"I think it most wonderful." Julia sighed, an answering light gleaming in her eyes. "Byron is nothing compared to you."
Toby was puffing up with pride when he spied Marcus bearing down upon them. "I say, sir, she liked it!" he said, beaming as his cousin joined them. "Told you she would."
"And I told you, sir, to be more discreet," Marcus snapped, aware of the interested eyes that were studying them. He'd given up trying to discourage Toby's interest in the pretty deb, but he had warned him not to spout any more of his abominable poetry at her. Since his conversation with Miss Portham, he'd taken pains to learn more of Miss Dolitan's formidable brother, and what he had learned alarmed him. Simon Dolitan was rumored to be a hard and driven man, and Marcus much doubted he would approve of a man publicly composing odes to his innocent sister.
"Inspiration knows no restraints," Toby returned with airy indifference, carrying Julia's hand to his lips. "She is the most difficult but desirable of mistresses."
"Toby!"
"Mr. Flanders!"
Marcus and Belle both gasped out their objections and then exchanged angry glares. Belle was the first to speak, her golden eyes disdainful as she met Colford's icy gaze. "I think, my lord, that you might wish to have a word with your heir," she said, her cold voice giving no hint to the hot anger burning inside her. "He appears in need of instruction as to the correct manner of addressing young ladies of quality."
Marcus stiffened at the cutting words. Even though he fully intended pinning Toby's ears back for his recklessness, he wasn't about to do so at her command. Instead he reached out and grasped her by the hand. "I think first, Miss Portham, I will have a word with you," he said, his fingers closing strongly about hers. "This way." And he dragged her out into the garden, ignoring her indignant struggles to free herself.
"How dare you!" she cried the moment they were outside. "I insist you release me at once!"
"Gladly." He dropped her hand, his face set with fury as he glared down at her. "I've no wish to contract frostbite."
Belle's lips tightened at the clever insult, but she was hanged if she would let him know it hurt. "If you are quite finished insulting me, my lord, perhaps you'd care to explain yourself. I was hoping to avoid scandal; now it appears we have made our own. Or was that your intent?"
"What the devil is that supposed to mean?" Marcus demanded, with an irritated scowl.
"Merely, sir, that making scandal is something at which your family seems particularly adept," Belle said, chafing her wrists. She had very fine skin, and she knew her wrists would bear the marks of his fingers for some days to come.
Marcus scowled down at her. "If you are referring to that wretched wager Toby instigated between himself and St. Ives last year . . ."
"I am."
"Ha! I knew you would blame me for that!" he exclaimed, looking surprisingly smug. "I told Alex as much, but he assured me you were too kind a lady to act so unfairly."
Belle bit her lip, realizing she had been about to do just that. Such an accusation would have been monstrously unfair considering he'd been in the country at the time, and she was honest enough to admit she owed him an apology. She was also human enough to know she would die sooner than utter it. A compromise was clearly in order, and after a moment's hesitation, she tipped her head back to meet his eyes.
"As it happens, sir, I in no way hold you responsible for Mr. Flanders's role in that unfortunate incident," she said, proud of the control she was displaying. "However, there is still the scandal you and the viscount caused over a certain female. Julia is a well-brought-up young girl, and care must be taken to insure she doesn't associate with any undesirable parties."
The moment the words left her mouth, Belle knew she'd committed a serious error. In a flash Colford's eyes had gone from soft gray to the color of ice. His full mouth thinned into a dangerous line, and the look on his face was enough to make her step back a pace.
"Be grateful, madam, that you are a woman," he said, his voice soft with the force of his anger. "Were you a man, I would call you out for such temerity."
Belle's cheeks paled, not so much from fright as from the admission that she had hurt him, cruelly and unfairly. It took every ounce of courage she possessed, but she stood her ground. "I apologize, my lord," she said, her soft voice even. "It was very wrong of me to say such a thing, and I would ask that you forgive me."
