Page 56 of A Single Obsession

“Yes, thank you.”

“I expect Miss Merry regrets the impulse to jump in the stream so you would be obliged to rescue her,” she said, daring Beau to contradict her.

“Are you saying it wasn’t an accident?” Frances said. “I did not think my cousin was so brazen. How despicable.”

Beau’s mouth firmed. He glared at his half-sister as he tried to put the record straight. “You are mistaken. It was a mishap, and it’s a mercy she didn’t pull Miss Whitlow in with her.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Beau, but I see how it was,” said Frances with a patronising smile.

“I’m thinking of taking a rod down to the lake,” Whitlow said, cutting across their conversation. “Want to come?”

“Splendid idea,” Beau said, grasping at the chance to escape. If he didn’t get some respite from Miss Whitlow before long, he might lose his temper with her—and that would not be pretty.

If he was honest, that wasn’t the only reason. He needed some breathing space from his growing attraction to Eliza.

He was not ready to face her yet. If he did, he might not be able to stifle the impulse to kiss her.

And that would change everything.

After spending the day down at the lake with Whitlow, Beau had been reminded of two things. How much he disliked fishing and how tedious he found his brother-in-law.

By dinnertime, he longed for Eliza’s straightforward conversation and was tempted to abandon his previous decision to keep his distance. However, despite being seated next to her at the table, Miss Whitlow sat on his other side and once more monopolised his attention, preventing him from saying more than a few words to Eliza.

Perhaps it was just as well. He needed to stop showing her such a distinct preference while he still could.

Beau lingered over his wine with the other gentlemen for as long as he dared and held back as they entered the drawing room to join the ladies. He stood in the doorway, trying not to look in Eliza’s direction, and yet found his eyes drawn to where she sat, with her head bent, looking nothing like the lively girl he had rescued from the stream.

The card tables were already set up. Was that why she seemed so downcast? He wished he could save her from the ordeal of playing, but to do so would draw just the sort of attention he was trying to avoid.

“Do you play, Beaumont?” Miss Whitlow asked, directing him with a pointed look.

He knew he must. He couldn’t risk anyone accusing him of coming to Eliza’s rescue again. It was for the best.

“Yes. Dare you play with me?”

Miss Whitlow cast a smug look at Eliza and beamed at him. “Oh yes. I dare.”

“Miss Merry? Do you play with us?”

“Pray excuse me. I have a headache.”

Straightaway, his mother fussed around her, ordering her to retire to bed at once. Eliza accepted her dismissal without a fight, as if sleep was all she longed for.

As she bade goodnight, Beau glanced up at her and their gazes locked. There was no doubting the sadness in her eyes. He was a fool to think she wouldn’t notice the change in his behaviour.

Last time they’d met, they had laughed together—and he’d almost kissed her.

Now, he was putting her at a distance, and she knew it, but she didn’t stop him.

Miss Whitlow would not have let him retreat. If he had given her half as much encouragement, she would have ordered her wedding dress.

Beau hated Eliza looking at him like that. Not accusing him of anything, but so forlorn.

It did something to his insides that was most unpleasant.

He would make it up to her tomorrow. No matter what the cost.

Chapter 25