Mendal gave the wolfhound a skeptical look, and the dog chose that moment to bear his teeth at the owl. The bird leaped onto the cage’s side and hooted at him.
“I am sorry, my lady. Your grandfather sent me to care for you, and I must do so to the best of my conscience. If you insist on going to this dinner, then I will accompany you.”
“But Mendal . . .”
“Your mother passed away long ago, but she could not love you more than I. I will accompany you, my lady, if I have to walk all the way there and back.”
Belle stared at Mendal, her lower lip trembling. Then she hugged her maid tight, and all the tears she had bottled up since Lord Terrance left her on the third floor, spilled.
It took them another half hour to repair her face so no trace of Belle’s emotions showed. Belle was determined that no hint of the lady whose composure Rufus had shattered would be visible tonight.
“I wish to wear my mother’s gold earrings and necklace.”
“They will go splendidly with that gown,” Mendal said and wiped away an errant tear of her own.
Fashionably late at twenty minutes past six, Belle descended the stairs. Her slippers made little noise on the thick red carpet. The idea of besting Lord Terrance at his own game made her tremble with conflicting emotions. If she succeeded, she could suggest they forget their wager and thus end what had turned into a dangerous game.
If that happened, her innocence would be safe, yet she would never experience another of his embraces. He was right on one count. She did enjoy his touch, and the thought of never experiencing that surge of passion his kisses evoked made her inconsolably sad. Yet, if she failed, she might lose her chastity and honor before she ever cleansed the manor of its resident ghost.
Flushed from the direction of her thoughts, she fanned herself mid-stairs and prayed for courage.
RUFUS WAITED impatiently in the drawing room for Belle. His glance was rooted to the closed doors. If she did not arrive soon, they would have to go in without her. At least her maid had not come to say her mistress had a headache. He had half expected that to happen, and he was prepared to scale the stairs and barge into her chamber to verify if the message was true or merely an excuse to avoid him.
Since their kiss in the gallery, images plagued him of Belle under his bed linen, in his arms, and entwined around his body. Common sense advised him that none of those things must ever come to pass. The truth of that put him in a foul temper with the servants, his family, but most especially, himself.
For years Rufus had successfully avoided the parson’s mousetrap. By dallying with Belle, he now threw his plans to marry a suitable wife to the winds. Yet, to have one more taste of Belle, he was ready to lay down his neck and let the trap snap.
Of course, he must not do as his heart dictated. Belle was the most unsuitable of brides. Worse, he now suspected she would refuse him if he were to be so foolish as to offer. She was convinced only someone who believed as she did in that folderol about ghosts could truly and completely love her.
“Rufus, come sit by me.” His mother tapped the seat beside her. “You have been glued to that wall for the last hour and begin to resemble a sconce.”
“In case your eyes deceive you, Madam, I am no longer a child who needs instructions on how to behave.”
“You were never that, Rufus,” she said with an easy laugh. “You were always so intent on behaving properly that it is a wonder you were ever considered a child.“
“As he should have been,” Mrs. Jones said. “Though obviously, it seems to be more trial for him to behave properly than it is for my dear Phillip.”
Phillip, who sat in a chair beside his mother, received a fond caress on his cheek, which he withstood with a pleasant if empty-headed expression.
Rufus grunted with impatience at his cousin’s tolerance.
“Do sit,” Phillip said. “I suspect that wall is sound and does not need your stalwart support.” His handkerchief appeared in his hand, and he dabbed the perfumed cloth on his face. “Shame to waste all that effort on concrete and mortar.”
“Is it not time to eat soon?” Susie asked. “I wonder what keeps Belle?”
Rufus spared a look at his sister. She was better turned out tonight than usual. She wore a pretty, white half-mourning dress with a black ribbon border. Her eyes were bright and cheerful. Not at all the normally reticent Susie.
He had hoped Belle would bring his sister out more, and she seemed to have achieved that effect. If only Belle did not harbor such strange thoughts about spirits, he could wholeheartedly welcome her as a companion for his sister.
His gaze moved back to the doorway. What kept Belle? Had he pushed their wager too far? Even if he had, he knew she had enjoyed his kisses, and he would not allow her to convince herself otherwise. “I will see what keeps her.”
“Best send Felton,” his aunt said. “It would not look right to approach her yourself. Might give her the impression that you have an interest.”
“What nonsense,” his mother said. “Rufus, interested in my Belle? She is far too sensible for him. Now, Phillip would make a perfect match.”
Rufus’s neck burned with outrage. Was his mother truly insane? Phillip was entirely wrong for Belle. He would bore her after an evening in his company, let alone a lifetime. She needed someone strong and passionate to match her spirit.
“I beg to differ, dear Constance,” Mrs. Jones said. “Phillip has his sights set on a Miss Warwick. She is a lovely, well-behaved young lady who is due to have her come-out next spring. Completely unspoiled. Her grandfather is a duke, and her father is in direct line to inherit.” She tapped her son on his knee. “Unlike some,” her gaze flicked to Rufus, “Phillip has learned it is better not to chase after ladies of low caliber.”
