Belle's Beau

by Gayle Buck

  "Oh, to be sure, to be sure," said their acquaintance, sliding a curious glance toward the viscount's amiable countenance. "Is the fortunate young lady someone with whom we might be acquainted?"

  "As to that, I really could not say," said Lady Ashdon, bestowing her cool smile along with a significant nod.

  Lord Ashdon could only smile over gritted teeth, as the obvious connection was made, based on his presence at a debutante's come-out ball. "The Weatherstones kindly included me in their invitation to my mother when they realized I was residing with her ladyship," he said hastily.

  "Of course, dear boy. Nothing could be more natural," said their acquaintance. The conversation politely moved on to other topics, to Lord Ashdon's relief.

  By the time Lord Ashdon resumed their promenade about the ballroom, he had had a few moments in which to formulate a strategy that might serve to throw a bit of dust into his parent's eyes, so that her ladyship would not be further tempted to imply a possible connection between himself and Miss Weatherstone. He had no desire to make of himself and Miss Weatherstone an object of public interest.

  "Miss Weatherstone is not the only young lady whom I have honored with my attentions, my lady," he remarked.

  As Lord Ashdon had hoped, Lady Ashdon's attention was firmly attached. Her gaze fixed upon his face. "What are you saying, Adam?"

  "Only that I have done as you bade me, ma'am," he responded lightly. "I am widening my circle of acquaintances. For instance, earlier this week I attended a soiree hosted by Peter Crocker and his wife. Do you know them?"

  "Crocker... no, I can't say that I do," said Lady Ashdon. She had stopped in her tracks and was plying her fan in a leisurely fashion that did not fool her son for a moment. Lord Ashdon knew that she was intensely curious. "Just what are you hinting at, Adam?"

  "Why, you must certainly make their acquaintance, too, Mother," said Lord Ashdon. He paused a moment as he slanted a tantalizing smile at his astonished parent. "You see, I met Mrs. Crocker's younger sister at Almack's. Mrs. Crocker is sponsoring Miss Fairchilde this Season. Miss Fairchilde is not a great beauty, nor has she an immense portion, but she is gently bred."

  Lady Ashdon was fairly gaping up at him. "Well! I must say that you have surprised me not a little, Adam. You have been industrious since our talk, have you not?"

  "I am nothing if not a good soldier, ma'am," said Lord Ashdon. At his mother's questioning expression, he smiled. "I am reconnoitering the ground."

  "Really, Adam!" Lady Ashdon snapped her fan shut. "What an absurd comparison. Reconnoitering, indeed!" She took his arm again. "But I shall not scold you, for I am very well satisfied with what you have imparted to me. I am glad that you have finally come to your senses and are taking your duty to heart at last."

  “Then I am happy, ma'am," said Lord Ashdon, lifting his mother's hand to his lips and brushing a kiss across her gloved knuckles.

  Lady Ashdon smiled, rather warmly by her standards. She was quiet for a moment, then her eyebrows rose as she inquired, "Are there any other young ladies, besides Miss Weatherstone and Miss Fairchilde, who have caught your eye?"

  "Not at present," said Lord Ashdon quite truthfully. He was relieved, for it appeared that his little stratagem was serving him well, at least for the moment. Lady Ashdon's focus had been successfully deflected from its primary target, which had been Miss Weatherstone, to a broader spectrum, and that suited him perfectly.

  "I believe you are correct, Adam. I must certainly make it my object to become acquainted with the Crockers," said Lady Ashdon decisively. "By the by, have you been introduced to the Moorehead girl, Miss Clarice Moorehead? She is the younger daughter and is very well favored, being an heiress as well as something of a beauty. It's a pity that she is a redhead, but one should not be too judgmental, should one?"

  "No, I have not had that pleasure," said Lord Ashdon, his satisfaction dimming slightly as he realized that his little subterfuge had also strengthened Lady Ashdon's original determination to bring every respectable marriageable miss to his attention.

  “Then I shall do the honors this very moment, for there are Lord Moorehead and his lady now, and that is Miss Moorehead sitting beside them," said Lady Ashdon with satisfaction. "They are not particular acquaintances of mine, of course, but that scarcely matters in this instance."

