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 like the heroes that had once filled her dreams. Her marriage to Joseph Forrester had taught her to put aside such romantic notions. It had been a struggle to curb her impetuous nature, but Joseph had soon taught her that a husband did not want a wife constantly hanging on his arm or displaying affection. She did not think her life with Miles would be any different, for her feelings for him were well-regulated, unlike the disturbing turmoil Lord Darrington roused in her.
Looking up, she met his amused glance and her face flamed. She hoped he could not read her thoughts!
A glance at Miles showed that he was not too happy with the conversation and she said quickly, ‘Grandmama, you are very wicked to tease us so. We must not forget that when Dr Compton calls tomorrow he may declare Mr Davies well enough to return to Highridge and we will be obliged to say goodbye to our guests.’
‘And very sorry I shall be to see them go,’ declared Lady Arabella. ‘The Priory has been far too quiet since Simon died. We have become positively reclusive.’
‘You know I would willingly move in, my lady,’ offered Miles, ‘if it would comfort you to have a man in residence.’
Lady Arabella stared at him for a long moment, her face quite impassive. She said at last, ‘Thank you, Mr Radworth, but no one can replace my grandson.’
The silence hung uneasily about the room. Beth rose in a whisper of silk.
‘Shall we go in to dinner?’
Beth did not enjoy her meal. Lady Arabella presided over the table with her usual grace, but although the two gentlemen were perfectly polite to each other, Beth was uncomfortably aware of a tension in the air. Even Sophie cast uneasy glances at them. When she considered the matter dispassionately she did not think that any blame could attach to Lord Darrington, who was seated next to Lady Arabella and responded to her questions and remarks with perfect ease and good humour. Miles, however, was above being pleased. He found fault with every dish and, although Lady Arabella did not appear to notice his ill humour, his barbed remarks made even Sophie lapse into uncharacteristic silence. He was also drinking heavily, calling for his glass to be refilled with such regularity that Kepwith was obliged to fetch up another bottle.
The covers had been removed and the dishes of sweetmeats placed upon the table when matters came to a head. Miles was reaching for a dish of sugared almonds when his cuff caught the edge of his wineglass and sent the contents spilling across the table. The earl quickly threw his napkin on the pool of wine as Miles jumped up, cursing under his breath.
‘No harm done,’ said Beth, placing her cloth over the earl’s. ‘We have contained it. Sophie, if you give me your napkin, too, I think that will do the trick.’
‘I beg your pardon, that was dashed clumsy of me,’ muttered Miles, standing back and watching proceedings. ‘That last bottle was bad.’
‘Very possibly,’ said Beth in a tight voice.
A footman brought in more cloths to finish wiping the table.
‘There, all is well again,’ remarked Lady Arabella. ‘Pray sit down again, Mr Radworth.’
‘Aye, I will, but first I am going down to the cellars to find a decent bottle!’ He grabbed the butler’s arm. ‘Give me the key.’
‘Sir!’ The butler’s exclamation was a mixture of outrage and alarm.
Sophie gasped. Beth put a hand on her shoulder, aware that the earl was watching them.
‘There is no need for that, Miles.’ She kept her voice calm. ‘Kepwith shall bring another bottle if you wish for one.’
‘Aye, I do wish it, but I’ll have none of his choosing. It’s my belief he is fobbing you off with poor stuff and keeping the best for himself.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Beth sharply. ‘I do not keep disloyal staff. Neither do I allow my guests to venture into the servants’ domain.’
Her hauteur had its effect. Miles glared at her, but she held his gaze steadily and at last he resumed his seat, saying with a little laugh, ‘You are quite right, m’dear. Plenty of time to discuss how the household is run once we are married, eh? Very well, Kepwith, you may go and find another bottle of claret, and be quick about it!’
Lady Arabella led the ladies away to the drawing room soon after, and Beth was not surprised that the gentlemen did not tarry over their port. Miles seemed to realise that he had gone too far and tried to approach Beth and apologise, but she would have none of it, turning a shoulder to him, only relenting when he announced he was leaving shortly after they had drunk tea together and humbly begged her to accompany him to the door.
‘My dear, I can only apologise for my outburst,’ he said, unclipping his watch and putting it safely in his waistcoat pocket.
She shrugged. ‘The effects of inferior wine, I collect.’
‘Not only that, Elizabeth. I fear I was jealous of seeing Darrington so at ease here.’
She blinked. ‘You are jealous of the earl? You have no need, I assure you. I have no interest in him at all!’
‘Ah, but what if he is interested in you?’ said Miles. ‘I observed how often he watched you this evening.’
‘No, I am sure you are mistaken,’ she cried, her colour heightened.
‘I think not. I fear he may wish to fix his interest with you.’
She raised her brows. ‘How can he, when I am already betrothed to you?’
‘Betrothed, yes, but how I wish we were wed!’ He pulled Beth into his arms. ‘I would have married you the moment you came out of mourning—’
‘I know, but we must give Grandmama time to grow accustomed. You have been very forbearing,’ she said softly. ‘Pray, Miles, be patient for a little longer.’
‘Why must we wait?’ His arms tightened. ‘You are no innocent schoolgirl, Beth—can you not tell how much I long for you? You need have no worry that I am making you false promises to get you into my bed. The contract is signed, ‘tis only the priest’s blessing we are lacking—’
‘Good heavens, Miles, would you have the shades of this old place rise up against us?’ she asked him jokingly. She placed her hands against his chest and held him off when he would have kissed her. ‘But, to be
