Four of the party that left for Richmond on Tuesday morning were ensconced comfortably inside Lord March’s well-sprung carriage, followed by a curricle driven by Mr Beaumont. Caroline was perched beside him, wielding a frilly parasol over her dark head and chatting excitedly about the al fresco luncheon in which they were invited by the Viscount’s aunt, Lady Dawning.“What does her ladyship look like?” she asked. “She’s not often in town, is she? Otherwise I would have seen her in an occasion or two.”

Mr Beaumont glanced smilingly at her eager face. “Let’s see… She’s a plump little lady with a pleasant face and lilting voice. No, she’s not often in town on account of her husband’s frequent indisposition. They make such an odd pair, you know, his husband being a crusty old fellow while she’s very amiable and loves to entertain.”

“She sounds like Lord March!”

“Certainly, and she dotes on him so much. If anything, I dare swear he’d cajoled Lady Dawning into this al fresco luncheon!”

Miss Davis smiled rather abstractly and said that it was just like the Viscount to make them this delectable treat. In truth she could almost believe that Lord Stokeford had first put the notion on his friend’s head. That afternoon when they drove down to Richmond, Caroline remembered that she’d told the Earl how very much she’d love to go to a picnic… She sighed. It seemed so long ago now. Upon hearing Lord March’s invitation her spirits, which had not been at its best these days, soared instantly, only to be dampened by his next tidings. Lord Stokeford had unfortunately left the town already, and therefore could not come with them. The thought of not seeing him again made her heart twist — but it was too silly of her to indulge in a fit of blues when the view was so charming and the weather so glorious. The very least she could do was to appear cheerful!

Dawn Hall was perched atop a low hill overlooking the sweeping Richmond Park, and surrounded by well-trimmed lawn and gardens with colourful flowerbeds. The party arrived at around eleven o’clock, and the ladies were instantly delighted by the charming prospect before them. Hurrying from the great house was a plump lady in the lighter shade of fifty, short in inches with remarkably youthful, beaming countenance, who instantly pounced on Lord March and gave him a smacking buss on the cheek. Not embarrassed by this display of affection, the Viscount returned the embrace and embarked on introductions. Her ladyship was already acquainted with Miss Carstairs and inquired pleasantly after her dear papa, the Viscount Mislington. This had brought a strained look on the young lady, but she nonetheless summoned a bright smile and said that her papa was in the town at present, and was enjoying a customary good health, as always.

Next presented were Miss Winscott and Miss Davis, on whom her ladyship’s eyes had lingered for a while. Not impervious to handsome young men, she was very charmed to make Mr Cedric Milborne’s acquaintance, and made him flush a little by patting his cheek, saying: “Why, but you’ve a face of an angel, my dear!” At the end of it all, Lady Dawning embraced the company with her winning smile and exclaimed ecstatically that she didn’t know her nephew had such lovely young friends.

Entering the house, the buoyant hostess drifted alongside Mr Beaumont. The young man gallantly offered his arm, and her ladyship, smiling appreciatively, asked: “And where is that errant cousin of yours, Mr Beaumont?”

“Rusticating in the country, ma’am,” he replied with a grin, knowing very well that her ladyship had a soft spot for the Earl. “I suppose you’ve heard his latest, er, contretemps?”

Her ladyship’s cheerful face shadowed fleetingly. “I have. With Wickham, yes? Heavens, but that stupid boy’s always anxious to court trouble! Stokeford, I mean. Not that I don’t believe young Wickham’s as blameless as a lamb, for everyone knows he most definitely isn’t! Dawson told me your cousin was shot in the arm. I hope he’s on the mend now. Such a great pity he couldn’t come, for I would dearly love to ring a peal over him.” The twinkle returned to her merry hazel eyes. “And how about you, my dear? Am I mistaken in believing that you have your eyes on that black-haired young lady? Is she the reason why you’d rushed down here and snipped off my beautiful flowers from their beds a fortnight or so ago?”

Despite himself, Laurie coloured slightly and his smile a little apologetic. “I hope I had not ruined them, ma’am? You’re not mistaken. I am indeed very much — attached to Miss Davis.”

