Life next week was going to seem very dull, she thought as she arrived back at Lady Holt-Barron's after the ride to Claverton Down. But she would think of that next week. Perhaps she would simply return home to Lindsey Hall. It should be safe to do so by then.
The marquess came into the house with her, since Lady Holt-Barron had invited him for tea. They were somewhat windblown and flushed from the outdoors, but Freyja did not go up to her room to change first. She preceded the marquess into the drawing room.
And stopped so abruptly that he almost collided with her from behind.
Lady Holt-Barron and Charlotte were both in the room.
So was Wulfric.
He was just rising to his feet, looking his usual elegant, immaculate, faintly cold, silver-eyed self. His long fingers were curling about the handle of his quizzing glass and raising it halfway to his eye.
'Ah, Freyja,' he said, his voice haughty and distant.
'Wulf!' she exclaimed.
'And . . . ?' His glass went the rest of the way to his eye, magnifying it horribly.
'May I present the Marquess of Hallmere?' she said, standing to one side. 'My brother Wulfric, my lord. The Duke of Bewcastle.'
What in heaven's name had brought Wulf to Bath at this of all times? But she knew the answer without having to pummel her brain any further. Of course! Wulf, she sometimes thought, shared the quality of omniscience with God. It was this of all times that had brought him.
Someone had told him.
He knew!
His next words dispelled any shadow of doubt she may have felt.
'Ah, yes,' he said softly, lowering his glass but still looking at the marquess with cold eyes. 'Freyja's betrothed, I believe?'
CHAPTER IX
Bewcastle had a distinct advantage over him, Joshua thought an hour later as the two of them walked down Gay Street, Lady Holt-Barron's housekeeper having made arrangements for the horses to be returned to their stables. There was the advantage of rank, of course-Bewcastle was a duke while he was a marquess. But the difference between them was far vaster than that. Bewcastle had been born to his present role. He was an aristocrat to the marrow of his bones, while Joshua, even after being heir to his title for five years and holder of the title for seven months, still felt like a usurper.
They had conversed on a variety of topics over tea, the five of them, and consequently nothing of any significance had been said. Now Bewcastle spoke of the attractive appearance of Bath and Joshua agreed with his every word, trying not to feel like a whipped boy-or, rather, like one who was about to be whipped. But this really was a devilish coil. It had been too much to hope, he supposed, that word of the betrothal would not somehow come to the ears of Lady Freyja's brother, but who could have predicted that he would come in person like this instead of merely writing to his sister for more information?
'You will step into the Royal York with me?' Bewcastle asked as they reached level ground. It was phrased as a question, but Joshua recognized a command when he heard one.
'It would be my pleasure,' he said.
The duke had a private suite of rooms at the hotel. His valet took their hats and gloves and brought a tray of drinks into the sitting room. Bewcastle indicated one empty chair and took another himself. The valet poured two glasses, handed one to each of them, and then left them alone, closing the door silently behind him.
Bewcastle regarded his visitor with pale, keen eyes that had Joshua thinking of wolves-the man was named appropriately, it seemed.
'You will doubtless explain to me,' Bewcastle said in a pleasant enough voice, though his eyes were as cold as ice, 'why your betrothal has been publicly announced to Bath society and not announced at all to Lady Freyja Bedwyn's family.'
Joshua crossed one leg over the other. 'It was an impetuous decision,' he said. 'I proposed marriage to Lady Freyja during a waltz at the Upper Rooms, she said yes, and we decided to invite our fellow guests to share our joy.' His explanation sounded remarkably silly even to his own ears.
'Ah, impetuosity,' Bewcastle said. 'But you did not wish to invite her family also to share your joy, perhaps the next day or the day after-or the day after that?'
There was an unfortunate pause while Joshua tossed about in his mind a few possible answers. There was no convincing answer, of course. This was all devilishly embarrassing.
'Perhaps,' the duke suggested, 'you intended to wait upon me at Lindsey Hall after the first euphoria of your engagement had passed?'
'Lady Freyja is of age,' Joshua said. 'Strictly speaking, we do not need your consent. We would have sought your blessing in time, yes. During this past week, as you have suggested, we have been enjoying each other's company rather too much to consider what ought to be done.'
'You have, then,' the duke said softly, 'conceived a passion for each other?'
Oh, Lord. He was wading in deep waters, Joshua realized.
'One might say so,' he said.
'One might,' Bewcastle agreed. 'But do you say so, Hallmere?'
'I rather believe,' Joshua said carefully, 'that my feelings for Lady Freyja and hers for me are our private concern.'
'Quite so.' Bewcastle set down his half-empty glass, leaned back in his chair, set his elbows on the arms, and steepled his fingers. Silences, it seemed, did not embarrass him. It was a while before he continued. 'It would seem, Hallmere, that you have always been an ambitious man.'
