Nicola Cornick

by The Dukes Mistress

  ‘She returned with us from Haversham Hall.’

  ‘From Haversham Hall?’

  ‘You did not know she was there?’ Marguerite managed to make it sound as if everyone knew that. ‘She was our guest there as well for the past few weeks. But we decided to return to London for the remainder of the Season. I will be having a very small party next week. The invitations will go out today. I do hope you and Lady Chloe can attend.’

  Maria made a little sound. ‘I suppose…I do not know…’

  ‘Of course we will attend,’ Chloe said firmly. ‘Won’t we, Mama?’ Never tractable, Chloe looked exceedingly stubborn and Belle knew she intended to have her way.

  ‘Yes,’ Maria said helplessly. ‘Thank you.’

  Marguerite smiled. ‘We must go now. We have several errands to attend to. So delightful to see you, Lady Ralston, Lady Chloe. We will call on you in the next few days.’ She took Belle’s arm. ‘Good day.’ She sailed out the door and Belle had no choice but to follow.

  Once on the street Belle gave a shaky laugh. ‘I never thought Maria would be persuaded to speak to me again. And truly, I understood why she did not want to, but I felt so wretched at not being able to see Chloe.’

  ‘Well, now you shall.’ Marguerite looked quite pleased with herself. ‘This is only the first step. Between us, we will see that you will be considered completely respectable.’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘Justin and me. Of course, Giles as well and Brandt, but Justin is mostly responsible.’

  ‘I see.’ The happiness she had felt at seeing Chloe faded. Some day the mention of his name would not hurt so much, but for now the ragged tear in her heart was still raw and open.

  Belle sat in the Havershams’ box and tried not to think about the last time she had been to a performance. Of course, it had been the Theatre Royal and not the opera. But… She must think of something else, such as the fact she and Marguerite were to call on Maria and Chloe tomorrow.

  Or that Marguerite and Giles had become her friends. That was the one good thing that had come of this entire affair. She glanced at her companion. She had come to love them; Marguerite with her lively spirits and kind heart and Giles, although reserved and not much inclined to idle talk, had welcomed her to his home. And the children. She had treasured the time she had spent with them at Haversham Hall. They had made her promise she would return soon to see them.

  She glanced out at the boxes. Chloe and Maria were seated with Arthur a row down. And then her heart slammed into her throat when she saw Justin just entering a box. He was with Lady Georgina and an older couple. But it was the young lady with them who caught her attention. Her pale hair and slender figure were vaguely familiar but she could not quite recall her name. He solicitously helped her into the box and bent his head to speak to her and she knew, without a doubt, that he intended to court her. She yanked her gaze away but not before Marguerite saw her.

  ‘I see Lord and Lady Blackwood and their eldest daughter have joined Justin and Lady Georgina tonight,’ Marguerite said quietly. ‘She is Lady Clarissa.’

  ‘She is very lovely.’

  ‘She is considered one of the Season’s beauties. She is an heiress as well as the daughter of a Marquis. Rumour has it that her father has turned down a number of offers already, some of them quite eligible. He is believed to be holding out for higher stakes.’

  ‘A duke, perhaps.’ She would not pretend ignorance.

  ‘I think so.’

  Belle drew in a breath. ‘There is no need to spare my feelings. Justin told me that he would find a wife when he returned to London.’

  ‘You do not mind?’ Marguerite asked carefully. ‘You seem so calm sometimes.’

  ‘Only because the alternative would be for me to go mad.’ Her hands tightened around her reticule. ‘And I mind. I mind terribly but there is nothing I can do.’

  ‘You could tell him that you will marry him.’

  She shook her head. ‘That is the one thing I cannot do.’

  Justin had tried to keep his gaze from straying to the Havershams’ box, but despite his best efforts he had finally given in and looked up. At first he had thought she had not come after all and wondered whom Marguerite had brought in her stead. He’d felt a quiver of shock when he realised the dark-haired beauty in the peach gown was Belle. Desire, jealousy and anger shot through him. What the hell was Marguerite up to? She looked nothing like his demure Belle. He did not need a quizzing glass to see that her gown exposed every inch of her creamy breasts that was possible without causing a scandal.