  Lord Ashdon groaned inwardly, but nothing of his annoyance appeared in his face as he reluctantly accompanied his mother over to the Mooreheads.

  It was thirty minutes after Lord Ashdon's arrival before Mrs. Weatherstone deemed there to have been sufficient time for receiving all those who intended to come. Belle was relieved to be done with her duty at last and readily acceded to her aunt's suggestion that it was time to leave the stairs. Mr. Weatherstone escorted his spouse and Belle into the ballroom to join their guests.

  Belle was at once besieged by gentlemen who wished to sign her dance card. It was a heady feeling to be so sought after, but really there was just one gentleman that she hoped to dance with, and that was Lord Ashdon. She glanced casually about as she conversed with her admirers, at last locating his lordship across the ballroom. He was bowing to her friend Clarice, obviously soliciting her for the set.

  Belle felt an unreasonable spurt of jealousy, for which she was instantly repentant. Of course Lord Ashdon would dance with others besides herself, and there was scarcely anyone whom she would consider more worthy of his lordship's attentions than her dear friend Clarice. Nevertheless, Belle, rather guiltily, felt that she would have been glad if Clarice had stumbled and torn the lace at her hem, necessitating a quick withdrawal to the sewing room.

  She did not have long to think about it, however, as she was immediately whisked onto the dance floor and had no more than fleeting moments of opportunity to look for Lord Ashdon, since not one set went by that her hand was not bespoken. Then, all at once, it seemed, it was Lord Ashdon who was holding out his hand to her and requesting the honor of a dance. He looked down at her with his easy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed at her with an expression of admiration and good nature. Belle's heart gave a leap of happiness. "I would be most honored, my lord."

  As she rose from her chair and took her place beside Lord Ashdon in the set, her whole being steadied, and nothing since her arrival in London seemed quite as gratifying as her come-out ball.

  Chapter 9

  Through the ensuing days, Belle became increasingly popular, and she was much admired and courted. There were invitations for every hour of each day, it seemed to her. She was actually somewhat dazed by the attention she was garnering, while her aunt appeared extremely gratified.

  "It shan't be long, my dear Belle, before we are making plans for a wedding," said Mrs. Weatherstone with immense satisfaction. "I haven't been able to usher Cassandra through a successful Season, but certainly yours is making up for it in every respect."

  "I hope so, Aunt," murmured Belle, not certain what she should think about her undoubted success. On the one hand, she was glad to have achieved what she had hoped to in coming to London. She had certainly expanded her circle of acquaintances and her worldly experience beyond what she could ever have thought or imagined. She had truly been blessed in that respect.

  Increasingly, Belle heard herself referred to as the Belle of London. Everywhere she went, she received accolades from admirers. It seemed that she could do no wrong. Her uncle received two offers for her hand that month, but turned them both down on Belle's behalf. In Mr. Weatherstone's opinion, the gentlemen were not worthy of his niece.

  Belle was relieved that she had her uncle to take care of her interests. Her ambitions had become strangely hazy. She had always known exactly what she wanted, but now she could not have told her friends or her aunt and uncle what hopes she harbored in her heart.

  She had always aspired to be presented to Society, to see something more of the world than her own small corner, and her longing had been fulfilled beyond her wildest dreams. Now that that goal had been achieved,
Belle questioned her own heart. Since she had no notion what else she could possibly desire, the future now seemed rather flat. In fact, a feeling that she was being squeezed and closed in was becoming increasingly familiar. Only when she was off for a ride on her gelding did the cobwebs seem to blow away from her mind so that she felt completely alive again. Belle was intelligent enough to realize that the rigidly structured life that her aunt had engineered for her was almost too confining for someone with her restless energy.

  Once the Season was over, Belle supposed, she would return to her childhood home, the Hall, but that did not seem to be a particularly inviting outcome. She did not think that she could be content for the remainder of her life living quietly in the country with her grandfather after having tasted the broader society of London and its treats, but she did not know what else she wanted to do.

