Page 3 of A Single Obsession

She stood fidgeting for what seemed like an age before William’s twin appeared, carrying a large cloak bag, which she dropped at Eliza’s feet.

Charlotte’s brow was creased with worry. “I’m so glad to see you’re still in one piece. You were gone so long, I was certain your horse must have thrown you. Please hurry.”

“I’m sorry, but the fox just ran and ran.”

“If I have to listen to you speak about foxes—”

Eliza unbuttoned her jacket and tore it off, followed by her neckcloth, waistcoat, and shirt. “No more talk of foxes, I promise.” She yanked a rather creased gown from the cloak bag and slipped it over her head, pulling it down to cover her breeches and hide William’s old boots from sight.

“I don’t know why I agreed to do this,” Charlotte muttered as she did up Eliza’s buttons. “I should have told Father.”

Eliza twisted round to face her sister. “You wouldn’t?”

After a long moment, Charlotte spoke. “No, I would not, though maybe I should. I was so scared you would be discovered, and if you were, your reputation would be in tatters. I wish you wouldn’t take risks like this. You can imagine how horrified I was when I learned Anthony and Beau were in Hampshire and were joining the hunt. Did you see them?”

Eliza dared not admit how close she had come to being found out today. It would only make Charlotte worry. “Yes—but I’m sure Beau didn’t recognise me.”

“That’s a relief. What about Anthony? Not that I would fret over him. If he saw through your disguise, he would laugh it off as a joke. Everything’s amusing to him. But Beau was surprised you missed seeing the hunt off, so he’s bound to ask you at dinner—”

“Dinner?”

“Beau was moaning about Mr Whitlow’s tedious company, so Hetta invited him and Anthony to eat with us. That’s why you must hurry.”

Eliza’s mouth went dry. Much as she wanted to see Beau again, her youngest sister’s invitation was not well timed. She would barely have enough time to dress for dinner. “Oh my goodness. You’re right. I must hurry.”

She yanked off her wig much more quickly than she should have done, causing her to wince. Her long blond hair was in danger of falling all over her face, but she had no time to fix it. She retrieved a rather squashed bonnet from the bag and pushed it down onto her head with considerable force before tying the ribbons.

After slipping her arms into her pelisse, she buttoned it up to the top, and then grabbed the clothes she had discarded. She stuffed them into the cloak bag, trying not to sniff them in the process as they reeked of the day’s exertions. If she smelled half as bad as the clothes…

A bath. She needed a bath. Eliza hurried back to the house with that one thought in her mind. Because if she didn’t bathe, she wouldn’t be able to hide where she’d been all day.

And she certainly wouldn’t be able to face Beau at dinner.

Chapter 2

By the time he and Anthony arrived at the parsonage, Beau regretted accepting Hetta’s invitation to dinner. As he stood on the step, waiting for the front door to open, he longed to be somewhere else. He had not been near the house in over three years, and it was bound to be awkward, given how his last visit had ended.

Beau pulled at his neckcloth. He shouldn’t have come. Mr Merry would be obliged to receive him, whether or not he wished to, or risk offending his brother—Beau’s stepfather, the Earl of Harting. That did not, however, mean he’d be welcome.

It was therefore a pleasant surprise when Mr and Mrs Merry greeted him warmly, as if they had forgotten about the past, or at the least, didn’t hold it against him.

But Beau could not forget. It still brought him out in a cold sweat as he recalled how Mr Merry had ripped his character to shreds for trying to elope with his eldest daughter, Georgiana.

He shuddered at the memory, but was thankful Georgie’s father had forbidden the match. The humiliation he had suffered was insignificant when compared to the alternative—of being saddled with a wife who never listened to anything he said.

The genuine warmth in the welcome he received did much to soothe his nerves. Perhaps the visit would not be so bad after all.

The first part of the evening passed smoothly. Discussion of the hunt lasted throughout dinner and continued when the gentlemen were left to their port. All too soon, however, it was time to join the ladies in the drawing room, and Beau felt his stomach churn the moment he walked through the doorway.

It was the same every time he had to make polite conversation. He felt a touch of envy as he watched Ant walk across the room and start talking to Mrs Merry with ease. His friend was as much at home in the drawing room as he was in the saddle—but Beau wasn’t.

Not even his mother could have found fault with his coat of dark blue superfine that fit across his shoulders to perfection. Or with his tight black pantaloons or snowy white cravat, though it lacked the modish perfection of Anthony’s Mathematical style. He looked the part of an elegant gentleman of fashion, but on the inside, he was still wearing his buckskin breeches and boots.

Beau felt as awkward as if he were a groom dressed up as a gentleman, always fearing he would say something wrong and reveal he spent more time in the stables than in polite society. If only he could escape there now.

As his gaze passed over each occupant of the room, he felt increasingly out of place. Hetta and her father were embarking on a game of chess. William had taken up his sketchbook and was busy with his pencil, no doubt drawing a portrait of one of them. Maybe even him. Charlotte had joined in the conversation with Anthony and her mother.

He was about to give into the temptation to flee when his eyes rested on Eliza—the only one of the Merry girls interested in horses. During dinner she had sat beside him, paying close attention to the discussion about the hunt, though hardly saying a word.