Her sincere apology took him aback, and his anger faded as quickly as it had erupted. He was by nature even-tempered, and he disliked being at odds with anyone. Even, he acknowledged with a rueful sigh, with the self-possessed young beauty gazing up at him with solemn golden eyes. "Apology accepted, Miss Portham," he replied, inclining his head. "And may I also apologize for dragging you out here without so much as a by-your-leave? As you say, it has doubtlessly created a dreadful scandal."
"I have endured far worse," Belle responded, grateful the awkward moment had passed. She'd never truly felt in any danger from Colford, but she'd also never seen a man who was so coldly furious. It was evident the earl took his name and honor very seriously, and she admired him the more for it.
"Now that you have me out here," she said, her voice thawing by several degrees, "perhaps you'd care to tell me what was so important, it couldn't wait for a more private occasion."
"Oh, that." Marcus's temper stirred at the memory of how she'd scolded Toby. "I wanted to discuss Toby with you. Unless I am much mistaken, you don't care for his suit, and I should like to know why. Is it because he is my heir?"
Belle blushed at his acuity. "Nonsense," she denied gruffly, lowering her head to avoid his steady gaze. "I assure you that has nothing to do with it. It is just—"
"Miss Portham—"Marcus's hand captured her chin, gently raising her face—"I think we both have sufficient ton to keep the truth between us. A hostile truth, mayhap," he acknowledged, his thumb lightly brushing over the pouting softness of her lip, "but the truth nonetheless. I would not have you change that now."
Heat suffused Belle's cheeks at his softly spoken words, and she sent him a resentful look. "That is part of it," she admitted, hating that he made her feel so mean, "but a small part only." She then went on to tell him of the many meetings between their mutual charges, and her fear that the two would end up, if not compromised, then at the very least the target of some unpleasant tattle.
"As it happens, I agree with you," Marcus said when she was done, and then smiled at her incredulous expression. "Why so shocked, Miss Portham? I have already told you I take my responsibilities toward Toby very seriously."
Belle remembered their conversation in the park. "Then you agree with me that their . . . infatuation must not be allowed to continue?"
"Perhaps," he conceded, "but not perhaps for the same reasons as you might think." At her puzzled look, he reluctantly related what he'd learned about Simon Dolitan, and as expected, she reacted with cool indignation.
"You make Simon sound like an ogre," she complained, folding her arms over her chest. "He is a trifle hard, I grant you, but he loves Julia. He would never object to her marrying a man she loves and one who truly loves her."
"But that is precisely my point," Marcus replied, thinking this was the oddest conversation he'd ever had . . . and with The Golden Icicle of all people. "Toby falls in and out of love with depressing regularity. Although his feelings toward Miss Dolitan have endured longer than his other infatuations, when he grows bored with her, I fear Dolitan will take it amiss and express his displeasure on my heir."
That silenced Belle as she imagined Simon's reaction to any man treating his beloved younger sister in such a cavalier manner. "What do you suggest we do?"
Marcus folded his arms across his chest and gave her a cool look. "Nothing."
She blinked at his blunt reply. "But you just said—"
"Miss Portham, are you a student of Shakespeare?"
"Of course I am," she replied impatiently, wondering what that had to do with Julia and Mr. Flanders.
&nb
sp; "Only think for one moment, Miss Portham. Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers parted by an ancient family feud. If we attempt to separate them now, we'll only succeed in driving them closer together. They might," he added, "elope."
Belle gave a gasp and covered her lips. "You're right. That sounds precisely the sort of thing that would appeal to a young girl's romantic sensibilities."
"To say nothing of Toby's poetic tendencies," Marcus added, his lips lifting in a slight smile. "I daresay he might even be persuaded to write an ode on the subject."
Belle was unable to hold back an answering smile. "I daresay he would," she said, knowing he was only trying to distract her. "Will it rhyme, do you think?"
"Only if he can find a word to match 'border,' " he said, thinking it a great shame she didn't smile like that more often. The Golden Icicle was far less intimidating with her lips curved as if in anticipation of a kiss.