  Her aunt obviously wished to find her a good match and establish her credibly. Perhaps that was as good an outcome as any, Belle thought. She certainly had enough admirers to choose from. Yet none of them had ignited the least bit of interest in her. She paused in her reflections, smiling a little as she acknowledged the truth. That is, she had had no interest in anyone until Lord Ashdon had appeared on the scene.

  Upon their first meeting, Belle had felt her heart give a small bump. His handsome, scarred face, the warmth in his sunlit blue eyes, and his easy smile had all made an unforgettable impression. Later, when she had opportunity to observe the viscount on the social scene, she thought privately that there was not another gentleman in London who could compare to him. His lordship's wide shoulders and large, solid chest were set off admirably by his military-cut coats; his muscular legs were well defined, and there was no need of padding for his calves. His boot size was somewhat small for a man, and Belle had noticed how very quick he was on his feet. His stocky build gave an overall impression of manly vigor and strength.

  Belle found that she was not the only lady who bestowed her approval on the viscount. One evening when she made some passing remark, Clarice Moorehead and Millicent Carruthers both agreed that his lordship was very handsome.

  "Though I do wonder about his temper," said Clarice, cocking her head as she studied the gentleman in question. "He has a very firm mouth. One might say it even has an obstinate appearance."

  "Oh, I don't know," said Belle, defending him. "I rather like the way that he smiles. It begins in his eyes and then springs forth."

  "I do believe that you are smitten," said Millicent teasingly.

  Belle gave her friend a speaking glance but did not answer. It would have been an untruth to say that she was indifferent to the viscount, but she was not prepared to announce that she had warmer feelings toward him, either. She actually did not know what she felt. She had never before felt anything near the turmoil of emotions that Lord Ashdon seemed to inspire in her.

  While Clarice and Millicent conversed, Belle puzzled over her relationship with Lord Ashdon. She naturally saw him frequently at various social functions, and he had been particularly friendly with her since her come-out ball, which she was glad of. He always made a point of coming up to her to exchange a few polite words.

  Belle regretted that there was rarely time at the crowded gatherings for her to converse at any great length with him.

  In any event, she thought, even if there had been time, it wouldn't do. She was very aware that she could not show partiality to any of her admirers. Her aunt had drummed into her head the dangers of appearing fast or of gaining a coquettish reputation. Her social success could be extinguished with a single thoughtless act. She had to be a pattern-card of respectability, just like her twin sister, Cassandra, if she was to attain the pinnacle of success that Mrs. Weatherstone had mapped out for her.

  Lord Ashdon and his cousin Mr. Roland White approached the trio of ladies. After the initial civilities, Roland said, "I say, Ashdon has had the most inspired thought. He has suggested a riding party at the park, to finish up at Gunther's for ices. How does that sound?"

  "Why, it is a delightful notion," exclaimed Belle immediately, including the viscount in her smiling glance. His lordship's eyes met hers, and she felt a flutter in her breast.

  "Indeed, I should like it above all things," said Clarice, smiling.

  "I am not a very good rider, and I do not have a horse, but I should like very much to make one of the party," said Millicent shyly and rather wistfully.

  "Do not worry, Miss Carruthers," said Angus Moorehead, who had come up in time to hear what was said. He smiled down at her, a gleam in his bright blue eyes. "If you do not have a suitable mount, I am certain that we shall be able to find you a gentle one from my father's stable."

  "Of course we shall, Millicent," said Clarice at once. "We would not leave you behind."

  "Good. Then it is in a fair way to being settled," said Lord Ashdon with his friendly smile. "Shall we say Wednesday at three o'clock in the park?"

  All agreed to it, Belle with scarcely any attempt at hiding her enthusiasm. She knew that her aunt would have wished her to show some restraint, as a proper young lady would have done, but at that moment she did not care overmuch. She loved to ride, and the chance to ride with her friends—in particular the viscount—was too wonderful to pretend polite indifference.