Phillip’s lips had thinned into a narrow line of displeasure. Rufus waited for him to set his mother straight, but he said not a word. His cousin looked as if he were fighting a demon of his own. It made Rufus curious about this “lady of low caliber” that his cousin had learned not to chase.
“There is nothing wrong with Belle’s caliber,” Susie said, with outrage. “She is a perfect lady and the granddaughter of a marquess.”
“To argue when you know nothing of what you speak,” Mrs. Jones said, “shows lack of breeding.”
Rufus strode out the door. His aunt’s words about Belle’s unsuitability matched his recent thoughts too closely for comfort. He did not care about her unsuitability. He intended to drag her downstairs if he had to dress her himself.
Belle standing naked and still as he pulled her underskirts over her legs sent his desire soaring. He squirmed where his undershirt was tightly wrapped between his legs. After returning from his encounter with Belle, Rufus had soaked for a half hour in a cold bath, but it had done little to completely subdue his arousal.
Eventually, Ellison, with a remarkably stoic face, had suggested that the long linen shirt be wrapped in such a manner as to protect his master from any embarrassing reveal later.
Cursing Ellison, Rufus swished his hips to loosen the tight hold before taking the first step up. Then he saw her.
Dressed in a low-cut silk gown and a violet wrap that made his fantasies seem tame, Belle stood hesitantly halfway up the stairs. The ladies of the Ton wore gowns more revealing than hers, but even dressed in a burlap bag, Belle could snatch his breath away. It took a while to find his words, and when they came, they were more clipped than he would have preferred. “We waited dinner on your appearance.”
“I am sorry to have kept you, my lord.”
She descended, placing one delicate satin-slippered foot ahead of the other. With skirts held up, her every step showed glimpses of a luscious ankle.
He silently thanked Ellison for his forethought and held out his arm. “May I escort you in?”
Sh
e slipped her hand around his elbow, as if she belonged beside him. He covered her fingers, proud to claim this lady as his, if only for the short transit from entryway to drawing room. All too soon, her hand slipped away as she went to greet Susie.
“I am so glad you could join us tonight,” his sister said.
Rufus noted that a sparkle she had lacked for many a year was present in Susie’s eyes. Until now, unbeknownst to him, a quietness had invaded his sister that he now realized was one more of a lack of spirit than of peace.
Belle had managed to breathe life back into Susie. He glanced over at his mother, who also looked animated. And my mother.
Felton entered. “Dinner is served, my lord.”
Conversation during the meal swirled from the latest happenings in London, as told by Phillip, and the arrangements that would be needed if Susie were to have a Season next spring. The latter subject made his sister irritable since she denied any liking for the project.
“Any young lady would be thrilled to have a Season in Town,” her aunt said. “I can assure you that you will not find a worthwhile candidate in this backwater village.”
“There is nothing backwater about Terrance,” the countess said. “I have been quite happy here. This society is a match to any you will find in London. The most interesting people reside in Terrance.”
“If you mean the baker, I beg to differ, Constance,” Henrietta Jones said. “Although he may bake a loaf worthy of the prince himself, he is not a suitable companion for a countess, and I should hope you have better expectations for the daughter of an earl than for her to marry some village bumpkin.”
“I did not suppose any such thing,” Lady Terrance said, her face as pink as her steak. “I merely meant there are suitable companions in this village, too.”
“Poppycock,” Mrs. Jones said. “You have rusticated in the countryside too long. If you had come to London as your husband wished, you would know that only by attending the best parties and gatherings can Susie’s needs be met. However, since we are all aware of your preference for the country, I would be happy to chaperone Susie on your behalf.”
“Oh!” Susie gasped and turned a horrified look on Rufus.
He took pity on her plight. Susie cared for society as much as his mother. It would be difficult enough for her to be among strangers and on her best behavior without his aunt at her side, constantly finding fault.
“I hoped to approach Lady Belle privately on this subject,” he said. “She would make an admirable companion for Susie.”
Belle looked surprised. And no wonder. Since her arrival he had done naught but decry her behavior. If she agreed, it would gave them a chance to continue the fascinating and frustrating conversation they had left off on the third floor.
“You could offer Susie your knowledge and companionship,” he said, “making the London entertainments more enjoyable for both of you.”
Henrietta Jones responded to Rufus’s gambit first. “Out of the question. Lady Belle is not . . . I do not believe . . .” She stopped, obviously not wishing to insult Belle to her face.
Rufus hid a smile at leaving his aunt speechless.
“Capital idea,” Phillip said. “Hope both of you stunning ladies will save a dance for me at every ball you attend. And we might find time to play a game or two of . . . well . . . whist.”
Susie giggled. The countess, having taken a sip of wine, sputtered. Belle kept her eyes focused on her plate, but her lips twitched, and her cheeks seemed inordinately bright.
