The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle

by Raven McAllan

  ‘I’m saving you the bother,’ Belinda said. ‘How nice?’

  ‘A drive out to Kyle. One of my properties. It’s only an hour or so, plenty of time to be back before dark. And I do need to talk to you,’ he added as Tippen came back in with his provisions. ‘Not just about my sister either.’

  Belinda made her mind up. ‘You eat your sandwiches and scones; I’ll get ready.’ She left the room at a rapid pace, eager to get out into the countryside. Plus, she admitted to herself, it would be good to see his bolthole. The house where according to Clarissa he disappeared whenever possible. Without, his sister had added with a laugh, any woman on his arm.

  She stripped and redressed in record time, satisfied the cherry and cream gown and pelisse suited her perfectly, and made her way back into her office just as Phillip swallowed the last sandwich.

  ‘Oh.’ He looked from the empty plate to her. ‘Should I have saved you any?’

  She laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I did eat breakfast.’

  * * *

  ‘So, did you see Clarissa and find out what is wrong?’ Belinda hardly waited until they were seated opposite each other in the carriage and it began to move before she asked the question.

  Phillip put one ankle-high boot onto the knee of his other leg. The stance stretched his pantaloons over his muscled thighs and outlined his pego. Belinda wasn’t sure where to look. She chose his face. He smiled and inclined his head. ‘I apologise for my body. My state of readiness shows how you make me hard and wanting.’

  Belinda gasped and swallowed heavily. ‘You shouldn’t say such things.’ They make my body tighten, my skin tingle, my quim damp and my mind wonder, what if.

  ‘Why not? It’s true.’ He didn’t sound unduly worried about it. ‘Damned uncomfortable it is as well.’

  ‘Get a mistress. I could do with a nice bolt of midnight shot silk, which I’ve earmarked.’ Belinda opened her eyes wide. ‘When my capital increases.’

  ‘Tomorrow at three,’ Phillip said straight away.

  ‘I’ll make room.’ Her heart sank. So he did have a lady around. She was right not to believe he’d turned over a new leaf. ‘A kiss of death?’

  ‘No, a kiss of anticipation. Now enough. This isn’t about me, or us. I didn’t see Clarissa this morning. Our father told me she was indisposed.’

  ‘Whisky?’

  ‘Matrimony.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Belinda’s heart sunk. ‘Not because I said no, surely? That wouldn’t make sense.’

  ‘Not at all. Because she wasn’t allowed to say no. Evidently she was found by none other than Lady Oakes in a compromising position with Lord Theodore Bennett. He was—and I can only quote my papa as his is the only version of events I have heard, for Ben is not around to ask—at her feet, touching her flounces. Therefore, it was come to you, or hunt down and thrash Ben. I thought Clarissa would prefer the former rather the latter, whatever happens.’

  ‘So would I.’ Belinda was horrified. Poor Clarissa. That would have been the last straw. ‘What good would attacking Lord Bennett do?’

  ‘Make me feel better for upsetting my sister?’ Phillip asked her in a dry tone.

  ‘Rubbish. You men just like a good mill.’

  If all Phillip said was true it was no wonder Clarissa had emptied Belinda’s whisky bottle. Clarissa had always been adamant she had no thoughts or inclinations to ever marry. Men, she opined, said one thing, meant another and often did something totally different. Not for her.

  Up until recently Belinda would have agreed with her although… No not for me. Why didn’t that thought make her happier?

  ‘That’s true,’ Phillip said. ‘But in this case? He has upset my sister—of that I have no doubt—but has delighted my father, who has often said how worried he was that Clarissa had no inclination to take a husband to look after her. On top of that, he annoyed me when due to him I missed a perfectly good breakfast and more than one chance to woo you.’

  Belinda ignored his last remark and thought over everything else Phillip had divulged. ‘You know, something doesn’t ring true. If you had said Ferdy Pendragon had her in a compromising position, I could have believed it. But then Clarissa would have given him short shrift and boxed his ears. Lord Bennett is too much of a gentleman to do such a dastardly thing.’

  ‘You would have thought so. I itch to call him to account, but for Clarissa’s sake I won’t. I was at Lupton’s playing cards so I missed it all, but evidently within the hour their engagement was announced. Papa is pleased as punch, and Clarissa punch-drunk. Or should that be whisky-sodden?’

