Crecy frowned, and Belle knew the idea hadn’t even occurred to her.
“You are on your own,” her infuriating sister observed, before popping the last morsel of biscuit in her mouth.
Belle scowled and gave a tut of impatience. “And I don’t have a legion of admirers desperate to get me alone and make love to me!” she snapped, wondering when Crecy would finally get it into her head that men would follow her like sheep, or stalk her like tigers, and that she must be on her guard at all times. Belle felt a twinge of guilt as Crecy blushed and looked rather mortified.
“Sorry, Belle,” she muttered, closing the book and smoothing her hands over the cover. “But that dreadful Lady Scranford was so infuriating and ... and I just needed to escape before I said something awful.” Belle thought she showed remarkable restraint in keeping her mouth shut at this point. “You know I can’t bear it when everyone sits around talking inanities,” Crecy continued, growing increasingly angry. “And she was such a ... a ...”
“Yes, she was,” Belle replied, her tone dry. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you cannot simply wander off on your own. It’s too dangerous. Especially the way those idiotic beaus of yours follow you about.”
Crecy snorted. “Not now, they won’t,” she replied, looking far more pleased than Belle would have liked by the idea. “Not after tonight.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “No. Well, you needn’t look so gleeful about it, you wretched creature.” There was no heat behind the words and Crecy just laughed.
“Oh, but wasn’t the marquess terrific!” she added, her grey eyes alight with laughter. “Do you know, I actually thought Lady Scranford would cast up her accounts, she looked so mortified.”
“Crecy!” Belle snapped, shaking her head in exasperation. “Will you please keep such vulgar expressions to yourself?” she scolded as Crecy hid a grin. “And as for the marquess ...” she began, only to snap her mouth shut. She remembered Garrett’s words and her own observations, and found she didn’t know what she wanted to say about the marquess. She seemed to lurch between fury and compassion and ... Well, the least said about that, the better.
“Come along, young lady,” she said, rather than allow Crecy to wonder what exactly she had been going to say. “If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I think we can do nothing more than wish this day well behind us and go to bed.”
***
Once Miss Holbrook had stormed from the room, Edward had retired to his study as soon as he could without looking utterly beyond the pale for deserting his guests. God, but would this interminable week never end? Two more days, he reminded himself, just two more days and they’d all be gone and he’d be left in peace. Thank heaven.
Settling himself behind his desk with a large glass of brandy, he felt his lips twitch into an unwilling smile as he remembered Miss Holbrook’s fury. Good Lord, but the Holbrook sisters had the most frightful tempers he’d ever come across, and he’d lived with Violette!
He had to admit to a grudging admiration for her, however. Her rage and indignation had been quite something to behold. Her candour, too, had been a surprise. Most women simpered and fluttered around him, and either expected lavish comments or did their best to shine a light upon their own talents and assets, and put others in the shade. Miss Holbrook, however, had told him to his face what he had first thought of her, almost word for word, and it hadn’t been pretty. A twinge of something that may have been guilt - and possibly even regret - assailed him as he realised he’d been both harsh and unfair.
In truth, he had to admit that she wasn’t devoid of beauty as she had so vehemently judged herself on his account. In fact, once she was out of sight of her beautiful sister, she was really quite lovely. Not a startling beauty, no, but she had the right amount of curves in all the correct places, her eyes sparkled and showed her forthright nature and a readiness to laugh, and her mouth ... He paused and decided he’d already spent quite long enough considering her mouth.
Edward tried to get his brain off the subject of Miss Holbrook, but that recalcitrant organ refused to consider the accounts he ought to be checking, or reading his correspondence, such as it was. Instead it returned to that pitying expression he had seen in her eyes when he’d asked her if marrying Nibley would be enough for her. She believed him a fool for that, and little could he blame her on reflection. He hadn’t really stopped to think what her future might be, though, especially with Mrs Grimble thwarting any possible hopes she might have with each outrageous turban or hat she flaunted, and every single time she opened her ghastly mouth. Yet to think such a fiery and passionate woman should find herself married to a dry old stick like Percy Nibley ...