  He dragged his gaze away. She was not his Belle. Nor would she ever be. He turned his attention to Lady Clarissa who sat next to him, hands folded in her lap. She was a beauty with narrow patrician features, although her chin receded a trifle too much for his tastes. Her eyes were large blue and her mouth a rosebud shape that was appealing. Beneath her well-cut silk gown, her breasts were high and full. He did not think bedding her would be an unpleasant task, but he doubted there would be much passion involved. But then, he neither wanted nor expected passion from a marriage he considered a business arrangement.

  He could not complain she talked too much. Conversation with her seemed to consist of his questions and her responses in a clear, polite voice. She was not overly bold and her responses were exactly what were deemed acceptable for a well-bred girl. She deferred to his aunt, proving herself to be precisely what Lady Georgina wanted in his wife.

  When the interval arrived he asked Lady Clarissa how she liked it. She turned her blue eyes on him. ‘I fear I do not much care for this particular opera,’ she said politely.

  Ah, an opinion at last. ‘And why not?’

  She merely looked at him. ‘I do not know,’ she said finally.

  The conversation did not seem destined to go any further. He rose. ‘I am going to the lobby. Do you wish to join me?’ he asked her.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  At least he could escape from the box for a few minutes. Alone. First he needed to remind his aunt of her duty. She was talking with Lord and Lady Blackwood. Unlike her daughter, Lady Blackwood was an animated conversationalist. Brandt had just arrived along with two of Lady Clarissa’s admirers and Lady Blackwood turned her attention to them. Justin touched his aunt’s arm. ‘You have a box to visit,’ he said in a low voice.

  She looked far from pleased. ‘Not now. I am going to visit Harriet Collings.’

  ‘Then I am leaving for White’s.’

  She locked gazes with him before finally giving in with ill grace. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Brandt.’ He turned to his cousin. ‘Aunt Georgina wishes to pay a call to Giles’s box. Perhaps you will escort her.’

  Brandt promptly held out his arm. ‘Of course.’ Lady Georgina laid her gloved hand on his arm, her mouth in a tight line.

  A quarter of an hour later, Justin was about to return to his box when he heard his name. Eliza Pomeroy stood behind him.

  ‘Good evening, Eliza.’ He had not seen her since the night of the duel. She was plumper than she had been, but was still a striking woman with her auburn hair and vivid blue eyes.

  He was about to walk past her but she stopped him. ‘There is something I have wanted to say to you for a long time. Perhaps this is not the best place, but I must tell you this before it is too late.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I…’ she began and stopped. A peculiar expression crossed her face.

  He half-turned and felt as if he had sustained a blow. Belle and Marguerite were strolling towards them. Belle had just smiled at something Marguerite had said when she saw him. All animation drained from her face. She turned away but not before he saw the anguish in her eyes. Marguerite inclined her head towards him before they passed through the doors that led to the boxes.

  Justin jerked his attention back to Eliza. ‘What did you want to say to me?’

  She drew in a breath and for the first time he saw her composure was shaken. ‘I have wanted to tel
l you that Lady Milborne had nothing to do with her husband’s plot to kill you. Lucien saw you were attracted to her and decided he would use that against you. But when he realised his wife had come to care for you, he decided he would punish her as well. I should have told you this years ago. Perhaps it would have changed things for you. And for Lady Milborne. I do not think it is too late for either you or Lady Milborne to find happiness.’

  He wished she were right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marguerite’s small party turned out to include nearly fifty guests. Belle had been taken aback by Marguerite’s energy but her efforts to persuade Marguerite that she could see to all the arrangements had been waved aside. ‘It is only at the very beginning when I feel ill most of the time and fatigued but after that I have an amazing amount of energy and can hardly bear to sit still until the very end.’

