Page 73 of A Single Obsession

Her stomach tightened as she heard footsteps behind them. She recalled the insecurity in Beau’s face as he had left the room with her father. Worry lines had creased his forehead and a nervous look had sat at the back of his eyes—the same look that often appeared when Lady Harting addressed him.

But her father was not like his mother. He was a reasonable man. He wouldn’t refuse to give Beau his permission to wed her—would he?

If so, her happiness would be short-lived. Beau couldn’t afford to wait for her to come of age, because he would lose his horses. He would have to marry someone else.

She murmured a desperate prayer under her breath and turned to greet him. Her stomach relaxed as she noted the wide smile on his face.

“Am I to welcome you as my future son-in-law?” her mother asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes, madam, if you think I’ll do.”

Eliza leapt to his defence, taking his arm possessively. “Of course you’ll do. No one else would.”

He gave her arm an affectionate pat, and she found she couldn’t stop smiling.

Her father had given his permission. Soon, she would be Beau’s wife.

She listened in quiet enjoyment as her mother drew her beloved into conversation as they continued down the garden path together.

“How are your parents?”

“Very well, thank you. Mother eagerly awaits the arrival of her first grandchild.”

“And your sisters? I understand Caroline has made an advantageous match. Do you approve of it?”

“I…I don’t know. My parents haven’t asked my opinion and I confess I’ve never given it much thought.”

“And yet, she is your half-sister. You must have some views on the matter.”

Beau hesitated before continuing.

“It seems unnatural to me that Caroline should wed a man old enough to be her father, but no one could doubt the match is to her liking. If you saw her face, wreathed in smiles as it is, I’m sure you would agree. She is as delighted as my mother that she received the earl’s proposal within two weeks of arriving in London. But I don’t think…I can’t imagine she would marry him if he were not an earl. He is so many years her senior and not much of a society man. I hope she will not live to rue her choice.”

Eliza nodded. “I agree. Nothing she has said to me suggests she has any affection for Lord Felbridge, but there is no doubt she is thrilled to be marrying someone of higher rank than her sister.”

“A higher rank is not a recipe for happiness in marriage,” her mother said with a frown.

She continued to chat about people in the parish until they were back at the house. “That’s enough talk. I have a basket for old Mrs Jackson, who is suffering from her rheumatism. Please, would the two of you walk into the village to deliver it for me?”

Beau looked taken aback, as if surprised at the request, but Eliza agreed without a second thought, having helped care for her father’s parishioners all her life.

And there was a bonus that came with this good deed—some time alone with her future husband. Perhaps they could plan their wedding trip. She wondered if he’d like to go down to the sea. They could stay in her parents’ house in Weymouth. Ride along the beach together…

After fetching the promised basket from the kitchen, they set off for West Meon. Arm in arm, they strolled along the main street, drawing the eyes of everyone they passed.

To judge from the number of villagers who found an excuse to leave their houses, word of their arrival at the parsonage had spread. Eliza had known these people all her life and could not blame them for being curious about Beau.

Ever conscious of the man at her side, she glowed with pleasure as she returned their greetings, pausing occasionally to ask after an illness or whether a new baby had arrived.

These interruptions slowed their progress, but at length, they reached their destination and delivered the basket to Mrs Jackson, who showered them with her thanks. After making suitable enquiries into the old lady’s rheumatism, Eliza bid farewell, retook Beau’s arm and turned toward home.

As they left the village behind, she recalled her thoughts about the wedding trip, and was about to broach the subject, when it occurred to her that Beau had hardly said a word during the whole outing.

She glanced up at him, and her heart sank. His expression was unusually grim. Oh dear. This was a difficulty she hadn’t foreseen. Going on errands of mercy was second nature to her. Didn’t he approve?

“I’m sorry. Should I have asked Mother to send Hetta with the basket?”

Beau shook his head.