There was a strange and slightly unsettling feeling in his chest at the idea.
Poor Percy wouldn’t know what hit him.
By this time Edward was aware of a growing sense of disquiet, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the problem. He felt irritated and frustrated and really quite out of sorts. He refilled his glass and gave a huff of frustration. Whatever the problem, the Miss Holbrooks of this world were really not his affair. In two days, they would be gone and his life would return to some semblance of normality.
Whatever the hell that was.
Whatever the future held for the irritating, outspoken creature, it was not his to dwell upon, though he did feel some need to prevent her catching Lord Nibley. After all, Percy was a friend and he owed him loyalty. He should at least make the fellow aware he was being stalked; the poor fool probably didn’t have a clue. He considered the idea of Miss Holbrook married to Percy and found himself unsettled and even somewhat nauseated by the idea. Yes, he should do that, simply out of friendship and for Percy’s sake, of course.
Yes, for Percy’s sake.
He must keep a close eye on Miss Holbrook and her machinations, and put a spoke in her marital wheel at the earliest opportunity.
Chapter 11
“Wherein, Crecy is imprudent – again - and Belle suffers a shock.”
It was sheer bad luck that Edward happened to be walking the stairs at the moment his detested cousin came to call. In usual circumstances, Garrett would simply deny him, but that was hard to do when Edward was so obviously standing in Gabriel’s line of sight.
“Winterbourne,” Gabriel said, that cruel mouth tilted just a little into a mocking smile.
Edward stared back at the fellow with contempt. This man had tried to ensure that Edward remained dead to the world in the filth of the Dials, and when that failed, he’d tried to make the situation rather more permanent. Except that the fool he’d hired had almost killed his sister’s husband when Aubrey had rushed to push Edward out of the way of the bullet.
“Demorte,” he replied, his tone far from welcoming. “What do you want?”
“Want?” the viscount replied, one thick, dark brow arching upwards, a parody of innocent surprise. “My dear fellow, I want nothing from you, I can assure you of that.”
Edward snorted; nothing except his title, his wealth, his estate ... his sister. “Well then, as I certainly want nothing from you, I fail to see what it is you are doing here.”
Gabriel chuckled, and, despite himself, Edward felt a shiver run over his skin. There was a time when Edward had pitied Gabriel. His life had been doomed from the moment he’d been born, the madness in the family only too evident in Gabriel’s father, Edward’s Uncle Thomas. The man had gone out of his way to ensure his only son was every bit as twisted as he was.
Gabriel had found his mother’s body on the day that she had finally made good on her threats and committed suicide. In a final horrific act, his father had been so overwrought that he’d also killed himself, that very same day - in front of his ten-year-old son.
No wonder the poor bastard was twisted; what chance did he have after all? But such empathetic feelings tended to be curtailed when the devil tried to kill you. Twice.
“My dear Edward,” Gabriel continued, smiling, though it was the kind
of smile that Lucifer himself must give the new arrivals to his fiery abode. “I have merely discovered that I am late in congratulating your sister on her ... err ... advantageous marriage.”
Edward scowled. He had opposed Violette’s marriage fiercely because it was anything but advantageous. But he had to be fair, Aubrey Russell would be Baron Russell one day, which was perfectly respectable, and he seemed to be making Violette happy. Extremely happy, if he was being fair (which was rare it had to be said), and Violette deserved to be happy. Add the fact that the man was making his fortune with quite startling rapidity… Yes, perhaps his interest in this locomotive deal smacked rather of trade, but Edward had never had much time for the kind of men who sat about twiddling their thumbs while their estates crumbled to dust, in any case. He had begun to find he rather admired Mr Russell, though he’d never admit it to his sister.
“I’ll be sure to pass on your felicitations, cousin,” Edward replied, his tone dry. Violette was terrified of Demorte, and would run a mile from him, or even all the way to London, alone and unchaperoned.
