This was not Lord Terror. Lord Terrance, Belle mentally chided as her tension abandoned her shoulders.
The young buck, about the same age as Lord Terrance, shot an amused glance at Belle’s and Mr. MacBride’s clasped hands. The baker immediately pulled free.
Belle recognized the gentleman from her last disastrous Season. An ill sense about him had kept her from improving on their acquaintance. “Mr. Winfield, you reside in Cheshire?”
“Lady Belle Marchant, is it not? Good day.” He tipped his hat. “My country estate is on the other side of the mere.” Dismounting, he gave the coachman his reins and came over to give a handsome bow. “Dare I hope that you intend to grace our small village with your presence this winter?”
Suddenly, Belle’s neck hairs quivered, but not because of the oily Mr. Winfield. Clearview Manor loomed over her shoulders like a shadow of doom. She gave the eaves a nervous glance. So Lady Terrance’s grief had not conjured an imaginary ghost. There was an ominous presence here.
“That is a desolate looking house, is it not?” Winfield said. “I would have it torn down and rebuilt in a more flattering style, but Terrance seems fond of this monstrosity. So what brings you so far north, my lady?”
She faced the gentleman. “I have come for a visit with Lady Terrance. She is my grandfather’s friend.”
“I had heard the countess still wore dark colors.”
Before she could respond, a loud crack sounded. She sensed danger stab from above. With a shouted warning, she pulled Mr. Winfield out of harm’s way just as an icicle crashed and shattered where they had stood. She protected her face as splinters flew in all directions.
Mendal screamed. The owl fluttered its one good wing and screeched. The dog barked ferociously.
Mr. MacBride spoke first, his voice quivering and eyes wide with terror. “It is an omen, ah tell ye.”
“He is right,” Mendal said, sounding unusually timorous as she crossed herself. “We should leave. Bad luck comes from going where we are not wanted.”
The front doors opened then, and a footman descended. Immediately, the dog raced up the stairs and inside.
“Dog!” Belle called out in alarm. The animal might wreck the place. This was not how she had hoped to introduce herself to the countess.
An older woman, dressed in black, moved to the open doorway. Belle recognized her from a drawing her grandfather had shown her. This was Lady Terrance. She gave off waves of fear as she looked toward the roofline.
Belle’s worries drowned beneath the lady’s emotional assault, leaving her head pounding with a headache. Through that onslaught, Belle’s purpose became crystal clear. This is why she had come here. Lady Terrance needed her.
She strode past the servants and, ignoring Winfield’s warning shout, crunched over the icicle remnants.
“Lady Terrance.” Belle stood as straight as her backbone would allow. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Annabelle Marchant. Lord Alford is my grandfather. I have come to help you, and I refuse to allow my servant, your son, or this house to stop me.”
The countess stared at her wide-eyed. Then she let out a laugh.
Belle’s concern spiked. Had this haunted house pushed the woman past the edge of reason?
“My dearest Belle, how glad I am to see you.” Lady Terrance held out her arms.
Belle hesitated. After her son’s rude reception, both in London and then on her way here last night, she had not expected such a warm welcome. In fact, since Belle’s parents’ death, no one had offered her a hug. Moisture filled her eyes, and losing all caution, she picked up her skirts and ran to greet the woman.
Lady Terrance’s arms wrapped tight around Belle, as if they were old friends rather than strangers. She smelled enticingly of peppermint candy.
So this is how it feels to hug a mother. It had been so long, Belle had forgotten the wonderful sensation.
A horse neighing interrupted their heartfelt greeting. Belle blinked away tears and looked over her shoulder to see a man riding toward them. It was Lord Terrance, and his face was a mask of fury as he reined in.
Belle’s shoulders dropped. She was too late. He would throw her off his property again. She tried to step away, but the countess’s hold tightened. The lady pulled her into the house and shut the door. To Belle’s shock, she then locked it.
