Belle's Beau

by Gayle Buck

  Mr. Weatherstone's countenance lightened. “Then at least Lord Moorehead and I may commiserate with one another over the dry cake and orgeat. A man might well starve if he was solely dependent upon Almack's offerings."

  Mrs. Weatherstone shook her head, looking fondly at her husband. "Do not be anxious, dear sir. I have requested an adequate repast for this evening before we go."

  "Then I am entirely reconciled to the evening's program," said Mr. Weatherstone, rubbing his hands together in obvious anticipation.

  "I like to go to Almack's, of course, but I think more than anything this evening I shall be glad to see Clarice Moorehead again. We haven't seen one another in a week, since she caught that horrid cold. She is my dearest friend in the world, outside Cassandra, of course," said Belle.

  "I have always liked little Clarice Moorehead," remarked Mr. Weatherstone.

  "I understand that Lady Moorehead has high hopes for Clarice's chances this Season," said Mrs. Weatherstone conversationally. "She has already excited the interest of two or three gentlemen. All totally ineligible, of course. But the Season has just begun, so Lady Moorehead is confident of there being other offers."

  "Clarice is a pretty chit," agreed Mr. Weatherstone. He glanced at his niece. "However, I tend to think that Belle outshines her."

  "Careful, Uncle," warned Belle with a laughing glance. "After what has already been said, you may completely turn my head."

  "Pray do take a care for your head and heart, Belle. I shouldn't wish you to be carried away by the first gentleman that makes up to you," said Mrs. Weatherstone.

  "Yes, Aunt," said Belle, her natural exuberance deflated a notch or two.

  Mrs. Weatherstone smiled at her. "Lady Moorehead confided to me, and I am certain that I may relate it in perfect confidence to you, for you shall not repeat it, that Clarice's short indisposition was actually quite fortuitous. They were thus able to discourage one of the more persistent of the ineligible parties, for whom Clarice had shown signs of partiality."

  "Fortunate, indeed!" murmured Mr. Weatherstone thoughtfully. He glanced in his niece's direction.

  Belle was aware of her uncle's scrutiny, but she directed her reply to her aunt. "You need not be anxious on that head, Aunt Margaret. I am too levelheaded to be taken in by some counter-coxcomb. And I rely completely upon you and my uncle to advise me, of course."

  "Bravo! You are right to place your trust in us, Belle. We shall not steer you wrong, I promise you," said Mr. Weather-stone.

  "We shall make certain of your future happiness," agreed Mrs. Weatherstone.

  "I know that," said Belle with a smile. "And in the meantime, I am persuaded that I shall have a most delightful Season."

  Chapter 4

  In the company of her aunt and uncle, Belle stepped through the portals of Almack's Assembly and felt vaguely awed. It was not the first time that she had been to Almack's, of course, but she had never gotten over her first impression that the famous and exclusive society club was very grand and that she was very fortunate to have been admitted. After all, she was a country miss and could not claim acquaintance with anyone of importance. She would always feel grateful to her aunt and uncle for bringing her to London and presenting her to society.

  The Weatherstone party chanced to meet Mrs. Drummond, that august and proud grande dame who had been good enough to extend vouchers for Belle's entry into the club. Mrs. Drummond greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone with the scarcest nod and a clipped greeting before she sailed off, her nose still elevated in the air.

  Belle stared after the haughty lady. It never failed to astonish her that Mrs. Drummond had sponsored her. Behind her fan, she said in a low voice, "Aunt Margaret, however did you dare to ask Mrs. Drummond for vouchers for me? I do not know whether I would have had the fortitude."

  Mrs. Weatherstone smiled, a twinkle in her blue eyes. "My dear Belle, I've known Mrs. Drummond these several years. Why should I not approach her? She may be a trifle high in the instep, but she doesn't bite."

  "That is debatable," murmured Mr. Weatherstone. He gave an exaggerated shiver. "I thought I felt the nip of a winter's morn when the dear lady deigned to acknowledge me."

  Belle chuckled, while Mrs. Weatherstone reprimanded her husband with a tap of her ivory fan on his arm. "Phineas, you set no good example," she said reprovingly.

  "Quite right, my dear. Belle, pray do not heed me tonight. I suspect that I already suffer from that dreaded ennui that often afflicts us poor gentlemen whenever we enter Almack's," confided Mr. Weatherstone sotto voce.

