Belle's Beau

by Gayle Buck

  "Thank you, Aunt," said Belle gratefully, flashing a swift smile. "Now if you will excuse me, I must pen a letter to my grandfather to inform him that I am wedding a soldier!"

  "You might mention that he is also a viscount," suggested Mrs. Weatherstone. "I don't wish Sir Marcus to think that I have been behind in my duty toward you and allowed you to contract a colorless marriage!"

  "Yes, we would undoubtedly hear the eruption from here," murmured Mr. Weatherstone.

  "Oh, but I think that I shall tease Grandfather for a few pages," said Belle mischievously. 'Then, at the very last, I shall make a note of Lord Ashdon's title. He will feel very sheepish over his outburst when he realizes that you have done well by me after all."

  Mr. Weatherstone threw back his head and laughed.

  "You are a minx. Belle," said Mrs. Weatherstone severely, but with a smile in her eyes.

  Chapter 23

  The next week Belle went around in a haze of happiness. The viscount had put an announcement of their betrothal into the Gazette, and everywhere she went she received the congratulations of the ton. Lord Ashdon was solicitous in his escort. Belle never set foot into another ballroom without the viscount beside her. It was a wonderful, fabulous time.

  Belle's particular friends expressed their happiness for her and also a little envy. "For you have managed to snap up one of the most eligible partis in London this Season," said Clarice Moorehead with a small pout.

  Millicent Carruthers agreed. "Indeed! However, we all knew that Belle was nutty on Lord Ashdon, so it works out very well."

  "I have heard that we are shortly to hear an interesting announcement about you, too, Millicent," said Belle with a teasing smile.

  Her friend blushed and shyly admitted to it. "Yes—that is, I am hopeful that Papa will consent."

  "Why should he not? Angus is a very good catch," said Clarice instantly.

  "You must say that, since he is your brother," said Belle.

  A dimple peeped out at the corner of Miss Moorehead's smiling mouth. "Quite true, Belle."

  "Oh, no, no! You mustn't put it just that way, Belle, even in fun. Angus and Clarice are very fond of each other," said Millicent, a little distressed.

  "Of course we are," agreed Clarice. "I own, however, that I am surprised that Angus has shown such good sense. I never expected him to offer for anyone whom I should like. Actually, I did not think that there was a lady alive who could put up with his crotchets and his teasing."

  "I do not think that Angus is the least crotchety," said Millicent.

  "Wait until you have lived with him for a while," advised Clarice.

  Millicent blushed furiously and was so consumed by confusion that she was rendered momentarily speechless.

  Belle laughed. "For my part, I believe that you must love him very much, Millicent, since you actually like his abominable poetry!"

  Recovering her composure somewhat, Millicent smiled and shook her head. "Angus composes some very nice verse."

  "Of course he does," said Belle. She threw a laughing glance toward Clarice, who rolled her eyes eloquently. Though she teased Millicent, she knew exactly what her friend was feeling. She was herself still dazed by her own good fortune.

  She had already written her grandfather and had received his letter by return post. Sir Marcus had bestowed his blessing upon her choice and expressed his amazement and contentment that she had done so well for herself.

  "I know of the Ashdons. They are an old and honorable family. I could not have wished better for you, Belle," he had written.

  Surrounded by goodwill and approval, Belle felt that everything was right in her world. She seemed to have entered a new dimension where everyone she met and everything she did was pleasant.

  * * * *

  A few days later, Lady Ashdon was driving down a main thoroughfare, wrapped in pleasant thoughts of her son's soon-to-be marriage. Though Miss Weatherstone was not her first choice for the viscount, the young lady would do quite well. Lady Ashdon had been satisfied with the outcome of her little tea with Miss Weatherstone and her aunt. Quite a respectable family, and from what she had been given to understand through discreet questionings of her friends and acquaintances, Miss Weatherstone had a very decent portion.

  Lady Ashdon was well pleased. The viscount would soon be safely settled into married life, and his unfathomable thirst for adventure would be quenched forever. An increasing nursery had a tendency to do that to a man.