He felt a swell of rage at the man who had so frightened his sister. Gabriel’s mouth curled a little further as he must well know what Edward was thinking. Edward bit back any further angry remarks, knowing that his cousin would relish an outburst on his part. He thrived on their animosity.
“You’re looking well, Edward, if I might observe it.”
“Not dead, you mean?” Edward replied, his tone mild.
Gabriel grinned, showing a row of even, white teeth. “Ah, how well we understand each other.”
Edward said nothing.
This was typical of the man and his mind games. He had come for no other reason than to unsettle Edward and remind him that he still had an enemy at large.
As if he could forget it.
“Well, then, dear cousin,” Gabriel said, sweeping a theatrical bow. “I will bid you good day.”
***
Belle stared out at the barren, snow covered landscape with quiet rage as she watched her sister walking in the grounds, alone, with Lord Benjamin Lancaster. The youngest son of a marquess, he would have been quite a catch for Crecy. If Crecy favoured him, Belle would happily have promoted the union, if not for the fact that Ben Lancaster was a notorious rake!
“Do stop being so stuffy, Belinda,” her aunt was saying. “The man is a lord, and even if he is only the youngest son, he’s rumoured to have a rather splendid fortune. You must give the man time to fall in love with her. If only she would put some effort into catching him. But still, if he gets her on her own, he should be able to persuade her, he’s dreadfully handsome.” Her aunt gave a dejected sigh. “I admit, of course, that I had hopes that Winterbourne himself might show an interest ...”
Belle felt her temper flare at this appalling woman and her dreadful lack of care. “Yes, and I suppose it matters little if she ruins herself; after all, you’ll merely offer him a carte blanche on her behalf, I suppose?”
Aunt Grimble levelled her with a cool look of dislike. “The world is a hard place for a woman with no fortune, you foolish girl. She’d be fortunate indeed to be offered such. You don’t know how lucky you’ve been in me. You’ve never appreciated my generosity in taking you in, and letting you both eat me out of house and home ...”
“Using us as unpaid slaves, dangling Crecy in front of every man with a fortune no matter his age or character, like a worm on a hook ...” Belle interjected in fury, pulling on her pelisse as fast as she could, having had quite enough of any pretence of politeness to the odious creature.
“Well, I tell you this, you ungrateful cat,” Aunt Grimble sneered. “This is your last chance. You’ll have this season to snare yourselves a wealthy husband, and if you don’t manage it, you’re out. I’ll not house you any longer, for a pair of more grasping, insensible creatures, I’ve never come across!” Belle gasped at the sheer audacity of the woman, calling them grasping! “Not to mention that unnatural sister of yours and her love of dead and broken things.” Her aunt gave a visible shudder, and on this point, Belle felt a little less certain. The room they shared was littered with all manner of skulls and bones and odd things that her sister had found. If she’d been a more sensitive creature, Belle would likely have suffered nightmares.
But the threat of being thrown on the streets was too real to be merely a nightmare. Belle had known it was inevitable, though, whatever the wretched woman might say. She’d always planned to kick Belle out after this season if neither of them had found a husband, and as for Crecy ... Belle shuddered.
“Well, you’ll just have to start paying for some staff, then,” Belle replied with dignity as she tied her bonnet. “If you can find someone to work for such a vulgar, miserly muck worm.” And with that she sailed out of the door with the gratifying image of Aunt Grimble, mouth agape with shock, etched upon her mind.
Her satisfaction was short-lived, however, and terror began to churn in her stomach. Good God, whatever was to become of them?
For the moment, however, she had to rescue Crecy.
The gardens were lovely in their seasonal dusting of snow, and despite the cold, it was a beautiful day. A sky so pure and blue that the day was almost too bright to bear, glinting upon the pristine white covering that had been thrown over the countryside like a cloak. Thankfully, the snow wasn’t deep, merely an inch or so, and as no one else had dared venture out into the freezing atmosphere, Crecy and Lord Lancaster’s footsteps were easy to track.