“And set on making her your wife. Dear me, but you’re blushing!” she giggled and patted his arm. “I wish you luck in that direction, my dear, although I daresay you hardly need it. A young lady who’s been receiving your attentions is very fortunate indeed, and will not hesitate to consider your suit.”

Laurie stammered: “Really, ma’am! It’s not that — well, only that I don’t give myself such airs as to believe — ”

“Nonsense! You know very well what a great catch you are, Laurence Beaumont!” declared Lady Dawson in her unoffending candid manner. “Though your modesty does you credit, young man. Come, we’re tarrying behind them. Goodness, but they will think me a neglectful hostess! That nephew of mine will not hesitate to usurp my place and guide my own guests around my own house.”

Far from it, Lady Dawson was nothing if not a very accommodating hostess. After partaking of light refreshments she toured the young ladies around the gardens while his nephew accorded the gentlemen to the billiard room for a game or two. The luncheon, held in a charming pavilion at the back garden, was nothing short of being successful, for her ladyship kept a generous table, maintained a flow of diverting conservation and unfailingly attentive to each of her guests.

By mid afternoon, it was proposed that they all took a stroll in Richmond Park. Cedric had singled out Marianne and offered her his escort, much to Caroline and Sophie’s surprise, who’d surreptitiously exchanged amused glances afterwards. Observing this, Mr Beaumont remarked in a sotto voice: “Dare we hope Milborne has completely got over your cousin?”

“I believe he is,” replied Caroline, her speculative gaze alighted on the couple walking ahead of them. “Poor Cedric. Much as he deems Mr Clayton unsuitable for Sophie, I think he’s already reconciled with the fact and deliberately divert his attentions elsewhere. It’s kind of him to cheer Marianne, though. He must have sensed that she’s a trifle downcast today. That horrid gossip has really overset her.” She glanced up, her brows furrowing. “Marianne could be a little coquettish sometimes, but I’m sure she didn’t do anything that was quite improper.”

Knowing the playful Miss Carstairs better and her conquests in Paris, Mr Beaumont nonetheless nodded and said equably: “Lady Mathilda had only concocted a tale for the delight of those who are foolish enough to take her word, and Marianne is only one of her countless victims.”

“Oh, yes, she’s truly horrid! When Lord Stokeford and — ” she bit her lip, and looked away, feeling the heat rising on her cheeks.

“Yes?” prompted Mr Beaumont, his face inscrutable at the moment. “What about my cousin?”

“That — that Lord Stokeford dislikes her very cordially, it seems,” supplied Miss Davis lamely. They now reached the bank of the pond, and, struggling to cover her lapse, she was thankful to see some distraction and exclaimed a little shrilly: “Oh, look! Ducks are coming this way!”

Mr Beaumont, who’d picked a flattened pebble, frowned at the horde that was gradually assembling by the grassy bank. “What a spoilsport! And I’ve wished to show you my prowess in stone skipping!”

“Oh, no! I’m very certain the ducks would have mind it very much, sir. We wouldn’t want to scare off the poor things, surely?” She laughed as Mr Beaumont doggedly shooed the duck from the banks, but with futile results. He flashed her a boyish grin, relinquished the pebble and held up his hands in mock resignation. Seeing him in this humour, Caroline owned that he must be one of the few gentlemen whom the epithet ‘breathtakingly handsome’ should be quite suitable, and yet she wondered why he did not so much as touch her heart.

“Miss Davis?”

Breaking from her thoughts, she looked up and instinctively fell back a step. It was a mistake. The edge of the bank was steep, and she nearly toppled to the pond had Mr Beaumont not been fast enough to grab her waist and pull her against him. Her heart thundering, she briefly closed her eyes and leaned gratefully against his shoulder.

It took him an effort to free her from his arms, but not wanting to cause the lady another embarrassment, Laurie half-heartedly drew her warm body away from him. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded, a little breathless. Then, gathering her equanimity, she managed a sheepish smile. “How clumsy I am! Had you not been here, I’d have an afternoon swim with the ducks, which I am not in the least inclined to do so.” She cocked her head on one side and quipped: “On the other hand, I think I would have served you a good turn, sir, because the poor creatures would’ve been driven away and you could have the chance to display your prowess in stone skipping!”

