few sips of water, perhaps, or have some lemonade on hand, if you wish.’
‘Nothing stronger?’ Beth persisted. ‘He may be in pain and I have used up the laudanum you left us. I’m afraid I spilled some of it on the floor this morning.’
The doctor smiled at her. ‘Why this sudden anxiety, Mrs Forrester? This is most unlike you.’
She spread her hands. ‘I am concerned that Mr Davies should be comfortable.’
‘Well, make him up a saline draught, if you wish, it will do no harm. And if he is in pain—which I do not at all anticipate as long as he is kept quiet—I have more laudanum in my saddlebag, I’ll give it to your butler. Now, I must get on. Come along then, Kepwith, if you please! I have two more patients to call upon today.’
Beth watched the butler escort him to the door, then turned to find the earl waiting for her in the great hall.
‘You may be easy, Mrs Forrester. Peters is a good man and will know how to look after his master, I am sure.’
‘Yes, of course. I m-merely wanted to ensure Mr Davies does not have a disturbed night.’ She added lightly, ‘Poor Mr Radworth will think I have forgotten him! Shall we go into the library, my lord?’
He declined gracefully. ‘I wish to check all is well with my groom.’
‘As you wish, my lord. You may recall we dine early at Malpass. Shall I send a man to help you dress in, say, an hour?’
He shook his head. ‘Peters can do all I require—you look incredulous, Mrs Forrester. I told you I am not at all high in the instep.’
She was disarmed by his smile and as she gazed into his cool grey eyes she found herself thinking that it was no wonder he broke so many hearts. The click of heels on the marble floor recalled her; a footman was making his way to the library, a tray bearing a decanter and glasses balanced on one hand.
‘Oh, heavens. Miles!’ Her hands flew to her mouth and with a quick glance of apology towards the earl she hurried off.
Chapter Five
When Beth went upstairs to change for dinner she decided not to wear the grey silk laid out in readiness, but asked her maid to fetch her new lavender silk gown with the white muslin petticoat.
‘Ah, dressing up for Lord Darrington, are we?’ giggled Tilly.
Beth frowned at her. ‘Not at all. Mr Radworth is staying for dinner.’
‘So you won’t be wanting to hide your charms beneath a white fichu?’
‘That is enough of your insolence!’ Beth grabbed the fine muslin scarf and arranged it becomingly to fill the low neckline of her gown. She said, trying to sound severe, ‘I do not know why I put up with you, Tilly.’
Her maid merely laughed at her. ‘Because you know I love you and Sophie and Lady Arabella very dearly. And because no one else can dress your hair quite so well. So do sit down now, Miss Beth, and let me brush your curls for you.’
Beth had submitted to her maid’s ministrations and was rewarded by the look of approbation that she received from Miles Radworth as she entered the drawing room. She was disappointed to receive no such acknowledgement from Lord Darrington, who was conversing with Sophie and Lady Arabella on the far side of the room. He glanced across when she came in, but made no attempt to approach. As Miles took her hand and murmured any number of flowery compliments, Beth watched the earl from the corner of her eye, noting that he gave all his attention to her grandmother. She was piqued; she did not need Miles to tell her that the lavender silk set off her copper-coloured curls. One glance in the mirror had informed her that she presented a very striking figure, and while she would have been offended if the earl had been so impolite as to ogle her, she would have liked to see some sign of appreciation from him.
‘ … what do you say to that, my love?’
She dragged her attention back to Miles, who was obviously wanting an answer to his question. She summoned up her most charming smile. ‘I beg your pardon, Miles, I do not understand you?’
‘I was merely suggesting, in my roundabout way, that since you have done nothing yet about your bride clothes, I should take you to York. I am sure Lady Arabella can manage perfectly well without you for a few days.’
‘Ah, Miles, how thoughtful, but there really is no need. I intend to go and stay with my good friend Maria Crowther in Ripon and I will be able to buy everything I need there.’
She excused herself and moved towards Lady Arabella. The earl rose as she approached.
‘Mrs Forrester.’ He bowed and held the chair for her. ‘Perhaps you would like to sit next to Lady Arabella?’
Beth inclined her head and sat down, but she could not relax while the earl remained standing behind her. It took great strength of will not to turn her head to see if his hands were still resting on the back of her chair. She forced herself to say something.
‘Grandmama, I hope Sophie has taken care of you this afternoon?’
‘Of course, as she always does,’ replied Lady Arabella. ‘Such a good girl, and she reads so beautifully, not a hint of impatience when I am sure she would rather be elsewhere.’
‘Not at all, Grandmama!’ Sophie cried out at this and the old lady chuckled and patted her cheek.
‘Perhaps, my lady, you might allow me to read the newspaper to you tomorrow,’ offered the earl, moving around to stand beside Miles Radworth. ‘It would be a little something I can do to repay your hospitality.’
‘Aye, and I have no doubt you would do it admirably with that deep, smooth voice of yours,’ agreed the lady.
‘Oh, but I am very happy to read to you, Grandmama,’ said Sophie quickly.
‘So, too, am I,’ declared Beth. ‘We do not need to trouble the earl with such a task.’
‘What, would you deny me the company of such a handsome gentleman?’ Lady Arabella’s eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘I do believe they want to keep you for themselves, Darrington.’
The earl gave a little bow. ‘I am flattered, my lady.’
The inconsequential thought entered Beth’s mind that his dark hair, cut short to collar length and with its tawny highlights glowing in the candlelight, was much more attractive than Miles’s curled and dully powdered wig. She scolded herself silently. She had invited Miles to take dinner with them, so it was unjust to make any comparison when he had not been able to change for dinner. She must not contrast his velvet jacket with the earl’s dark coat that seemed moulded to his form, nor should she compare topboots and riding breeches with satin knee-breeches and stockings that showed Lord Darrington’s athletic limbs to great advantage. When it came to ornaments, she thought the honours equal, for apart from a large signet ring and the diamond that flashed discreetly from the folds of his snowy cravat, Lord Darrington had only his quizzing glass, hanging about his neck on a black ribbon. Miles, however, wore an emerald pin in his neckcloth and was sporting a few fobs and seals at his waistband, as well as his ornate watch. No, she would not compare them, nor would she dwell on the fact that with his splendid physique, the earl looked very
