A Beastly Scandal

by Shereen Vedam

  She did not say that having Susie’s dragon of an aunt order colors and lace that the young girl might not care for probably played a significant role in the outpouring of tears.

  “Have the seamstress come here,” Lord Terrance said.

  Belle agreed that Susie would feel more at ease to have the fittings done at Clearview and was pleased that he was willing to do this for his sister.

  Her leg ached, so she moved it toward a pillow. Lord Terrance rushed over to help. He gently settled her leg, his hand warm against the back of her ankle.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He had been most attentive since her injury. Was it her imagination, or did he search for a reason to touch her? He often brushed against her when he tended her ankle or plumped the cushion at her back. He insisted on carrying her to and from her room each morning and evening.

  Not that she objected. Especially the carrying. Something about being held in his arms made her feel safe and cherished.

  Most of her life, Belle had shared little physical contact with people, so she found the constant handling most welcome. And since the carrier was Lord Terrance, it was inordinately exciting. She did not have the courage to again kiss him while he conveyed her, though.

  From his smiling glances, she wondered if he wished she would.

  Her sprained ankle did have one clear advantage. Lord Terrance had been most impressed with Earnest’s response to Belle’s injury, and he took the dog on daily walks and runs and even on sojourns into the village.

  For Earnest’s part, though he professed to miss her by exuberantly licking her face upon his return, he seemed happy to be away from Clearview manor as much as possible. After their last traumatic ghostly encounter, Belle could not blame him for his defection.

  Mr. Jones arrived in the drawing room dressed in his dashing flair. Both men bid the ladies farewell, and Earnest followed them out the door.

  Having to lie about day in, day out did have its advantages, however. It gave her the rare opportunity to not only visually observe her companions without appearing nosy, but to also practice her special senses.

  Mrs. Jones certainly acted the lady of the manor, or the “dragon,” as Susie called her. Whenever Mrs. Jones and Lady Terrance were together, the countess would bow to Mrs. Jones’s words and then do as she pleased once Mrs. Jones left. Mrs. Jones, on the other hand, was frustrated and disappointed when Lady Terrance ignored her suggestions, especially since the lady would not argue the point. Her craving to be accepted and loved by her family practically palpated in the air.

  As for Susie, she believed her aunt never heard her wishes. Her fears were routinely reinforced since Mrs. Jones and her niece did often disagree. For Mrs. Jones’s part, she desperately wanted Susie to “take” in society.

  Once, while niece and aunt argued, Belle caught a glimpse of a homely young lady of Susie’s age. In that instant, she understood Mrs. Jones’s greatest fear. The elderly woman identified with Susie most, for she had once been young and awkward, with no one to guide her. The result had been a decision to marry in haste.

  She did not want her niece to resign herself to a similar fate. Mrs. Jones wanted to offer Susie the guidance and vast experience of mingling with the elite that she now possessed. That Susie did not care for her advice left Mrs. Jones gloomy. After their encounters, the older woman’s fears for Susie hung in the air like a stormy cloud.

  On the few occasions that Belle saw Lord Terrance and his aunt interact, she had been most puzzled. In Mrs. Jones’s presence, Lord Terrance presented a bland countenance.

  Mrs. Jones mirrored that behavior. The moment he glanced away or left the room, however, a cold depression settled on the lady. It was then that her grief at her brother’s passing surfaced. Belle wondered if her nephew reminded Mrs. Jones of her brother.

  Belle wanted to run over and give the woman a warm hug on those occasions. She did not follow through for two reasons. One, her ankle prohibited such exertions. Two, even were she to offer consolation, Mrs. Jones would reject such a gesture.

  So, Belle had no choice but to spend her days idly. All this time to think had also made her reconsider her suspicions of Winfield. The ghost had not specifically named him as a villain, so what if she were wrong about him? Just because she did not care for a fellow did not mean he was capable of murder and treason.

  So, she began to examine the motives of everyone she encountered. To family, servants, and visitors alike, she posed questions about their background in a chatty manner and caught their stray thoughts to examine for deeper meaning.

  Was this man other than he appeared?

  Did she harbor murder in her heart?

  Would he willingly betray England?

  As for Lord Terrance, for the past week, both he and his cousin seemed excessively intent about their daily journeys. They left shortly after breakfast and did not return until close to suppertime. Yet neither seemed happier for their outings. They were up to something, but to her mounting frustration, both men kept their thoughts well under cover.

  As the days passed, Belle sensed a growing unease in the urbane Mr. Jones. Lord Terrance, she still could not read, though he, too, grew quieter and looked more discouraged each time he returned home.

  She wished he would speak to her about what troubled him. Every time she questioned him about what he had done that day, he changed the subject. All she could do was hope that whatever trouble the two men stirred, they would remain safer than Lord Terrance’s father had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was the day before the ball, and it had arrived faster than Belle could have imagined. Agitation flitted from room to room, stirring anger and frustration. A torn sleeve brought tears and a dropped vase recrimination when a fortnight earlier neither would have garnered more than a raised eyebrow or a sigh.

