The Outrageous Belle Marchmain

by Lucy Ashford

  Already he’d sent orders to George Shipley, his chief engineer in Somerset, to hire men and begin excavations for the railway through his and his friend Bartlett’s estates. But Jarvis’s land still barred the way to the canal, and two weeks after the momentous ball at Lord Horwich’s house Shipley arrived from Somerset at Adam’s home one sultry night in late July with the ominous news that threats were being made against the neighbouring estate owners who’d offered to support Adam’s railway.

  ‘There’s damage been done to fences and crops by night, Mr Davenant,’ warned Shipley, who was tired from his two-day journey. ‘Threats against tenants and families by anonymous bully-boys who ride into the local villages, then ride off again, setting up the kind of fear that sticks. And at the actual site, around the excavations your lads have begun digging, there’s been accidents that look more like sabotage.’

  Adam handed him a glass of wine. ‘You look like you need this. Is it Jarvis?’

  ‘He would seem the obvious culprit, sir, and I reckon he’s got quite a few of the Somerset magistrates in his pay. What can you do?’

  ‘A considerable amount, I think,’ said Adam grimly, ‘if I travel to Somerset myself.’

  Shipley appeared heartened. But something else worried Adam. Could it be Jarvis’s intention that Adam be lured away from his rigorous watch over Belle? Only this morning Lennox had told Adam he’d seen suspicious characters lurking around the Bruton Street house at dusk.

  A warning had hammered in Adam’s chest. ‘You’re ensuring she’s never alone, Lennox?’

  ‘The maid Simmons keeps an eye on Mrs Marchmain in the house, sir, and of course I send a groom with her whenever she sets off for her shop.’

  ‘She still goes there?’

  ‘Every day, without fail—she insists on it. I send a man to bring her home as well. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to give one of them the slip some day soon, sir.’

  Adam wouldn’t either. He had to keep her under his protection, but he also had to go to Somerset. There was only one answer and Belle would absolutely hate it.

  She would have to come with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was true; Belle went into her shop every morning and worked till late, because work offered the only respite from the pain that engulfed her whenever she thought of Adam’s betrayal.

  Gabby and the others asked no questions, but just once Gabby had found Belle sitting alone in the workroom, with a single garment spread out before her on the sewing table. It was the crimson carriage gown she’d worn during that drive in the park with Adam. A customer had asked for one in a similar style and Belle had brought it in here to measure out the fabric, but the memories it evoked savaged her already raw emotions.

  ‘Madame?’ Gabby’s whisper was full of concern. ‘Are you all right, madame?’

  Belle jerked her head up. ‘Perfectly, thank you, Gabby!’

  ‘Madame, I do not like to pry. But Monsieur Davenant—he cares for you, I am sure of it.’

  Belle stood up, smiling brightly. ‘So much work to do, Gabby—now, I need a length of red lutestring and some gold braid...’

  Gabby sighed and proceeded to help her.

  After Lord Horwich’s ball Belle had spent night after sleepless night agonising over her dire situation. What if Adam had meant what he’d said—that, yes, he’d made his agreement with Lord Jarvis, but things had changed? You know how very much they changed, Belle.

  She was a fool to search for any kind of hope. He was a ruthless businessman. How could she ever forget that he’d used her brother’s debts to force her into that betrothal? He’d bartered her, in effect, for the railway land he was so desperate for.

  Adam never visited her now in the Bruton Street house, but sometimes she heard the servants talking about him. One morning Joseph, Adam’s coachman, was speaking with Lennox in the hallway when she was about to descend the stairs.

  ‘I’ve come to pick up the master’s travelling clothes,’ Joseph informed Lennox.

  Belle froze. Adam had got into the habit of leaving items of clothing here—some coats and changes of indoor garments—because of the nights he used to spend there so often with her. Oh, those nights. Those magical nights. After their lovemaking he would stay in her bed all night long, holding her in his arms as he slept...

  ‘Going away, is he?’ Lennox asked Joseph.

  ‘Aye, to Somerset. To see about that railway of his...’

  Belle stole back to her room, feeling shaky. So he was going away. She, too, should get away. From this place and from him—but his absence changed nothing. Edward’s debts still kept her his prisoner.