  When the viscount had returned to England, Lady Ashdon had detected that same familiar restlessness in her son. It seemed that nothing had changed except that he had finally agreed with her that it was time to take a wife. She had been thoroughly invigorated by that reluctant admission and had redoubled her persuasions that he remain in London for the Season. When the viscount had given up his announced intention to go to Bath—for what reason he wished to go there had never been made perfectly clear to her—and announced that he was staying in town, she had been made hopeful that some young miss had indeed caught his eye. And so it had proven, she thought with satisfaction. Naturally she had not discussed the matter with her son. The viscount was peculiarly jealous of the conduct of his affairs, as Lady Ashdon well knew. She did not wish to set up the viscount's back and possibly set a stumbling block in the way of his impending betrothal.

  Lady Ashdon chanced to glance out of her paned window and caught sight of Miss Weatherstone entering a prominent bookstore, with her maid following behind. On impulse, Lady Ashdon called out to her coachman to stop. The carriage drew over to the curb and the groom let down the iron step.

  Her ladyship descended, crossed the walk, and entered the bookstore, intending to inquire of Miss Weatherstone if she could give her a place in her carriage. It would be a good way to converse a little further with her future daughter-in-law, she thought.

  Lady Ashdon looked around. There were others in the aisles, and she did not immediately perceive her quarry. When her ladyship's gaze finally fell on Miss Weatherstone, she stood rooted to the spot. Disbelieving, Lady Ashdon watched as Miss Weatherstone received a wrapped package of what was obviously books from a gentleman who was completely unknown to her ladyship. Before her ladyship's affronted eyes, Miss Weatherstone blushed prettily. The gentleman raised Miss Weatherstone's fingertips to his lips and gazed ardently into her eyes. The maid, who discreetly stood some feet away, covered her smile with one hand.

  Lady Ashdon had seen enough. She sailed forward, utterly outraged. "Well, miss! Explain this if you can!" she said challengingly in an imperious tone.

  Miss Weatherstone and the gentleman looked around at her ladyship with startled expressions. "Pardon me?" asked Miss Weatherstone.

  Lady Ashdon snorted. She skewered Miss Weatherstone and the tall gentleman with a contemptuous look. "Such a wanton display is beyond pardon!" She turned on her heel and swept out of the bookstore, straight back to her carriage, where she curtly commanded her coachman to take her home. As she settled back against the velvet squabs, Lady Ashdon ground her teeth over what she had just discovered. Miss Weatherstone was meeting some unknown on the sly, with the full knowledge and cooperation of her maid. What affronted her ladyship most was that neither Miss Weatherstone nor the gentleman had looked the least bit guilty at being caught in their clandestine rendezvous.

  "Well! I shall know what to do about it! Adam shall not wed that—that brazen, wicked deceiver!" exclaimed Lady Ashdon, already determined in her heart that she would do everything in her power to rescue the viscount from the clutches of such a shameless hussy.

  * * * *

  Cassandra showed Belle the present that her betrothed had given to her. "I know that you will not quite appreciate it, Belle, but I am so very happy with it," said Cassandra with a smile. She held out two books with tooled-leather covers. "They are journals! One for me and one for Philip. We will be able to record all of our thoughts and observations during our diplomatic tours. Isn't that a marvelous notion? Philip thought of it, of cours
e."

  Belle took the journals and opened one, flipping through the gilt-edged blank pages. She wondered that her sister could be so enthusiastic over something so mundane. She knew it wouldn't do to say so, however. "Oh! There is so much white space! How shall you ever fill it up, Cassandra?" she asked with a flashing grin.

  Cassandra laughed. "I shall have not the least difficulty, I assure you. And I shall write to you, too."

  "So I should hope!" retorted Belle. She returned the journals lo her sister and then gave her a tight hug. "I shall miss you, Cassandra!"

  "And I, you! But I am not gone yet, so let us not grow maudlin," said Cassandra. "See, I am already fighting tears." She pulled out her handkerchief.

  "Oh, no! We mustn't weep. We have another week, do we not?" asked Belle, dashing her hand across her own eyes.

  "Yes, and then Philip and I shall be wed," said Cassandra, her eyes suddenly shining like brilliant stars.

  "You do realize that the fashionable do not go about with their spouses," said Belle teasingly. "The ladies all acquire gallants to escort them to the theater or an entertainment and leave their husbands to their own devices."

