Nicola Cornick

by The Dukes Mistress

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Arthur said stiffly. ‘I think, Westmore, it would be best to fetch Lady Haversham.’

  Justin fixed him with a cold stare. ‘I agree. You can find her in the card room.’

  Arthur opened his mouth and then shut it, walking stiffly off. Belle looked at Justin. ‘You may leave me as well.’

  ‘I am taking you to St James’s Square.’

  She gasped. ‘You are not.’

  ‘I am. You look as if you are about to swoon. I should ring a peal over Marguerite for running you this ragged.’ He held out his hand.

  How dare he treat her in this arrogant manner as if nothing had changed between them? ‘I am not going with you, your Grace. Think of the talk.’

  ‘There will be even more talk if I carry you from the ballroom. So, will you come with me willingly or must I force you?’

  Had he gone mad? He had a peculiar glint in his eye as if he were barely reining in his temper. ‘I will go with you if only to keep you from doing something exceedingly rash.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad you intend to be reasonable.’

  Reasonable? She did not feel that way at all. She ignored his hand and rose. Her head was hurting and she did feel overly warm and a little sick. He took her arm and escorted her down the stairs to the entry hall below. He gave no sign that he noticed the interested looks cast their way and then he stopped in front of an old-fashioned chair. ‘Sit down. Did you bring a shawl or cloak of some sort?’

  She sat. ‘A shawl. Really, you do not need to escort me. You should not. If you will find Marguerite or Giles, please.’ He couldn’t possibly be serious about this! Could he not see that it would be a mistake?

  But he had already left her to speak to a footman. She did not feel well enough to protest and only hoped Arthur had managed to find Marguerite.

  But there was no sign of Marguerite by the time Justin returned to her side with her shawl. ‘My carriage is here,’ he said.

  She looked up at him. His face still had that odd determination and she doubted he intended to leave her alone. ‘But I should at least inform Marguerite. I cannot leave without telling her.’

  ‘I have sent a message. She knows.’ He draped the shawl around her shoulders, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck sending a shiver down her spine.

  ‘Belle!’

  She looked up to see Chloe coming down the steps. She reached Belle’s side, her face concerned. ‘Arthur said you were ill and then someone said they saw you leave with Westmore but I could not believe it.’

  ‘She is ill and I am taking her to Lord Haversham’s house,’ Justin said.

  Chloe started and stared. ‘Oh.’ Her eyes were fixed on Justin before looking back at Belle, her expression oddly speculative. ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘Of course.’ She caught Chloe’s hand. ‘Please do not worry. You must return to the ballroom.’

  ‘In a moment.’ She hugged Belle and then turned and dashed back up the stairs.

  She was glad to lean back against the squabs. He said nothing during the short ride to St James’s Square for which she was grateful. It was only when they halted that he spoke. ‘I trust you are not contemplating marriage to Ralston.’ His voice was low and rough.

  She shuddered. ‘No, of course not. I could not think of a worse fate.’

  ‘But perhaps to Garrick?’

  ‘That is not your concern.’

  ‘Your happiness concerns me. It always will.’

  Her hands tightened in her lap. ‘It should not. You will have a wife and children that will be your concerns. I will be but a memory and I pray that what has passed between us will not affect your happiness.’

  ‘I do not think human emotions are as easily regulated as you want to believe.’

  ‘They may not be, but if emotions are not governed by other means such as reason, and duty and honour, then they are capable of tremendous destruction.’

  ‘My dear, as usual I must bow to your superior logic. You are right of course, civilisation would be in a sorry state if everyone allowed their passions to govern them.’ The sarcasm in his voice made her flinch.

  He assisted her from the carriage and accompanied her up the steps to the house. He paused and looked down at her. ‘I will be leaving the day after next for Lord Blackwood’s house in Kent. So, it is unlikely I will see you again.’

  It was so final. She wanted to fling herself in his arms and beg him not to go, but she could not. Instead she held out her hand. ‘I wish you all happiness, your Grace.’