"Then you are suggesting we should just let true love run its course?" Belle asked, her brows puckering as she considered the matter. "You'll forgive me, my lord, but that hardly seems advisable. It will only delay the inevitable, and in the end accomplish nothing."
"On the contrary, it will accomplish a great deal. No, hear me out." He held up a hand when she would have protested. "You say they have been meeting, if not in secret, then at least without your permission. Is that correct?" At her nod, he continued. "Can't you see such actions only add spice to their courtship? The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, and so long as they feel you are standing between them, they will be that much more determined to be together. Whereas if you were to grant them permission to court . . ." His voice trailed off meaningfully.
"The fruit would soon lose its flavor," Belle concluded, laying a finger on her lip. "Yes, I can see how it might work. But what if it doesn't? Julia could still be hurt, in which case Simon would be certain to dismember Mr. Flanders, and in the meanwhile we would have wasted the better part of the Season. Also, what of Julia's other suitors? So long as Toby is dangling after her, she refuses to consider anyone else."
"Julia's suitors, I shall leave to you, and to the murderous Mr. Dolitan," Marcus said decisively, aware they'd been out on the terrace longer than was prudent. "Will you be attending the Merricks' ball tomorrow night?"
Belle flushed at his question, remembering Lord Berwick had asked the very same thing. "Yes, we are," she admitted, wondering if, like his lordship, Colford would also beg a dance. She was horrified to discover she didn't find the notion as unpleasant as she once would have done.
"Excellent; so are we," Marcus said, unaware of her brooding thoughts. "We shall meet there and continue this conversation. In the meanwhile I would urge you not to judge poor Toby so harshly. I know he can grate on one's nerves, but he is not without his charms. He is a Colford, after all." And he sent her a good-natured grin that had her smiling in return.
"Indeed he is, my lord," she returned with a soft laugh. "How foolish of me to have forgotten."
"And cruel," Marcus continued teasing as he guided her back to the crowded drawing room. "You must know there is nothing so wounding to a man's vanity as to be forgotten. We men can bear anything except being ignored."
"I shall keep that in mind for future reference," Belle said, enjoying the rare sense of ease between them. Since coming into her great fortune, she'd been the constant target of fortune hunters, and she'd learned to view all men with a chary eye. Not that she would have to worry about Colford playing her up sweet for her money, she thought ruefully. He'd made his true opinion of her obvious years ago, and their temporary truce aside, she much doubted that opinion had changed.
They had reached the open doors, and Belle was about to step inside when the earl laid a staying hand on her arm. She gave him a questioning look.
"You will consider what I have said?" Marcus asked, suddenly loath for their conversation to end. "You will allow Toby to pay Miss Dolitan court?"
"I will consider it," Belle agreed, recalling her earlier conversation with Julia. "In fact, I even have a suggestion."
"What?"
She told him of the exhibition she and Julia were planning to attend, and he agreed to meet them there. "Although I think it would be best if we arranged it for tomorrow," he said decisively. "The longer we leave them to their own devices, the greater the risk of scandal. Besides"—he gave her a sheepish grin—"I'd intended to be there anyway so that I could hear a lecture the curator is giving. It sounded quite interesting."
The notion of Colford listening to a dry lecture on Chinese porcelains surprised Belle, a reaction she hid behind a quick smile. "Very well, sir," she said pleasantly. "We shall meet you there. However," she added, holding up a warning finger, "be advised that I intend keeping a sharp eye on him. As you said, he is a Colford, and as I have learned, such creatures bear close watching. I shall study Mr. Flanders with greatest interest, sir, as I shall study you."
To her surprise, his silver-colored eyes lit with laughter, and he carried her hand to his lips for the briefest touch. "Oh, I am counting on that, Miss Portham," he drawled provocatively. "I am counting on it."
Four
B elle's campaign began the next morning as she and Julia lingered over their morning tea. She'd lain awake long into the night before coming to the conclusion that the earl was right. Keeping the young lovers apart would only draw them closer. If she hoped to dissuade Julia from Mr. Flanders, then she would have to throw them together at every opportunity. With that thought in mind, she sent the young girl an innocent smile.
