Free Bath Scandal by Joan Smith Page A

Royal Bath on the east cliff has fine views of the sea,” she read. “The prices are a little stiff.”
    “We’ll want a view of the sea. We’ll take it. I shall make the arrangements.”
    A holiday mood already prevailed in the parlor. Beatrice had never been to Bournemouth, and a holiday at this fashionable resort town, without expense, put her in a good mood. She chattered idly, really thinking out loud. “It might be considered a trifle fast, but then, Miss Pittfield will be along. It was not as though we were going alone, Southam, just you and I with Gillie. Your having a title and a fiancée will lessen the odium of it as well.”
    “If you are truly worried ...”
    She shook away the wisps of concern. “No. Why should I be? After all, I went to Brighton with Sir Harold Whitehead.”
    A loud exclamation rent the air. “What!”
    “Sir Harold and his mama and a large party. Quite unexceptionable, but Harold and I did stay at the same hotel, so he cannot cut up stiff over this.”
    “Is he in a position to question your actions?” he inquired testily.
    “We are not engaged, if that is your meaning. It is only that gentlemen do seem to feel they have the right to question their lady friends’ actions.”
    “If he has anything to say, let him say it to me,” Southam declared with a kindling eye.
    “That won’t be necessary. I manage my own life. You won’t forget to send a note off about the rooms?”
    “I’ll do it this instant.”
    Beatrice led him to her study, and while he was composing his note, Gillie and Tannie returned home from their ride. Southam, hearing the racket, came out and dispatched the note with his groom.
    The young couple wore no traces of dalliance. “You demmed near drove that dung cart off the road. I told you to ease over farther to the right,” Tannie was saying.
    Gillie gave him a blighting stare and replied, “There was a ditch. Did you want me to drive us into the ditch?”
    “We missed that cart wheel by inches. No, by an inch.”
    “We missed it. That’s the important thing.”
    Southam and Beatrice exchanged a forlorn look. “Can you stay to lunch, Tannie?” she said, hoping for a better mood to prevail under her managing hand.
    “I’m meeting DuncanMcIvor for lunch. He’s hiring a nag for his sister this afternoon. We’re going over to the stable to look over the cattle.”
    No thanks for her offer. Nothing. The boy was hopeless, and Gillie looked as if she couldn’t care less.
    “Shall we see you this evening, then?” Bea persisted.
    “The McIvor’s have invited me for dinner. Thank you anyway,” he added, to impress Southam.
    “And tomorrow you’re going to Bournemouth,” Gillie added. “Will you ride with me in the morning, Aunt Bea?”
    “Mrs. Searle won’t be here,” Southam announced. Gillie looked aghast. Before she could object, he added, “She will be going to Bournemouth with us, Gillie.”
    “To Bournemouth! Rawl, you’re taking me! Oh, thank you.” She pelted forward and threw her arms around his neck.
    “Very glad to hear it,” Tannie said, smiling vaguely. “Where will you be staying? We might get together. McIvor and I are putting up at the Lansdown. His pockets are pretty well to let,” he added.
    “We shall be at the Royal Bath,” Beatrice told him.
    Tannie drew out his watch and said, “I’d best be going. No saying what tired old dray horse McIvor will hire if I ain’t there to advise him. Not that I would like to see his sister astride a decent bit o’blood. She lamed his Lancer, trying to follow him over a fence at Uncle Horatio’s place. Gudgeon.”
    On this remark he rammed his hat on his head, made a bow even less graceful than Southam’s, and took his leave. “I look forward to seeing you at Bournemouth, Mrs. Searle,Southam.” He forgot to include Gillie in this wish.
    She neither noticed nor cared. She was too excited at the pending adventure. “I have never seen hurdle races. I bet Penny could beat