  He hesitated and then took it. ‘Then you must allow me to wish you all happiness as well.’ He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a brief kiss on the back before releasing it. ‘There is one thing I will leave you with, however. Duty and honour must be tempered with emotion or they will be nothing but hollow gestures. And reason is a very cold companion in one’s bed. They can destroy happiness as effectively as any human emotion. Goodbye, Belle.’ He left her and did not look at her again before he climbed into his carriage.

  She turned and slowly entered the cool hallway. She knew that this time she would not see him again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Belle entered the dining room the next morning to find Marguerite already up. Dressed in a pale yellow gown, she looked bright and cheerful. She smiled at Belle and then her expression changed to one of concern. ‘You still look rather peaked. I should have insisted you stay home last night.’

  Belle took the chair across from her and fought back the urge to sneeze. ‘I did not feel so bad until after I stood up with Sir Lionel.’

  ‘He does have that effect on one, doesn’t he?’ Marguerite said with a teasing look.

  ‘Just the opposite, actually. He is very kind.’

  ‘But that is not enough, is it?’ Marguerite looked at her with sympathy. ‘I take it that nothing changed at all between you and Justin?’

  ‘There is nothing to change. He is going to Kent to stay with Lady Clarissa and her parents.’ She reached for the coffee but the smell was not appetising. Perhaps tea would be better. She took up the teapot and poured herself a cup.

  ‘Oh, Belle! I wish it did not have to be like this!’ Marguerite suddenly burst out. ‘Lady Clarissa will not make him happy and he is only contemplating marriage to her because of some stupid sense of duty! Do you think they can possibly be happy together?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Belle stammered, taken aback by the vehemence in her voice. ‘Surely if they try and if there are children…’

  ‘But how can children be happy if their parents are not? You do not know what it is like if one’s parents barely tolerate each other. My father and mother hardly spoke to one another; they were civil, of course, but it was plain their marriage was only one of duty and there was nothing between them but ill-concealed contempt. I cannot remember ever seeing a genuine smile on Mama’s face and Papa could hardly stand to be home. I knew then that I would only marry if I could love!’ She sniffed and a tear ran down her cheek. ‘I am sorry, I…I did not mean to say so much!’

  Belle rose and went to her side, putting her arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t be. I had no idea. Dear Marguerite!’ She hugged her tight and after a few moments Marguerite pulled away. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and attempted a watery smile.

  ‘I suppose that is why I want so badly for Justin to be happy. His parents were, you see, and I used to spend so much time there they teased me about becoming a daughter. He was like a brother, more so, for my own brother was so much older and was as remote as Papa. I…I had hoped that last night when he sent word he was to take you home that it might be different, but when he returned to the ball I saw it was not.’

  ‘I am sorry, Marguerite.’ Belle looked helplessly down at her friend. Nothing seemed right. She had never dreamed that refusing Justin would affect Marguerite as well. But she had never thought that striking that bargain with him in the first place would have so many repercussions. She wondered if there would ever
be an end to the unhappiness that had started so many years ago.

  ‘Do not be,’ Marguerite said. ‘Please sit down. Would you like some eggs? I can ring for a fresh plate.’

  ‘No, I think tea and toast will suit me.’ She took her chair.

  ‘Marmalade, then?’

  ‘No, dry.’ If she could manage that.

  Marguerite gave her a wry smile. ‘Poor thing. Dry toast and tea. Those are the only things I was able to tolerate for months when I was first increasing. Thank goodness, I have an appetite again.’

  Belle’s hand stilled over the plate of toast. Dear God, that couldn’t possibly be what was wrong with her! She dropped her hand. No, it was quite impossible. Her courses had not come again, but then, they sometimes did not. She had a slight cold and had been out too many late nights, that was all.

  ‘Belle, is something wrong?’

  Her head jerked up and she smiled. ‘No, nothing. I was just thinking of something, but it is of no importance.’ She took a piece of toast. ‘I think I will have some marmalade, after all.’

