Page 39 of A Single Obsession

The picture she had painted of that banishment was bleak indeed. He was not averse to learning more about his estates, but his mother was right. He had no head for figures and the thought of being stuck inside an office all day, trying to grasp what was beyond him, made him feel sick.

It was some consolation he would get to live in his own house at last, but if he did not marry, he would have no funds to maintain his current stables, let alone develop his stud.

He would have to marry for money. It was humiliating and hardly a compliment to his future wife, but what choice did he have? He could see no other way. He felt like a small boy being promised sweetmeats once he had received his smallpox inoculation. Once the pain was over, he would get the reward.

That thought disturbed him, twisting his gut. Marriage should not be like an inoculation. His mother had poisoned his view of it, but he knew it wasn’t always that way. Georgie had shown him that. There was a harmony between her and Castleford that declared their marital happiness to the world without them saying a word. But then, they married for love, not money.

He felt a pang of envy, but dismissed it from his mind. It was hopeless to hold out for something more. Castleford was a much better person than he was. Not even his own mother loved him, so how could he expect anyone else to? He didn’t deserve it.

“You leave me no choice. I will find myself a wife before the season is out.”

“Oh no. That won’t be necessary. My patience has run out. You have had two months to find yourself a wife, and you have failed.”

Beau paled at her words. What did his mother mean? Had she chosen his bride as well? He prayed she would not expect him to marry Miss Whitlow.

“I will hold a select house party here, ostensibly to entertain Frances while she is in seclusion. You will attend. I am inviting Miss Whitlow”—Beau’s chest tightened—“and my niece, Elizabeth. Harriet has already accepted. By the end of it, I require you to be engaged to one of them. If you wish to have a choice of wife, take my invitation to Elizabeth in person and ensure she accepts.”

A sense of relief swept over him. His mother was giving him a choice, and one of his options was Eliza.

Eliza, who shared his love for horses, didn’t like opera, and had believed he could win his bet. To say nothing of his gratitude to her for rescuing him from Miss Whitlow’s scheming at the ball.

What a rare occasion, that his own preference should coincide with his mother’s.

Now all he had to do was persuade Eliza to accept the invitation, because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate.

Chapter 17

In the days that followed Lady Harting’s ball, Eliza had every hope that her relationship with Beau would be different.

She was sure something had changed that night. Twice she had saved him. Once from himself, from kissing her in the middle of the ballroom. The other from the clutches of Harriet—who had poked at her with undisguised spite ever since.

But rather than build on the intimacy of that evening, he had kept his distance, and now he had left town without so much as a word.

Which was why Eliza had gone for a drive with Anthony, rather than Beau, in a somewhat melancholy mood.

She feared he would tease her about her attachment to his best friend, but he didn’t even mention it. Instead, he cheered her up by regaling her with stories of their antics at Cambridge.

At the end of their outing, she invited Anthony to step inside with her, as he was half-way through a diverting account of the time Beau had ridden a horse into one of their college buildings.

“Didn’t he get into trouble?” Eliza said as she entered the drawing room. “I can’t imagine—”

The words froze on her lips as she realised her sisters were not alone. Beau was there. He leapt to his feet and bowed, sending her a tentative smile as he met her gaze.

Eliza’s pulse raced as she acknowledged his greeting, even more so as she examined his face. Though his mouth smiled, his eyes were clouded with uncertainty. There was a tightness in his expression and creases on his forehead that a regular visit could not explain.

No. She was sure he was bothered about something more than whether she would go for a drive with him.

Eliza perched on the edge of the chair nearest to where Beau had been sitting and waited to find out if she was right.

“I thought you were out of town,” Anthony said to his friend, as he entered the room behind her. He nodded casually to Georgiana and Charlotte, sprawling his long limbs in front of him as he sat down.

“As you can see, I’m not.”

Beau retrieved a letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to Eliza. “I’ve brought an invitation from my mother.”

She took it, broke open the wax seal and spread out the single sheet of paper. As she read the contents, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of Beau, still stood in front of her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for her to finish reading.