  "I shan't regard a single thing that you may utter," promised Belle gaily.

  "Come, my dear. That is quite enough nonsense," said Mrs. Weatherstone, glancing at her husband, a slight smile on her face. "I perceive that the Mooreheads have already arrived. Let us go over and greet them. You will wish to speak to Clarice, Belle."

  "Yes, indeed," agreed Belle, following in her aunt and uncle's wake as they made their way over to the Mooreheads. Lord and Lady Moorehead greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone with civility. Belle said all that was polite, then turned to their daughter.

  Belle had formed a particular friendship with Miss Clarice Moorehead, who was also coming out that Season. She was the younger daughter (the elder of the Mooreheads' two daughters having made a splendid match the year before), and so her parents were very indulgent of her.

  Miss Moorehead greeted Belle's appearance with a squeal of delight. "Belle! You have no notion how happy I am to see you!"

  "Clarice, pray exercise a little decorum," said Lady Moorehead tolerantly.

  "Yes, Mama," said Miss Moorehead submissively, though her green eyes still shone with excitement. She caught her friend's wrist and urged her to sit in the gilded chair beside her.

  "I am glad to have found you, too," said Belle with a laughing glance at her friend's pretty face as she sat down. She liked Clarice Moorehead because they shared many of the same interests. They adored parties and could talk for hours about clothes. Clarice was also a bruising rider, which perfectly suited Belle's own neck-or-nothing style.

  "My poor Rolly is getting so fat and lazy from lack of exercise. I wished to know if you could go riding with me tomorrow morning," said Belle.

  Clarice shook her head regretfully, and her burnished curls bounced. The shadow of a frown dimmed the exuberance in her expression. "I cannot tomorrow, for I am promised to a breakfast party hosted by some of Mama's oldest friends. Such a bore, when I would far rather go riding!"

  "Never mind. We shall make it another time," said Belle with a tiny shrug. She felt a twinge of disappointment. It would have been so wonderful to go riding with a friend. It was odd— at home, she had thought nothing of going riding by herself, but since coming to London she found that she much preferred having company.

  "I have a new admirer," confided Clarice, leaning over in a conspiratorial manner so that she could speak softly into her friend's ear. She glanced over her shoulder as though wary of being overheard by her parents, but they and the Weatherstones were immersed in their own animated conversation.

  Belle was at once diverted. "Do you? Who is it?" she asked, throwing a quick smile at Clarice.

  Clarice shook her head and drew away, looking mischievous. "I shan't tell you just now. But I do so like him, very much!"

  Belle laughed at her. "You like all of the gentlemen who make up to you, Clarice! Isn't there anyone that you prefer above all the rest?"

  Clarice cocked her head, seriously considering the question. Finally, she shook her head. "Oh, no! I cannot choose, for one may be the most divine dancer and another might write the most elegant verse and yet another is proficient in providing me with a lemon ice just when I am thirsty. It is the most worrisome thing, as you may imagine!"

  "Quite," agreed Belle on a chuckle. She surveyed the ballroom for faces that she recognized. There were several young ladies as well as gentlemen whom she had previously met. "It is a very nice company this evening."

  "Y
es," agreed Clarice eagerly. "We shall have our dance cards full in a trice, Belle. It will be such a merry romp."

  "I suspect that Mrs. Drummond would frown on a romp," said Belle with a quick smile.

  Clarice shuddered. "Oh! Isn't Mrs. Drummond simply too frightening? I am all tongue-tied in her presence. I much prefer Lady Jersey or dear Lady Sefton."

  Belle agreed. She looked around. "Is Angus here with you tonight? Oh, Clarice, pray do not tell him that I said so, but his ode was so utterly ridiculous," she confided.

  "Of course Angus is here. Papa made him come. He told Angus that if he had to dress up like a stiff rump, then Angus could very well keep him company," said Clarice mendaciously.

  Belle gave a peal of laughter, but Clarice did not heed her. Instead her eyes suddenly widened. She clutched her friend's arm. "Belle! I have just remembered. You will never believe what I heard today from Angus."

  "What has your brother done now?" asked Belle with amiable curiosity. She liked Angus Moorehead, and his antics never failed to astonish and amuse her. She had never had a brother; but if she had, she would have wanted him to be much like Angus Moorehead.

