Page 99 of A Single Obsession

“You will be glad to know Frances gave birth to a healthy baby boy on Tuesday night.”

“That’s good news.” He thought he meant it.

“After being assured of the safety of mother and child, we returned to London. There were pressing matters for Lord Harting to attend to, not least of which was obtaining a special licence for your wedding.”

She held out the document to Beau, but he did not rush to take it. His future was unsure. He did not yet know whether Eliza would forgive him.

“It is no accident I have come upon you this morning. I knew your carriage returned to the mews yesterday, and I was en route to your lodgings when I saw you heading this way.”

She paused and gave Beau a hard stare before pressing the licence into his hands. “Lord Harting and I are eager to set your wedding day. Caroline is to marry in July, and it is fitting that you, as her senior, should wed first. At the end of June, to be precise. The tenants will be gone, and we have enough time to prepare Langcroft Park for the ceremony. You will marry in the chapel there, like your father and I were, and your grandparents before that.

“The house is not ready for you. I have not inspected it fully, but work will be needed to make it fit to receive your bride. However, there is no call for you to delay your nuptials as you need not take up residence right away. After the ceremony, you will stay at Holybourne House while your staff prepares your home. Beaumont, are you listening to me?”

He jumped. He hadn’t been able to get past his mother’s opening words, for he too wanted to set his wedding day, but now it felt like a remote possibility instead of a certainty.

There was no point delaying the evil hour. He had to tell his mother how things stood.

“I regret to say that there may not be a wedding.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone so icy it chilled him to the bone. “Do not think that because you have won some horserace, you can jilt your betrothed.”

Beau smarted at the mention of the race, but it didn’t shock him that his mother knew. She knew everything.

“It’s not me, but Eliza, who has broken off our engagement, and unless I can persuade her to change her mind, there will be no wedding.”

Her ladyship did not reply, but sat digesting his words as the landau lumbered around the park.

“Do not despair, Beaumont,” she said at length, in the same measured tone she had used to encourage him as a small boy not to cry, but to face his problems like a man. “You have everything a woman could desire: wealth, connections and a title, as well as a handsome countenance. I fear you have behaved very ill to frighten Elizabeth away. You must see her and make amends as soon as possible. She is a biddable girl and will wish to do what is right. I will remind her of the promise she made, and you need to apply yourself to being all that is charming—”

“I don’t want a reluctant wife, or one who marries me out of duty. If Eliza has decided we do not suit, then I won’t pressure her to marry me.”

“Tut, tut. That shows how little experience you have of girls. You assume they know what is best for them, but nine times out of ten, they do not. Sometimes young people need a helping hand to ensure they make the wisest decisions.”

Beau grunted in response.

His mother folded her hands in her lap, showing the conversation was over. She must have concluded she had said enough to persuade him to do what he was already planning on doing.

“Can I help you on your way?”

“By the entrance gate would be fine, thank you,” he said, unwilling to expose his destination, as it would appear he was rushing to do her bidding.

The coachman drew the carriage to a halt, and Beau took leave of his mother and climbed down from the landau.

As he watched the conveyance move away, he mulled over her words. Her conversation had depressed rather than encouraged him. She was resolved to see him wed to the woman she had chosen for him, regardless how either of them felt.

Her determination wrapped around his neck like a scarf being pulled ever tighter, and Beau feared her interference would strangle any hope he had with Eliza.

His eyes glazed over as he stared at the special licence in his hands and then slipped it in his coat pocket.

He prayed he would have the chance to use it.

Eliza sat in the drawing room with her eldest sister, forcing herself to concentrate on the piece of embroidery in her lap. The stitches were even more ragged than usual, reflecting the state of her troubled heart, but she needed to occupy her hands.

Beau had come.

Georgiana had predicted he would call, and she’d been right, but what did it mean? Why would he seek her out when she had released him from his promise? Was it possible he’d been speaking the truth when he said he cared for her? That her behaviour hadn’t appalled him as much as she had thought?

When the footman announced his name, and Beau strode into the room, looking as handsome as ever, an intense combination of pleasure and pain swept over Eliza, threatening to deprive her of breath.