  Giles’s look had been wry when Belle had expressed her concern. ‘I cannot stop her once she makes up her mind. As long as she is not ill or overly tired, her physician has said she can do as she pleases.’

  The drawing room had been decorated with pots of plants and silk vines. The violin and viola players were in one corner. Maria and Chloe were among the first to arrive and Belle now sat in the small room directly off the drawing room with Chloe.

  Chloe had just finished telling her about a shopping expedition to Grafton House when Belle looked up and saw Sir Lionel Garrick standing in front of them. He was a pleasant-looking man in his fifties, a widower with a grown son and two daughters. She had met him at the opera and he had called the next day. He smiled at them. ‘Good evening, Lady Chloe, Lady Milborne. I did not wish to interrupt, but Marguerite said I might find you here. Might I persuade both of you to walk in the garden with me? The evening is especially fine.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be very nice,’ Belle said. She glanced at Chloe.

  Chloe smiled. ‘I would like that as well.’

  They both rose and followed Sir Lionel. They had just reached the door when they came face to face with Justin and Lady Clarissa.

  Belle’s equanimity shattered. He looked equally stunned, his gaze going to Sir Lionel, and then to where her hand rested on his arm. His eyes narrowed and his voice was coldly civil when he spoke. ‘Good evening, Lady Milborne, Lady Chloe. Garrick.’

  Sir Lionel glanced briefly at Belle before inclining his head towards the other two. ‘Lady Clarissa. Westmore, heard you were back in town. Haven’t seen you at White’s recently.’

  ‘No.’ He sounded distracted, Belle thought. His gaze had gone to Belle’s bodice which suddenly seemed too low, before returning to her face. He appeared about to speak when Lady Georgina bustled up beside them. ‘Ah, there you are.’ She looked directly at Belle. ‘Lady Milborne, have you met Lady Clarissa?’

  ‘No, I have not been introduced.’ She forced herself to meet Lady Georgina’s gaze.

  ‘Then you must do so now,’ Lady Georgina said with a hint of malice. She performed the introduction.

  Belle smiled at the young lady, determined she would not let anyone know how her heart sank. ‘I am delighted to meet you.’

  Lady Clarissa did not smile. ‘How do you do, Lady Milborne?’ Her voice was well-bred and clear, but that she did not particularly relish the introduction was evident. No doubt she had heard rumours of a possible liaison between her and Justin.

  What a horrible muddle. Belle suddenly wanted to escape and find a quiet corner where she could be alone, where she did not have to pretend that nothing was wrong and her heart was not broken. But she could not. Instead, she smiled up at Sir Lionel. ‘Shall we continue to the garden?’

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled back at her. She was relieved when they finally were outside on the darkened terrace. She turned her attention to Sir Lionel and Chloe and chattered brightly, not wanting them to guess that anything was amiss.

  But when she finally was alone, the solitude she had thought she craved felt only like a prison. She climbed into bed and, for the first time, she knew for a certainty Justin would never lie beside her again. She would never feel his warmth next to her, gaze upon his face while he slept. Never laugh with him. Or argue with him. He would, instead, lie with the cool, lovely Lady Clarissa. For the first time since she had left Devon, she wept.

  The next two weeks passed in a flurry of balls, routs, soirées and performances. The campaign to restore her to some measure of respectability had worked and the gossips had found more entertaining prospects. One of them was whether the Duke of Westmore was to marry at last.

  Belle threw herself into the activities and tried not to think of anything much. She drove out with Sir Lionel three times and stood up with him twice at one ball and then worried that she was encouraging him falsely, for she had no desire to marry at all. So when he called to ask her to drive with him again, she sent word that she was not well.

  Which was the truth. She had awoken that morning and felt tired. Her head hurt a little and her stomach was uneasy. In fact, she had felt under the weather for several days and had developed a light case of the sniffles as well. Marguerite had insisted she stay in bed because they had been out so late the night before and they had another ball to attend that evening.

  She felt better when she woke and by the time she dressed for the ball, she had convinced herself she was quite recovered.

