Elizabeth Beacon - Captain Langthorne's Proposal

‘Shush. We’re nearly there, and you really shouldn’t be so uncivil to your neighbours—myself included.’

‘I won’t hush, and I like being uncivil. I didn’t want to come and I have no desire to racket about the countryside with a person who never listens to a single word I say,’ she said smartly, fervently wishing it were true. Something told her she might go with him to the ends of the earth if he asked with just the right pitch of need and hunger in his dark voice.

‘Coward. But why not just humour me for once? I would never have brought you if I thought you were in the slightest danger.’

‘Then your definition of danger and mine must be wildly out of kilter,’ she muttered darkly, then subsided into silence as he halted the curricle well short of the church and passed her the reins.

‘If I’m not back within a quarter of an hour fetch my head groom from the smithy, then go home,’ he ordered quietly, before jumping lithely down and ghosting off into the shadows himself, before she could think up a sufficiently indignant and crushing protest.

‘Insufferable, ungovernable, insensitive man,’ she muttered under her breath, but she sat and kept the pair as quiet as she could even so.

If it hadn’t been for her nagging fear that Sir Adam might end up lying disabled and hurt in the ancient churchyard, she might even have found this peaceful interlude quite pleasant, she decided, as she listened to the triumphant fugue of birdsong. Instead she had to force herself not to imagine ruthless villains lying in wait for him, and reluctantly considered his ridiculous scheme to find Rachel a husband to distract herself.

Her friend might be happier, more fulfilled than she was now if she were married to a good man. But after so many years of longing for her dead love, would a mere everyday one ever satisfy her? In such a mundane marriage Rachel might crave the unconventional life of an officer’s wife she would have had with Tom, if only he had survived long enough to live it with her. Excitement, Serena decided with a stern frown at an ancient yew tree that had done her no harm at all, was vastly overrated. Yet if she was strictly truthful she had been bored and restless with her own life for some time now. The question was, had she got to the point where she would grasp any opportunity to escape. Especially if Sir Adam were the one offering it to her, and with her best friend the supposed beneficiary?

Looked at dispassionately, she supposed a season in London with Rachel should be an offer seized on with delight, rather than regarded as a gift horse of the most suspicious variety. Yet she suspected Sir Adam had more in mind than diverting his sister’s thoughts from her lost love. The headlong Serena of her debutante days, that impulsive idiot he had just waxed so lyrical about, would have accepted his offer without a second thought, and worried about any consequences when they came along. Which was precisely why she refused to let the little ninny command her life now. If he thought to influence her by comparing her current lack of spirit with her overabundance of it during her youth, then he was very wide of his mark.

Indeed, if she could go back in time she would settle for one of the worthy young gentlemen who had laid their all at Lady Serena’s elegantly shod feet, instead of the more outwardly fascinating Lord Summerton. And if Sir Adam Langthorne considered her poor-spirited for choosing safety over risk with the benefit of hindsight, then he’d better find someone closer to her former self to confuse with his hot glances and arrogant certainty. A picture of a heady what-might-have-been slotted into her head. If only the then Lieutenant Langthorne had attended the same balls and parties as her younger self had, only to be ruthlessly dismissed. She knew the full treachery of air dreams nowadays, and reality invariably failed to live up to such fool’s gold promises.

She heard the church clock strike the quarter and could hardly believe only ten minutes had ticked by since he had left her sitting here, doing just what she had told herself she wouldn’t and thinking only of him. Even by considering his plan she was giving it credence. Janet’s coming baby was a much more attractive topic to dwell on, she decided resolutely, and spent five minutes wondering how much influence a godmother had over a child’s life, and if she was worthy of such a role.

All the time she was straining to hear the softest of footfalls on the mossy grass that grew under the yew grove at the churchyard perimeter. She felt she was fast becoming part of it. If only he would hurry back, he could drive his restless pair to Windham, restore her to her rightful place, and the world would settle back into its allotted course. By sitting here on pins, as if Sir Adam Langthorne’s safety was of prime importance to her, she was being drawn further and further away from her place of safety and deeper into the dangerous land of make-believe.

Tomorrow she would go and see Rachel, and between them they would circumvent the almighty Sir Adam and his ridiculous schemes. Unfortunately there was today to be got through first, and a cold fear was settling like ice in her belly, almost convincing her that he was lying in the graveyard gravely injured and in dire need of help. She shifted on seat cushions that were somehow becoming harder by the second, and began to seriously contemplate tying the reins to the rail and creeping to the rescue.

If he didn’t need rescuing, or was lying in wait for some nameless villain, she would spoil everything, of course. She would count to a hundred, and if he hadn’t put in an appearance by then, she would drive boldly up to the church and put paid to this whole ridiculous episode. Serve him right if she did put his quarry to flight, she decided militantly, for treating her like some inanimate parcel that could be left here until he was ready to deliver it. When she lost count and had to start again for the third time she gave up, and diverted herself by contriving fitting punishments for such a faulty gentleman.

‘Good girl.’ His deep voice seemed to arrive before he did, and she jumped several inches in the air.

‘I’m not a spaniel. And don’t creep up on people in such a fashion, Sir Adam. Unless you wish to see off your entire acquaintance from the apoplexy,’ she chided furiously. ‘It would serve you right if I was of a vapourish persuasion, just so you would have to cope with my delicate nerves after giving me such a shock.’

‘Believe me, Lady Serena, if they were that finely strung you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Your nerves are as stout as Mrs Burgess’s are wasted,’ he replied, looking infuriatingly unrepentant.

‘Then I must spend more time in her company in the hope of acquiring some sensibility.’

‘Pray do not. I’d hate to be deprived of your delightful companionship for such a flimsy reason—and even you must admit the good lady’s nerves are the only insubstantial thing about her.’

On the verge of a betraying chuckle, she forced her mouth into a straight line, ‘Stop it, Adam,’ she said with a stern look. ‘It’s not kind to mock a good woman.’

‘I promise never to do it again if you’ll call me by my name and not my title more often.’

‘That I won’t! I never meant such a coming piece of over-familiarity to slip out in the first place.’

‘A pity. As we’ll be seeing so much of each other in town, I thought we might consider ourselves friends and be comfortable together.’

Which was the very last thing she would ever be with disturbing Sir Adam Langthorne, Serena decided darkly.

‘You know very well only close family members are so familiar with each other. Anyway, I’m not coming to town, so the need won’t arise for us to call one another anything for several months.’