he shook his head. ‘Perhaps I just imagined it, or am being too sensitive. After all, she’s a woman grown, not the lively girl she once was, given to displays of adoration. And, of course, she was bound to have changed after what she’s experienced during these past years.’
Lady Chalford uttered a sound that was suspiciously like a snort. ‘Well, if she did suffer hardship, she has only her late father to blame. What on earth possessed Colonel Ashworth to send for his daughter, do you suppose? If he had placed her in his sister’s care, I’m sure Lady Henrietta would have been only too happy to chaperon her for a Season. It would have been the ideal time to bring Bethany out. Once the event to celebrate your engagement was over, that is.’
As always, she cast her brother a searching look in an attempt to gauge his reaction. On this occasion, however, his expression gave absolutely nothing away. It was almost as if he had not heard. ‘Bethany might well have been married by now had she remained in England.’ A thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Or is she married?’
‘No, she isn’t,’ he eventually revealed, frowning more deeply than before. ‘Which is most surprising, because there’s no denying she’s become a most attractive young woman, quite strikingly so. But what puzzles me even more is why she took it into her head to join her father in the Peninsula in the first place. Beth’s companion inadvertently revealed something that has given me every reason to suppose that Augustus Ashworth didn’t plan for his daughter to join him out there.’
He shrugged, straining the material of his impeccably tailored jacket across much-admired shoulders. ‘No doubt we’ll discover the truth in time, possibly even this coming Friday, as I’ve invited Beth and her charming companion, Mrs Stride, to join our small dinner party.’
Philip favoured his sister with a prolonged stare. ‘And have a care, Connie,’ he warned. ‘Unless I much mistake the matter, Beth looks upon this woman as rather more than a companion. I know you are far too well bred to make any guest of mine feel ill at ease, but you do not always put a guard on that tongue of yours.’
Lady Chalford clearly bridled at the accusation, yet possessed sense enough not to refute it, and merely said, ‘Well, if I’m being forced to play hostess to a man of Bathurst’s stamp, I’m sure I can be civil to a hired companion.’ Her grey eyes were suddenly lit by a catlike gleam. ‘In fact, the companion might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. I was wondering who to place next to Mr Charles Bathurst at table, as you will insist on inviting the fellow to dine.’
‘An excellent notion!’ Philip announced, completely impervious to his sister’s attempts to provoke him. ‘And it might not be such a bad notion to place Bethany on my affluent new neighbour’s other side, for unless her character has changed out of all recognition, and I don’t suppose for a moment it has, she wouldn’t care a jot if she was seated next to someone who for the first twenty years of his life was considered a bastard!’
Although having had the advantage of becoming reacquainted with Bethany, and therefore having already appreciated the quite apparent physical changes in her, even Philip found himself almost gaping when she entered his drawing room with her companion early on Friday evening.
A gentleman of no little experience in such matters, it was evident to him that both ladies were dressed in creations clearly fashioned by a leading modiste, and possibly purchased during their recent and quite lengthy sojourn in the French capital. Bethany’s gown of kingfisher-blue silk clung to her slender figure in gently flowing folds. Long evening gloves, satin slippers and the ribbon entwined through a coiffeur of intricately arranged dark-brown curls were all dyed the exact same shade as the stylish dress. Only the simple string of pearls adorning her throat and the pearl-drop earrings provided some contrast. From head to toe she was the epitome of serene elegance, and her companion’s appearance, too, left nothing to be desired.
Leaving his sister still staring slightly open-mouthed, he set about playing the gracious host until dinner was announced by introducing the new arrivals to his other guests, some of whom were known to at least one of the ladies.
Although he had left most of the organising in his sister’s very capable hands, Philip had specified which of his female guests he wished placed next to him at the head of the table. For reasons which escaped him still, he had refrained from choosing Beth as one of his close dinner companions. Nevertheless, throughout the meal he found himself frequently casting surreptitious glances in her direction in an attempt to assess her social skills.
No one could ever have accused her of being in the least shy when a child. She had simply oozed confidence in those early years of her life. Yet surprisingly enough when she had returned home after her final year at the seminary, he at least had detected tiny cracks of insecurity in her character. She had certainly been more at home on the hunting field in those days than in a fashionable drawing room. Now, however, there wasn’t a sign of diffidence or awkwardness in her demeanour. She conversed easily with those sitting nearest to her, and paid particular attention to the wealthy newcomer to the locale.
Interested to discover what she thought of Charles Bathurst, he didn’t encourage the gentlemen to linger over their port, and surprised the ladies by returning to the drawing room before the tea things had even been removed.
‘Can I tempt you to take a stroll with me in the garden, Beth?’ he asked her, easily prising her away from the other female guests. ‘It’s a fine evening, and there’ll not be too many more to enjoy before autumn sets in.’
If she was surprised to be singled out for particular attention, she betrayed no sign of it, and appeared quite relaxed and content as she accompanied him across the terrace and down the steps to the formal gardens at the rear of the mansion.
‘I’d quite forgotten how splendid the grounds are here,’ she admitted, her expression openly admiring. ‘Or maybe it’s that I never fully appreciated the beauty of English gardens until I was denied the pleasure of being in one for so many years. The roses here in the summer must have been breathtaking! I’m determined the garden at the Grange will be as lovely as it once was when Mama was alive. Papa frequently remarked on how wonderful it looked during those few short years before he became a widower.’
Had it been any other female of Philip’s acquaintance, he wouldn’t have considered the remarks in the least trite, merely a well-bred young woman’s attempts to maintain a conversation that was lacking any hint of contention and, in consequence, could offend no one.
Yet, because it was Beth, because it was someone who throughout childhood had possessed such a wealth of roguish charm, he had found the discourse commonplace, and could only wonder at himself for experiencing such a surge of dissatisfaction. What had he expected, for heaven’s sake! She was no longer the adoring infant, only too willing to share confidences with someone whom she had looked upon as an indulgent big brother. Furthermore, this evident reserve in her now hadn’t suddenly manifested itself overnight, he reminded himself.
Quickly casting his mind back over the years, he recalled the time when she had returned after the period spent at that Bath seminary. He remembered experiencing a sense of acute disappointment in Beth then, especially when she had attempted to ape the more ladylike behaviour of her beautiful cousin. Missish conduct hadn’t suited her in the least. He recalled vividly now that he had found the totally feigned manners irksome in the extreme. It simply hadn’t suited Beth at all to act the helpless, languishing damsel. It was different now, though, he realised. During their years apart she had developed her social skills, and her manner no longer seemed artificial. Undeniably it was some achievement, and one of which he would have wholeheartedly approved had he not the increasing suspicion that she was determined to keep him at a distance.
This strong impression was endorsed moments later, when they continued their stroll through the gardens, and Beth inadvertently stepped on a large pebble and momentarily lost her balance. Instinctively he grasped the upper part of her right arm in order to steady her, and just as quickly she wrenched it out of his gentle clasp, as though the heat from his fingers had seared through the material of the long evening glove, burning her flesh.
She recovered her poise almost at once, the frantic look of a