  He sat back and studied Belinda from head to toe. His gaze lingered on her bosom and her skin grew hot. Eventually she could stand his intense scrutiny no longer. ‘Do I have a smut on my dress? A rip, a crease? Are my buttons undone and my breasts on show?’

  Phillip didn’t look one whit abashed. ‘No smut and sadly not enough. I was just admiring what one day will be…’ He stopped speaking and for one brief second did seem abashed.

  ‘One day will be?’ Belinda prompted him. Good grief, was she a glutton for punishment?

  ‘Hopefully admired in full by me. And not just your bosom.’

  The pictures his words conjured up gave Belinda goosebumps. How did she answer such an outrageous and, yes she admitted it, arousing statement? The glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly how he made her feel. She swallowed and said the first thing that came into her head.

  ‘Are we there yet?’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Oh well diverted, my dear.’ Phillip dipped his head in acknowledgement of her cleverness. It was cruel to tease her so, but she gave as good as she got and he enjoyed their verbal sparring. Never before had he gained so much pleasure from a lady. Well, he tempered, gratification of a nonsexual kind.

  ‘Yes we are nearly there,’ he said and inclined his head slightly. ‘And have no fear, I will follow your lead for now, and talk of other things. One of which is I suspect that apart from her hangover, Clarissa is going to need your help in more ways than just making the dress.’ Sadly, he had even more disturbing news, but for now he’d keep that to himself. It wouldn’t do to upset Belle without knowing what measures he could take to help. ‘You do know she’ll want you there to support her.’

  ‘What?’ Belle looked at him as if he had demanded she emulate Lady Godiva. ‘Where? How? What? Who?’

  ‘Clarissa. Before and during her wedding. She will need you to support her, advise her on her trousseau, make sure her gown is perfect, that sort of thing.’ Although Phillip was somewhat vague about all the intricacies needed to get a bride through the betrothal and wedding day, he elaborated on his statement. ‘A right-hand person.’ What had she expected him to say? ‘It will be a big day in the ton’s calendar. She will need to be as picture-perfect as possible. You surely would be the one to help?’

  Belle shook her head. Her face was white. ‘Not at all. That will be the job of the bridesmaid. Not me.’

  He frowned. ‘Surely you’d help her? Do everything she needs and wants?’

  ‘I will do everything she asks of me,’ Belle said slowly. To his mind she was choosing her words with care. ‘And she knows that. Oh how pretty.’ She turned away from him and stared out of the window. ‘Is the lake part of your property?’

  Phillip sighed. One day he intended to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the lady sat opposite him, in alleged raptures of delight.

  ‘Perfect for drowning reluctant wives to be,’ he said in a dry tone. ‘The duckweed would keep them captive whilst I made a good getaway and set up a perfect alibi.’

  ‘Oh yes, it would work superbly. How clever.’ Belle turned back to him and smiled. ‘You must give me fair warning, so if I disappear I can be sure the finger is pointed at you, before you reach your own sticky end. A crumbling cliff maybe? Or a highwayman never to be found, once your bloody and broken body is discovered with a knife through the heart. And Clarissa mourning you, and wondering who is
the culprit. I would of course have a number of cryptic clues hidden in strategic places so anyone with half a mind could follow them and apprehend you. Or I should say try to, just as you breath your last.’

  He laughed out loud. ‘Do we really wish such a fate on each other? How about a nice long and faithful happy ever after?’

  Belle sniggered. ‘If that is today’s proposal, thank you and no. If it is a generalisation, why yes, that would be preferable to anything else.’

  ‘You have a hard heart, ma belle.’

  She spoke so softly he had to move closer to hear her. ‘I had no option.’

  At least she loved his house. It was easy to see her admiration was sincere. After a long lunch, set on a rustic table under the rose bower at the edge of the terrace that stretched on the south side of the house, they walked arm in arm across the lawn towards the lake.

  ‘It’s not that big an estate,’ Phillip said later as they sat on the grass under a willow tree. Bees hummed and fish lazily showed their heads above the duckweed and water lilies to gulp the insects and flies that skimmed the surface of the flat water. One jumped and the plop as it re-entered the pond sounded loud in the tranquil afternoon.

