by Julia Quinn
“All I am saying, Miss Martin, is that a thirty-year-old English miss, perhaps, has more hope than a thirty-year-old Spanish princess.”
Miss Martin laughed softly.
He thought, in that moment, that he would not mind hearing that sound every day for the rest of his life, it made him feel that good.
She glanced over at him; her head was at an angle so that her eyes peeked at him from under her long, dark lashes. Oh yes, his imagination was just fine, thank you very much. He could definitely imagine kissing his way down the curve of Miss Martin’s neck.
Anthony forced himself to look away from the enticing person beside him and stare at the display of Japanese artifacts. They were lovely—he had always enjoyed the colors and look of Japanese art. It is why he had used so many Japanese pieces when he’d decorated his town house.
He had been thrilled, actually, when he had seen the invitations Miss Martin had made. They were perfect. He had also received the menu and a sample of every food he would be feeding his guests, and they had been exquisite. Miss Martin was doing a magnificent job so far. He could not see this party being anything but a complete success.
He turned toward her suddenly. “Why on earth are you not getting paid for this?” he asked.
She glanced around, and then returned to him. “Excuse me?”
“You are doing an incredible job, and you are working very hard. Why aren’t I paying you?”
“Because I am doing it as a favor to your father.”
“No one should do my father favors, he has enough money to pay everyone to do everything.”
Miss Martin giggled, which made him smile.
“Miss Martin,” he said. “You really do have quite a talent for this. Your organizational skills are impeccable, but you also have a wonderful imagination that gives each party you do just that much of a different quality. Guests remember them and enjoy them. Why on earth aren’t you doing this for pay? You could be making quite a lot of money, I promise you.”
Miss Martin looked rather dumbstruck. She stared at him for a moment, and then turned to stare at the kimono in front of them. “Could I do this?” she asked. But he could tell that she was not asking him.
She turned toward him again, a smile spreading across her face that was the most beautiful thing Anthony had seen in all of his thirty-seven years on the earth.
“You, my lord, have just saved me. You are my English prince, and you have changed my life. It just didn’t happen like I thought it would.” She clapped her hands together and then grabbed his shoulders, came up on her tiptoes, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you!” she said.
Anthony was not exactly sure what was going on, and he was still trying to recover from the feel of her soft lips against his cheek. Since he had had women touch him in ways that made a kiss on the cheek look like child’s play, it did strike him as extremely odd that Miss Martin’s kiss should paralyze him so. Be that as it may, he was not able to say anything as the girl grabbed up her sketchpad and pencils, fluttered her fingers at him, and took her leave.
All of a sudden, Anthony realized he was alone, and terribly bewildered. Not to mention the fact that he was feeling as randy as a goat, mostly fueled by a kiss on the cheek. Probably he was delusional from that fever that never seemed to show itself.
Old Barney was sitting atop Lady Neeley’s sleek coach, waiting for Bella as he always did, and so she clambered aboard. But she could not continue sitting for the entire trip; her heart was beating much too fast to let her body stay still. So she asked Barney to let her off at Mayfair, and she walked home. Charles, one of Lady Neeley’s footmen, came running at top speed when Bella had only walked a block.
“Barney sent me,” he said as greeting and took up a position about two steps behind her. Usually Bella hated that, and, when Lady Neeley wasn’t with her, she cajoled the boys to walk next to her, but today she was happy for the time alone.
Her mind was going at such a fast clip that she was rather sure her mouth would not be able to follow. Here it was: the way her life was going to change. She knew that she would do it. She knew that she could do it. And she was thrilled.
Goodness! Bella’s feet ate up the pavement as she nearly ran the rest of the way home. She threw off her coat and hat as she pushed through the front door of Lady Neeley’s home. “Is she home?” she asked Mrs. Trotter, who stood waiting for Bella’s outer clothing.
“In the back parlor, Miss Martin, but—”
Bella didn’t wait. After thirty years of waiting for something to happen, Bella couldn’t take even another minute to make her new life a reality.
“Lady Neeley,” she said as she nearly ran through the already open doors to the back parlor.
Lady Neeley glanced up, a teacup halfway to her lips, and Lord Roxbury’s father, Lord Waverly, sat opposite her, his mouth crammed full of one of Christophe’s pastries.
“Miss Martin,” Lady Neeley said. “You are back from the museum earlier than I thought you would be.”
“Yes,” she said and hesitated. She desperately wanted to speak with Lady Neeley about this immediately. Lord Waverly tended to stay forever when he came to take tea with Lady Neeley.
“Good afternoon, dear,” Lord Waverly said as soon as he had swallowed most of the pastry. “I received the invitation to my son’s party. It was remarkable. You are such an imaginative young lady, I do admire you.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Bella said with a little bow. “In fact, that is what I need to speak with you about, Lady Neeley. As soon as you have the time.”
Lady Neeley put her teacup down without taking a sip, and her white eyebrows lifted in inquiry. “Do take a seat, darling. I am sure you can speak with me now about whatever it is you need.”
Bella took a deep breath and glanced at Lord Waverly. It might be a good thing to have the man in attendance. The whole bit about her being imaginative had been a lovely boon.
