learn Beamish had married. No one had any idea of it, but everyone was kind to me, and the housekeeper immediately went to see the mistress’s chambers situated for me. And it was there that I found the jewels, the candelabra...even a punch bowl or two.”

“Stolen?”

“I am sure. My first thought, on seeing them, was to be delighted, imagining they were for me. I did wonder, later, how a family like the Beamishes—well placed, but not noble—had such jewels. Indeed, the things he had would rival royalty! But no one ever suspects something so fantastical. The worst that I could conceive was that he disliked being married to me and meant to keep me out of his way, and I thought that at least my material comforts would console me in that. With such notions in mind, I asked my mother if she thought I would be within my rights to take one or two of the pieces back to town, to wear to the theatre and so forth.”

Oakley knew not if he wished to laugh or gasp at the notion.

“Beamish arrived at Beauvis then, most fortunately, and stopped me from taking any of it anywhere. He gave me some nonsense about how it was stored at Beauvis but belonged here or there, but it was after that that he grew more secretive, even more insistent on leaving me with my mother all the time and not allowing me in his house. I have not been back since, but my father has learnt that the estate is not doing well. Even when the elder Mr Beamish was well, he was not a good steward, and the estate has suffered an extensive decline.”

It seemed much like the story Oakley had heard from Mr Shaw. Some sort of financial trouble—debts in the case of Mr Shaw, a foundering estate for Beamish—and there was Damian to swoop in with his misbegotten remedies of criminal activity instead of hard work. He sat back, mind spinning as he considered what he had learnt and what ought to be done next. It was too much to contemplate all at once, and in any case, it was hard to concentrate on any of it with the feel of Bess’s hand within his own.

He brought her hands to his lips, kissing them gently then bringing them down again. With his gaze locked on hers, he asked, “Will you marry me?”

“Would that I could,” she said with a smile.

“You can . You just told me you are not married.”

“But neither am I completely unmarried.”

“You are as much a single woman as any!”

“No, I am not,” she said gently. “Understand that I thought myself a married woman. Though I was not often with him—and have not seen him in a year—when I was, we…we were married.”

Oakley gritted his teeth, hating the meaning of that. “I suppose it is a mercy you have not conceived his child.”

“Decidedly a mercy,” she agreed. “But child or no child, I cannot simply throw off the lies as though I am removing a cloak that does not suit me. There would be a scandal, even more so should his crimes come to light.”

“I care nothing for that,” Oakley replied fiercely. “And with not only the Tipton name but Penrith, Worthe, and Kemerton standing behind us, see if it would be of any consequence!”

“It is of consequence, believe me.”

“I disagree! Bess! Darling, do you not see it is the answer to all of these problems? Fie on Beamish! Let him rot in whatever hole he has crawled into! Damian is dead and his gang disbanded; whatever Beamish does is his secret alone.”

“Secrets do not remain secrets in this world we live in, and I simply refuse to bring more scandal to your family, or to mine.” There was finality in her countenance that made Oakley’s heart plunge into his boots.

“My family has grown well accustomed to weathering the wagging of a few tongues.” It was a weak protest.

“I could be held accountable, too,” Bess said.

“Nonsense!”

“No, really, I could. I am, at present, mistress of an estate wherein a vast quantity of stolen goods resides.”

“It would not stand up in any court. You were hoodwinked,” Oakley said firmly.

It was at this least auspicious of moments that a young maid poked her head out of the door. “Miss? Your mama has returned and is asking for you.”

Bess stood hurriedly. “I think you should go. I…I thank you for keeping my secrets. There is no one I could trust more than you, dear Oakley.”

He got to his feet, catching her hand again, and bringing it to his lips. “You trust me…but do you love me?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Yes, I do and that is why I shall tell you this. Forget me. Leave me to my disastrous affairs and go and find a pretty young lady with no scandal behind her to marry.”

He ignored the last. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Say the words. Tell me you love me.”

“Oakley…”

He brought her hands again to his lips, kissing them with delicate, light kisses. “Because I love you, Bess Leighton, and I intend to do all I can to extricate you from all this. And when I do, we will marry.”

“Oakley, there is nothing that can be done, not by anyone and surely not by you. There is no need for you to involve yourself in any of this. I would never have confided in you about any of it if I thought?—”

He silenced her with a kiss that rapidly grew heated until he wrenched himself away for fear of doing something truly scandalous. He could not help but smile beholding Bess, her lips reddened and her curls tousled.

“If you only knew how the imaginings of what life with you could have been have kept me from madness these dreadful months,” she said. “I confess that the sweetness of them is sometimes too much a contrast with the bitterness of the reality I must bear.”

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded gently. “For I love you with every fibre of my being.”

“How can that?—”

“I am begging you,” he said. “The words. Please let me hear you say them.”

She paused briefly then said, “I do. I love you dearly.”

“And once you are free, will you marry me?”

“I shall never be free. I am tied with the hangman’s slipknot.”

“You will be free, Bess, and when you are, will you marry me?” He grinned at her. “I intend to keep asking.”

“I think it is impossible in every way but?—”

“But if it were not?”

“Then yes, of course, I would marry you in an instant.”

It was the greatest gift she could have given him. He bent to give her one more quick, chaste kiss, then whispered in her ear, “You will be my viscountess or I shall die trying.”