Reforming the Rake. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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СКАЧАТЬ you get for being long in the tooth.”

      “What?”

      “With age comes a sharp tongue.”

      That’s what I get from spending the past month with you, Beatrice thought, but said nothing.

      “At any rate,” Louisa continued brusquely, “I have discussed matters with your sister. She is determined to go to the theater, and I have decided to allow it—if, mind you, you can get your brother to join you.” Beatrice groaned, and Louisa cackled with glee. “Yes, dear, I know that won’t be easy. Ben’ll be as excited about chaperoning his younger sisters to the theater as I am about the two of you going. I don’t think it’s right for two unmarried girls to be traipsing off to the theater together. I don’t know what the world is coming to.”

      Beatrice sank back onto the settee. Louisa was right. Ben would have no desire to escort them to the theater, and he probably already had other plans. Still, if she started begging now, by curtain call he’d be so annoyed he’d take them just to make her be quiet. Beatrice wanted to crow with joy, but wisely schooled her features. “Thank you, Louisa. I know how much this means to Eleanor. I’d hate to disappoint her.”

      Louisa smiled smugly. “Yes, well, I checked, and the play begins at seven. You should still be able to make it to Lady Teasdale’s at a decent hour once it’s over. And see if you can’t get your brother to come with you.”

      And with that, Beatrice’s hopes sank into the carpet, and Louisa sailed from the room with all the dignity of the royal barge. Beatrice collapsed even deeper into the settee, and closed her eyes. It didn’t help; she could still see the triumphant smirk on her aunt’s face. She opened her eyes and looked at the frolicking milkmaids on the walls. Even they looked smug.

      Oh, she was dreading the evening to come. It was true— Beatrice had been to Lady Teasdale’s wretched affair three times already. It was considered de rigueur for unmarried young ladies to attend this annual event, and avoiding the thing in the future was one of her few incentives for marrying. Lady Teasdale had five daughters to still marry off and was a cutthroat competitor who made a point of being rude to any ladies of marriageable age not related to her by blood. Lady Teasdale’s eldest daughter, Sarah, had come out the same year as Beatrice. Lady Teasdale liked to remind Beatrice of the fact that Sarah had been married by the sixth week of the season—and to a viscount, no less. In truth, Beatrice felt sorry for the girl—she couldn’t imagine anything worse than being auctioned off to the highest bidder at the age of seventeen. But that didn’t change the fact that Lady Teasdale considered it her job to rub that detail in everyone else’s face.

      Of course, Beatrice had to admit that three seasons without managing to find a husband was rather pathetic. And if one counted her two years of restorative hibernation at her family’s home in Hampshire, well…that did make five years of indisputable failure.

      Not that she considered it to be her sole purpose in life to get married. She had no problem with remaining single…as long as she wasn’t trying to wed; it was at that point that spinsterhood became failure. The secret to success, she’d decided, was to pursue spinsterhood the way most women pursued marriage. In fact, she’d become quite comfortable with the idea of remaining a perennial spinster, and hadn’t even planned on going to London for the season at all. No, that was her father’s idea.

      “You know I love you, Bea,” he’d said, trying to be delicate, “but for heaven’s sake, do you think someday you’ll get married?”

      Beatrice had only grinned, not realizing that this time he meant it. “But however would you survive without me?”

      He had sighed resignedly. “I should miss you, Bea, but as for surviving…don’t take this the wrong way, but I dream of the day when all of my children find families and houses of their own, and I, God willing, can enjoy peace and quiet once more.”

      Beatrice had begun to get a bit nervous, but attempted to cajole him out of this new mind-set. “You’d take that back, Father dearest, after a week. Who would help you organize your library? Who would help you with your correspondence?”

      “Who has ever helped me with these things?” he’d asked in confusion.

      Beatrice had ignored that remark. “And what about entertainment? How about my harpsichord playing?”

      “That, my dear, I would miss least of all. In fact, I hope you take the instrument with you. No—” he’d held up his hand as Beatrice started to protest “—both you and your brother are of marriageable age. Eventually, I would like some grandchildren.”

      “But you just said you wanted peace and quiet.”

      “Beatrice,” he’d warned.

      She’d sighed. “All right. I understand…but yet, Father, I don’t understand exactly. What are you proposing? It’s not as if I’ve been avoiding marriage.”

      “It’s not as if you’ve been actively seeking it, either. You’ve had two years respite, Beatrice. If your mother were alive I hardly think she would have allowed it. I’ve been too indulgent, and it’s time you returned to London to give it another go. I’ve discussed this with Louisa, and she agrees. She’s even offered to sponsor you for the season. You can stay with her in town.”

      Beatrice had already started to panic. “Aunt Louisa? Oh, no. Why can’t I stay at our town house?”

      “Because I won’t be accompanying you, and your brother is there, indulging in God knows what sort of debauchery.”

      “I’ll be a good influence on him.”

      He’d smiled. “More likely he’ll be a bad influence on you. Louisa will keep you company—and make sure you at least try. I know you too well, Beazie. Left alone you’d just sit about and read novels. And don’t,” he’d added, looking at her firmly, “turn those sad eyes on me. I won’t go with you. I went to town during your first three seasons, and I’ve already promised Eleanor that I’ll be in town when she has her coming out in two years. And then Helen in just a few more years—”

      The clock struck four, drawing Beatrice from her reverie. She’d been in London for nearly a month, and that had been a month of hard campaigning, at least on her aunt’s part. No, her unmarried status was not from lack of trying, nor was it from lack of interest—her reputation as “Cold Fish Beatrice” seemed to have faded, and she’d gained a few brave suitors. Try as she might, she was plagued with the same problem of old. Beatrice knew that it was silly and unreasonable, but she kind of, just a little bit, did believe in love at first sight. There was someone out there for her. She just hadn’t met him yet.

      But there was no sense in dwelling on it now. She had to start getting ready for the theater. Her father was right: she did read too many novels, and she’d be better off if she pushed all romantic thoughts from her mind.

       Chapter Three

       C harles sorely regretted his decision to attend the ball. In general, he steered clear of that sort of thing, particularly if it were captained by Honoria Teasdale. He had been reminded of why he hated these events from the moment he’d walked through the door, when he’d felt precisely as if he’d been thrown to the sharks. Every woman in the room, be they mother or daughter, young or old, fat or thin, immediately began sizing him up, wondering if perhaps this was the year he’d be caught. Having no interest in marriage himself, he wouldn’t have attended the ball at all if it weren’t for СКАЧАТЬ