  Belle hid a yawn behind her hand. ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘So perfect you’re falling asleep?’ He couldn’t resist teasing her.

  ‘It’s a soporific sort of day,’ Belle retorted, not at all embarrassed. ‘Where all the cares of the word have disappeared and you can just sink into its loveliness.’

  Phillip shrugged out of his jacket, rolled it up and put it under Belle’s head for a pillow. She grinned and stretched out next to him, her legs crossed at the ankles. He wished the skirt hem would creep upwards, just a little.

  It didn’t.

  ‘As I said. Perfection. Wake me up if I fall asleep.’ Belle yawned and laughed. ‘Oh dear, it is not the company, I promise you. Just lack of sleep. So, please wake me up.’

  ‘With a kiss?’

  ‘Not necessarily. A gentle pat on the cheek would suffice.’

  ‘Not nearly as satisfying though.’

  Belle waggled her finger at him. ‘Talk about the estate, my lord.’

  Phillip caught hold of the digit and nibbled the end. Her look of astonishment made him laugh and he patted her cheek. ‘Your wish as ever is my command.’

  ‘You are full of hot air, if it was… Ah well no matter, I’m all ears.’

  He chose not to ask her to finish her sentence. Not now. The fragile peace and contentment between them was too important to sully.

  ‘The house, the pond and the land between them, plus the home farm and its acreage, is tiny compared to some.’ He plucked a fern leaf from a nearby clump that waved softly in the breeze, and he used it to tickle Belle’s nose. She swatted his hand away.

  ‘Stop it. You’ll make me sneeze.’

  ‘Sorry, but it’s such a perfect nose to touch.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Belle wriggled the object of his esteem. ‘That’s the first time my nose has been admired. Go on, you were saying?’

  ‘It’s more of a country house with a little bit of land. Of course I have my estate in Northumberland and a few other establishments, and Papa’s will come to me eventually. For now though, this is perfect. My escape route when needed.’

  Belle nodded. ‘Useful. I wouldn’t know what to do without Honeysuckle Cottage.’ She stiffened, stopped speaking suddenly and plucked at a tuft of grass. ‘Do you prefer here to Northumberland then?’

  So Honeysuckle Cottage, wherever it was, was an area not up for discussion. He would comply for now. I wonder if Clarissa knows anything about it?

  ‘Sometimes. Our lands are next to the border, in fact some are over the border. It can be wild, mysterious and eerie, as well as warm, bright and full of hope and…’ He broke off, suddenly embarrassed at his hyperbolic description. ‘I was born there not in Surrey where Mama hails from. To me, Northumberland—Ottering Park—is home.’

  ‘It must be nice to feel that sense of belonging,’ Belle said slowly.

  ‘Do you not have that sense at, where was it, Honeysuckle Cottage?’

  Belle shook her head, and sat up to lean on her elbows and stare into the dark water. ‘It’s not the same thing. Ah, c’est la vie.’ She shrugged. ‘So, what now?’

  ‘I swear that is one of your favourite questions,’ Phillip said. ‘This is next.’ He tugged on her elbows until she fell flat and he rolled over to settle between her legs. In this position her boson was enticingly close, and the sweet, flowery scent he associated with her filled the air. ‘If you don’t want a creased skirt you could take it off?’

  ‘How kind.’

  ‘Oh I am.’ He took her hands and used one of his own to hold her arms above her head. It stretched her body and her breast heaved and fought the constraints of her bodice.

  ‘And of course if your bosom is compressed by your gown…’ He grinned and Belle moaned deep in her throat and laughed huskily. That combination of seductive and innocent was such an alien sound to come from her, he stared.

  ‘I know, I can take it off.’

  ‘Exactly.’ He bent his head and sucked the soft skin above the neckline of the pretty gown that hid half of each breast. ‘And I could kiss lower and…’

  ‘I could lift my knee to chastise you?’ For a brief moment he felt her press a knee into his groin, and he stiffened in not a good way. Belle groaned. It was intoxicating, a sound guaranteed to make him want to beg, to worship and to deny her nothing.

