Page 59 of A Mismatch Made in London

“May I ask why you refused him?”

I probably should take it amiss that he was asking me such a personal question. It was none of his business, after all. But instead, I felt myself wanting to tell him everything.

“At first I told him I would give him an answer later, but by the way he reacted with anger to that answer, I knew I did not wish to marry him, and I changed my answer to no.”

“Your aunt is right, then. You are wise.”

“Does that surprise you?” My challenging tone was intentional.

“No, it does not surprise me.” His tone was a bit defensive.

Just then, Algernon bid us a good day, as he was leaving “on some business.”

When he was gone, Mrs. Kendall said, “I congratulated my niece on her escape from such a man. To think that he was mingling with our dear, innocent young ladies, in good society, where one does not expect to encounter such immoral creatures. I am so glad there are still some good, upstanding gentlemen like you, Mr. Beaumont, and my own Algernon.”

Mrs. Kendall went on about the morals of young people today, while I marveled at Jeremy Beaumont calling on me. Perhaps he was simply concerned about me, as he said, and wanted to make sure his sister’s friend was fully informed about her suitor’s moral character. Perhaps that was all it was and I should not speculate further.

Soon Jeremy Beaumont took his leave and was gone, saying he would see me at Lady Everson’s ball in two days. “Juliet should be there as well,” he said.

“Oh, very good. I miss her very much.”

“She misses you as well, as she tells me multiple times a day.” He smiled as he said this. He did have a handsome smile.

17

Since his father died, Jeremy rarely went to White’s, the club where he and his father were members. But Shelley had invited him to play cards there, and Juliet had Mrs. Wilson to keep her company at home, as her friend had left for home that morning.

They were just starting a game when he heard a bit of a ruckus in the room next door. He thought little of it until his friend, Lord Peabody, appeared at his shoulder and said, “I need to speak with you. It is urgent.”

Jeremy folded, laying his cards down, and excused himself.

White’s was a cavernous building of many rooms, rooms off hallways and rooms off rooms, and so it was relatively easy to find an unoccupied space to have a private conversation.

“What is so urgent?” Jeremy asked.

In a low voice, Peabody said, “I was playing cards with Alfred Wallcroft. You’re acquainted with him, are you not?”

“Yes.” He was the friend of that weasel, Fairweather.

“Well, Wallcroft was so drunk he should not have been making wagers, so I took him in another room to try to sober him up. It was there that he told me that George Fairweather had forced a kiss on your sister, Miss Juliet, in a dark alley and had tried to doa lot more than that, but she’d scratched his face and made him stop. He still has a bit of a scar from it.”

Jeremy’s face went hot. How dare that fiend touch his sister? And how dare Peabody have the nerve to even speak those words about Juliet? He wanted to throttle him too, but he forced himself to listen.

“I only tell you because I thought you might want to shut the fellow up before he tells anyone else.”

“And you?” Jeremy demanded.

“I would not breathe a word of it to anyone, I swear to you. I have a sister myself, and I have no wish to hear either her or Miss Juliet spoken of in such a way.”

He forced himself to thank Peabody, then asked him where he might find Wallcroft.

Jeremy was nearly blind with rage. But somehow he managed to find Wallcroft in the water closet, vomiting. He waited for him to finish, meanwhile clenching and unclenching his fists. Then Jeremy grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

“How do you dare speak of what Fairweather did to my sister?”

Wallcroft held up his hands as if to ward him off.

“I didn’t do it, d-d-didn’t do anything,” he muttered. “I wasn’t even there.”