Lady Terrance half led, half dragged Belle past a startled servant and into a room, then made to shut that door, too. The dog’s body squeezing through blocked the action.
“You confounded dog,” the countess said and gestured him in. As soon as he cleared the doorway, she closed and locked that door and pocketed the key. “Well, that should keep my son busy for a while.”
“Aunt, will you introduce us to your guest?”
Belle swiveled and discovered several people present. A young lady in a simple black gown stood by the fireplace, her fine blond hair pulled into a severe bun. Beside her, a smartly dressed young man raised a quizzing glass to study Belle. On the settee, a matron, with a face full of wrinkles to testify to a well-lived life, eyed the wolfhound with obvious horror.
For a lady in mourning and not open to visitors, Lady Terrance did not want for company.
“Oh dear,” Lady Terrance said. “How could I have forgotten you were all in here?”
“It is beyond us, Constance,” the elderly woman on the settee said in a dour tone, “since you invited us here.”
“Yes, aunt, what is this”—the gentleman waved his monocle in Belle’s and the dog’s direction—“all about?”
“Where are my manners?” Lady Terrance said. “Belle, allow me to introduce my family.” She gestured toward the older woman. “Mrs. Henrietta Jones is my late husband’s sister, and her son, my nephew, Mr. Phillip Crispin Jones. They arrived early this morning. The young lady is my daughter, Lady Susie Marlesbury. This, my darlings, is Lord Alford’s granddaughter, Lady Belle Marchant.”
Mr. Jones gave an elaborate bow. “So good to meet you.”
“However did you find Earnest?” Susie asked.
Belle raised an eyebrow, confused by the unfamiliar name.
The young woman pointed to the dog sniffing the treats laid out on the side table beside the door.
“The dog belongs to you?” If she had known, she could have used returning the wolfhound as her excuse for coming.
“He belongs to Mama,” Susie said, “though since my brother returned home, he has formed a strong attachment to the pup.”
That was bad news. Not only had she invaded his lordship’s home and been party to locking him out, now it looked as if she had also stolen his dog. She glanced at Earnest in dismay.
The hound, oblivious to being the center of attention, stood his forelegs on the table and gobbled numerous tiny cakes.
Belle pressed at her forehead. For someone not prone to fainting, she suddenly felt the need for a lie down. “I found him in the storm.”
“How sweet of you to rescue him.” Lady Terrance gave the dog an absent pet.
“My brother was heartbroken when he ran off,” Susie said. “He went to search for him, despite the storm. I am surprised you did not encounter each other.”
“They did!” The countess gave a delighted smile. “Or so Rufus advised me last night. I wish I could have witnessed it.”
Belle, remembering the snowball pummeling, was heartily glad his mother had not been there.
“How did you meet Mr. MacBride?” Lady Terrance asked, thankfully switching topics. “He is a lovely man.”
“Yes, he is,” Belle said. “Should we invite him in?”
She had forgotten the baker and Mr. Winfield were standing on the doorstep. Not to mention Mendal. Then again, once Lord Terrance gained entry, she would be joining all three on the front steps expeditiously enough.
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“I am sure they would have left by now.” The countess gave a careless wave. “Rufus would have dealt with them. So, Mr. MacBride brought you, my dear? Good. After Rufus said he forbade you to come, I feared you might have left the village. I sent word this morning to the Briar Inn asking you to come.”
“I must have left before your message arrived.” If only she had waited.
“All that matters is that you are here now,” Susie said.
“Highly inappropriate to drop by without permission.” Mrs. Jones said, her frowning expression one of patent disapproval. “But then I had heard rumors in Town that your behavior is unorthodox.”
A flush warmed Belle’s neck and cheeks. Mrs. Jones sounded like the society patronesses who had banded together to withdraw her Almack’s voucher. She raised her head to fiercely defend herself when she noted that although Mrs. Jones addressed her, the woman’s gaze was fixed on her niece.
