“They are Lord Terrance’s tenants. Mrs. Parker has four adorable children. I brought them food from Clearview as a Christmas gift from the countess. They were very grateful.”
“Ah,” Mrs. Jones said. “A charitable act. Most acceptable. Though staying to share the meal seems excessive.” She gave Belle a considering glance. “Without parents to guide you, no doubt you lack the delicate sensibilities of how ladies should behave in society. I suggest that while here, you take the opportunity to learn proper conduct for one of your station. I would be happy to be of assistance.”
Rufus choked on a mouthful of egg. His two companions sent him concerned glances, and he waved away their concern. Once he stopped coughing, he said, “Excuse me.”
“You are excused,” Mrs. Jones said.
“Thank you for your offer, Mrs. Jones,” Belle said. “That is most generous of you.”
“It may amuse me during my stay,” the widow said.
“Speaking of amusements,” Belle said, “Mrs. Parker spoke about one of the festivities the villagers used to have at Christmastime. It is a shame the practice died off.”
“What the villagers choose to do is of no matter to us,” Mrs. Jones said.
“This time of the year should be spent in celebration,” Belle said.
“You have something particular in mind?” Rufus asked.
“A Christmas Ball might be appropriate.”
Both he and his aunt greeted her comment in silence. Then, unable to contain himself, he laughed. “No one would want to come to this old mausoleum at the best of times, Lady Belle, let alone in the middle of winter.”
To his astonishment, his aunt joined in with a harsh laugh and said, “Child, you do have the strangest starts. A ball? At Clearview? How preposterous. Terrance is correct. This is far into the North Country. No one of importance lives nearby, and those farther away will not travel so far in bad weather.”
“The storm has ended,” Belle said. “The snow begins to melt. In a week or two, the roads might be clear enough for people to come from farther away.”
“You forget,” Rufus said, “my mother is still in mourning.”
“It is more than six months since your father passed away, my lord,” Belle said in a gentle tone. “And with winter upon us, a ball might put some merriment back in her life. This is also a good way to introduce Susie to the type of entertainment she can expect in London.”
“Out of the question,” Mrs. Jones said. “I came to the country to rest, and a ball takes a great deal of planning. Besides, you cannot expect anyone of any real social connection to arrive here on such short notice. And I refuse to act as hostess to a room full of country bumpkins.”
“Aunt Henrietta is correct.” The words ground in Rufus’s gullet. “Not for the reasons mentioned, however, but simply because Clearview is hardly the place to hold a ball. This house is more likely to dampen spirits than lift them.”
To his relief, the discussion veered into local happenings. He listened absently, his mind playing with the idea of dancing with Belle. Though a ball might be fun, preparations for one would be a distraction. He had yet to resolve the mystery of his father’s death. He needed to make another trip to the Briar Inn to make more inquiries about Mr. Brindle’s death.
His aunt’s comment about a stranger in the village drew his attention. “That would be the magistrate, Aunt, who has come to make a report.”
“Report on what?” Mrs. Jones asked.
“A man was murdered two days ago. One of our old tenants.”
“That is not an appropriate discussion for the breakfast table,” his aunt said, her expression appalled.
Rufus apologized for mentioning the matter.
Belle had gone still. He hoped he had not alarmed her. Why had he mentioned it after keeping silent all this while? Then he remembered that Belle already knew about the occurrence. After she fainted in Susie’s room and before their kiss, she had questioned him about Brindle.
Time had shown him that she had too much discretion to upset his family with the news. He should have trusted her. Still, their argument had led to their interlude in the upper gallery. He did not regret that happening. Her current silence on the topic seemed out of character.
“Have I upset you by the news?” he asked her.
“She is acting in a proper fashion for a change,” his aunt said. “Young ladies cannot show unseemly interest in men’s business. Kindly change the subject.”
“Earnest and I are going for a walk after we eat,” Belle said.
“Who, pray tell, is Earnest?” Mrs. Jones asked. “And why do you refer to him by his Christian name? Mr. So-and-So would be the appropriate manner in which to address a young man. As well, I do not believe it is wise for a young lady to walk alone in the countryside with a stranger. While you are under our protection, you must be guided by our judgment in these matters.”
“She refers to the dog,” Rufus said, his humor returned. “I am sure it is allowable for the lady to address the hound by his first name.”
“Hmph!” His aunt gave the dog a hard stare.
Rufus doubted his aunt approved of Earnest any more now that she knew he was a dog. “As for the walk, I would be happy to accompany you. To give you the protection you require.”
“Unnecessary,” Mrs. Jones said. “I merely meant she should take her maid, as would be proper. Besides, I hoped we could have a word after the meal, Terrance. There is some business I wish to discuss.”
“It can wait, Aunt,” he said. “As Lady Belle has said, we should not waste such a good morning indoors.”