Mr Beaumont threw back his head and laughed, as though he hadn’t had a laugh in many days. After the mirth subsided, he said: “My dear Miss Davis, do you know what a treasure you are?”

And finally, Miss Davis’ heart gave an odd leap upon hearing those words. Oddly enough, it wasn’t Mr Beaumont who was standing before her now, but a much taller figure of a man with a sad pair of blue eyes instead of merry ones. ‘…a man must have to be such an unmitigated block not to realize what a treasure you are, though I know of one who values you just as much…’ the deep voice resonated in her mind. Then, in a flash, the mirage vanished, and Mr Beaumont was there again, his face a little perplexed. Why must she stupidly woolgather in the middle of the day? And in front of Mr Beaumont, no less! Suddenly she felt a twinge of guilt but hid it behind her sunny smile as she suggested that they return to where the others had gathered.

“Of course, but — ” Laurie dithered. He captured her hand and held it tightly in his clasp. “Miss Davis, will you hear me out for a moment?”

“By all means. What is it?”

A distracted smile lit his somewhat intense countenance and, like any young man on the brink of declaring his love for the first time, he was not unnaturally tongue-tied. Luck, it seemed, was against his plan, however; just as when he was about to launch into a passionate declaration, Lord March hailed them heartily. “If that isn’t like you all over Laurie!” protested his lordship, “Keeping Miss Davis all to yourself when we’re in sore need of her company.” Miss Winscott, towing behind the Viscount, seized her cousin and said excitedly there was something she wanted to show to her, and bore her off.

Turning to Laurie, the Viscount was surprised to see a scowl directed at him. “Now, whatever have I done to deserve such a black look?” he asked innocently.

“Do you know, Robert,” gritted Mr Beaumont between his teeth. “You have the knack of always turning up when you’re in the least wanted!”

“Well, if that don’t beat all!” exclaimed his lordship, not in the least repentant as he stared after the retreating figure of his friend.

Aside from the little regret for one absent friend, no occurrence had dampened the mood of the party for the rest of the day, and on the whole it was a splendid excursion. As they prepared to leave Lady Dawson, won to maternal affection by her lovely young guests, had demanded to visit her again in no distant future, to which all of them agreed.

For Caroline though, there’d been a part of this lovely day that she couldn’t quite put out of mind as she readied herself to bed. In truth she had dreaded what Mr Beaumont might have said to her, and it was no small relief that Lord March and her cousin arrived in the scene. For all her easygoing manner towards him, Caroline was not oblivious to his attentions and knew very well that he cherished a tendre for her. But however fond she was of him, he did not really awake in her that sense of exhilaration every time he was nearby, or made her heart leap merely by uttering her name. Put it in a nutshell, she wasn’t in love with him. If at some point in time he would eventually offer for her… “Dear Lord,” she whispered fervently while she looked up at the canopy of her bed. “Please deliver me from another pickle again!”

It was an unanswered prayer. Three days later, Mrs Winscott found her in the small book room at the back of the house. An enigmatic smile played on her lips as she approached her niece on a huge armchair. “So this is where you’re hiding,” she started, and gently pulled the slim volume from Caroline’s clutches. “I think you’ve had your fill of poetry for today, my dear.”

Stretching her legs before her, Caroline protested feebly, but was cut off when Mrs Winscott patted her shoulder and said chattily: “Look, my dear. Someone’s come to visit you!” Caroline glanced at the doorway and saw Mr Beaumont entering. Springing to her feet, she exclaimed: “Oh! Have you come to get the book I’d suggested? It’s so stupid of me to forget about it. I will look for it first — ”

Mr Beaumont waved this aside, and said that she could look for it some other time. Belatedly, she realized that her aunt had quietly slipped away, and that one of his hand was hidden at the back. Seized by foreboding, her heart started to pound furiously, and when he finally brought his hand in front of him and presented a lovely bouquet of pink and white roses, her hand seemed to quaver while she received it.

“T-Thank you! Why, they’re — very lovely,” she stammered and pinned a bright smile.

Laurie smiled back and said tenderly: “But not half as lovely as you, Miss Davis. You might wonder — ”

“Please, won’t you sit down for a while?” she interposed almost desperately, all but to delay him from the object of his visit. “I’ll ring for some tea and — and will you like to have some scones, too?”

