The Outrageous Belle Marchmain

by Lucy Ashford

  to go to her shop on the day of my ball for a final fitting.’

  ‘And you’ll let me out of here?’ said Belle scornfully. ‘Aren’t you afraid that I’ll tell Madame Tournier I’m your prisoner?’

  Jarvis’s pale eyes slid over her. ‘She’s in my pay and asks no questions,’ he said. ‘Anyway, you know what will happen to Davenant if you do anything stupid. Besides, I’ll send Harris with you. He won’t let you out of his damned sight.’

  That was true; Harris followed her everywhere, his eyes mentally undressing her. Belle said bitterly, ‘I can believe that.’

  ‘As long as you behave during your outing, I’ll tell Harris to restrain himself.’ Jarvis’s lip curled. ‘If

  not—well, I think you know what the consequences will be.’

  Belle braced herself against the sickness that shook her as she remembered Jarvis’s long-ago words—As a young widow you must be quite desperate for male companionship. I’ll enjoy watching. I promise you won’t be bored...

  Jarvis was already leaving. ‘By the way—’ he turned back ‘—I’ve ordered Madame Tournier to prepare a gown for you that’s as flamboyant as anything you used to wear for Davenant. Only this time—’ his voice was a lethal purr ‘—you’ll be at my side. And I want news of your devotion to me to spread around town and further.’

  * * *

  On the day of the party Jarvis’s carriage arrived for her at midday and the foul-breathed Harris bundled her aboard.

  She heard him speak to the driver, expressing surly surprise. ‘Who the hell are you? I don’t know you, do I?’

  ‘I’m new.’ The coachman’s voice was equally gruff. ‘Usual man’s ill.’

  Harris curtly gave him directions, then sat opposite Belle and didn’t take his lecherous eyes off her.

  And for once, Belle didn’t give a damn about Harris, because her mind was racing. Harris hadn’t known the driver. But she thought, oh, she’d thought just for one wild moment that she recognised that voice...

  Her heart wouldn’t stop thumping. At Covent Garden the traffic was at a standstill because two carriages had collided—she could see it from her window—and coachmen and bystanders were getting embroiled in a noisy argument. Harris, cursing, called out to their driver to find some other way. The driver retorted, ‘I’m doing my best. Drive the thing yourself if you think you can do better.’

  Wild, surging hope riveted Belle. Matt’s voice. It was Matt, just as she’d dared to hope.

  Harris, swearing loudly, was already getting out. ‘I’ll give that damned fellow a piece of my mind as well as the feel of my fist.’ He turned back to Belle. ‘If you move from there you’re finished—understand?’

  Harris had thrust his way into the crowd of pedestrians and was elbowing his way to the driver. Belle, gazing tensely out of the window, heard him give an exclamation of angry surprise—and realised Harris was in the grasp of two burly constables.

  ‘Make way, ladies and gents!’ the constables were calling to the crowd. ‘Just caught a pickpocket here—make way, while we take him to gaol where he belongs!’

  Then the door on the other side of the carriage swung open just as it started to move and someone leaped in. ‘It’s all right, Belle,’ a husky male voice said. ‘It’s all right.’

  Adam. It was Adam. Her heart was suddenly full of joy—joy she thought she would never feel again. ‘Adam—how...?’

  ‘Those two constables are my men.’ He smiled, settling on the seat beside her. ‘And Matt is driving the carriage.’

  ‘I knew it!’ She was in his arms. ‘I recognised his voice. But Adam, how did you...?’

  ‘Find you? We’ve been searching for days. Jarvis was clever; he went to all sorts of lengths to conceal his visits to you, but he made a mistake. You see, Madame Tournier knows Gabby and she told her about you. But first things first.’ He was holding her tightly; his eyes were full of fierce tenderness. ‘Has Jarvis hurt you? Have any of his men hurt you?’

  Oh, God, he looked divine. Her heart was thudding wildly at the sight of him. He wore a rough grey coat over breeches and riding boots; his neckcloth was rumpled, his thick dark hair just a little untidy and an unshaven beard darkened his jawline. No more the suave man about town. But—the look in his eyes. The raw emotion in his voice.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said quickly. ‘For some reason he’s not touched me yet, Adam.’