  Brandt looked across the table at his cousin. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’

  ‘But I do,’ Justin said coolly. ‘It is my duty to marry and produce an heir. The sooner, the better, would you not agree?’ He downed the remainder of his port and set the glass on the table, then lounged back in his chair.

  They were seated in a corner of the morning room at White’s where he had met Brandt an hour earlier.

  ‘No, I would not,’ Brandt said. ‘Not when you’re in this damnable state. I doubt you even like Lady Clarissa particularly.’

  ‘I do not dislike her. She is well bred, accomplished and well mannered. I have no doubt we will suit very well.’

  ‘I wonder what Lady Clarissa would think about such an assessment.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. She rarely expresses an opinion on anything.’

  ‘I am beginning to think I would rather you wed Isabelle Milborne after all,’ Brandt said slowly. ‘I will not deny I was pleased when she left Falconcliff. Hell, I was delighted despite the fact I could see she cared deeply for you. I still cannot forget how badly she wounded you before.’ He frowned. ‘So what the devil happened between you at Falconcliff?’

  ‘She refused my offer.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She says she is barren.’ His mouth curled. ‘She refused to let me sacrifice my duty for her, although I tried to persuade her I had no objections if you were my heir. Nor did she want to create a rift between me and the rest of my family. I could not, of course, object to such noble arguments.’

  ‘So you will sacrifice yourself anyway on the altar of duty,’ Brandt said softly. ‘I do not think that will serve either.’

  ‘Ah, but at least I will have the satisfaction of fulfilling it.’

  ‘She will not be your mistress?’

  ‘She does not want to injure my future wife in the same way Milborne injured her. So, no, she will not be my mistress.’ He rose. ‘I have some business to attend to before I leave town. By the way, the reason she agreed to come with me to Falconcliff was not only to protect her sister-in-law, but because she wished to redress the great wrong Milborne did me.’ He looked at Brandt with a cynical eye. ‘Which hardly eases my conscience at all. Promise me you will watch after her until she leaves London. I don’t trust Aunt.’

  Brandt stared at him and then nodded slowly. ‘Very well.’

  ‘One more thing. Eliza Pomeroy finally told me that Belle had nothing to do with her husband’s plot after all.’

  He left Brandt staring after him.

  Belle finally found an empty chair in one corner of the crowded room Lady Willoughby had designated as the card room. A number of small tables had been set up to accommodate the guests who wished to play cards. The room was hot and only added to her feeling of faintness, but at least she could sit.

  She sank gratefully into an upright wooden chair. Thank goodness. She had feared, for a moment, she would either swoon or become ill when she was in the drawing room, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She did not want anyone to think something was wrong with her. Certainly not Marguerite.

  For she was starting to think it was quite possible she was with child, and nothing could be more disastrous than having Marguerite suspect.

  So, for the past five days, ever since that morning at breakfast, she had forced herself to smile and go on as if nothing was wrong. She managed to eat and drink at least something at mealtimes and thankfully had not yet vomited, although there were times when she was certain she would.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the conversation to swirl around her. How could this have happened? She had been so certain that a pregnancy was impossible—that she was barren—that even now she wondered if she were making up the symptoms in her mind. Did she so want a child of her own—Justin’s child—that she was deluding herself into thinking she was actually with child? She had heard of such a case before and had thought it the saddest thing imaginable.

  She opened her eyes. And if she were expecting a child…she had no idea what she should do. Her mind had gone around and around with the possibilities until her head hurt. If only she could talk to Marguerite, but she knew what Marguerite would advise her to do—tell Justin.

  But how could she? When she was not even certain? He was to marry Lady Clarissa; the current gossip claimed they were already secretly betrothed and as soon as Lady Georgina joined them, the betrothal would be made official. She would ruin more lives if she were to rashly claim she carried his child. And then, if she were wrong and there was no child…she shuddered to think of the consequences.