  "Oh, not anything. That is to say— But that isn't what I wished to tell you at all! Belle, Angus told me the most amazing thing, and it concerns you!" exclaimed Clarice.

  Belle looked at her friend in surprise. "Me! Why, what did he say?"

  "Oh, there is Lord Hawthorne." Clarice bowed politely toward the gentleman. Through her friendly smile, she said, "His lordship has known me since the cradle, and he always sends me a very nice present for my birthday. I mustn't cut him or Mama will have my head."

  "Clarice, what about Angus?" asked Belle.

  "Oh! I almost forgot. Belle, it is the most amazing thing!"

  "Yes, you said that," said Belle patiently.

  'Then you've heard already? I wished to be the first to tell you," said Clarice, disappointed.

  "Clarice, sometimes I could simply shake you. What did Angus say about me?" said Belle.

  "Oh, that! Well, Angus told me this afternoon that he heard that you have earned a sobriquet. Everyone is calling you the 'Belle of London.' Now isn't that simply too amazing?" said Clarice.

  Belle was taken aback for a moment before the humor of it hit her. "A pun! How extraordinary!"

  "Yes, isn't it?"

  The deep, merry voice came from one side.

  Belle and Clarice both turned in their chairs. "Angus! You startled me!" exclaimed Clarice, fluttering her fan.

  "Caught you gossiping, didn't I?" The tall, gangling young gentleman came to stand beside them, the flash of his attractive smile lighting his freckled face. His flaming red hair was several shades brighter than his sister's deep copper locks. His attire was correct hut rather careless. He bowed with an easy grace. "How are you, Miss Weatherstone?"

  Belle put out her gloved hand. "Very well indeed, Mr. Moorehead."

  Angus held on to her hand for a moment while his blue eyes laughed at her. "Did you receive my last billet, Belle?"

  "Indeed, I did. It—it was a very pretty poem, Angus," said Belle handsomely. She felt badly for the falsehood, but she didn't wish to hurt her friend's feelings.

  "It was pure drivel and well you know it, Belle," said Angus cheerfully.

  Belle was taken aback by his frank admission, and she laughed. "Well! That is a fine admission, I must say."

  "If it was so bad, whyever did you send it to Belle?" demanded Clarice with a quick frown.

  "It's become fashionable to admire Belle," said Angus matter-of-factly. "Ask anyone. Ask Roland. He'll tell you it's true."

  "I suppose I must thank you, Angus. So you admire me simply because it is 'fashionable'?" asked Belle teasingly.

  Angus looked round at her quickly. Dismay colored his expression. "Oh, I say! Belle, I meant nothing by it. I like you rather a lot. For a female, you're a right 'un, a good fellow."

  "You've dealt a severe blow to my ego, sir, but I think that I shall survive it," said Belle, laughing up at him.

  "Go away, Angus," said Clarice in disgust, having no compunction in being uncivil to her brother.

  "Has Angus disgraced himself again? I hardly need to ask, however."

  Another young gentleman sauntered up in time to hear Clarice's command. He was attired in the latest fashion for an aspiring dandy. His coat was of ridiculous cut, the shoulders padded with buckram, the waist nipped in tight. His waistcoat was a stunning pink and yellow stripe. Several fobs and seals hung from ribbons at his waist. His breeches and hose showed to advantage a pair of shapely legs. He made an elegant bow to each of the ladies. "I am enchanted to see you both this evening, Miss Moorehead, Miss Weatherstone."

  "Hullo, Roland," said Angus amiably, leaning over the top of his sister's chair, his arms folded.

  "Roland, Angus has just insulted Belle," said Clarice. "He called her 'a good fellow'!"

  "Shall I call him out for you, Miss Weatherstone?"

  "Oh, not tonight, if you please, Mr. White. It would be far more excitement than is ever supposed to be found at Almack's," said Belle with a smile.

  "I'd just as soon you didn't, Roland," said Angus candidly, straightening up from his negligent pose. He twitched one of his cuffs. "I am at outs with m'father just now. He knows about the donkey, you see."

  "Ah," said Roland comprehensively.