  The ball was held in honour of the youngest daughter of the Earl of Litchfield. She was a tall, rather athletic girl who appeared uncomfortable in her white muslin and pearls. She was also one of Lady Clarissa’s friends and Belle had no doubt that young lady would be present. Which meant Justin would most likely attend as well.

  She would do as she had on every other occasion—try her best to avoid him without appearing to do so.

  She could not help but notice that Lady Clarissa arrived with her parents and that he arrived just before the third set. Angry with herself for paying attention, she accepted Sir Lionel for the next dance although it was a waltz.

  He was an excellent partner, but the whirling had made her head ache again and her stomach uneasy. She was relieved when the dance was over. He led her to the side of the ball room and asked if he could procure her refreshment. She shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I think I will just rest for a few moments.’

  ‘I do not think you are still quite well,’ he said.

  She managed a smile. ‘It is just the headache. I fear I am rather prone to them.’

  ‘Should I find Lady Haversham for you?’

  ‘No, I will be fine.’ She wanted to be alone for a few minutes.

  He hesitated and then, after again offering to find Marguerite, took his leave. She looked after him and, with some regret, thought he was far too nice. She slipped from the ball room and found a smaller room near by. Thankfully, only a few other people occupied the other side of the room. She found a vacant chair near the door and sat down. She fanned herself, feeling hot and a little dizzy and hoped she was not coming down with an illness. She closed her eyes for a moment and realised someone stood before her. She opened them and found Arthur directly in front of her. She had not spoken to him since the day she had left and she stifled a sigh. She was in no mood for one of his pompous lectures.

  He tugged at his cravat. ‘Dear Belle, I have been wanting to talk to you ever since that rather unfortunate conversation we had.’

  ‘Please, not now.’

  ‘I fear I spoke rashly. I have wished to apologise ever since.’

  Of all times to accost her with this, why must he choose now? ‘You are undoubtedly right. But I must ask you to speak of this another time.’ For some reason, she was quite aware of the odour of his body as well as his breath, and it was making her feel rather nauseous.

  ‘I cannot let this rest until I tell you that I adore you. I would be most honoured if you would consent to be my wife.’

  Surely he had not just proposed marriage to her in the middle of a ball? But the heated look in his eye told her she had not misheard. ‘
I cannot, Arthur,’ she said faintly.

  He knelt beside her. ‘I see I have taken you by surprise, my love.’

  She glanced over at the three ladies on the other side of the room. They seemed to be elderly and she prayed they were partially deaf as well. ‘Indeed. But I must refuse.’

  ‘My dear…’ He possessed himself of her hand. He started to bring it to his lips while she frantically tried to tug it out of his grasp. He suddenly halted when he realised they were no longer alone.

  She glanced up and her heart slammed to her throat. Justin stood there and the look in his eye was murderous. ‘I suggest you release Lady Milborne’s hand.’

  Arthur started and then frowned. ‘You are interrupting a private conversation, sir.’

  ‘One she does not seem to welcome.’ His jaw was set and he looked fully capable of mowing Arthur to the ground. ‘Perhaps you do not recall our last conversation. Let me remind you, then. I said if you came near her again I would put a bullet through you.’

  ‘Justin, please. This is not necessary,’ she said and then prayed Arthur had not noticed the use of his given name.

  Arthur stood, his face flushed. His own mouth had tightened in a stiff, resentful line. ‘You have no rights over her. And when she becomes my wife, it is I who will order you to stay away from her.’

  ‘Your what?’ Justin said softly.

  Belle rose, now feeling truly ill. ‘I am not going to be your wife, Arthur. Or anyone else’s for that matter. I do not care what either of you do but I must ask you to do it away from me.’

  They both looked at her then. Justin’s face changed. ‘Belle, damn it. You are ill.’

  ‘Yes, rather. Which is why I wish you would leave me.’

  ‘No.’ He scowled at her in his familiar way. ‘Sit down. Why the devil are you here at this affair in the first place?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Because I did not feel like this until I was annoyed by unwelcome attentions.’