  ‘Good.’ His voice was grim. ‘I think he knew I’d kill him if he so much as harmed a hair on your head. I guessed he held you prisoner, but he denied it, and I couldn’t damn well prove anything until Madame Tournier appeared. I’ve got him now. But Belle, why did you leave Bath with him?’

  ‘He said—’ she tried to keep her voice steady

  ‘—he said he’d arrange an accident on your railway. He threatened you’d be badly hurt. He made me write that letter—’

  ‘I guessed as much.’

  ‘And he said he would let you have that land you need so badly if I stayed with him.’

  ‘You would do that, for me and my railway?’ he asked wonderingly.

  ‘For you and your workers, Adam. And I’ve been so stupid. I’ve got to tell you what I did...’

  He was still holding her. Now his fingers touched her cheek. ‘Tell me if you must.’

  ‘I got Matt to follow us to Bath. I’d told him, on the second day, to try to delay your journey.’

  He put one finger to her lips. ‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘Edward told me.’

  ‘Edward?’

  ‘Edward told me a good deal. I’d been hateful to you, Belle—and I damned well deserved your plotting.’

  ‘No. No,’ she cried distractedly. ‘I’ve been such a fool.’

  He held her face between his big, warm hands and gazed down into her eyes. There was something in his expression Belle had never seen before and it fractured her heart. But she mustn’t hope. Hope was cruel.

  ‘You were going to give yourself to Jarvis. For me,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I think he would have tired of me very quickly.’ She was beginning to shake, try though she might to hold herself steady, to be strong.

  ‘Belle,’ he said. His arms were around her again. ‘You’re not going back to him ever, believe me.’

  ‘But—’

  He touched her lips with his finger. ‘Listen. I have one last favour to ask you. Do you feel strong enough to come to Lord Jarvis’s party tonight—with me?’

  ‘To Jarvis’s party?’ she breathed. Her eyes were dark with emotion in her pale face. ‘But how...?’

  ‘He sent me an invitation. I imagine he hoped to see my face when I saw you standing at his side. Belle, will you do it?’

  Slowly—incredibly—she began to smile. He’d always thought her beautiful, but now...

  She looked radiant. ‘Mr Davenant and guest,’ she breathed. Her eyes sparkled suddenly. ‘Adam, I don’t see how I can refuse!’

  He held her tightly and kissed her forehead. ‘My brave, brave Belle. I promise you—everything is going to be all right.’

  Despair engulfed her once more. All right? No—it could never be all right. She clamped down on the tight pain in her chest.

  She ought to tell him. She ought to tell him right now, but she couldn’t, not when he was holding her in his arms and his face was so full of caring. What would he say? How could she explain her own stupidity this time?

  She had told him quite plainly that she was unable to bear children. And oh, what an old, tedious female trick that was, to entrap the man you wanted. If Adam had desired a family, he’d have married a suitable bride years ago. But he didn’t, and how his beautiful eyes would narrow with cynicism—disgust, even—when she told him she was pregnant.

  If she told him.

  The carriage was swinging round towards Piccadilly; she turned to him, questioning. ‘Adam, where...?’

  ‘We’re going to your shop, for a ballgown for tonight,’ he told her. ‘Madame Tournier’s been paid for her
efforts, but we don’t want her gown. We don’t want anything Jarvis has had a hand in. Meanwhile—Gabby’s been busy, sweetheart.’

  * * *

  Adam saw her into her shop, then told her he was going with Matt to return Jarvis’s carriage and horses. ‘I’m not having him accusing me of theft,’ Adam said. ‘But finding his carriage outside his house with no driver, no Harris and no you will give Jarvis plenty to think about.’ He hesitated. ‘Belle, we’ve got so much to discuss. And that’s what we’ll do—after tonight.’

  He took her hand and kissed it in the old, familiar way that tore at her already overburdened heart. Then he was gone and Gabby was there, hugging her; they laughed and exclaimed together.

  ‘Oh, madame! Monsieur Davenant came here days ago looking for you! He’s had his men searching all over London—he was so very anxious! We are overjoyed that you’re together again!’

  Something clutched at Belle’s throat. ‘I don’t think it’s for long, Gabby.’ She wondered how much to tell her. ‘I’ve been so foolish.’