  * * *

  After that she’d gone into the shop escorted by one of Lennox’s men as usual, but that particular morning it was quiet—not only because the fashionable elite had left for the country, but also because of the rain that had been falling since dawn. Belle was so busy arranging some new rolls of silk on a back shelf that she didn’t hear Gabby coming up behind her.

  ‘Madame.’ Gabby was tapping her on the shoulder. ‘Someone is here for you.’

  Something in her voice made Belle’s pulse rate hitch. She turned from her silks, and saw that Adam was there.

  Two weeks since she’d seen him and something surged in her veins. Shock, and more. Sudden heat, instead of cold. A shameful racing of her blood, just at his presence. Breathe, Belle, you fool. Somehow she dragged air painfully into her lungs and felt her heart jolt back into action.

  He was a tall, almost threatening figure. She’d forgotten in just this short space of time how big he was. His magnetic presence somehow filled the shop. His exquisitely cut coat of grey broadcloth glistened with the soft rain that fell outside; his dark hair gleamed with beads of water. She’d hoped she could hate him, but oh, God, fresh pain lanced her just at the sight of him.

  Gabby emptied the shop still further by shooing out the assistants. ‘You naughty creatures, mon dieu, what do you think you are playing at? We have four gowns to complete by tomorrow and you stand around doing nothing?’ She followed them out after one swift, anxious glance at Belle.

  ‘Mr Davenant,’ Belle managed to say at last.

  He bowed his head a fraction. ‘Mrs Marchmain. I have business in Somerset that requires my immediate attention and I’ve come to ask you to accompany me there.’

  That was it. As simple as that. Oh, Lord. She’d hoped she was prepared for him—this meeting had to come sooner or later—but she wasn’t.

  There was no hint of remembered pleasure in his flat remark. Her pulse was thudding as she reminded herself that this man had calmly used her as a pawn against Jarvis. Squandered her dignity, her reputation, in exchange for some land he wanted for his moneymaking. And it wasn’t over yet.

  He said he had business in Somerset. Could it be with—Jarvis?

  She said, with a brilliant smile, ‘Gracious me, Mr Davenant, what an invitation! And so charmingly expressed!’ She let her smile drop. ‘My answer is no.’ And she turned back to the rolls of silk she was arranging.

  ‘You’ll have to pack. It’s almost ten and I want to leave by eleven,’ he said imperturbably.

  She swung round. ‘No! How many times do I have to say it?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how many times you repeat yourself; I’m not leaving you here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I think you might be in danger.’

  ‘Danger.’ She put her head on one side, pretending to think. ‘Now, what kind of danger might present itself? I know—someone might decide to use me as a commodity in one of his devious business deals. Yes, I must by all means be protected from such a heinous villain! Oh, and Mr Davenant, please don’t let me delay you in your urgent journey.’

  Her silks once more engaged her attention. Damn, thought Adam. He knew her well enough to realise that beneath that usual calm exterior she was trembling with emotion. With distress. What the hell had he expected?

  ‘I’m not actually g
iving you an option,’ he said flatly. ‘You are coming with me. Perhaps, on the way, we might be able to come to a better understanding of our present situation.’

  ‘Oh, now, that is impossible,’ Belle broke in airily.

  His dark eyes were ominous. ‘I have an important meeting in Bath in two days’ time. I need to be on the road before noon and you’re coming, too.’

  This time the colour had left her face. ‘I take it that if I were foolish enough to argue, you would refer yet again to my brother’s debts?’

  ‘If it will stop this pointless argument, then, yes, I will. Joseph is outside; he’ll take you in the coach back to Bruton Street, where you can pack your things accordingly. I expect to be in Somerset for a week or so; you could use the opportunity to visit your brother and his wife. I’m sure Gabby and your assistants can look after your shop admirably for a while. I’ll collect you from Bruton Street shortly.’

  With that, he left.

  * * *

  It should be easy to hate him now. But Belle felt every fibre of her body hurting in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible. Oh, this was bad. She hadn’t realised that the cruellest of emotions—hope—still lurked somewhere in the recesses of her heart. Until now.