She sat beside Lady Neeley on the small sofa. “I want to start my own business,” she said quickly. It was better just to come straight out with what must be said when speaking with Lady Neeley. One could never be sure how she would react to anything. Sometimes she could be quite a selfish old biddy, but then she would do something that was completely the opposite, like bringing Bella home a beautiful new dress because the color so matched her eyes.
“Really?” Lady Neeley said to this statement. She picked up her teacup again and this time took a small sip.
“What kind of business?” Lord Waverly asked.
“She wants to plan parties,” Lady Neeley said. “Am I right?” She looked over at Bella.
Bella nodded.
“You are quite a genius at these things, Miss Martin, I must say,” Lord Waverly said.
Definitely, having Lord Waverly in attendance had been a lovely stroke of fortune.
“Yes she is, but it was very nice having her all to myself,” Lady Neeley said. “I always knew that my parties would outshine those of anyone else. Except of course for this last one.” Lady Neeley’s lips thinned as she pressed them together.
The bracelet. Bella folded her hands tightly together in her lap and said a small prayer that God would obliterate that last thought from Lady Neeley’s mind. As of late, the second she started talking about the missing bracelet, the woman’s mood deteriorated drastically and she started babbling about how tanned Lord Easterly was and how society was going to hell in a handbasket when one could not trust a peer.
“Now, now, my dear, don’t bother yourself. I’ve already told you I will buy you a new bracelet,” Lord Waverly said.
“You will do nothing of the sort, Waverly.” Lady Neeley glared at the still good-looking Lord Waverly. Lord Waverly had proposed to Lady Neeley at least ten times in as many years, and Lady Neeley had always said no. She had told Bella that she had already been married and raised three sons, and she was ready to live for herself and no one else.
Bella could understand, but she really thought it s
ounded like a lonely existence, especially since Lord Waverly seemed like a lovely, gentle man. At least he was always like that to her, as well as Lady Neeley, though she had heard him yell at his groom once.
“I knew you would finally decide to go off on your own one of these days,” Lady Neeley said.
Bella said a little thank you prayer. The bracelet was forgotten temporarily. “I will have to find some investors,” Bella said. “And I would appreciate it if you could tell people that I have done your parties.”
“Of course, and I shall be your first investor,” Lady Neeley said.
Bella clapped her hands in surprise. “Really?” she asked.
“Why on earth are you so surprised, Bella? I will do everything possible to help you succeed. In fact, you can stay here as long as you need, and I will let you take Christophe with you when you leave.”
“What?” Lord Waverly cried.
“Truthfully?” Bella asked.
“He is making me fat,” Lady Neeley said with a wave of her hand. “All these pastries and tarts are too rich for my old body. I need a bad cook for a while. I want to fit back into my favorite blue silk ball gown before I die.”
Lord Waverly looked absolutely forlorn. “I shall miss his strawberry tarts,” he said sadly and grabbed another off the tray, as if it might disappear at any moment.
“Every woman should experience independence,” Lady Neeley said, patting Bella’s knee. “It would be a good thing for our gender. It builds character. Anything you need, just ask, Bella.”
Without thinking, Bella leaned across the sofa and put her arms around her companion of ten years.
Lady Neeley was stiff beneath Bella’s embrace. “Thank you,” Bella said softly and pulled away.
Poor Lady Neeley looked as if she might cry in that moment. But she fluttered her hand between them and said crisply, “Yes, well, I shall have to find a new companion, I guess.”
“And a new chef,” Lord Waverly reminded her.
She frowned at him. “Is that all I am to you? A place to eat strawberry tarts?”
“I…er…no…um…”
Bella stood quickly. “I am off then. Do enjoy your tea.” And she made a hasty exit. She could not wait to get started. And she definitely did not want to watch Lord Waverly lose yet another verbal battle with Lady Neeley.
Chapter 6
The secret is out! Lady Neeley’s fabulous parties owed nothing to the organization (or imagination) of the hostess and everything to her longtime (long-suffering?) companion, Miss Isabella Martin.
It seems the creative Miss Martin has finally come to appreciate the value of her expertise, because This Author has it on the best authority that she plans to open her own business, and for a fee, any hostess may hire her to plan a party.
It means, of course, that Miss Martin is now in trade, which is, to be sure, a step down. But truly, given her long years of service to Lady Neeley, can anyone blame her?
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 10 JUNE 1816
“Come with me, Bella, you are no fun anymore. All you do is work.” Lady Neeley stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her dreaded parrot sitting upon her shoulder.
Bella glanced up from the menu she and Christophe were going over just one more time. Lord Roxbury’s party was the very next evening, and in the last week Bella had quit sleeping, she was so nervous.
“Go,” Christophe said and pushed Bella’s shoulder. “Look at the outside! The sun. It is shining I think for the first time since the beginning of time. You are looking like a night owl. Go.”
Bella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Thank you, Christophe, you know exactly what to say to flatter a girl.”
Christophe shrugged, but he turned away, taking the menu with him. He was just as nervous as Bella. They were going into this business as partners, so Lord Roxbury’s party could change his life as well.