He could go to the Briar Inn after they returned. This time he wanted better results from his foray into Terrance Village, and suddenly he thought of a way to ensure a better outcome. Why not use Phillip’s annoying talent for ferreting out secrets on Rufus’s behalf, instead of against him? Phillip should be awake by the time he and Belle returned. Surprisingly eager at the idea of having assistance in his quest, Rufus stood with a wide smile and held out his hand to assist Belle to rise.
THOUGH GOING for a walk with Lord Terrance offered Belle the perfect opportunity to reintroduce the subject of the troublesome ball, she had learned her lesson about going anywhere alone with Lord Terrance. She no longer had any illusions about her ability to withstand his brand of persuasion. So, she sent word to Mendal that he planned to accompany her on her walk. Never one to like the outdoors, especially in winter, Mendal was nevertheless down in a trice, booted and cloaked.
Lord Terrance looked put out to discover Mendal’s inclusion. Henrietta Jones, however, who happened to be out in the hall as they made their departure, nodded her approval.
The sun shone bright against a cloudless blue sky, which gave the morning air a coldness that refreshed rather than chilled her spirits. They followed a narrow path bordered by woods on one side and Clearview’s wide open grounds on the other. Snow lingered by the shade of the tall trees, and Belle was grateful for her sturdy calf boots that crunched through the snow and left footprints to attest to her passing.
Their path took them into an enclosed laburnum. The ground inside was fairly dry and easy to negotiate. The snow had not made its way past the tree branches grown together overtop the circular roof. A glance behind showed that Mendal walked with ease, no longer stumbling through the snow.
All too soon they exited the enclosure, and Belle gave a hardy toss of the ball that sent Earnest sailing after his prey into far distant groves. He disappeared within a snowy copse.
“The dog is happier since you arrived,” Lord Terrance said.
“The house frightens him,” she said and glanced back. A curtain fluttered on the third floor window. They were watched—and not by an earthly figure.
Every time she noticed his father, the son was beside her or soon appeared. Did the
ghost worry about his son? Was he in danger now, as his father had been?
She moved closer to his lordship and checked every shrub and bush for a crossbow aimed in their direction. Then she sighed and relaxed her bunched shoulders. She empathized too much with the ghost’s worries. Even were Lord Terrance in danger, surely no one would dare harm him on his home grounds.
“The dog is wise,” Lord Terrance said suddenly, as if he had brooded about the matter. “If I had a choice, I would not stay in that house, either.”
“You dislike your home?” she asked in surprise.
“I detest it. I do not understand what mother and Susie find comforting here.”
“I believe they find it peaceful,” Belle said. “Lately, I, too, have formed a fondness for the place.”
He gave a surprised look. “What appeals?”
Belle considered the double-edged question. Was Mendal correct in that Lord Terrance was unaware of how much she had grown to care for him? She could not openly confess her love, but could she allude to it?
“Clearview can seem imposing at first glance, my lord, with its turrets and gargoyles and its haunting presence. But delve past those superficial layers, and one quickly discovers fascinating corridors filled with rich character, solid masonry that would protect one against assault, and a joyous spirit that enlivens all who enter.”
“Are you referring to my home?” He gave a doubtful laugh.
Instead of answering, she asked, “Why do you dislike the place?”
He did not reply immediately. Finally, he said, “I was ever under my father’s scrutiny here. I failed miserably at every aspect of being a good, dependable son.”
“I take it you were not close to your father,” she said.
“Hah! He could not stand the sight of me. I disappointed him at every turn.”
Belle’s heart ached at his sadness. His father had crushed his boyhood confidence. Instinctively, she took his arm and squeezed in sympathy. She would have withdrawn, but he tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow so they walked arm in arm.
With every step, the back of her forearm brushed his side. Heat rushed to Belle’s cheeks, but pulling away seemed churlish. Suddenly, she sensed the manor house loom behind them, as if Lord Terrance’s father brooded over an upstart, unsuitable female taking liberties with his son.
We walk in public, she silently told the ghost with a proud tilt of her head. I am not running off with him to Scotland for a clandestine marriage.
Considering the manor ghost’s fierce protectiveness of his son, Belle could not accept his lordship’s estimation of his father’s affection for him. “I am certain your father loved you.”
“He wished I could be more like Phillip.”
Though he said the words as if it were a statement about the weather, the hurt behind his words buffeted her. “Sometimes, parents favor one child.”
“You are kind to worry about me.” He smiled with such tenderness, her heart swelled. “You may have a point. My mother holds my sister closer than she does me.” He shook his head when she would have protested. “As for my father, neither Susie nor I could ever please him.”
“It is difficult to interpret a parent’s motives. And now, with him gone, we can only deduce his intent by his past actions, but please, do not assume you know what is in your mother’s heart until you actually ask her.”
He waved in a dismissive gesture. “Why do we discuss such maudlin matters? It is a beautiful day. Choose a more cheerful topic.”
He does not believe me. She made a mental note to speak to his mother about her and her son’s relationship and switched topics. “You were surprisingly well-behaved with Mrs. Parker and her children.”
“They were frightened of me.”
“At the start. By evening’s end, Margaret was completely malleable.”
He smiled. “She is a sweet child.”
