Rake in the Regency Ballroom. Bronwyn Scott
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‘For a sum, I’m sure.’ Philippa offered thoughtfully.
‘Definitely for a sum. But Lucien would be in charge of directing the investments. He seems quite taken with the idea.’
‘He’d be good at it. Lucien is no fool when it comes to money.’
‘But not women, at least not you.’ Beldon eyed her over his teacup.
‘Valerian told you?’
‘Hmm. Rather cowhanded of Lucien to think you could be politely coerced, if not into an actual betrothal, then at least as far as a publicly announced engagement. Are you thinking of accepting?’
‘I haven’t given it much thought,’ Philippa murmured vaguely. Marriage to Lucien Canton had been a foregone conclusion until the very unsuitable Valerian had arrived. Now, she believed she’d been rather naïve not to have thought about it more deeply, to look beyond the simplicity of an arrangement between two friends who enjoyed each other’s company. What other reasons could there be for a man with Lucien’s looks and prospects to choose to marry a childless widow when there were so many eligible débutantes available to him?
Beldon looked as if he would press her for more details. She stalled him with a shake of her head. ‘This is not the place for such a discussion.’ Lady Pentlow was starting to nod off in the middle of her conversation with Lady Trewithen. The evening was coming to a close. Her guests would want a good night’s sleep before beginning their respective journeys in the morning. They would look to her for the sign to retire.
Beldon assented. ‘Promise me we will have that discussion soon.’
Philippa smiled at her brother’s protectiveness. Even with childhood long behind them, he had not forsaken his role as a doting brother. ‘I promise. There is something I want to ask you, too, something about Valerian.’
Chapter Six
Beldon returned his empty cup to the tea trolley and said his goodnights to the group as they began to depart upstairs. He wasn’t as ready for sleep as the rest of them. His agile mind was alert, pondering the little dramas of the holiday, and Canton had excellent brandy in the library.
In general, he found people to be an interesting area of study. Younger men of his acquaintance dreaded the routine of a house party unless hunting was involved, but he found them to be intriguing affairs. The gatherings were a constant source of amazement to him, full of the dramas of intersecting lives.
Even in a group as small as the one here tonight, the web was tightly woven—Lucien and that merchant-cum-banker Danforth establishing a business tie together; he and Lucien, friends established through their common tie in Philippa; Lucien and Philippa and the budding drama of Lucien’s proposal; Lucien and Valerian, enemies on first sight. Why? The two men did not know each other. They had only Philippa in common between them.
Philippa was the only possibility. Did Valerian have a liking for Philippa? It was fantastical to think Valerian had fallen in love with his sister at first sight, and yet Val’s animosity towards Lucien had seemed palpable the moment he’d walked into the manor. A hypothesis began to take embryonic shape, events of the past starting to form connections to one another instead of existing as isolated occurrences. But Beldon was interrupted before he could decipher what the link was that bound them all together.
‘A farthing for your thoughts.’ Valerian strode into the library as if conjured from Beldon’s own mind. He’d removed his jacket and waistcoat, shirt sleeves rolled up.
Beldon shifted in the comfortable chair he’d taken up residence in. ‘My thoughts are worth far more than a farthing, old chap. Pull up a chair. Canton has a superb brandy collection.’
Valerian gave a short chuckle at that. ‘Is that his chief requirement in being your friend? Since I’ve met him, his cellar seems to be his primary recommendation.’
Beldon waved his snifter. ‘Well, you have to admit the Veuve Cliquot was superior at New Year.’ He paused, stopping to consider the play of firelight on the amber liquid swirling in the snifter’s bowl. ‘In truth, I’d thought Canton was quite an amicable fellow, a bit aloof at times, but otherwise acceptable, until you showed up. Why do you think that is, Val?’ Beldon studied his friend closely, watching him adopt a comfortable slouch in the opposite chair, his feet resting negligently on the fireplace fender as he pondered the question.
‘Do you want me to answer that question or is it rhetorical? I seem to recall you made a habit of telling us what to think in school.’ A teasing smile hovered at Valerian’s lips before he sipped from his glass.
‘Touché, I am wounded,’ Beldon said. ‘The accusation is true. However, in all fairness, you must admit most of our friends didn’t think. I did them a grand favour by doing it for them.’
‘Then carry on. Clearly, you have ideas.’
Beldon set his drink on a small side table next to his chair. He leaned forwards in earnest, elbows resting on thighs. ‘Tell me the truth, Val. I don’t have all the angles worked out yet, but I think you have a penchant for Philippa.’
It was telling that Valerian didn’t meet his eyes, but chose to look straight ahead into the waning fire. ‘Philippa is an attractive young woman who is intelligent and confident. I am certain many men desire her. She would be an asset to any peer’s household—’
‘More to the point,’ Beldon broke in, not swayed by the general terms of Valerian’s response, ‘you desire her and you have for some time. This is no incident of love at first sight. You’re both past the first blush of such fantasy. How long have you carried feelings for her, Val?’ How had such a thing as his best friend’s affections escaped his notice? Beldon felt a twinge of betrayal. He and Val had been closer than brothers and yet Val had not confided in him. Still, such an omission from Valerian was apparently not amiss. He’d not shared his plans to join his uncle until the night of his departure.
Valerian straightened and turned to face him, this time not avoiding his gaze. ‘I’ve loved her since we were young together. I was head over heels for her by the time she made her début.’
‘You didn’t tell me,’ Beldon said slowly, his mind whirring to adjust the pieces of this puzzle, how it fit against the backdrop of what had transpired. ‘Did she return your affections?’ There was a pit growing in his stomach. It was a horrible feeling to know that the two people he was closest to had fallen in love and he hadn’t known or been told.
Valerian must have sensed the direction of his thoughts. His answer was simple. ‘Yes.’
There it was. Valerian had not kept the secret alone. They had conspired together to keep the secret from him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Valerian shrugged. ‘How could I? Cambourne had offered for her.’
‘And you stepped aside?’ Beldon asked sharply. ‘That doesn’t sound like your typical behaviour at all.’ The Valerian he knew had championed the underdog at school, standing up for the principle of right, even when the odds were against him. He’d earned more than a few bloody noses for not knowing when to back down. In fact, the Valerian he knew didn’t believe one ever backed down. What had changed that when it came to Philippa?
Valerian tossed him a warning glance. ‘Beldon, I must ask you to stop your inquisition right now. The hour is late. In my experience, late hours are good for confessions between friends, but not necessarily for understanding them. Be satisfied to know that I have loved Philippa for years from afar. Be satisfied also to know that I would still claim her if she would have me.’ Valerian rose, putting an end to the conversation.
Beldon put out an arm in a restraining motion. ‘You can’t leave me on tenterhooks, Valerian.’ He gave a snort. ‘No wonder you were such a fine diplomat.’
‘Go easy on me, Beldon,’ Valerian said wistfully. ‘I have the utmost confidence in your mind’s ability