  Belle was no more exempt from this growing agitation than the others. She had grown no closer to finding out who was the traitor the ghost hunted and, therefore, had not been able to discharge the ghost of Clearview. She sensed a general unease in the air about Lord Terrance and Mr. Jones, but she could not discern its cause.

  On the positive side, her leg had healed nicely, which meant dancing with a gallant partner no longer posed a problem. Her dress, a lovely confection of lace and pale dreamy primrose silks flowed like a dream. She could hardly wait to see Lord Terrance’s expression when she made her entrance.

  During the weeks since her injury, she had no further ghostly encounters. Nor had she made any headway into discovering the so-called “traitor.” At least, now that her ankle had healed, she could venture upstairs again to solicit more information from the taciturn spirit.

  Not that she was in any hurry to do so. The terror of her last encounter was vivid. Partly because of that, she had decided to wait until after the ball to disturb the ghost of Clearview, wanting the planned entertainment to proceed without incident.

  The upcoming ball had also acted as an excellent distraction for the countess. Belle did not know all the details, but Susie said that Lady Terrance planned many games and a play to entertain her guests. She had heard the entire village mirrored their excitement. This Christmas ball would be like none ever experienced in Terrance Village, because this time, many villagers had been invited to be a part of the festivities instead of merely watching the elite of society enjoy themselves. Something that Susie said her father would never have permitted had he been alive. Belle crossed her fingers and hoped he would not choose tonight to show his objections.

  While Belle fed Lady Sefton her midday meal, Mendal handed her a summons from Lord Terrance. He requested that Belle come directly to the foyer. She returned the owl to its cage and hurried downstairs.

  Skirts held up, she raced down the last few steps. Hopefully Earnest was not in trouble again. His lordship had taken the dog for a walk earli
er this morning, and she had seen neither since. Man and dog finally saw eye-to-eye, but could some trouble have ruined their rapport?

  When she reached the bottom of the steps, no one was in the foyer, not even a butler or footman in sight.

  “Lord Terrance?” she called out.

  “Lady Belle.” He came out of his study. His shining blue eyes said they hid a delicious secret.

  Earnest, who followed his master, wagged his tail while portraying an equally happy grin.

  “What has happened?” she asked, her agitation shifting from dread to excitement.

  Lord Terrance stepped aside, and from behind him an elderly man stepped forward. It was the Marquess of Alford.

  Grandpapa!

  He appeared frail, with high spots of color on his cheeks. Belle’s tears misted her vision, and she blinked rapidly to keep him in sight. She ran to give him a warm welcome hug.

  His arms wrapped around her so tightly that he had to be healthy and hearty, despite his feeble appearance.

  “You should not have traveled in this weather,” she scolded lightly.

  “The most enjoyable journey I have ever experienced,” he said with a wink to Lord Terrance. “His lordship sent a coach, a doctor, and his agent to ensure my every need was met. His London chef, who was on his way here to oversee the ball’s feasts, was also with us in the second coach, and he cooked my every meal on the way here.”

  Belle wanted to thank Lord Terrance. If she had not already been in love with him, this thoughtful action would have sealed the deed. But in the ensuing commotion of happy greetings, she lost sight of the elusive gentleman.

  All too soon, her grandfather said he wished to retire. “We will have ample time to catch up on news this evening.”

  She escorted him upstairs, where he could rest from his long trip. Lady Terrance had given him the room across the hall from Belle’s.

  On her return downstairs, Felton informed her that his master had been called away on business.

  Disappointed, Belle wandered to the front parlor and lay on a chaise to gaze out the window while Earnest lounged on the carpet beside her. For once, the dog had stayed instead of following Lord Terrance like an enamored puppy.

  The view out the window showed scarce evidence of the freak storm that had blown her into Terrance Village over a month ago. She spotted tufts of snow-covered ornamental shrubbery and brown vines on a trellis climbing the manor house walls. Cut-back shrubs were interspersed between garden seats resting on intricate ironwork legs and flowerbeds that edged a white-speckled lawn.

  One plant caught her eye, and she sat forward, unable to distinguish if what she saw was real or a vision. While all its partners had been trimmed back for the winter, one rose bush had a branch that still held a blooming rose. Most of the velvet, dark pink petals had fallen, but there were a couple still clinging to the stem.

  How extraordinary! The sight made her hopes rise that perhaps all would turn out well for Lord Terrance and his family. She had honed her skill at sensing people’s thoughts during her impromptu confinement, so during the upcoming ball, when most everyone from the village would be here, she could practice what she had learned. See if she could identify the traitor the ghost sought if he—or she—was among the guests. By the end of the ball, the entire mystery of the ghost of Clearview might be resolved.

  She sat back, well pleased with that plan. Come spring, this garden would come alive with brilliant tones and fragrances, and that rose bush would be in full bloom. How she wished she could be here to see it. For now, she was pleased the roads had cleared enough for their guests to arrive. Several families were already ensconced on the second floor.

  Thankfully, the ghost had chosen not to bother anyone so far. Hopefully, he would keep away from the guests. She did not want the ball to be a disaster for Lady Terrance or Susie.

  The butler entered the room and said, “My lady.”

  “Yes, Felton?”