  After flinging on a cloak against the rain, Belle went outside to tell Joseph that she’d be with him shortly. And from him she found out some rather interesting details about Adam’s planned journey.

  They would arrive in Bath tomorrow evening. Joseph was driving the carriage as far as Chippenham, which they should reach tomorrow afternoon; but at Chippenham, Joseph told her, Mr Davenant kept a light curricle which he would drive himself to Bath while Joseph followed more slowly in the coach with the luggage.

  Belle’s mind raced. She went back inside to speak to Gabby. ‘I’m going away to Somerset, Gabby, just for a few days.’

  ‘To visit your brother and his poor wife?’

  ‘I may do so, yes. Actually, I’m travelling with Mr Davenant.’

  Gabby’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, madame, I’m so glad—’

  ‘It’s not a cause for celebration,’ Belle cut in. Though I intend to make the event just a little more eventful than Mr Davenant has bargained for. ‘Is Matt around?’

  Matt was out in the yard now that the rain had stopped, sawing up wood to make some new shelves for her silks. Matt’s talents knew no bounds. At least, Belle fervently hoped so. She gave him his orders swiftly, ignored his protests, then turned to go back into the shop, feeling as tight as a coiled spring at the thought of the ordeal to come.

  * * *

  Half an hour later there was nothing more that needed her attention in the shop. She’d gone over everything with Gabby at least three times. Now for Bruton Street, to await Adam Davenant’s autocratic, hateful presence.

  Gabby was ushering her to the door. ‘Oh, madame, I will miss you!’ They hugged one another. ‘I’ll miss Matt, too,’ Gabby went on. ‘He’s told me he’s going away on a most important errand for you.’

  ‘And I’m really grateful to him, Gabby. You have—the extra item?’

  ‘It is here.’ Carefully Gabby picked up a large wicker basket with a strap to hold its lid in place. ‘But I would never have guessed that Mr Davenant—’

  ‘Oh, Mr Davenant is full of surprises,’ cut in Belle lightly. ‘As am I.’

  The basket wriggled a little. From within came the faint sound of scuffling. Then—silence.

  Gabby carefully handed it over and stood at the shop door to wave as Belle climbed into the waiting carriage, to be taken by Joseph to Bruton Street.

  * * *

  Belle hoped that Adam might waver over taking her with him when he saw how much luggage she had. Even the ever-obedient maid Simmons had blinked at her travelling outfit, a tight purple jacket over a pale blue gown sprigged with purple daisies.

  Casting Adam a challenging stare, Belle clutched her big straw hat on her head and with her other hand the wicker basket. Joseph held the horses while Lennox and a footman struggled to squeeze her valises into the luggage space at the back.

  ‘I hope that’s all you’re taking,’ Adam said. ‘You’d oblige me by getting in. I’d like to make Newbury by nightfall.’

  She tilted her chin to meet his hard gaze. ‘Perhaps I’d oblige you most by not getting in at all. May I remind you that you’ve hauled me away from my shop with hardly a moment’s notice?’

  He glanced pointedly at his watch. ‘Mrs Marchmain, you’ve already delayed my journey by ten minutes and—’

  ‘Oh, fie, Mr D. You and your timekeeping!’ Ignoring his proffered hand, she climbed in, placing the wicker basket on the seat beside her.

  ‘That could have gone on the back with your other luggage,’ he said.

  ‘No, it couldn’t.’

  He pressed his lips together and climbed in to sit opposite her, somehow finding space for his long, heavily muscled legs. He was dressed, she reluctantly noticed, as immaculately as ever for their journey in buckskins and top boots, with a light-coloured greatcoat that was exquisitely cut...

  She jerked her head away to look quickly out of the window, pretending utter absorption in London’s streets as the chaise moved off.

  ‘I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,’ he said after a few moments, ‘by how well your business manages to run without you.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so,’ she answered briskly, turning back to him with a steady gaze. ‘Because soon, Mr Davenant, I intend to buy you out. After that, let me assure you that I will owe nothing to anyone.’

  Adam said, ‘It’s a pity that your brother didn’t learn the same lesson.’