  ‘You still think he does not care for you?’ Gabby looked astonished. ‘Then—wait here, madame!’

  A few moments later Gabby came out of the back room, carrying a frothy, gorgeous ball dress. ‘For you,’ she breathed, touching it tenderly. ‘Yesterday Mr Davenant told us to put all else aside, so this was ready.’

  ‘Oh.’ Belle once more felt that lump in her throat. ‘It’s so beautiful.’ The puff-sleeved gown was of ivory silk, its full skirt adorned with tiers of Vandyke lace trimmed with tiny turquoise satin roses and pearls.

  ‘There is more, madame.’

  Indeed, there were small roses made of ivory satin to wear in her hair, long kid gloves, ivory satin pumps and an exquisite pearl necklace. Gabby laid them all out for her joyously—then suddenly realised there were tears in Belle’s eyes.

  ‘There, there, he loves you, I’m sure!’ Gabby was offering her a handkerchief and Belle scrubbed fiercely at her eyes.

  Love her? No. He’d rescued her from Jarvis, yes—but he was still using her, by taking her to the party tonight. And why not? She’d stupidly destroyed anything he might have felt for her. He was thinking of far more important things than her: his quarry, his vital railway, his hundreds of workers and their families. Whereas she’d mistrusted him and insulted him, never realising how honourable, how brave he was, until it was too late.

  After tonight—what would happen then?

  She wouldn’t let him kiss her. She must not even let him touch her again. Instead she would ask him if he would help her open a small shop in Bath and she wouldn’t tell him her secret, ever. She simply could not expect him to provide for a child he had not wanted; a child he would feel he had been deceived into fathering.

  She would never see him again. The thought was intolerable, but bear it she must.

  * * *

  Joseph and two more of Adam’s men had come with a carriage to take Belle to Bruton Street and Gabby accompanied her, to dress her. Being back at that lovely house simply tore at Belle’s heart, because everything reminded her of those weeks with Adam and their wonderful, passionate lovemaking. The sphinxes and the gilded Egyptian tables were still there—oh, Lord, how had Adam tolerated her wilfulness?—and Lennox and the servants were warm in their welcome. Belle felt that she did not deserve any of their kindness.

  ‘We are delighted to see you here once more, ma’am,’ said Lennox with a grave bow.

  Even though she’d threatened to dress the poor man in purple. Belle smiled, but there was a stupid lump in her throat. ‘Thank you, Lennox.’ But I doubt I’ll be here for very long.

  Gabby must have spent almost two hours adjusting Belle’s gown, arranging the satin roses in her dark curls and chattering nineteen to the dozen—which was as well, because Belle’s emotions were in such tumult she could hardly speak. Gabby had only been silent once, and that was when she was starting to lace up Belle’s stays. Almost instinctively, Belle had put out her hand. ‘No.’

  Gabby stopped, frowning.

  ‘Not too tight, Gabby.’

  Gabby’s brown eyes widened. ‘Madame. Oh, madame, you are...’

  ‘Yes, Gabby, I am,’ breathed Belle. ‘But—I do not want Mr Davenant to know. Do you understand?’

  ‘You are going to tell him later? As a surprise?’

  Belle put her hands on her friend’s arms. ‘Gabby. I beg you to say nothing. Leave it to me. Please.’

  Gabby gave a Gallic shrug. ‘I promise.’

  * * *

  Adam called for her at eight, looking sensational. He wore black and his snow-white cravat emphasised the perfection of his hard cheekbones, his chiselled jaw. He looked—he was, quite simply—the man of her dreams. She remembered first seeing him on his big horse on Sawle Down that sunny March day, and her heart turned over with such pain that she had to catch her breath. If only she’d known what kind of a man Adam Davenant really was. If only...

  As he handed her into the carriage, his dark eyes were full of something that made her insides melt. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said quietly as he helped her to arrange her full skirts. ‘Are you ready?’

  She nodded, with a smile. ‘Fie, Mr Davenant, this is just like old times!’

  ‘Almost,’ he agreed, tenderly tucking her gossamer shawl round her shoulders.

  Yes, she was ready for Lord Jarvis’s ball. She felt she could face anything with this man at her side. But afterwards? Oh, it was going to take all her courage to face afterwards. When she would have to tell him she was leaving him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Belle would always remember that party as a kaleidoscope of vivid pictures, a shimmering sequence of scenes darkly threaded with danger, because it took place at the home of her enemy Lord Jarvis.