  He handed her a note. “A message for you from a tenant farmhouse. The runner said it was urgent.”

  Surprised, she sat up, unfolded the paper, and read.

  Lady Belle,

  Pardon my presumption in summoning you so abruptly. However, it is vital that you come to the farm forthwith.

  Your most humble servant,

  Mrs. Parker

  The first thought that popped into Belle’s head was that one of the children was in trouble, and Mrs. Parker needed her help. “Felton, have a horse readied for me.”

  “Yes, my lady. Is anything the matter?”

  Belle had already run out the door before he finished speaking, and she did not slow down to answer him. Instead, she gripped the note, lifted her skirts, and raced to her room.

  Again, she could not help wondering what could have happened for Mrs. Parker to summon her in such an abrupt manner. If the note had been from Lord Terrance, then she might have assumed he had another pleasant surprise for her. But coming from Mrs. Parker, the missive sounded ominous.

  Mendal, busy folding linens, turned in surprise as she stormed in. “My lady, what is wrong?”

  “Get my riding dress. I have to leave now for the Parker farm.”

  “What has happened?”

  “I do not know.” She gave Mendal the letter before slipping out of her gown. “I hope the woman’s children are all right.”

  “Mrs. Parker’s illness might have returned,” Mendal said. “Should we summon a doctor for her?”

  “No,” Belle said. “Let me discover the problem first.” With one murder already having taken place and a traitor in the village, a constable might be more appropriate than a doctor.

  “I should accompany you,” Mendal said.

  “No time to take the cart, and you hate riding a horse. You can meet me there later.”

  Belle ignored her maid’s grumbling and hurried Mendal through the change of clothes.

  “I will request that a footman follow you,” Mendal called as Belle rushed out the bedroom door. Again, she did not slow down to answer.

  In short order, Belle mounted her horse and rode at a gallop toward the Parker farm. She barely noticed the servant who rode hard behind her, trying to keep up.

  She arrived feeling hot, her heart racing and her breath wheezing as harshly as her mount’s. Another horse was tied to a post outside the farmhouse.

  The gelding looked familiar, and when she dismounted and raced to its side, she recognized Goodwin. Lord Terrance was here.

  A wave of relief swept through her. She paused and took a deep breath, resting her hand against the animal’s warm, sturdy side.

  “I see you made it here in excellent time.” Lord Terrance stepped out the front doors and gave her a roguish smile. He had worn that same expression before he produced her grandfather.

  Her heart beat a light tattoo of joy. He had another surprise? Had he found that doll Margaret wanted?

  He wore a crisp white cravat, woolen waistcoat, and tightly fitted breeches beneath a deep green Carrick coat with many shoulder capes that fluttered in the cool wind. Arms folded, he studied her in a relaxed manner.

  Compared to him, she was warm, bothered, and rumpled. How had he convinced Mrs. Parker to send that note? Belle had a mind to be angry. How could he worry her so?

  “No words for me?” he asked.

  “I thought something had happened to Mrs. Parker or her children.”

  “Something has.” He came around to where she stood.

  She laid her hands on his folded arms in a pleading gesture. “Is Mrs. Parker all right? Tell me she is unhurt. And her children?”

  “They are fine,” he whispered. He bent his head as if to kiss her worries away and then looked over her shoulder.

  Belle followed that glance to the servant who had followed he
r. With a smirk, the man obligingly dismounted and diplomatically turned back to his master and walked both his mount and Belle’s to cool the horses after their strenuous ride.

  When she faced Lord Terrance again, his lips pressed against hers in the gentlest of homage. Then he raised her off the ground and brought her to his height while he plundered her face with an assault of kisses.

  Belle wrapped her arms around his shoulders and groaned in pleasure. For weeks, she had dreamed of him kissing her like this. His mouth returned to torment hers as he cupped the back of her legs and swung her into his arms.

  It reminded her of him carrying her to and from her room. Each time her legs had weakened in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, he had always been circumspect, never once straying from showing proper respect for her person and status.

  Encounter after encounter, her frustration had grown. If he had wanted to prove how much she craved his touch, how much she no longer wanted to remain a single lady, how easily she would submit to his embrace, he had succeeded ten times over. Belle now released all her pent-up passions and ardently returned his kiss.

  Children’s laughter intruded into her concentrated seduction of his lordship. Lord Terrance pulled back enough for her to catch sight of their young audience.

  Belle’s cheeks heated in embarrassment at her impassioned response and the position she was in, held up so intimately in their master’s arms. She struggled to get down, and he gently allowed her feet to touch the ground.

  “Did she guess what you were thinking, my lord?” Steven, the eldest boy, asked. “That is how she won a kiss from me last time. Of all that she had brought, she guessed what I wanted most.”

  “She did indeed guess what I was thinking,” Lord Terrance replied. “Better than I thought she would.”

  Belle stepped away to control her roiling emotions. How could she have responded so wantonly? What had come over her? One moment she had been frightened for Mrs. Parker, and the next overwhelmed by all her frustration at wanting this man. How would she ever live this down? His accusations when she first came to Terrance Village taunted her. She had just acted like a veritable Cyprian, as he had once accused her of being.