  Cassandra shook her head quickly. "Philip is the only gallant that I shall ever need! That does remind me of an odd thing that happened this afternoon, though. Philip and I were at the bookstore when an old dragon accosted us. I gathered the impression she was affronted that Philip kissed my hand in such an informal setting. She was quite rude to us and then huffed off. I've never been so astonished in my life."

  "Do you know who it was?" asked Belle curiously.

  Cassandra shook her head. "I haven't the least notion. I had never seen her before in my life."

  Belle shrugged, her mild curiosity passing. "I shouldn't worry overmuch, Cassandra. It is not as though you were doing anything scandalous, after all."

  "No," agreed Cassandra. "Now, Belle, which gown are you wearing this evening? I favor the pink, for I think it looks utterly dashing on you."

  "Do you? It is one of my favorites as well," said Belle, adding teasingly, "and are you wearing Philip's favorite tonight?"

  A slight blush rose to Cassandra's face. "Of course! Now I must hurry or I shall be late, so do go away, Belle!"

  Laughing, Belle left her sister to her toilette and went away to attend to her own. She was eagerly looking forward to the evening, which was a select ball. It could hardly be anything but perfect, for her betrothed, Lord Ashdon, was to make one of the Weatherstone party.

  When Belle entered the ballroom, one of the first personages she saw was Lady Ashdon. She urged Lord Ashdon to take her over to her ladyship as quickly as possible so that she could make her greetings.

  "Lady Ashdon! I am so glad to see you," she said, holding out her gloved hand.

  Belle was a good deal shocked and dismayed when she was treated to a chilly reception by that lady.

  "Miss Weatherstone. How nice to see you again." Lady Ashdon extended two fingers to Belle. Her ladyship's expression was cold, her eyes were filled with antagonism.

  Belle was surprised and confused by the turnaround in Lady Ashdon's attitude. She was glad of the viscount's presence beside her. The warmth of his hand on her elbow was very welcome. "I am glad to see you again, my lady," she said politely. "It has been too long since we last visited."

  Light flashed in Lady Ashdon's eyes. "Has it, Miss Weatherstone? I quite thought we met just recently. Do you actually like to read, Miss Weatherstone, or is shopping for books simply an artful dodge?"

  Lord Ashdon's blond brows had snapped together. "Ma'am, be warned. I shall not allow any uncivility toward my betrothed," he said quietly but with authority.

  Lady Ashdon turned her wrathful gaze from Belle's astounded face to her son. "Adam, you cannot marry this woman! You know nothing about her true character, as I do."

  "My lady, that is quite enough! I will not tolerate either your insulting implications nor your interference," snapped Lord Ashdon.

  There was beginning to be some interest in their low, heated exchange and conversation around them quieted as others started to pay attention and listen to what was being said.

  Belle had been struck by something that Lady Ashdon had said. "My lady, are you referring to a meeting in a bookstore earlier this day?"

  Lady Ashdon's lip curled. "How clever of you to admit to it, my dear! I suppose you intend to explain away your reprehensible actions?"

  "What reprehensible actions?" exclaimed Lord Ashdon, a pronounced frown on his face and anger in his eyes.

  Belle laughed. She could not help it. She felt such relief to have discovered the cause of Lady Ashdon's antagonism. Laughing was, however, the wrong thing to have done, which she immediately realized.

  Lady Ashdon swelled up. "I shall not stand here to be ridiculed!"

  "My lady! Pray allow me to explain!" exclaimed Belle, trying to put her hand on the elder woman's arm in an appeal for her ladyship to pause.

  Lady Ashdon's eyes shot fire. She removed Belle's hand. "You dare, Miss Weatherstone!" She swept aside and made her way through the crowd of interested bystanders.

  Belle stood, her face ablaze as she realized how many people had overheard at least part of the confrontation. She drew a deep breath of dismay. "Oh, dear!"

  "What did my mother mean? What were you going to explain to her?" asked Lord Ashdon.

  "Oh, Ashdon! It is terrible. Cassandra came back from shopping this afternoon and told me she had met Philip at a bookshop, where he had presented her with a betrothal present of some journals. She remarked that she and Philip had been accosted by a dra-dragon," said Belle, faltering on the unflattering description.

