Regency Secrets: My Lady's Trust. Julia Justiss

remember that.”

      Beau nodded at the rebuke. “I shall, Madam Confessor. Now, scamp—” he eased his niece down “—here’s Mary to take you to the nursery.”

      The girl clung to his arm. “Please, don’t make me go! I want to ride with you!”

      “It’s too late today for a ride, poppet. But if you’re a good girl and go without teasing your mama, I’ll come up later and have tea with you.”

      The small hands at his shirt cuff stilled. “With rasp’ry jam and macaroons?”

      He nodded solemnly. “Devon cream, too.”

      Lady Catherine sighed deeply. “And a ride tomorrow?”

      “If the weather is fine.”

      “And I get to see Uncle Kit?”

      “If the doctor says you may.”

      The pointed chin nodded agreement. With quaint dignity she dipped him a perfect curtsey, back straight, skirts spread gracefully. “As you wish, Uncle Beau. Good day, Mama. I shall go with you now, Mary.”

      Hiding a smile, the maid took the hand Lady Catherine offered. “Very good, miss.”

      Her mother stood looking after her, affection and despair mingled in her face. “She’s such a scamp! One moment she’s climbing trees, her petticoats in tatters, and the next she makes a curtsey that would not cause a blush at the queen’s drawing room.”

      “Ah, the hearts she will break,” Beau said with a chuckle. “I shall have to have all my unmarried friends transported the year she debuts.”

      “Thank heavens that won’t be for a decade! Now, come sit with me a moment.”

      “Should you not better rest?”

      Elspeth slanted him a knowing look. “As the lady managed to slip away, you must come in yourself and tell me all about Mrs. Martin.”

      Since his sister possessed an intuition superior to his own and powers of observation only scarcely less acute, Beau knew he’d not be able to avoid her questions without raising suspicion. Better to answer directly—but with care. He wanted no well-meaning “assistance” in the delicate matter of Mrs. Martin.

      “She’s been a godsend,” he admitted as they took their seats. “Her quick action saved Kit’s life the day he was wounded, as I’m sure Mac’s informed you. She’s been the mainstay of caring for him through this difficult first week. Her remedies were most effective with fever, and the infusions seemed to calm Kit’s restlessness.”

      “She’s a widow, the squire told me.”

      “Yes.”

      “And lives here alone, without other family?”

      “Her aunt, who bequeathed her their cottage, died only recently, I understand.”

      “She’s not nearly the old crone I was imagining.”

      Beau smiled. “No.”

      “In her mid-twenties, I would say. Hideous gown, which totally disguises her form, but her complexion is lovely and that auburn hair, what little I could see beneath that awful cap, is striking.” She paused.

      Grinning inwardly, Beau schooled his face to polite interest. “Yes, I agree. She is rather younger than I’d expected and quite attractive. As you’ll doubtless see, our host has strong proclivities in that direction.” “Indeed!”

      “It would not be so unusual a match.”

      Elspeth studied him a long moment. He maintained a face of bland innocence. “Perhaps he would do, if there are no younger contenders to hand. Or perhaps—she is of gentle birth, the squire said—I shall take her to London with me next season. So young and lovely a widow should have more choice in settling her future than is available in this country outpost.”

      “Is it so essential that she remarry?”

      Elspeth gave him an exasperated look. “Certainly! What else is a woman to do? If what you say is true, she has no family to assist her. Who is to protect her if she falls ill or someone threatens her? Besides, she has no children, and she’s certainly young enough to hope for some. No woman would wish to be deprived of that joy.”

      The bittersweetness in her voice made his chest ache. Poor Ellie had suffered much for her babes. To lighten her mood he replied, “Does Mrs. Martin have any say in this?”

      Elspeth blushed. “Of course. But our family owes her an enormous debt, you must allow. I’m merely considering how we might best go about repaying it.”

      “Perhaps Mrs. Martin has plans of her own which will obviate your needing to intervene on her behalf.” Or mayhap someone else does, he added mentally.

      “Perhaps. But if not … I shall certainly do my possible. Now I really must rest. Don’t let my minx of a daughter tire you out. She can be exhausting!”

      Beau leaned to kiss his sister’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Ellie. I’ve missed you.”

      She gave him a quick hug. “And I you, big brother.”

      Beau’s smile faded as soon as he exited his sister’s chamber. Having the determined Elspeth play matchmaker for Mrs. Martin was a complication he certainly didn’t need. The mere idea of that lady giving herself to any other man, even in marriage, roused in him immediate and violent objections, though he would hardly voice them to Ellie.

      For one, Mrs. Martin responded to him as she did to no other man in Merriville. True, he was hardly a disinterested observer any longer, but in his most professional assessment she’d displayed no such attraction to the squire, nor had her behavior indicated she harbored marital intentions.

      Remarriage was certainly one remedy to her current insecurity, the most conventional remedy, but not the only one. He had the power and resources to make her permanently safer and more comfortable than any prospective husband Ellie could bring up to snuff, particularly the aging and only modestly well-to-do squire.

      And Beau would make her happier. As lovers, partners and friends, they would please each other. He would stake his last shilling on it.

      When—if—eventually they parted, Mrs. Martin would still have the option of remarriage. Only by then, their liaison would have left her socially and financially secure enough to take such a step out of desire, not necessity.

      The vague discomfort occasioned by the very idea of Ellie marrying off Mrs. Martin faded, and Beau’s mood brightened. He was delighted to have his sister here—he much preferred having all his family about. Especially since—a double blessing—Ellie’s condition meant that her arrival no longer signaled the departure of Mrs. Martin.

      Ellie would certainly attempt to befriend the widow, who was more likely to confide in his sister than in him. Through cautious questioning of his sibling, he’d probably discover more of Mrs. Martin’s circumstances. Even better, Ellie might be able to coax her to join them at dinner or for tea. His spirits quickened at the thought of spending more time with her, even in company.

      Of course, if Ellie did get her matrimonial plans in train, it would be the lady’s choice whether she preferred a discrete and long-term liaison with Beau, or marriage to some beau of Ellie’s choosing.

      He’d just have to make sure her choice fell on him.

      Later that evening another caller joined them. The vicar, Reverend Eric Blackthorne, had stopped by daily with prayers and encouragement during the crisis. Upon learning Lady Elspeth had arrived, he felt obliged to come by at once and pay his regards, he informed Beau’s sister as they sipped tea, his own mama having been a good friend of her mother, the late Lady Beaulieu.

      In virtually the next breath, Mr. Blackthorne requested that Mrs. Martin be bid to join them. Perhaps prompted by his recent conversation with Ellie, Beau was suddenly struck by suspicions he had