  ‘I won’t.’ She whispered the words softly, and kissed the only part of him he reckoned was in easy reach. His ear. The damp and raspy surface of her tongue made his body tighten, and as ever his cock responded to the innocent, but enticing gesture, as it stiffened and tested the strength of his pantaloons.

  ‘If only things were different. I wish…’ She sighed. ‘Well they are not.’

  ‘Why can’t you confide in me? Let me help you? Whatever it is.’ Phillip rained tiny nips and suckles over the upper swell of her breasts. ‘I can help.’ If only the top was looser or lower, or dammit non-existent.

  Belle nibbled her lips. ‘If there was anything to confide you would be the first person I’d go to. But there isn’t. Anyway you’ll be too busy soon.’

  ‘I will?’

  ‘One wedding to help plan, one new mistress to bed in?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Damn he’d forgotten the mistress thing. Now he had to see whom, out of his ex-mistresses he was still friendly with and who no longer expected anything from him, would agree to some play-acting. He checked the time on his fob watch. ‘Almost time to head back. Shall we go via the home wood?’ Phillip rolled off her and tugged on her hands to pull her into a sitting position. ‘Exchange hugs and kisses as we walk.’ He got to his feet and Belle followed.

  ‘Why not? Just hugs and kisses. God, I must be a masochist.’

  ‘We both are.’ Phillip rolled up the blanket they’d rested on and put it and his jacket into the picnic basket. ‘Let’s go.’ He slung his arm over her shoulder and hugged her tight. ‘One day you’ll trust me.’

  ‘I do trust you, in part. I do not trust others though, or myself.’ Belle looked down at the basket and picked it up. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ She waved it in front of his face.

  ‘Damn, I was hoping to have two hands spare.’ He mulled over her words. She didn’t trust herself? Why?

  ‘You don’t need two, one will be more than enough.’ Belle leaned into him, and handed him the basket. ‘My lord, believe me, when I say I do trust you, more than almost anyone in the world. I mean it sincerely, and coming from me, who puts no faith in the word of men that is high praise, but I have nothing I can share.’

  Can’t or won’t?

  It seemed she did trust him in part, but not enough to impart whatever worried her and put the shadows in her eyes?

  Time to change the subject. For now. Phillip vowed to himself he would return to the topic at a later date.

>   ‘Good, then can I interest you in a little light love making?’ He mock-leered and tapped her mouth. ‘Can I persuade you to touch these to me anywhere you choose, and take the long way back?’

  ‘Long way back from touching? Hmm I wonder what that means.’ Belle laughed and twitched out of his hold to dance a few feet ahead of him. Her eyes twinkled and she looked young and carefree with her introspective mood gone and replaced by one he rejoiced to see.

  Who does she remind me of?

  ‘This is a long way back.’ She spun around in a circle, her skirts flying. ‘But I can’t touch anywhere? Except.’ She took three steps to one side and put her arms around a tree trunk and swung around it to face him again. ‘It’s not quite the same as touching you.’

  ‘I’m pleased,’ Phillip said straight-faced, as he moved forward a step. ‘The protrusion from my trunk is much more interesting. May I suggest you move closer?’

  She put her hand over her mouth and sniggered. ‘Oh and who says that?’

  ‘I do. Want to come forward and find out?’

  She put her head to one side. ‘Grandmother’s footsteps?’ She mentioned an old children’s game in which one player turned around often and without warning, with the aim of catching the other players who crept closer to try and touch him or her on the back.

  ‘But I’m not creeping,’ Phillip said, stating the obvious as he took another step forward, then another. ‘How about take me I’m yours?’

  ‘More like step into my parlour,’ Belle said as she picked up her skirts, showed her ankles and darted down the track away from Phillip. She looked back over her shoulder and shouted, ‘Catch me if you can.’

  Phillip stood stock-still for one heartbeat and then saw the problems ahead.

  ‘Watch the tree roots.’ He roared the words, just as Belle stumbled, almost recovered, hit the next root that crossed the track and fell onto her knees with her arms braced to cushion the fall. Her face missed the dirt by inches.

  His pulse raced as he envisaged every worst ‘what if’ scenario in the world. Even ones not remotely possible in a wood in Hertfordshire.