  Lord Ashdon had no difficulty in following her. "My mother," he said grimly.

  "Yes, apparently so," conceded Belle. "Cassandra said that just as Philip kissed her hand, this lady sailed up and censored them for what she called their lewd behavior. Ashdon, I very much fear that it was your lady mother. And she thought I was Cassandra and that I was playing you false!"

  Lord Ashdon regarded her with a deep frown for a very long moment. Then a twitch started near his mouth, and he began to laugh.

  "Ashdon, it is not the least amusing!" exclaimed Belle.

  "Just so! That is why you laughed a moment ago," said Viscount Ashdon, nodding, a grin still on his face.

  Belie gave a reluctant laugh. "Yes, it is amusing. But not really! Oh, Ashdon, what are we going to do?"

  "Do? Why, nothing! We shall allow Cassandra to explain her reprehensible actions for herself," said Lord Ashdon. He lifted Belle's hand to his lips and smiled at her. "Do not be anxious, my heart. We shall overcome my mother's aversion to you quite easily."

  "I do hope so," said Belle on a sigh. Rather wistfully, she confessed, "I had quite thought that Lady Ashdon liked me."

  "She did. She does. It is Cassandra that she dislikes heartily," said Lord Ashdon with wry assurance.

  "Yes, so it is!" exclaimed Belle, brightening.

  Belle waited for Lord Ashdon to convince his mother that there had been a mistake and to allow Belle to explain. Lady Ashdon remained unmoved. She would not discuss anything with Miss Weatherstone.

  Lord Ashdon apologized to Belle for his mother's hardness of heart. "I have never known her to be so adamant," he said, frowning.

  "Never mind," said Belle, managing to smile at her betrothed. She was determined to put as good a face on the situation as possible. "I don't mind so very much."

  Lord Ashdon caught up her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. "You are a terrible liar, Belle," he said tenderly.

  Belle laughed, even as tears slung her eyes. "Well, perhaps," she conceded.

  "And it matters to me," said Lord Ashdon somberly. "I do not wish my future wife to be subjected to any injustice or incivility. We will bring her around, Belle, I promise you."

  "Yes, of course we shall," said Belle. She managed a smile for his sake, even though her heart was sinking. It was scarcely fortuitous to begin one
's betrothal with the loathing of one's future mother-in-law. The most frightening thought was that Lady Ashdon would remain of her same opinion and that as a consequence there would come to be a permanent schism between her ladyship and her son, Lord Ashdon. Belle did not think that she would like to be the cause of such a terrible circumstance.

  Chapter 24

  Belle's unhappy reflections were given some respite by the arrival of her grandfather, Sir Marcus Weatherstone, and her dear governess, Miss Bid well. When she was apprised of their arrival, she flew down the carpeted stairs, her skirts billowing behind her.

  The travelers were still being relieved of their wraps when Belle impetuously rushed into the entry hall. "Grandfather! My very dear sir!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the tall elderly gentleman.

  She felt her grandfather's arms close around her and smelled the familiar scent of his coat, which she had known practically all of her life. She lifted her head. "Oh, Grandfather, you've come at last! I have been waiting this age for you."

  "Well, well, my girl. It is easy to see that you have not changed much," said Sir Marcus gruffly, setting her aside, though a gleam had appeared in his rather hard eyes. "What say you, Miss Bidwell? Do you recognize our lady in all her finery?"

  "Indeed I do, sir," said Miss Bidwell composedly, her spectacles glinting in the light as she moved forward to receive her former charge's fervent hug.

  "Oh, Biddy, I have such things lo tell you!" exclaimed Belle. "You will not believe the half of them, I am persuaded."

  "Perhaps you may tell Miss Bidwell of all your doings over tea, Belle," said Mrs. Weatherstone with a smile, coming forward with her hand outstretched to her father-in-law. "It is good to have you with us, Sir Marcus. And you as well, Miss Bidwell!"

  Sir Marcus shot a keen look at her face. "Thank you, my dear. That is very kind of you, I am sure. Where is my son, Phineas?"

  "He is still at his club, but I expect his return shortly. He will be sorry to have missed your arrival," said Mrs. Weatherstone.