Page 32 of A Single Obsession

Beau basked in the praise coming at him from every direction. He’d done it. It was a feat of horsemanship he’d never attempted before, and he had succeeded—first time. It was just as well, given the number of spectators, as it would have taken years to live down the embarrassment if he’d failed.

They’d all bet against him, but he had proved them wrong. No one had expected him to succeed, except Ant.

And Eliza.

He remembered the lone woman in the crowd and was glad she’d witnessed his victory. She had believed he could win his wager and come to see him do it. Few women would have chosen to watch such a performance and fewer still would have applauded it—but Eliza had.

What a relief he hadn’t failed and let her down when she’d shown such faith in his skill.

The crowd parted as the riding school owner approached him.

“Very good, Lord Beaumont,” Mr Astley said, striding over to the Viscount on his long legs. “If you ever hit on hard times, come to me for a job.”

Beau shook his hand heartily. “Thank you, but I think I’ll stick to riding one horse at a time. It is most kind of you to accommodate me. I don’t expect it would have been so easy on the flat.”

“No, indeed,” said Mr Astley. “That’s the beauty of the ring. Helps one’s balance wonderfully.”

Anthony drew near and patted Beau on the back. “Well done, old friend. You’ve won against the odds, and they will all pay for their lack of faith in you. We’ll make a nice little profit out of this.”

Templecombe linked arms with his cousin. “Time to celebrate. To the Admiral Nelson!”

“A moment, gentlemen,” Beau said, withdrawing his arm. “I must see to my horses.”

A general groan went up from the crowd, but no one tried to stop him as he headed out the rear of the arena to where Jem was waiting with the bays.

Beau nuzzled each horse, whispering his thanks in their ears, before leaving them to his groom, and walking back into the ring.

At once, his sporting cronies swarmed around him, sweeping him away to celebrate. As they propelled him along, Beau glanced over the seating area. He wanted to say goodbye to Eliza, to thank her for supporting him, but there was no sign of her.

Where had she disappeared to? Had one of his exuberant companions upset her?

A second glance showed him Anthony was missing. He must be returning Eliza to Georgie’s house.

That was a relief—or was it?

Eliza had demonstrated remarkable loyalty by showing up to watch him win his wager, but she had come with Ant, and when he remembered the way his friend flirted with her, he felt…unsettled.

His brow furrowed. Why should Ant’s behaviour bother him?

He didn’t know. It never had before. But it niggled him now.

Chapter 14

When Eliza arrived at Harting House for her aunt’s ball the following evening, she was still glowing with satisfaction over Beau’s successful bet. She wondered whether Frances had carried through on her threat and told her mother of the wager. If so, she suspected Beau would need to tread extra carefully around Lady Harting for a while. Not for a moment did she believe her aunt would take any pride in such a feat of horsemanship.

Eliza glanced about her, looking for Beau. She spotted one of his half-sisters, Lady Caroline, on the arm of a mature gentleman, a smug and rather superior expression on her face. He must be her betrothed, Lord Felbridge. To judge by appearances, her cousin was proud of catching an earl, even though he was a widower some twenty years older than her, desirous of a young bride to give him the heir he craved. She hoped Caroline actually liked the man.

At last, she caught sight of Beau, and her heart skipped a beat. Would he ask her for the first dance? No. It was unreasonable of her to hope for such a thing. As the son of the hostess, he would be required to open the ball with someone much more important than her.

“Miss Merry, may I have the honour of the opening set?” asked a peer whose name she couldn’t recall, drawing her attention away from Beau to the gentleman in front of her.

“I would be honoured, my lord.” That at least was true. She could feel honoured whilst wishing she danced with someone else.

His lordship proceeded in his normal fashion, paying her excessive compliments and putting her to the blush. It occurred to her that, although they had encountered each other frequently, she knew him no better than the day they first met, and she still stumbled over her words in his company.

Eliza wondered whether Caroline was better acquainted with her betrothed than she herself was with her dance partner. Probably not. The Earl was making a match based on her family and dowry, and it had little to do with love.

He had admired her beauty and the way she behaved in public, but the proposal had come so fast he’d had no time to discover where Caroline’s interests lay, or if they held similar views on matters of faith and family. It seemed a slim basis on which to build a marriage.