Rufus studied all of them through narrowed eyes. He remembered his cousin’s comment earlier at the inn, and now he watched the foursome’s sly glances and recounted his family members’ unusual vivacity, and suddenly, all of it fell into place. Something was up. And it had nothing to do with a game of whist. Worse, they had not included him in their secret machinations. Appetite lost, Rufus toyed with his meat. When had he become the outsider within his family? That reminded him that, if he did not find a way to clear his name soon, he would become the outsider in a much more stark fashion. Was it only six weeks to the New Year? And Belle’s suitability became immaterial, because he certainly would not be in a position to court her or any other woman. And he would be leaving his family, their livelihood, and his tenants in dire straits without him here to look after their welfare.
Tomorrow, he must return to the village inn to seek out another source of information besides Brindle. Someone else might know about his father’s movements during his last visit to Cheshire. Hopefully, the discovery of a new informant would not result in another murder. But unfortunate as Brindle’s death was, Rufus suspected it was a clear sign that his search had taken him closer to his father’s murderer. It was the only ray of hope he had found to cling to in months.
Chapter Nine
“You honor me with your invitation, my lord,” Belle said, bringing Rufus’s attention back to the dinner conversation.
Seated beside his mother, she appeared to belong at this table, as if she were as much a member of his family as Susie. He could not imagine another female who could fit in so well.
How absurd, he immediately chided himself. His wife would belong in his home more than a guest. Yet, Belle seemed a perfect fit for Clearview.
“As much as I would enjoy Susie’s company,” Belle said, “I do not plan to participate in the upcoming social events in Town.”
Her words broke into his thoughts like a knife slicing through meat.
“But you must,” Susie said.
His sister snatched the words out of Rufus’s dry mouth. What did she mean she did not intend to participate? Even as he asked himself the question, he knew why. Well, her ghost hunting be damned. He would not let her leave him.
“Say you will come,” Susie said. “I could not bear to go if I did not have you by my side to offer me your wise counsel.”
“Hmph!” her aunt said from across the table.
“What I mean is,” Susie said, “Belle is more my age, and she has experienced the Season in Town, so she would be able to advise me on the best way to behave.”
“Child, you have no more sense than a worm out in the rain,” her aunt said.
“You might be right, Henrietta.” Lady Terrance placed her glass on the table. “I have been away from Town too long. If anyone is to escort the girls, it should be I.”
“Oh, mother, do you truly mean that?” Susie smiled brilliantly and clapped her hands.
Rufus’s heart did a jig. Despite all his father’s pleadings, his mother had not left Clearview in years. Rufus had not believed she would ever return to society.
Awestruck, he glanced at Belle. This change was because of her, and he knew it. He no longer cared what secret she shared with his family. In a few days, she had accomplished what he and his father had been unable to contrive in years. No wonder he loved her.
His fork clattered against his plate at the thought.
“Rufus,” his mother said, a note of trepidation in her tone, “do you not approve of my coming?”
“I thoroughly approve, Mama,” he said.
She blinked, as if shocked by his answer, and then she smiled. “This Season is important for Susie’s future. And Belle, well, she does not have a mother to guide her, and it would make me proud if she would allow me to act in that regard.”
“My lady.” Belle’s eyes were filled with tears that threatened to overflow. “I would be honored to have you play such a beloved role.”
His aunt seemed ready to argue, so Rufus rushed to forestall her comments. Belle had impulsively agreed to come along, and he did not intend to let her wriggle out of her commitment.
“Then it is settled. We shall all attend the next Season.”
Now that he had admitted that he loved Belle, Rufus was determined to win her—heart, mind and soul. He was also c
ertain he could make her forget all about ghosts and spirits and any other supernatural imaginings. As he considered ways he might accomplish that task, he shifted in his chair and again gave thanks to Ellison.
But despite the discomfort, he felt more cheerful than he had been in months. Rufus held up his glass to toast the coming year, but deep inside, worry and unease rumbled. Would he even be with his family next year to make a toast to their health, or would he be standing before the House of Lords to plead for his life and praying that his family would not pay the price for his failure to catch his father’s killer?
LATER THAT NIGHT, Belle and Susie gathered in the countess’s room until it was time to start their billiards game. However, hour after hour, Lord Terrance kept Phillip Jones busy in the games room doing exactly what Belle and Susie and the countess wished to do. Finally, disheartened, they disbanded to their respective chambers.
Belle lay awake, replaying all that had happened at the dinner table. Lord Terrance had gazed at her as if she were a roast duck set before him for his pleasure. Then, somehow, he had tricked her into agreeing to accompany his family to London despite her adamant stance that she no longer wished to find a husband. She had backed away from her promise when she later met with Susie and Lady Terrance, but both women refused to listen.
A warm, heavy lump beside her feet, Earnest shifted and yawned. Her restlessness kept the tired dog awake. She turned over, her mind racing like a mouse inside a wall.
A few days ago she had been perfectly content to spend her life caring for her grandfather and answering the call of her gift. Yet, what had once served as an achievable dream, now seemed lonely and deprived, all because Rufus Marlesbury had held her in his arms and stirred desires that were better left dormant. She punched her pillow. Why did he have to poke his handsome nose into her life?
She could not tolerate another Season where patronesses bestowed disdainful glances. And to be present while he paid court to the Ton ladies while she became a veritable wallflower—Oh, it was insupportable.
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