Mrs. Jones was not castigating Belle so much as instructing her niece on proper etiquette. Now that Belle focused on the older woman, she sensed unrest buffeting her like white-capped waves. Why so much concern over Lady Susie? Thus far, the young girl seemed perfectly well-behaved.
“Aunt, you must be mistaken,” Susie said, drawing Belle’s curious gaze. “There is nothing unacceptable about Lady Belle’s behavior. She merely came to pay us a visit at Mama’s request.”
“She disobeyed my nephew’s orders.”
“It is my brother who showed rudeness in denying her the right to visit,” Susie said with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “As long as Mama resides here, she may see whomever she pleases. Although visits can be tiring, on this occasion I am glad you grace us with your company, Lady Belle.”
“Constance,” Mrs. Jones said, “I do not approve of how you run your household. Most irregular. How can you allow your daughter to gainsay your son? If her respect toward her betters does not improve, no eligible man will have the chit.”
So that is your worry. Belle’s resentment faded.
“You are mistaken, Henrietta,” Lady Terrance said in a placid tone. “Susie merely anticipates Rufus’s actions. Once he meets Belle in these cordial circumstances, he can be nothing but charmed by the lovely figure she presents and invite her to stay.” She took Belle’s hand in hers and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “In any case, she is not here to merely visit. She is here to cleanse Clearview of our ghost.”
“Balderdash!” a male said from behind Belle.
Startled, she spun around as Lord Terrance stepped into the drawing room and shut the door. He looked taller than she remembered. But then, last night he had spent most of their time together on the ground, with his head lying on her lap. Unfortunate that she had succeeded in finally waking him. He had been much more cordial while unconscious.
It appeared that a good night’s rest had not improved his demeanor. His harsh frown suggested that far from being charmed, Lord Terrance was furious.
Lady Terrance edged behind Belle, while Earnest, smart dog, scrambled under the side table and tucked in his tail.
Belle told her fluttering heart to settle and held her arms out to her side, like a one-woman fortress.
RUFUS MARLESBURY pocketed his key and raised an eyebrow at Lady Belle’s display of foolish bravery. So she wanted a fight? He edged closer, hoping to intimidate her.
The move brought him within the sphere of her enticing lilac scent that he recalled clearly from last night. Standing this close, with more than lantern light to see by, he admired her long, curly eyelashes and luscious lips. It was deuced hard to hate a girl who looked this adorable.
She lifted her chin as if daring him to do his worst.
Her bravery incited a fervent desire to kiss her, something he had tried and failed to do last night. With his mother hiding behind the lady, now was hardly the moment for a second attempt. He stifled his unruly emotions and searched for his common sense. It had been there a moment ago.
To gain perspective, he focused on the room’s other occupants. Under the table beside the door, Earnest caught his attention first. The disobedient pup was alive and well. A surge of pleasure swelled his chest. He squashed the urge to hug Belle and thank her for bringing his wolfhound home.
Could that be why she had come? He shook off that overly optimistic thought. Dark waters stirred this woman’s mercenary heart. Her deplorable behavior last spring had resulted in her being ostracized by society.
“Cousin.” Phillip’s dulcet tone coming from across the room drew his attention. “Well met.”
The splendidly dressed young gentleman looked as if he had presented himself for a night at Whites instead of a casual country stay. Aside from always outshining Rufus, Phillip could be deuced nosy, able to ferret out any covert activity. During their childhood, Phillip inevitably discovered whatever furtive goings-on his cousin was involved in and then blabbed about it at inappropriate moments.
Rufus wanted to groan. He was on a highly secret mission to uncover his father’s murderer, so this was the worst time for Phillip to be here. Worse, he had brought his choleric mother with him.
Rufus tipped his head, biting the urge to suggest they both return to London, and said, “Good morning, Phillip. Aunt.”
“Terrance,” Mrs. Jones said, and sniffed in disdain. “I see your household is as well managed as ever. I suppose I need not be surprised that your hands on the reins are not as effective as my dearly departed brother’s.”
