"To be perfectly honest, m'lady, I can't quite say I'm aware of the frivolities of the generic aristocratic courting ritual. If I was, I suppose this would probably be a far more successful and far more entertaining dinner between us," he responded rather casually, laughing softly, perhaps at himself. His response utterly infuriated Lady Havenshire... because it broke her composure, and she found herself grinning stupidly, just the same as he.
Damn it all, she thought to herself. The man bloody did it again; he made her feel something. He made her laugh, and smile.
"Are you certain? I think it'd be equivalently boring, myself," she snickered.
"Am I boring you? Blast it," Lord Beckham intoned sarcastically. "I suppose Lady Henrietta was wrong about me, after all. Quite a shock, right? As she's renowned for her truthfulness, and honesty, and for her ability to close her mouth, and all."
"You already made jokes at poor Lady Henrietta's expense, m'lord, you're not going to catch me with those again," Lady Havenshire teased playfully.
"Clever girl, she's on to my tricks," Lord Beckham quietly hissed. "Quickly, let's return to our discussion of precisely how boring I am. That had far greater possibilities."
"I've a better question for you," Nadia said, tapping her chin. "My father told me you were espousing some rather unorthodox thoughts to him, in your discussions about me. What, precisely, did you say to him that's got him thinking you're some sort of kindred spirit?" she hummed.
"Well, I expressed to him my feeling that you're a rather bizarre woman, and I'm a rather bizarre man, and us, being bizarre people, would do a wonderful job of terrifying the rest of the country together," he explained with joking pedantry, earning warm laughs from the lady, who nonetheless grew insistent.
"Tell the truth! I'm quite interested, now," Nadia smirked. Lord Beckham took a deep breath, glancing away.
"I'm certain that if I were to tell you, now, you'd take it as a simple ploy to whisk you away, marry you, and force you to have my children, or some other such lovely fantasy that I'm certain you're no stranger to," he admitted. "You'd think of my words as a ploy, and not as sincerity."
"Perhaps, but if you instead refuse, it's likely this conversation will die out the same as our previous conversation did, and I don't imagine that was much of a pleasant experience for either of us, was it?" Lady Havenshire admitted.
"What? I quite enjoy sitting in awkward silence with beautiful, intelligent women. It's good for one's soul," he joked.
"Then my speaking just now must have set you on the path to the devil, is that right?" Nadia returned with a wicked grin. Lord Beckham smiled, but collected himself and with gravity returned a genuine answer.
"Your father has an understanding of the rather unbecoming way in which our world treats women," he grudgingly admitted. "Nevertheless, he confessed to me his health has failed him, and that he hasn't the time to change all the world's hearts and all the world's minds, and instead hopes that before he passes he can marry you away. In our conversation, I admitted agreement with some of the methods of argument I'm certain he's heard from you, about how smart women ought to determine their own destinies. Those manner of things, you know," he said with a shrug.
"Not words a man says lightly in this sort of environment," Lady Havenshire offered. "I..." she, too, fought with herself about revealing what she had insisted she wouldn't about herself. "...I got a feeling from you, that night we met. You felt... different, from the sort of braying, selfish 'gentleman' that infects social circles. The sorts of men my friends all married. When I heard about your sister, I..."
"I loved my sister. A great deal. Leah had been my best friend, for most of my life," Lord Beckham interjected, overtaken by his emotion on the subject. "I... I believe, a part of what I feel, about you, about your father—your situation... I want to pay for what I did to Leah."
"Have you spoken to your sister, of late? Does she hold it against you?" Lady Havenshire asked, confused as she was concerned.
"Leah... the death of father, the ruling of the magistrate, the estate... it all took her far too suddenly, and poisoned her heart. She left home, and I've not heard from her since," Lord Beckham recalled, voice full of melancholy. "I know... what you want, what your father wants. It's... not a marriage of love, but a marriage of... well, of convenience. One in which you bear my name, to carry on your line, and your wealth, and title, but... none of the burdens expected of a woman in a marriage. You need help, but want also to maintain your freedom. I feel that, if I... can't make up what happened to Leah, on my own. Perhaps I can do a small favor, to help unwrap this grand, terrible thing wrought upon the mindful women of this world."
The lord's speech ended and met with deafening silence. Her mind churning over the words, Lady Havenshire sat with her mouth slightly agape in surprise. She now felt only venom for herself for her presumptuous nature; for how quickly she had judged the lord in their last meeting. She lost her doubts in his sincerity; she saw in him something she had never truly expected to see.
Perhaps unlike the other gentlemen of England, when he said something... he meant it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Today Lady Havenshire needed no servants to wake her; no vigorous and irritated rappings upon her door by Ms. Mulwray, excoriating the young woman for not rising before the sun did, nor needed she chiding summons from her father for spending a day in the bed. No, today instead Nadia rose at the first smell of early-morning dew wafting through her opened windows and between swaying, gossamer white curtains; before the sun had even set its eyes out across the fields, she smelled the new day, breathing its airs with aplomb, and rushed excitedly to face whatever it had to offer.