It appeared that she had arrived not a moment too soon, as she crested a small hill and looked down upon the shallow valley that led towards a thick patch of woodland, to discover Lord Lancaster making his move. Crecy had been examining something on the ground, brushing the snow away as Lord Lancaster crouched beside her. As she looked around, smiling with delight at whatever (no doubt revolting) thing she had discovered, Lancaster moved in ... and kissed her.
Predictably, to Belle, at least, Crecy exclaimed in outrage and then gave Lancaster a hard shove, sending him sprawling backwards into the snow in an ungainly heap.
Belle hurried up to them, sending Crecy a look of pure fury before turning her attention to Lancaster. Crecy had the decency to look sheepish, at least, while to her surprise and relief, Lord Lancaster seemed to have seen the funny side of it.
“Well, I suppose I deserved that,” he remarked with a chuckle, getting to his feet and brushing snow from his clothes.
“Indeed, you did,” Belle replied, relieved that she didn’t have to confront an angry scene, but still extremely indignant on Crecy’s behalf, no matter how ill-advised her behaviour.
“You deserved a punch on the nose, my lord,” Crecy replied, the words tart and angry. “Only I didn’t want to risk damaging the skeleton.”
Skeleton? Oh Lord, well, that would explain a lot.
Lancaster gave a snort of amusement. “Well, dash it all, Miss Lucretia, I never knew a woman so hard on a man’s ego. I feel quite deflated.”
“I’m certain you will recover,” Crecy replied with dignity, folding her arms.
His lordship glanced from Crecy’s indignant face to Belle’s, and cleared his throat, clearly feeling a little discomforted. As well he might.
“I apologise for my appalling behaviour, ladies. I can only say in my defence that the temptation was too much to bear.”
Both women gave a snort of disgust at this comment, and Lancaster’s unease seemed to increase. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well ... err, perhaps you would allow me to make amends by escorting you back to the house. Devilish cold out,” he added, with what he probably imagined was a charming grin. In actual fact, it was very endearing, and Belle could well see how he’d gained such a dreadful reputation, but nonetheless.
“That will not be necessary, my lord,” Belle replied, her tone cool. “I will escort my sister. I beg you will not trouble yourself.”
Lancaster glanced at Crecy, who just turned her back on him with a final look of utter disgust. Belle
sighed; as much as she was angry at the man for his impropriety and for taking advantage, he would have been a good match for Crecy, and he didn’t seem a bad sort, really. Not every man would take being pushed into an undignified heap in the snow with good grace, no matter how much he deserved it.
With a final display of good sense, Lord Lancaster repeated his apology, gave a polite bow, and left the two women alone.
“Oh Crecy!” Belle cried once he was out of earshot. “How could you? And after everything I said to you yesterday, too!”
Crecy glared back at her, a mutinous look in her eyes. “He said he’d found the skeleton of a snake, Belle!” she cried, as if this explained everything with perfect clarity. “And Aunt Grimble was supposed to be coming, too. I asked her to come with me, for propriety, just as you said, Belle. She said she was just going to fetch her pelisse and would be along directly.”
Belle rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Oh Crecy, you goose! Why on earth would you believe a word that wretched woman says to you? Not when you know full well she’s been doing all in her power to throw you in every and any wealthy man’s path at every opportunity!”
“Well, I thought she might come, as I’d specifically asked her to!” she retorted.
Belle groaned and Crecy scowled at her before turning away and crouching down in the snow again, the conversation clearly over as far as she was concerned.
“Look, Belle,” she said, smiling now, the argument long forgotten in the face of her treasure. “It’s so delicate, almost like lace. Isn’t it lovely?”
Belle took a reluctant step closer to see what was indeed the skeleton of a snake on top of a tree stump. Grimacing, Belle repressed a shudder. “Lovely,” she repeated, privately thinking the exact opposite.
“Lord Lancaster overheard me speaking about my collection to the Bridgeford twins, so when he saw it yesterday, before the snow, of course, he put it here to show me.”
One Wicked Winter Page 9