Page 102 of A Single Obsession

Eliza thought he looked ill. Perhaps his mother was giving him a hard time over the broken engagement.

He greeted Georgiana warmly before turning to her and executing a low bow.

“You look exquisite tonight, Miss Merry. May I have the pleasure of dancing the next with you?” He took her hand and led her onto the dance floor before she could refuse him.

Eliza was confused. Why was he behaving like this? Was he so disgusted with her he must treat her in this formal manner that was so unlike him? But if he felt like that, why ask her to dance at all? Beau’s politeness was such a cold imitation of the friendship they had shared that it brought all her shyness to the forefront, leaving her as tongue-tied and awkward as she had been when the season had begun.

Was he punishing her for embarrassing him, paying her fulsome compliments that set her teeth on edge, because they were the same flirtatious words every other gentleman said?

She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Beau was not vengeful, but how else could she explain his behaviour? Unless his mother had a hold over him, and was still trying to persuade him it was his duty to marry her.

There was nothing Eliza could do but try to hide her feelings and enjoy the dance. He was an excellent partner, and as the lively reel precluded any but the briefest of conversations, she could forget, for a moment, that anything was amiss with the world. Almost.

As the set drew to a close, he gave her another formal bow.

“Would you care for some orgeat?”

Eliza nodded. He led her to a chair near her sisters and disappeared in the direction of the refreshments.

Georgiana was talking with Charlotte, leaving Eliza to her thoughts. She could not understand Beau’s behaviour and was so lost in her reflections, she did not notice Lady Harting approaching.

“I am glad to see you and Beaumont have made up your differences,” she said without preamble, sitting down next to her.

Eliza didn’t know what to say. The words stuck in her throat.

“I felt sure you would both want to do your duty and keep your troth to each other.”

She could not let this misunderstanding continue. “You are mistaken, aunt.”

Lady Harting pursed her lips. “No. I believe it is you who are mistaken, Elizabeth. You are allowing a fleeting disagreement to cloud your judgement. A rector’s daughter could not ask for more than what my son can offer in terms of wealth, title and connections and a splendid home in which to raise your children, besides his personal attractions.”

Eliza’s colour rose. Was her aunt suggesting she had agreed to marry Beau because of these things? And it was rather more than a fleeting disagreement. To judge by Beau’s conduct toward her since she had been back in London, he had no wish to renew their engagement.

How could she convince Lady Harting they were not still betrothed without revealing what she had done? She must try.

“I do not wish to be a viscountess. I think…indeed, I fear…I am not suited to holding such an elevated position.”

The tightness around Lady Harting’s mouth faded and her lips spread to form a broad smile.

“It is natural you should feel overwhelmed with the honour of such a title and all that it entails. Such a large house to manage and so many duties you have not been raised to consider. But do not fret, my dear child. You will not be left to deal with your new responsibilities alone. I will be there, at your side, to help and support you as you grow into your position. It is not for you to decide whether you are worthy of the role. I have impressed upon Beaumont the importance of doing his duty, and I know you will wish to do yours.”

Eliza felt nauseous as she envisioned spending her days in Lady Harting’s suffocating company. To be married to Beau would be heaven, but to live with his cold politeness and his oppressive mother would be hell.

“I’m sorry, your ladyship, but I don’t want Lord Beaumont to marry me out of duty. It grieves me to say it, but I do not think we suit.”

Eliza rose from her chair, sunk into a deep curtsey, and moved away before Lady Harting could restrain her.

Her aunt’s words cut her to the core as they made the motive for Beau’s current behaviour all too clear.

He was pursuing her out of duty—nothing more.

Beau procured two glasses of orgeat and returned to where he’d left Eliza, only to find she had vanished. Instead, his mother was there to greet him.

“Elizabeth tells me you do not suit,” she said, a fierce light in her eyes that did not match her emotionless tone.

A wave of protectiveness came over Beau, causing him to return her look with a furious one of his own. Eliza might never become his wife, but he would not let his mother upset her any more if he could help it.

“I don’t believe that for a minute. Tell me what you said to her to make her flee.”