  Belle snapped open her latest edition of La Belle

  Assemblée and began to study the fashion plates without speaking another word.

  * * *

  The silence lasted hardly longer than five minutes. Adam was studying the basket at her side. Then he was saying, in that dangerously quiet voice of his, ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, that basket beside you is starting to move.’

  ‘Why, yes,’ she acknowledged coolly. She turned to start undoing the straps of the basket. ‘Since I acquired him, I never travel anywhere without dear Florizel.’

  His eyebrows shot up as she opened the lid, pulled out a squirming puppy and cuddled it in her lap. ‘He’s an absolute darling,’ she chattered on. ‘Let me show you...’

  His eyes were fixed with steely grimness on the small, fluffy white creature with ribbons round its neck and a little bell that tinkled. ‘Precisely when did you acquire—Florizel?’

  ‘Oh, recently!’ she answered. Just after Adam’s visit, to be precise, thanks to Gabby. It was Gabby who’d told Belle of the pups which were up for sale and who had been only too delighted to go and get one for her.

  ‘Strange,’ he said tightly, ‘that Lennox never told me...’

  ‘Florry lives at the shop. And I’m so very relieved to have some secrets from you, Mr Davenant.’ Belle soothed the tiny dog tenderly. ‘Florry is such a little darling,’ she went on, ‘and you will soon grow to love him, just as I do.’

  ‘You think so,’ he breathed. ‘What kind of name is that for a dog?’

  ‘Florry? Short for Prince Florizel, Mr Davenant! Fie, have you never seen Shakespeare’s Winter’s Tale?’ He gritted his teeth, as he always did at any supposed reference to his lack of culture. ‘It is all the rage, you know,’ Belle blurted on, ‘to carry a little dog. With ribbons that match the colours of my gown—see? Purple and green today. Isn’t he a sweet little thing? He will sleep in my room, of course, when we have to stop tonight...’

  ‘He’s most certainly not sleeping in mine,’ Adam said. ‘And you’ll have to deal with his bodily functions yourself. Don’t expect my coachman to. He’d most likely throttle the thing.’

  ‘Mr Davenant—really!’ She pouted with indignation, but she bent to fondle the little dog with a rare sensation of triumph and went back to reading her journal.

  But it didn’t take long for h
er temporary optimism to dissipate. Adam Davenant exuded self-control; she tried to match it, but every time he moved—every time he breathed, even—she remembered how he’d made love to her and her wretched heart turned over. To be in such close proximity to this man—trapped, in fact, for hours—was going to be torture.

  * * *

  That he was powerful and rich she already knew. But who else would have his own horses kept at every posting station on the road to Somerset? ‘Mr Davenant makes the journey so often,’ Joseph told her at their lunchtime stop, ‘that it makes sense, it do, to keep his own teams. The master don’t want some hired nags that are fit only for the knacker’s yard.’

  Belle reckoned Adam probably wished he could consign her to the knacker’s yard, because she was deliberately making an absolute pest of herself. Every time they stopped and the ostlers came running to change his horses, she would make a great show of taking

  Florizel for a walk round the inn yard using his ribbon-plaited lead. But Florizel wasn’t the problem, Adam was. Just the touch of his lean hand, or the inadvertent brushing of his hard male body against hers, made her senses throb and her breath catch in her throat.

  Most of the time as they journeyed westwards, she buried her nose in her journal or played with Florizel in her lap, but her mind was miles away. What was his meeting in Somerset about? Why had he said he needed her with him? Because Jarvis would be there?

  * * *

  During the journey Adam had intended to address the vital documents he’d brought with him in preparation for his meeting. But all too often, as Belle read her journal or petted that absurd little dog, he would find his eyes drawn against his will to the alluring curves of her bosom, to the creamy softness of her cheeks and her full, rosy lips.

  Damn. Even the faint lavender scent of her skin caused the familiar arousal to surge through him. He wanted to slip his hands inside that ridiculous little purple jacket, caress her luscious breasts, feel her melt in his arms again...

  Ridiculous. Apart from the fact that the dog would snap his fingers off, he’d noticed that her hostility to him never wavered. She shrank away from him even when he was merely offering her his hand to help her down from the coach.