“I will go driving in the park with you only if you leave the bird at home,” Bella said, pointing to the dreaded bird. At the very least the stupid thing hadn’t come squawking over and tried to kiss her.
The older woman tossed her head and stuck her pointy nose in the air. “Such a hoity-toity girl now that you are independent.” She turned away. “The bird stays, then.”
Bella grinned and went to change. Lady Neeley may tease her about being hoity-toity, but Bella knew that it was exactly that: a tease. Lady Neeley seemed almost as excited about Bella’s new venture as Bella herself. The older woman had told her just the other day that she wished she could have done something like Bella planned when she was young.
And she was telling the whole world about Bella’s talent and attributing every single successful party to her young companion. No one had come to Bella yet, but Christophe said that he was sure they would flock to Bella of the Ball’s doors when Lord Roxbury’s party was a hit.
Nothing like a little pressure.
In just one week, Lady Neeley, Christophe, and Bella had found a very cute little building just off Oxford Street. It had a perfect bowfront window with two offices downstairs and a small apartment upstairs. Lord Waverly had put a down payment on the building as an investment, and Lady Neeley had appointed the offices with desks and a painted sign on the front: Bella of the Ball.
Bella was all set to move into the apartment upstairs the day after her thirtieth birthday. She had even hired a maid.
The sun was shining, and it was warm for the first time in what seemed forever. At least it was warmer than it had been lately. Bella was still glad she had worn her wool riding habit, though; there was just enough of a brisk breeze to make her rub her hands together as she and Lady Neeley settled against the leather seats of the older woman’s open-topped phaeton. Old Barney kept the horses at a perfect clip so that they hardly bounced at all.
Bella tipped her head back so that she could feel the sun upon her face.
“Can we make a running appointment, dear?” Lady Neeley asked.
Bella glanced over at her companion. “A running appointment?” she asked.
“A drive in the park every Tuesday afternoon, weather permitting. Tea inside when the weather snarls at us?” Lady Neeley looked rather forlorn as she asked this.
Bella impulsively reached over and curled her fingers around Lady Neeley’s. “Of course, it is a date. Since I am planning to see you even more often than that, I do hope you do not get bored of me.”
“Never,” Lady Neeley said succinctly. “Look over there, I think someone is having a footrace, of all things! So unseemly.” Lady Neeley made a disgusted sound with her tongue against her teeth, and Bella leaned her head back and closed her eyes again.
She opened them quickly, though, because she could have sworn she’d just seen someone hiding behind a hedge. She craned her neck. Surely she had just seen Lord Easterly skulking in the bushes. She shrugged and didn’t mention it, however. The last thing she wanted to do was use Lord Easterly’s name in conversation. Where Lord Easterly was concerned, Lady Neeley was bound to go into a tirade about thievery and bracelets, and the entire afternoon would be ruined.
No, she would not bring up Lord Easterly. Bella closed her eyes again.
“Shouldn’t you be at my house setting up a party?” a voice said beside her.
Bella jumped and opened her eyes to a knight in shining armor. Or, rather, to Lord Roxbury, tall and dark and gorgeous astride his horse. He trotted beside their open carriage.
Bella put her hand up to shade her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Lord Roxbury,” Lady Neeley said. “I am very much looking forward to this party you have decided to hold on my dear Bella’s day of birth.”
“I am looking forward to it as well, actually,” he said.
Bella could not seem to speak at all. She had not seen Lord Roxbury since the day her life had changed. The day he had kissed her like a man was supposed to kiss a woman.
She had pushed the kiss into a small corner of her brain, and it only came out at night. It would trip about h
er head and run down and beat in her heart a bit, and not let her get any sleep at all.
One night, she had actually played with the idea of being Lord Roxbury’s mistress. He seemed interested. At least she thought he did. And now she had a new life as an independent woman, perhaps she could really, truly be an independent woman?
That idea came back to taunt her now. Roxbury was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. And when she talked to him, she did not see the scoundrel that everyone else talked about under their breath.
He had said at the ball that he was interested in her. And she had to admit, she had the same feelings for him. She wished she could ask him questions and have him answer them.
She wanted him to kiss her like he had before.
But she did not want to be his mistress. She did not think she had it in her to be a mistress. She remembered how he had touched her that first day when he hadn’t known who she was.
He had thought she was someone else. If she were his mistress, he would touch her like that. But he would touch other women like that too.
No, she could not be a mistress.
She laughed out loud suddenly. As if he had even asked her! As if it were even a possibility. Bella shook her head. Her imagination was seriously outrageous sometimes.
Lady Neeley was used to her sudden bursts of laughter. But Lord Roxbury wasn’t. He blinked and gave her a strange look.
“Is something amusing you, Miss Martin?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry about your party, Lord Roxbury. I have it all under control. I will be on your doorstep bright and early to set everything up. You don’t even have to be there,” she assured him. He had been avoiding her since their encounter at the museum.
“I think, Lord Roxbury, that your party has already had its desired effect!” Lady Neeley said. “Before it has even happened.” She waved to a passing conveyance.
Bella furled her brow and glanced at Lady Neeley. “Desired effect?” she asked.