  She looked up and saw Lady Georgina coming towards her. Her first impulse was to run but that would be far too obvious. In the last few days, Belle seemed to see Lady Georgina everywhere and had often found the Countess’s sharp gaze fixed on her in a way that made her nervous. She forced a smile to her lips when Lady Georgina stopped in front of her.

  ‘Good evening, Lady Milborne,’ Lady Georgina said. Her eyes travelled over Belle’s face. ‘I see you are not well again.’

  Belle started. ‘What do you mean? Of course I am well. Just rather hot.’

  ‘Indeed.’ She smiled, although it was not particularly pleasant. ‘I will call on you tomorrow. I trust you will be home.’

  ‘I…’ Belle began but Lady Georgina interrupted.

  ‘By the way, when my nephew returns to London, his betrothal to Lady Clarissa will be announced.’

  Belle stared after her, her heart taking a sickening dive. She rose, wanting nothing more than to escape.

  ‘Lady Milborne.’

  Startled, she found Lord Salcombe next to her. He looked at her with a slight frown. ‘Are you all right? You are quite pale.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said brightly. Which was another odd thing. Since Justin had left Lord Salcombe had frequently spoken to her in a manner that could almost be deemed cordial.

  ‘My aunt did not say anything to overset you, I trust.’

  ‘She merely inquired after my health. I must look dreadful for everyone seems to think I am unwell. But it is nothing, just a slight cold I am still recovering from.’ Perhaps if she made light of it then it would seem less remarkable.

  ‘I hope that is all.’

  ‘Yes, most certainly.’ She smiled at him. ‘You are kind to ask.’

  ‘Not at all. My…’ He stopped. ‘Marguerite was looking for you. I will escort you to her.’

  She went with him from the room. Marguerite was in the hall with Chloe. Marguerite had been as kind to Chloe as she was to Belle and it was easy to see that Chloe admired her in return. However, Chloe’s smile faded when she saw Salcombe. Her greeting was stilted before she turned to Belle. ‘Lady Haversham has suggested we make up a party to Vauxhall before we leave London. Would that not be delightful?’

  ‘It would, indeed,’ Belle said.

  ‘I trust I will be invited as we
ll,’ Lord Salcombe said. He looked at Chloe, his expression half-amused.

  Chloe gave him a cool look. ‘I suppose that will be up to Lady Haversham since it is her party.’

  ‘Yes, although I recall you saying you cannot abide the place so I am not certain it is worth the trouble to ask you,’ Marguerite said.

  He smiled lazily. ‘I could be persuaded to change my mind. Particularly if Lady Chloe is to be there.’

  Belle stared at him and then at Chloe, who looked less flattered than angry. She had no idea why Chloe had taken him in such dislike, but then nothing made much sense any more.

  She was glad when they finally left and Marguerite declared herself too fatigued to do anything but go home and go to bed. And then she was finally in her bedchamber and alone.

  She climbed into bed and lay down on her pillow, but sleep refused to come. She could only think of the child she possibly carried. She felt caught in a trap where every possible move would only lead to more pain. How could she deprive Justin of his child and the child of his father in good conscience? That is, if Justin would even want to acknowledge the babe? Her every instinct told her he would, and, furthermore, he would never forgive her if she kept the knowledge from him. But he was already betrothed and how could she go to him?

  But without a father, her child—their child—would be a bastard. She could not bear to think of that, but she already knew she could not give the child to strangers to raise. She would find a way to care for the child herself. She would have to leave not only London, but her family and friends, before they suspected anything. By the time she fell asleep she was no closer to a solution than she had been before.

  Lady Georgina called the next day. Belle and Marguerite were in the drawing room when she was shown in. She sat, a stiff, elegant old woman in a gown of puce silk, which suited her colouring to perfection. She refused refreshment and, after making a few sharp inquiries after Marguerite’s children and the state of her health, announced she wished to speak to Belle in private.

  After casting a hesitant look in Belle’s direction, Marguerite rose and left the room.