He ground his teeth to curb the urge to verbally react to that slight.
His mother came to his rescue by moving to the chaise across from Mrs. Jones. “Belle, come sit beside me. Susie, you too. It seems so graceless to carry on a discussion while on our feet.”
“No more than locking your son out,” Rufus said in a sour voice.
“Nonsense, dear,” his mother said. “You are here. So how could that be, and so fast, if I had locked you out?”
“It helped that the servants know who covers their wages,” he muttered under his breath.
BELLE GAVE LORD Terrance a startled look before she followed his mother to the chaise. He had spoken in a tongue-in-cheek manner that hinted at a sense of humor. He was unpredictable—one moment stern and forbidding, and the next tolerant and humorous. And last night, before he realized who she was, he had been so tender that she had been tempted to kiss him.
Was he a traitorous villain, as the villagers she had met at the Briar Inn insisted, or merely a too-proud, aloof gentleman? Either way, getting to know Rufus Marlesbury, the Earl of Terrance, might prove to be as dangerous as freeing the dark spirit haunting Clearview.
The moment she took her seat, Earnest came over to lie heavily across her feet. Lord Terrance aimed his disapproving frown at both of them, and the puppy hid his head under his paws and whined.
Belle scratched the wolfhound’s ear. Earnest might belong to his lordship, but in her opinion, Lord Terrance had no understanding or appreciation of his pet’s discerning behavior or finer characteristics. Which explained why the dog had run away. She had half a mind to keep the hound. After all, it was an established custom that finders were keepers.
She straightened from petting the dog to encounter Lord Terrance’s narrow-eyed gaze. Had he gleaned her thieving intentions?
If only she could read him as easily as he read her. Unfortunately, her extra senses worked to their own agenda. Though his brooding gaze did suggest that his incensed feelings toward her from last night had altered somewhat. Then he had been angry enough to slander her name and throw words that had steamed her ears. Now his anger seemed more personal, intense, and, dare she believe it, passionate.
Lady Terrance touched her hand.
Realizing she had missed something, she said, “Oh, I beg your pardon. I was woolgathering.”
“No wonder, my child,” Lady Terranc
e said. “After your terrible experiences last night, and then with that falling icicle, your nerves must be stretched thin.”
“What icicle?” Lord Terrance asked and took a seat near Belle.
“One crashed from the eaves and almost pierced the poor girl,” his mother said.
“You did not faint?” Mrs. Jones’s query sounded like an accusation.
Belle hid her smile. The straight-laced woman would not be appreciative of her humor. “I was startled, Mrs. Jones.”
“A proper young lady would have been overcome.”
“She was being brave,” Lady Terrance said. “I fear, Rufus, we have no option but to invite her to recuperate in our home. After all, she almost died on our doorstep.”
The countess obviously held no qualms about playing on her son’s guilt. Belle glanced at Lord Terrance to gauge his reaction and caught him staring back at her with a deeply thoughtful look. Her heart skipped a beat in alarm, and, flustered by his brooding glance, she looked away.
“Mama has you there,” Susie said, her smile suggesting she enjoyed her brother’s predicament as she took her place beside her mother. “It will be fun to have Lady Belle visit.”
“Yes, marvelous idea,” Phillip said. “When mother suggested we come to the country, I feared I would be bored.”
“It is our Christian duty to visit relatives during the festive season,” Mrs. Jones said. “And I was sure Terrance would have no objection to me visiting his country home, even if I am no longer welcome to live in his London townhouse.”
Rufus kept mum about that well-deserved accusation. After his father’s murder, he had needed to do a thorough search of his townhouse from top to bottom, and he could not do so with his aunt poking her nose into every room he ransacked for clues. The fact that they did not get along had merely given him the perfect excuse to offer her alternate accommodations.
“And it was you, Phillip,” she continued, “who reminded me that Constance might need my company during this first winter without my brother. Though I will not tolerate talk of ghosts while I am in residence.”
A Beastly Scandal Page 3