"What are your plans for this afternoon, dearest?" she asked, raising her cup to her lips.
Julia gave a guilty start, her hand hitting her fork and sending it to the floor. While one of the footmen raced to recover it, she blushed a pretty shade of rose. "Plans?" she echoed, visibly striving for insouciance. "Er . . . nothing . . . That is, I'd thought to go shopping. I need some new ribbons and . . . and other things."
"Really?" The younger woman's transparency struck Belle as highly amusing. "As it happens, I am also in need of a few fripperies, so perhaps I shall join you. Unless you have some objection?" she added, delicately arching her eyebrow.
The look of horror on Julia's face confirmed Belle's suspicions that a rendezvous had been in the offing.
"Oh no!" Julia denied, wondering if there was time to send Toby word their meeting would have to be canceled. "You must know your company is always welcome, dearest Belle."
"Good." Belle took another sip of tea. "After we finish shopping, what do you say we pop in and have a look at the Royal Porcelains? I know we spoke of going next week, but Lord Colford mentioned the curator would be giving a lecture, and I thought it sounded a most instructive way to spend an afternoon."
As quickly as they had plummeted, Julia's spirits soared again. "Toby . . . That is, Lord Colford and Mr. Flanders will be there?"
"Yes, and you could have tipped me over with a feather when he told me," she grumbled, contriving to look disgruntled. "One seldom finds rakes languishing amongst the porcelains, but I gather he is only going to accommodate Mr. Flanders."
That did surprise Julia, and she gave Belle a confused look. "Odd he did not say anything to me," she complained, feeling somewhat out of charity with her beloved.
"From what his lordship said, I gather it was a rather sudden decision," Belle answered with an indifferent shrug. "Well, what do you say? Shall we go?"
Julia decided to forgive Toby for neglecting to inform her of his plans. He was a poet, she reminded herself primly, and one could not expect such ethereal beings to remember such mundane things as porcelains. "Very well, Cousin," she said, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. "A visit to the museum sounds just the thing. Will Georgiana be joining us?"
"Unless she has other plans," Belle said, thinking she'd have a discreet word with the older woman to let her know of her change of heart. It would be just like her to help the youngsters arrange an elopement, she decided, remembering the s
urprisingly firm way she had championed Mr. Flanders's suit.
The rest of the meal continued in peaceful silence, and Belle was about to rise when Julia said, "Belle, may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly, my dear; what is it?"
"Well"—Julia's slender fingers fiddled with the handle of her cup—"last night when the earl escorted you out onto the balcony, what did you talk about? You were gone ever so long."
Belle didn't know whether she was amused or insulted by the chiding note in Julia's voice. Georgiana had said much the same thing, hinting darkly that five minutes longer and she and Lord Colford would have been expected to post the banns. "When he dragged me off, you mean," she corrected, taking care to hide her smile. "As for what we discussed, he took me to task for presuming to scold that foolish heir of his. And much as it pains me to admit it, I fear he is right."
Julia's jaw dropped in astonishment. "He is?"
"Mmm," Belle said slowly, knowing she would have to proceed carefully if she hoped to convince Julia her volte-face was genuine. "I have been thinking, and although I cannot approve of Mr. Flanders's rather frivolous turn of mind, I have come to the conclusion he is really not so objectionable. He is somewhat immature, of course, but I daresay that is something which will change with time." She was quiet for a moment, as if considering the matter. "That poem he quoted was actually quite good. Did he really write it?"
"Oh yes!" Julia exclaimed, her pride in Toby obvious. "He is a wonderful poet! One of his poems is even being considered for publication!"
"Is it?" The announcement didn't come as a complete surprise to Belle, considering much of the drivel currently being printed as "romantic poetry." "How nice."
"There is no money, of course, or at least very little," Julia rushed on, too happy to be discreet. "But I do not think that need concern us. I have more than enough blunt."
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