Page 47 of A Single Obsession

Finch stepped forward to help her into the saddle, but Beau got there first.

“Allow me.” He cupped his right hand, and Eliza felt the colour rushing to her face as she placed her left foot firmly in it, resting her gloved hand on his shoulder while he raised her up. It was an action she had performed hundreds of times with Finch, and it had never caused her the slightest embarrassment.

Yet, because it was Beau, she was acutely aware of how close she was to his body.

He took her boot and placed it in the stirrup, and she turned, trying not to think of his hand on her foot, concentrating hard on sorting her reins out until the heat in her cheeks died down. Only when he stepped away and was mounting his own horse did she lean over and straighten her skirts.

They rode back to the house in silence, but as they approached the stables, Beau turned in his saddle to face her. “Would you care to join me tomorrow? I ride out every morning before breakfast.”

“I’d like that,” said Eliza, a gentle smile hovering over her mouth.

Perhaps staying at Holybourne House wouldn’t be so bad.

Chapter 21

Beau stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling to himself as he waited for Eliza to change out of her habit. It had been a pleasant surprise to come across her by the lake. She was more at ease than he’d ever seen her before, as if being in the countryside had the same beneficial effect on her as it had on him.

The thought of taking long rides together, away from his mother’s watchful eye, appealed to him more than he cared to admit.

Eliza didn’t keep him waiting long. After only fifteen minutes, she hurried downstairs again, her eyes still glowing from the morning’s exercise. He was impressed by how fast she’d changed, but it was still not quick enough. They had lingered overlong by the lake, and they were behind time for breakfast.

“Thought my mother might not scowl at me so much if we went in late together,” he said without meeting Eliza’s eyes, feeling the need to explain why he was waiting for her.

When Beau looked up, she flashed him a grateful smile as she took his arm. He led the way to the breakfast parlour, hoping his mother would not cut up too stiff at their tardiness. He grimaced briefly at the footman on duty, who by the slightest flicker of his eyebrows expressed his empathy for Beau’s plight before showing them into the room where the rest of the household waited.

A quick glance around the parlour confirmed his fear that they had not started without them. He saw with dismay that his mother was glowering at him, her eyes sending fiery darts in his direction. “How kind of you to join us, Beaumont.”

Ignoring her displeasure, he turned to Eliza, who had stayed behind him, as if for protection, and invited her to sit.

When his parent’s eyes lighted on his companion, all at once, her expression changed. The frown melted away and was replaced by a sickly sweet smile. Poor Eliza. Did she realise she was the chosen one?

“I hope you slept well,” his mother said, encouraging her niece to take the seat next to her.

“Yes, thank you,” Eliza replied in little more than a whisper, casting him a desperate glance as she took the offered chair.

Beau looked at her curiously. His mother was not angry with her and yet, if he was not mistaken, Eliza quaked at the attention just the same. Perhaps his mother’s favour was as hard to take as her displeasure.

He responded to Eliza’s cry for help by obediently taking the adjacent chair, but his mind soon wandered from the rather one-sided conversation his mother was having with her, distracted by the much more interesting debate going on between Harting and Whitlow. They were discussing the rival merits of the horse his stepfather had bought the day before and Whitlow’s favourite stallion.

Beau always had something to say about horses and entered the conversation with gusto. A visit to the stables seemed like the only way to resolve their argument about which horse was superior.

He was on the point of rising from the table when he realised he had not said a word to Eliza since they had sat down. The cheery smile he had seen on her face earlier had disappeared, worn away by his parent’s interrogations.

He had so often suffered that drain of confidence when facing his mother that he felt a ready sympathy for Eliza’s plight and told the others to go on without him.

Eliza had already pulled on her gloves, and was about to leave the table, but she couldn’t seem to get away from his mother’s questioning.

“I daresay Chanctonbury Hall can accommodate at least fifty guests overnight.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Eliza.

“Come, come. You must know how many bedrooms your sister’s home has.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Beaumont’s residence has twenty bedchambers. Not as grand as Holybourne House, but a beautiful, Neoclassical mansion built by the renowned architect Robert Adam. My first husband commissioned the house when he inherited the estate. I am sure my son would love to show it to you one day.”

Eliza dropped her eyes in confusion, as if unsure how to respond. His mother certainly wasn’t leaving her in any doubt regarding how she felt about her as a prospective daughter-in-law.