“Enough of your impudence, boy.” Sebastian assumed a mock scowl to prove his identity. “Why don’t you invite the ladies to Stanhope Court for tea so Aunt Eloisa and I can become better acquainted with your fiancée?” He took care to mention his widowed aunt so there could be no suggestion of impropriety about the ladies paying such a call.
“I should like nothing better! What do you say, ladies? Will you grace the dull old place with your presence?” Claude’s handsome young face beamed with such pleasure, it gave Sebastian a twinge of guilt, which he promptly suppressed.
His brother must assume this invitation signaled Sebastian’s acceptance of the betrothal. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.
“We would be delighted to accept!” Hermione Leonard exclaimed. “Wouldn’t we, Miss Beaton?”
Her companion’s response was less hasty, which Sebastian approved, even though it made him anxious that she might refuse.
After considering for a moment, she nodded. “We are not otherwise engaged. And I doubt your father will be sufficiently recovered from his cold to want our company.”
“Excellent! We will look forward to your visit.” Sebastian felt more confident of accomplishing his goal than he had since learning how Miss Beaton had duped him. If he could enlist her able assistance, he was certain his brother’s imprudent engagement would soon be safely broken.
Chapter Three
“YOU CERTAINLY MANAGED to charm Lord Benedict.” Hermione glanced around the elegant interior of the viscount’s barouche a few days later. “Fancy him sending this fine carriage to fetch us to tea.”
“I’m certain it has nothing to do with me,” Rebecca protested, smoothing the skirt of her neat but unfashionable dress. They had not even reached the viscount’s mansion and already she felt hopelessly dowdy. “No doubt it is his lordship’s compliment to you as his brother’s fiancée.”
“Hardly.” Hermione grimaced. “Did you not see the way he looked at me the other day or hear his tone when he deigned to address me? It positively dripped with scorn. I’m certain Lord Benedict is still violently opposed to my wedding his brother.”
“Dripped with scorn? Violently opposed?” Rebecca shook her head. “You are exaggerating. His lordship may have been a trifle cool, but surely that was my fault for misleading him as I did. I expect he did not feel kindly disposed toward anyone connected with me.”
Hermione’s delicate features tightened into a doubtful frown. “At first, perhaps, but you soon won him over. By the time the two of you finished talking, Lord Benedict seemed quite taken with you. Yet he still appeared to regard me as the most odious creature he had ever beheld.”
Reaching across the carriage, Rebecca caught Hermione’s ice-cold fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Lord Benedict is barely acquainted with you. He objects to your match with Mr. Stanhope on general principles—and not very sound ones, in my opinion. Once he gets to know you better, I’m certain he will be delighted to welcome you into the family.”
“I hope you’re right.” Hermione caught her full lower lip between her teeth. “I fear I am not at my best around his lordship. He is so haughty and severe, I am quite afraid of him. When he gives me that cold blue stare, I feel every bit as foolish as he seems to regard me.”
“Perhaps he is a little proud, but given his wealth and position, that can hardly be surprising.” What did surprise Rebecca was hearing herself rise to Lord Benedict’s defense. “Yet he is not too proud to make a jest at his own expense. And when he laughs, he does not seem the least bit severe.”
Why did she feel compelled to stand up for anyone who was being criticized, Rebecca wondered, even a powerful man more than capable of taking his own part? It must be a habit from her school days. The one thing that had made that miserable institution bearable was the close friendships she’d formed with a group of her fellow pupils. The five of them had banded together to comfort, cheer and defend one another.
Hermione regarded her former governess with a rather superior smile. “It seems his lordship has succeeded in charming you in return, though I would not have believed him capable of it.”
That pointed observation threw Rebecca into confusion. Hermione made it sound as if there were romantic feelings between her and the viscount. “Now you are talking foolishness. I simply tried to keep an open mind and not let my opinion of the gentleman be prejudiced by a bad first impression. You should do the same.”
“Of course!” cried Hermione. “You’ve given me the most brilliant idea.”
“To keep an open mind about your future brother-in-law?” Rebecca replied. “It is a prudent suggestion, but hardly brilliant.”
“Not that.” Hermione leaned toward Rebecca as if imparting a secret. “Since Lord Benedict is so partial to you, could you use your influence to persuade him to give our engagement his blessing? Please, Miss Beaton!”
“What influence could I possibly have over a man like his lordship?” Rebecca firmly dismissed the notion—from her own mind as much as Hermione’s. “He is not partial to me, only polite.”
Seeing the younger woman’s crestfallen look, she relented... a little. “Still you may rely on me to acquaint Lord Benedict with your many good qualities.”
Eager to turn the conversation from that awkward topic, Rebecca pointed out the window. “Look, there is Stanhope Court. What a fine house it is. And what superb views it must command from the hilltop!”
A few moments later, the carriage came to a stop before the viscount’s magnificent mansion. Rebecca had often glimpsed it from a distance, but had never before seen it up so close. The front fa?ade, of honey-brown Cotswold stone, looked very grand and imposing with a high portico supported by six lofty pillars. A pair of great wings swept behind the house on either side, no doubt enclosing a rear courtyard that gave the place its name.
As she climbed out of the carriage behind Hermione, Rebecca was torn between admiration and an acute sense of her own insignificance. Though she recalled living in houses almost as impressive as this one, she had never been welcome in any of them. Only in more modest surroundings had she found any measure of acceptance and affection.
To her surprise, Lord Benedict and his brother came out to meet them.
“Thank you for accepting our invitation, ladies.” Claude Stanhope swept them a deep bow. “This house as been empty for so long, it is a pleasure to have company at last.”
Offering Hermione his arm, he escorted her toward one of the sets of stairs that led up to the portico.
That left Rebecca alone in the presence of the viscount, and feeling dreadfully self-conscious after her conversation with Hermione. It had been one thing for Lord Benedict to treat her as something approaching his equal when he’d mistaken her for Squire Leonard’s daughter. His manner on Sunday she attributed to the time and place, for were they not all meant to be brothers and sisters in the sight of Heaven?