Regency Society. Ann Lethbridge

out two men.’

      A hum of conversation erupted.

      ‘Describe him for them, Bea,’ he ordered and was pleased when she began to talk, giving him a moment to try to collect himself.

      Beatrice felt his heart beating hard against her back. His arms had not released her and she stood in the middle of a roomful of strangers all looking at her.

      Well, at Taris, were the truth to be told, because he appeared so dangerously and wildly magnificent with the scar across his eye and the sword in his hand, threatening anyone who made the mistake of placing themselves between them. Even Ashe stood his distance and waited. For reason!

      ‘He is a very tall and thin man with light brown hair and a small moustache.’

      She peered around as the others did, but Radcliff was nowhere in sight, either in this room or in the next one.

      ‘I am sure he has left,’ she said more quietly to Taris and because of it he released her. Still, he held her hand as though he would not let her out of his sight.

      She smiled at her choice of words. Out of his touch, more like, the whole evening taking on an importance that almost brought her to her knees.

      For a man who hated to draw attention to himself tonight had been a revelation. Taris Wellingham had not only shouted across the room for all to hear, but had shielded her with his own body when he perceived the threat as ominous.

      A declaration?

      Perhaps he had not said he cared for her yet, but actions spoke louder than any words. Her fingers curled into his and stayed there. Safe. Right. Dependable.

      Asher and Emerald next to her completed the guard. A family who would stand at her side as no others ever had before.

      When Bates came up to join them, the bump on his forehead was raw and bleeding.

      ‘Did you see who hit you?’ Taris asked as he realised his man was standing beside him.

      ‘I just saw the baton. Presumably the same weapon he used on the footman, who is now being tended to by the housekeeper. It was a constable’s baton.’

      ‘The policeman who helped me off the street said he had lost his baton that day.’ Beatrice wished she might have kept that piece of information to herself as Taris swore soundly.

      She noticed Bates had given him back the cane’s wooden cover and saw how well the sword was sheathed within it, the silver ball forming part of the hilt of the weapon.

      To each side of them a line of people had formed, the interest on their faces undisguised.

      Taris, however, seemed unaware of any of it as he took Bea’s fingers and placed them in the crook of his arm.

      ‘We will follow you out, Bates,’ he said and the small party walked as one to the waiting conveyance.

      At Falder they sat in the small blue salon and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

      ‘The man must be crazy to think to attack us there.’ Ashe had a glass of wine in his hand. Emerald sat beside him with an identical glass.

      ‘I am not sure he meant to,’ Taris interjected. ‘I think we surprised him. If I were to guess I would imagine he was waiting for when we left to attack. But when he saw there were only two of us and that in the darkness he had surprise as an advantage, he took his opportunity.’

      ‘Bates will have a damn headache in the morning. You were lucky he didn’t go for you, Taris.’

      ‘He did.’ Rolling back his sleeve, Beatrice saw a large discoloured lump on his forearm, the skin broken by the force of the blow. ‘I felt him there—’ He stopped, tilting his head as though trying to remember something else.

      ‘Not all bergamot,’ he said suddenly. ‘Hops and mead. The smell of hops and mead.’

      ‘The Dog and the Boar?’ Ashe was on his feet.

      ‘At Kenworth.’

      Taris turned with his brother and before Beatrice had a chance to say goodbye they were gone, calling men to join them.

      Emerald had not moved, though she took a large swallow of her wine before beginning to speak.

      ‘The Dog and the Boar is a tavern five miles from here which has rooms for travellers. It makes its own special type of mead.’

      ‘The one that Taris could smell?’

      ‘Exactly. If Radcliff is there he doesn’t stand a chance.’

      ‘They would kill him?’ Horror made her whisper.

      Emerald laughed. ‘Worse. When they finish with him he might wish that he were dead.’

      ‘He could be waiting for them!’ The danger of it all made her voice shake. ‘He could have others with him!’

      ‘I think our men can hold their own.’ Emerald’s reply held no sense of any fear.

      ‘Are you always so certain?’

      Emerald began to laugh. ‘You think that of me when I could say exactly the same of you.’

      ‘The same?’ Bea frowned.

      ‘Your discussions! You manage your salon with the acumen of one long used to people and the subjects you put forward are not for the fainthearted. And yet you allow all an opinion, no matter how unusual.’

      ‘I was not allowed my own for so many years that I suspect it is now a calling to hear those of others.’

      ‘Are you never fearful that such debate might get out of hand?’

      ‘It is London. What harm could my patrons truly do?’

      ‘Crucify you with words, for one.’

      ‘The opinions of those here at Falder are the only ones I worry about.’

      ‘Lord. No wonder Taris wants you by his side, Bea. Together you might rule the world. I hope that he doesn’t take you off to Beaconsmeade too quickly.’

      The conversation whirled again out of kilter. ‘I don’t understand.’

      ‘Tonight was the first time that he has ever forgotten to hide his lack of sight from others and that was because of his fear for your safety.’

      ‘Or perhaps for that of our child.’ Bea had not meant to say it but it slipped out. Unbidden.

      ‘Which explains your penchant for weak tea?’

      ‘Anything else makes me feel ill.’

      ‘Have you wondered why a man who is pursued by every eligible miss in London has no other offspring, given that he is now almost thirty-two years of age?’

      ‘Perhaps he has been careful?’

      ‘Or celibate. Before you he barely noticed women and when he inherited his estate, believe me, there were many vying for his attention. You sell yourself short by proclaiming that his interest lies only in this child, for I can see that you love him.’

      A single tear traced its way down Beatrice’s cheek. ‘I do,’ she returned, no longer able to hide anything. ‘More than life itself, for he has saved me by letting me be me.’

      ‘Then when he returns tell him how you feel, but be warned. The Wellingham men are not prone to using much poetry in words, so listen for them in other ways.’

      ‘Other ways?’

      His arms around her at the ball encircling her in his safety and protecting her from an enemy he could not even see. His breath hoarse as he called to her, no touchstone for his hands and his man Bates nowhere in sight.

      Other ways? How many had she seen tonight? Bravery had a face as did panic, written into fear and honour as he went about the daunting task of finding her in a crowded room and risking everything.