Page 13 of A Mismatch Made in London

“Jeremy Beaumont, don’t you dare laugh at me or my friend, who was wounded and dripping blood just moments ago.” Juliet glared at her brother.

Finally, he turned toward us with his lips pressed firmly together.

“I quite agree with you, that Miss Moore has borne with the goose’s bad manners with great equanimity.”

I wasn’t sure what equanimity was, but I surmised that he was making light of his sister’s dramatic characterization of the incident.

“Rude.” Juliet turned to me and said, “Pay no heed to my brother. Next time I shall have one of the servants accompany us.”

“No, I shall accompany you.” His tone brooked no argument.

“He doesn’t trust the servants.” Juliet said this as an aside to me.

“It is not that I do not trust the servants,” Mr. Beaumont said. “I simply trust my own supervision more.”

It occurred to me that he probably didn’t trust me or my character, and that was why he was being so fastidious. He and Juliet had only just met me, after all. But I kept my thoughts to myself, as I wasn’t accustomed to being distrusted.

I didn’t like how it made me feel.

If I was right, then Jeremy Beaumont was as shockingly ill-mannered as the goose.

“Mrs. Kendall is giving a ball,” I told Juliet the next day as we took our walk, Jeremy Beaumont accompanying us.

“Oh, that is wonderful! If I could go to a ball every night, I don’t think I would get tired of dancing for at least a year.”

Fortunately, her home was very near the Kendalls’, which made it convenient for us to spend time together and also made it convenient for her brother to allow her to spend the rest of the day with me there. He said he would return later to walk her home, and he left us.

Mrs. Kendall ordered tea, and the three of us discussed the ball and going shopping the next day. We also planned to go to a music concert and attend a theatrical in the coming week to pass the time before the ball.

“Do you have any travel books or books about other countries?” Juliet asked Mrs. Kendall when we’d finished our tea.

“Come into the library. We shall look through Mr. Kendall’s bookshelves.”

Mrs. Kendall led us into the room and together we found books about the flora and fauna of far-flung places such as America, Australia, and the Far East.

We passed an hour happily looking through the books and planning trips we’d probably never take, but it seemed to be a pastime of Juliet’s, discussing exciting trips to exotic lands. We imagined scenarios in which we would meet a handsome gentleman, perhaps an Italian or Frenchman, and he would offer to show us around the country. He’d fall madly in love with us and beg us to marry him and stay in France or Italy or Greece, and then we’d discover he was a prince or count or marquis.

“I certainly hope I shall be invited to spend the summer with you in your French château,” Mrs. Kendall said.

“Of course,” we said.

“You will always be invited,” I added, as if I really believed it would happen.

The servant announced Mr. Jeremy Beaumont, and he stepped into the room.

“Mr. Beaumont!” Mrs. Kendall said with more enthusiasm and volume than the situation or the size of the room warranted. “How good of you to come.”

“I came to walk my sister home.” His demeanor formed a stark contrast to Mrs. Kendall’s.

“We were just discussing the trips we want to take someday,” Juliet said, then turned to Mrs. Kendall. “Look at this Spanish castle. Wouldn’t you and Mr. Kendall like to explore it?”

Mrs. Kendall and Juliet began to discuss a trip to Spain and whether or not Mr. Kendall would accompany them. “He’s not particularly curious about foreign places,” Mrs. Kendall said.

I noticed Mr. Beaumont eyeing me as I looked through a book about France.

“Expecting to go on a trip soon, Miss Moore?”

“Perhaps.”