  Since their first unlikely meeting, she had chanced to meet Lord Ashdon a handful more times in the park during her morning rides. Those encounters had been some of the most enjoyable hours that she had experienced in London. Naturally, after her aunt's upset at discovering that she had dispensed with escort the first time, she had always been accompanied by a groom on her rides. The servant's presence had restrained the conversation between herself and Lord Ashdon to mostly the commonplace, for it would not have done to speak so openly or freely as she had wished they could have in the groom's hearing. Nevertheless, she had thoroughly enjoyed Lord Ash-don's company and his ready sense of humor. It would be very nice indeed to share his company again on an equestrian outing, even if it was in a full party.

  While a lively conversation took place around them, Lord Ashdon asked quietly, "Does the outing truly meet with your approval, Miss Weatherstone?"

  "Of course it does, my lord. You must know that I enjoy being horseback more than most," said Belle quickly.

  "Yes, I have cause to know," said Lord Ashdon, even more quietly but with warmth in his eyes.

  As Belle met Lord Ashdon's gaze, and realized that he was referring to their handful of rides together, she thought, as she had more than once, that he had deliberately limited the number of times that he met her in the park, in order to safeguard their reputations. She was grateful to him, of course, but, perversely, she wished that just once he would throw caution to the winds and seek her out with the dash and lack of convention that had attended their first meeting. How positively exciting that had been! She had never forgotten that race, pounding over the green with the thunder of his horse's hooves in her ears! And neither had she forgotten the manner in which her heart had hammered with excitement.

  The conversation had turned and Belle began to listen, with increasing interest. There was to be a dinner party at Vauxhall Gardens, sponsored by Lady Moorehead.

  "Everyone here is to be invited, of course, for it is to be only for Angus's and my own select group of friends," said Clarice. "Mama sent out the invitations just yesterday afternoon."

  Belle was at once enthusiastic about the treat. "Oh, how very amusing it will be! I have heard of Vauxhall, and it sounds marvelously entertaining."

  Sensing hesitation from one member of their circle, Clarice turned toward the viscount. "You will be able to make one of our party, will you not, my lord?"

  Lord Ashdon demurred quietly. "I don't know, Miss Moorehead. It seems that you have included me very kindly out of civility, for I am of new acquaintance to you all. Perhaps it would be best if I should thank you graciously but decline."

  "Nonsense, my lord. You have become a fast friend to us all since your return to England
," said Angus.

  "It would not be the same without you, Ashdon," said Roland White, slapping his cousin on a broad shoulder.

  "Indeed, my lord, I would take it as a personal affront if you were to stay away," said Clarice with a persuasive smile.

  Belle held her breath, for she was dismayed that Lord Ashdon would even consider withdrawing from the party. It would be as though he believed that there was a gulf of distance between himself and those whom she counted to be her best friends in the world. It had never occurred to her that he might think so, but she supposed that he might actually see it that way, since he was a few years older than any of them and had been a soldier who had escaped death, besides. She and the others must appear to be babies in his eyes, amusing but not terribly experienced in life. How boring they—she—must be to him at times, Belle thought with dismay. An unusual sense of insecurity touched her, making her wonder what Lord Ashdon really, truly thought about her.

  When Lord Ashdon answered, his eyes were on Belle's face. "Then I would be delighted to be one of the party, Miss Moorehead."

  "Very good, my lord!" exclaimed Angus.

  Later, after the Weatherstones had returned home, Belle broached the subject of the outing to Vauxhall to her aunt and uncle. Mr. Weatherstone looked at his wife, raising his eyebrows. Mrs. Weatherstone frowned over what had been imparted to her with such enthusiasm, and suddenly Belle realized that her aunt's expression was not one of approbation.

  "Oh, pray say that we may go, Aunt!" she exclaimed. "It will be a party of all my most particular friends."

  Mrs. Weatherstone shook her head, a tiny frown between her brows. "Belle, I am somewhat hesitant to grant my permission for you to attend. It is not quite what I like."

  "Vauxhall is not as select as it once was," remarked Mr. Weatherstone.

  Belle had been sorting quickly through the invitations and had located the one that she had sought. "Only see, Aunt Margaret! The invitation came from Lady Moorehead. There surely cannot be any stigma attaching to it if her ladyship is involved," she said, holding out the gilt invitation for inspection.