Belle gulped around a sudden knot in her throat. She had to change the subject again, or she would kiss him, Mendal and the ghost be damned. “Before you arrived, Mrs. Parker spoke of Christmas celebrations that were held here for the villagers.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“What about the ball?”
“What ball?”
“The Christmas ball.”
“I thought we settled that matter. My mother would never countenance such an event at this time.”
“It was your mother’s idea. She wants Susie to practice mingling prior to her London debut.”
He dropped her hand, his shoulders stiff, and his expression going hard. “There will be no ball at Clearview. I am sorry, but this is an inconvenient time for such an event. I beg you to drop the matter.”
Belle took a deep breath and curbed her temper, which would have preferred to call him on his obstinate attitude. Instead, she mentally yelled at him, Why must you be so stubborn?
“It would cheer the household,” she said in a last ditch appeal to his compassion. “And, according to Mrs. Parker, the villagers desperately need a celebration.”
“Villagers? What do they have to do with a ball at Clearview? They can hardly expect to be invited.” This time he stepped away, anger flaring in his gaze. “Ah, now I see that this is indeed my mother’s plan. You may advise her ladyship that there will not be such a rum go at Clearview, now or ever. Although my father may not be present to curb her unconventional behavior, her son intends to act on his behalf.”
“That is unfair.” She let out a huff of impatience, her intention to remain calm vanishing into the winter air. “What is so wrong with a separate section cordoned off for the villagers’ party? Mrs. Parker said this last year has been hard on folks. A celebration will help them forget their troubles and show them that you, as their lord, will stand by them during the lean times. It is important they believe that. Besides, these types of balls have been held for centuries, where the lord of the manor celebrates the year with his people.”
“It will not be so at Clearview,” he said with finality. A devilish light replaced the ferocity in his eyes. “Lady Belle, are you starting a row with me? Why,” he added in a seductive voice, “I do believe you angle for another kiss.”
She took a step back in consternation, for that was exactly what she had hoped would happen last night. “I do not!” Anymore.
Mendal had stopped when they had, and she looked off into the bush, but the position of her head suggested she listened.
Belle walked on. How could he always twist her words and actions to suit his wishes? Angle for a kiss, indeed! Even if she did dream of his lips taking possession of hers, she kept such thoughts buried deep inside her heart, and she wished he would stop rousting them out for inspection.
“Another change of subject is in order,” she said.
“As you wish.” Laughter layered each word.
Villain! She racked her brain for a neutral subject and hit on one. “Tell me about the murder in the village.”
“I thought we were to avoid maudlin topics.”
He could be so stubborn. Worse than his father. But she knew when to give up gracefully. “Since you are dismayed with every one I pick, what do you wish to talk about?”
“Let us see. How about our trip to London?”
She wanted to groan. Was this stroll doomed to be unpleasant?
Earnest ran up, covered in twigs and dirt, carrying his muddy ball from which all the ribbons were torn off.
“And where have you been all this while?” she asked the hound in a stern voice.
He shook his head and firmly planted his two front feet on the ground, determined she would throw his ball.
With a laugh she obliged, and he ran wild across the meadow.
“He loves you,” Lord Terrance said in a soft voice. “Is that your magical power? Do
you have that effect on all who cross your path?”
“Would that it could be so,” she said. “Most who get to know me end up avoiding me.”
“How can you say so?” He seemed astounded by her assertion. “I find exactly the opposite happens.”
Belle’s cheeks warmed. She dared not take him literally. He was undoubtedly being effusive with his compliment.
“I do not fish for kind words, my lord.” She looked away. “I merely explain what I have experienced.”
“By experience, do you refer to your betrothed? He is a fool for letting you out of your binding. If you were mine . . .”
“I am not.”
“No,” he said, “you are not.” He picked up a stick, and despite the fact his dog was nowhere nearby to fetch it, and with a vicious swing, he threw it high and far.
“I am sure you would be glad for that to never come to pass,” Belle said, despondent. “As do most gentlemen in Town since word spread of my behavior with Lord Fitzgerald.”
“He should have offered.”
“He did.”
Lord Terrance stopped abruptly. “Then you are engaged still?” He swung her to face him. “Why pretend you have put marriage out of your mind?”
“I am not affianced to anyone, not to Jeffrey, and not to Lord Fitzgerald. I turned down his suit.”
He looked at her with patent disbelief. “Why? Despite his rakish reputation, Fitzgerald is an honorable fellow, a viscount besides, and he came into the world well hosed and shod. What was your objection?”
She shrugged. “That entire debacle in London proved that I am not suited for marriage.”
He let out an angry snort and gave her a shake. “You cannot seriously mean to spend the rest of your days alone?”
She broke his hold and briskly tramped on. “I have my grandfather,” she said over her shoulder. “He is all the company I need.”
Ahead, a turn took them through the woods. Belle chose that path and ducked to avoid snow-laden branches.
He kept pace, though Mendal scrambled to adjust to their lengthened strides. The maid squealed when a load of snow dropped on her head.
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