  As at any social event, she was aware of the music and dancing and loud chatter; aware, too, of the myriad wax candles and the scents of over-rich food and wine filling room after room in Jarvis’s ornate mansion in Grosvenor Square. A mirage of opulent splendour in which—for her—the only reality, the only safety, was Adam’s presence at her side.

  Their arrival together caused a sensation. Adam ordered the footman to announce both their names, at which the great entrance hall, busy though it was, fell absolutely silent. As Lord Jarvis came towards them people moved back to watch. He’d fixed a thin smile to his face, but his voice was etched with vitriol and Belle drew instinctively closer to Adam.

  ‘Davenant,’ Jarvis said. ‘You’ve been busy, I believe, one way and another. And—Mrs Marchmain.’ He made a low bow, then turned back to Adam. ‘You and I, Davenant, have a few matters of business to discuss.’

  ‘Indeed we do,’ said Adam smoothly. ‘Here? Now? I’m all yours.’

  Something in Jarvis’s eyes flickered and he looked almost afraid as he glanced round his crowded hall. ‘You shall never get my land for your damned railway,’ he hissed in a low voice. ‘Not now this woman here has broken our agreement.’ But because people were still gathered around them, staring and whispering, he said, ‘Perhaps later, Davenant, don’t you think? Business can be so tedious.’ He bowed his head tightly. ‘I’m so very glad you could both avail yourselves of my hospitality.’

  Adam and Belle were the sensation of the evening. The gossip had been rife, clearly about their departure to Bath, and now the tongues were wagging furiously. Enviously.

  ‘Mr Davenant—so handsome! And he’s with his widow again, Mrs Marchmain—my dears, did you ever see anything like her gown? It’s incredibly pretty, and clearly she still has Mr Davenant tightly in her clutches...’ The gossiping dowagers fluttered their fans; the younger women looked on enviously because Belle was easily the most beautiful woman there.

  She knew, because Adam had told her so. It was he who made her beautiful, he whose presence kept her strong in their enemy’s house. The two of them danced—oh, he was such a wonderful dancer, his hand at her waist making her want to melt into the lean length of him. Afterwards, as they cir
culated, Belle drew strength from him just being at her side. But all the time—all the time she felt the tension building in the room; saw how Jarvis kept glancing at them, like a serpent ready to spring for its prey.

  The crisis, when it came, was sudden. Adam was surrounded by a group of bankers and London businessmen who were eager to know about the progress of his railway; Jarvis kept casting him poisonous looks, but Adam ignored him.

  At last Jarvis barged into the men gathered round Adam. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I’m going into supper. Coming with me?’ He tried a sickly smile. ‘I fancy that in this corner of the room the smell of quarry dust taints the air.’

  There was a shocked silence. Belle felt herself freeze; then Adam’s hand touched her gloved arm lightly, reassuringly. Keeping her by him.

  ‘Jarvis,’ he said smoothly, ‘I’ve got something here that may interest you.’

  ‘If it’s a matter of business,’ sneered Jarvis, ‘save it for your quarry workers and country rustics.’ But he looked afraid and his skin was sweaty beneath the flush of alcohol.

  Adam said coolly, ‘What I’ve got is quite fascinating. So fascinating I think I’ll explain it to everybody. It’s a document showing that the land I’ve been after for my railway never belonged to you at all.’

  ‘What? You...’ Jarvis had lunged towards him, but the cluster of men who’d gathered round Adam held him back, saying, ‘Steady, Jarvis. Let Davenant have his say.’

  Adam spoke quietly and calmly, but every single word filled the stark silence that had fallen.

  ‘You and your lawyer Cherritt,’ said Adam to Jarvis, reaching in his pocket, ‘swindled the Hathersleigh estate out of that piece of land I need for my railway, many years ago. I have here the original map showing it belongs to Edward Hathersleigh. When Edward’s father died, your lawyer Cherritt substituted a forged plan in the deeds and Edward—who was only a child when he was orphaned—had no idea where the exact boundaries of his estate truly lay.’

  ‘No!’ Jarvis had lunged forwards; several of Adam’s colleagues held him back.