She could scarcely bring herself to admit it, but a little bit of excitement brimmed, bristled, burned in her heart; it's not a feeling she had ever had before, instead generally reserving her heart for feelings of contempt and questioning of men like Lord Beckham. But today, she awoke with new thoughts; new purposes. New dreams. Her cheek had met her pillow with her mind buzzing full of thoughts on the words he'd spoken; on the new side of this odd man she had seen set at the table, across from her; lamenting the loss of his sister, lamenting the way women must live in the cage that Nadia had spent her whole life trying to escape. Yet she tempered her excitement, as she rushed to the window to smell the scent of blooming flowers carried on gentle, cool breezes; she couldn't let herself get too carried away with the thoughts buzzing about in her mind.
Lord Beckham, confess as he might feelings of insecurity, or distaste with the nature of the life of 'gentlemen' in England - was nonetheless still a man, and she struggled to find it in herself to trust in his words or honesty. Though she reminded herself as dreams left and day began that she must remain wary, she couldn't stifle this sense of excitement. Today, Lord Beckham had agreed to visit the Havenshire manor - and here, in her own home, her own world, she would show him her own strengths; her convictions, her talents, and everything she'd learned. Thankfully, they'd be doing something together she had no questions of her talent for - riding. He had shown an interest in the horses' stables last he visited, hadn't he? Her mind ran away with thoughts of her, galloping freely atop Shadow's back, laughing into the wind as they raced together; for, she knew, every English gentleman knows how properly to tame a wild horse, does he not?
She had no way of explaining her feelings of excitement to herself; she'd not felt like she did, rising from bed today, since her youth; since days spent chattering with boys in their fathers' oversized jackets, gossipin
g and kissing one another on the cheek in the gardens outside the Emerys estate. As she breathed the fresh air, her cheeks burned a soft reddish hue, positively embarrassed by how odd she felt over this particular man. She remembered their first interaction and swallowed hard, stilling herself, trying once more to remind herself that this man had benefited from this system she so hated, even if he hated estrangement from his sister.
Such dark thoughts didn't become her, though, and she pulled her gown over her curves and thrust open the door to her bedroom, proudly striding into the corridor without and taking in the faint dim glow of sunlight through the hallways, and the tangy-sweet scent of lemon and essential oils, a fresh pronouncement that Ms. Mulwray had been up early preparing the house with the staff, cleaning and polishing every surface spotless before the sun took to its midday disposition. She dashed through the ornately-carved reliefs and pristine, soft carpets of the corridor outside her bedchamber, grinning as she had when she was an excited young girl, spiritedly jaunting through the Emerys gardens. Bouncing into her wardrobe, she offered a distinguishing eye to the collection of colored gowns and outfits - it would only be proper for a lady to ride on horseback wearing her finest gown, side-saddle, but Nadia grinned deviously, imagining the particular, witchy face Ms. Mulwray would scowl when she saw Nadia wearing her riding outfit. Nadia snatched her long, white jodhpurs from the shelf of the wardrobe, collecting her gloves and boots from shelves hidden behind flowing, white and lacy dresses and shawls in every manner of color imaginable. Her conspiratorial smile widened as she imagined her erstwhile suitor's curious expression when he saw Nadia dressed not for a leisurely gallop along the roadways, but for a quick and exciting trek across the Emerys holdings. She wondered, as she searched for her long navy-blue riding jacket, whether he would arrive wearing the same - just how serious, she pondered, was Lord Beckham in the matters equestrian? Another exciting question to find the answer to, soon.
"Lady Havenshire! M'lady!" Nadia's eyebrows bounced in surprise as she heard Ms. Mulwray's voice bounce through the hall outside, and the young noblewoman hurriedly fastened the buttons of her white riding blouse, before pulling her jacket overtop her curves and hurriedly wrapping her length of flowing hair into a single tail, bound with a pretty, silky white ribbon fetched from the drawers of the nearby vanity. She held her shoulders broad, her chest high, and her face brimmed with confident, curious satisfaction as she looked at her reflection, straightening down her jacket and pulling her boots taut and proper across her calves.
"Lady Haven—Nadia!" Ms. Mulwray's voice grew louder as she stepped through the door to the expansive wardrobe; she gulped and stepped back in shock at seeing Nadia clad in her riding outfit. "C-certainly you're not intending to wear that to ride with Lord Beckham today! He's a proper gentleman, you know, and he'll certainly expect a woman he's sought to pursue to wear proper clothing," she scolded.
"Are you certain of that, Ms. Mulwray? How well do you know Lord Beckham, hmm?" Lady Havenshire teased, thinking on her past conversations with the unusual man, full of excitement at seeing just how he'll respond to a woman clad in the trappings of a professional, and not a dainty, helpless thing.