Indeed, he would like that very much, but now was not the time for indulging his appetite. Strengthened by resolution, Laurie rested a detaining hand on hers before she could have tugged at the bell pull. “You are nervous, dearest Caroline, and so am I,” he began earnestly. “I know you’ve by this time guessed the intention of my visit, but I beg you’ll give me the chance to do this right.” Receiving no other response except a feeble ‘oh!’, Mr Beaumont took a deep breath and went on: “I own I’d stumbled in and out of love before. But since you came, the feeling you inspired in me is a far cry from what I’d used to believe was love, and — and I could think of no one else but you, and your warmth and your smile.” He stepped closer, his eyes so passionate that had it been another female, she would surely melt before them. “You see, I offer you my heart, my beloved Caro, and nothing in the world — ,”

“Please! Please, Mr Beaumont!” she cried, as though she couldn’t bear anymore. “W-Will you stop this?”

“Stop this?” he faltered.

“You know very well that I like you, but much as I don’t want to cause you pain, I have to—to be true to my real feelings.” She saw him stiffened but met his eyes squarely. “If — if I’d led you to suppose that I’m engaging your interest, then I’m sorrier than I can say, and that was far from my intention. Only that I don’t want us to be changed because I value your — your friendship so much— ”

“Caroline, will you please give me the chance?” he asked softly, blue eyes pleading at her. “I value our friendship, too, but we can try to have more than that, surely? Do you not care for me at all?”

The wistful note to his voice made her wince. “Indeed, I care for you! Only that I don’t love you,” she maintained a very feeble voice so as to lessen the blow of this pronouncement. “Please understand. It’s so k-kind of you to offer for me, sir, though God knows I do not deserve it. And it grieves me so much to tell you that I — I refuse it.”

There was a fleeting silence. Mr Beaumont had never been hurt in love before, but now he was, and it was too much. It felt as though the world he’d so dreamily built up crushed into thousands of splinters in which there was no way of putting back the pieces. Gazing at his pained expression, Caroline felt as though she’d driven a knife straight to his heart, and she was very appalled indeed. She reached out to him but was checked when he held up his hand. “Just— just tell me this,” he rasped. “Is there someone else that already owns your heart?”

She looked away and did not reply, but her silence was answer enough. Mr Beaumont persisted throbbingly, “Dare I guess? it is my — it is Stefan, yes?”

Very much taken aback, she flushed, unwittingly betrayed herself then and there. “No!” she gasped. “It’s not — that is, he isn’t — ”

“Ah, but your face tells me otherwise, Miss Davis,” he softly teased, but even so his eyes were so full of sadness and disappointment it was quite hard to look straight at them anymore. “I should have… known better than to build my hopes this high. I have only myself to blame for being such a blind fool.”

It was the last straw. Caroline bit her trembling lip, and, her eyes brimming with tears, she held his hand and croaked: “I feel so wretched — oh, but I do! And I am sorry more than I can say, dearest Laurie, for you’ve been so good and kind, and I shall never forget how indebted I am to you.” She smiled at him through her tears. “You may not be my love, but you’ll always be my knight gallant. I wish that one day you’ll find the one who deserves you better than I, and returns your precious love unreservedly,” she said, and tiptoed to put a kiss on his cheek.

In return Laurie kissed her hand fervently, as though it was the last link he had with her, and that any moment now it would break free from him forever. “I wish you likewise, Caro,” he replied, his own eyes glittering suspiciously. “And — au revoir, ma mie.” Thus, Mr Laurence Beaumont walked away, and surprised Mrs Winscott, Sophie and Miss Moore in the hall with a sad smile and a rather jerky bow, and left them with nothing but the impression of a man thwarted in love.

Later that night, stricken with remorse, Caroline had indulged in a hearty bout of tears. She’d hurt the man who’d been devoted and had given his heart to her — and for what? For deep in her heart she knew that there was only one: that complicated, petulant man that hid his own sorrows behind the facade of irascibility and proud indifference; that same man who’d reserved his fond smile solely for her when he was all but scowling to the rest of the world. And to fall in love with him was her crowning folly.