  "Donkey?" Belle looked from one to the other of the youthful gentlemen. Angus turned his eyes skyward, while Roland lifted a fob to wipe it carefully with his monogrammed handkerchief. She gave a warm laugh. "I perceive that it is too good a story for a mere female."

  "I know what Angus and Roland did," said Clarice, tossing her head. "It had to do with a race. But I promised not to tell. Papa found out anyway, of course. He always does."

  "I don't know how the devil he does it, either," muttered Angus with a rueful expression.

  "It is my experience that one's parents are generally omniscient," observed Roland with a shake of his head and a resigned sigh. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "But I have not come over to discuss past glories, Angus. No! I have come over in hopes of adding my name to the dance cards of these two lovely ladies."

  "You may do so, and with my goodwill," said Belle, proffering the card with its attached pencil.

  Roland took it from her with an elegant bow and signed on one of the lines with a flourish. "Here you are, 'Belle of London.'"

  Belle looked up at him swiftly. "It is true, then? I am really being called that?" she asked.

  "I informed Belle just a moment ago what you had heard, Angus," said Clarice helpfully.

  "Why are you so surprised, Miss Weatherstone? There is not a lady in all of London who can hold a candle to you," said Roland gallantly.

  "Well, I like that!" exclaimed Clarice with a pretty pout, flipping open her painted fan and plying it rapidly.

  Roland pretended not to notice Clarice's exaggerated displeasure. "Everywhere one hears of your beauty, your refreshing frankness, your friendliness—shall I go on, Miss Weatherstone?" he asked with a wide grin.

  "Pray spare my blushes, Mr. White," said Belle, laughing.

  Roland bowed in grinning acknowledgment. "As you wish, of course."

  "Well, I think it fits you, Belle," said Clarice loyally, laying aside her fan. "You truly are an original."

  "Do you know, Clarice, I have yet to discover a mean bone in your body," said Roland, finally glancing at her, with approval in his expression.

  "You haven't had her for a sister," said Angus, flashing a quick grin.

  Clarice had blushed prettily at Roland's compliment. At her brother's declaration, red flags suddenly flew into her cheeks. She looked up over her shoulder at her sibling with flashing eyes. "Angus Moorehead, if it weren't for Roland's being here, I would do something drastic to you."

  "Which is why I'm glad that Roland is here," said Angus.

  Clarice drew a deep breath, her color still high. Roland stepped swiftly into the breach.
"Have I told you, Clarice? My cousin Ashdon is back in town. He set foot in England scarcely a week past."

  Belle smiled as Clarice was instantly diverted from skirmishing with her brother. She knew that there was great affection between the Mooreheads. It showed in their easy manners with one another and even in their mild disagreements. Belle wondered what it would have been like to have been raised in a large family, and she almost envied her friend.

  "Oh, is that the one that you have always liked, Roland? The one that went to war?" asked Clarice.

  Roland nodded. His expression mirrored the enthusiasm that was suddenly present in his voice as he said, "Exactly so. What tales my cousin could tell us if only he would! He was mentioned in the dispatches more than once, you know."

  "Who is your cousin?" asked Belle curiously.

  Roland glanced at her in surprise, as though she should have known. "Why, my cousin Adam, of course! Viscount Ashdon, you know."

  Belle recalled a certain imperious lady of that name to whom she had recently been introduced. She had not wished to further her acquaintance. "I have met a Lady Ashdon," she said cautiously, not wishing to give offense.

  Roland grimaced. "My aunt. I daresay you didn't care for her."

  "Oh, no! I—I thought her very polite," said Belle hastily.

  With a crooked grin, Roland nodded his understanding. "Yes, she can be freezingly polite. I don't like her much. I don't know anyone who does, really."

  "His lordship must. After all, his own mother," said Angus.

  Roland considered it, then shook his head. "I don't care to wager on it, Angus."

  "A pity. Not liking your own mother, you know," said Angus.

  Roland shrugged. "Ashdon doesn't take after her ladyship. My cousin is a right'un, true to the bone. You always know where you stand with him, for he'll tell you."

  "I should like to meet the viscount," said Clarice musingly, "I do not know very many eligible gentlemen with titles yet."

  "Don't think Lord Ashdon will come dangling after you, Clarice," warned Angus. "He's not like a lot of these other fellows that cluster around you. The man has been to war. He's likely a hero, to boot. He probably thinks about more important things than making up to chits like you."