Lady Belling's Secret

by Bright, Amylynn

  “To say the least,” Christian agreed. “She and her cronies have taken me on as their pet project. I’ve been dodging bullets all season. I’m thrilled to have you home to tomcat around with.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Christian, but I’m going to need to find a wife. If Basil’s accident meant nothing else, it certainly showed me not to mess around with fate.”

  Christian grabbed his chest with dramatic flair. “Oh no. Say it isn’t so.”

  “You’re still an idiot.”

  Christian grinned unrepentantly, and it was easy for Thomas to see the boy he had met so many years ago at school.

  “But that doesn’t mean you have to get married tomorrow.” Christian skillfully dropped the seven ball in a corner pocket.

  What if I want to get married tomorrow?

  Thomas was saved from further ruminations by the sweeping entrance of the duchess. If she’d been a younger woman and less commanding of the respect due a leading member of the ton, he was absolutely certain she would have squealed. As it was, her welcome was still quite highly pitched.

  “Thomas!”

  “Ma’am.” He grinned as he laid his pool cue across the felt and strode towards her.

  The duchess engulfed him in her arms, wrapping him in a motherly embrace. “I am just so delighted that you’re home. I fretted so much about you when you left.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “I was always safe on board.” He knew that was not exactly true, but it was over, and there was no need to trouble her for nothing.

  “Nevertheless, a mother worries and you were—are—as much my son as if I’d born you. I should box your ears for leaving the way you did, but now I find that I’m just so happy you’re home whole that my anger melts away.”

  “I am sorry for running away like that. Young men… Well, that’s my only excuse really. Youth.” Plus an unhealthy loathing of his birth family and a small incident in Hyde park.

  “All is forgiven and we will talk nothing more of it.” The duchess linked her arm in his and then in Christian’s. “Let us off to dinner. I’m sure that Anna and Frankie are already waiting in the parlor. The two of you have plenty of time later to decide what debauchery you have planned for the evening.”

  Thomas started to protest her expectation of their evening plans, but Christian just smiled over the top of her head.

  “There is no need to try and convince her otherwise, Thomas. My mother has spies everywhere. Somehow she always knows of my activities, or she thinks she does.”

  “Christian, when you stop acting like a horse’s arse and start taking your responsibilities seriously, I will not need to keep tabs on you,” the duchess said. “As it is, you should be happy that I’ve been able to keep you from being trapped by the dozens of scheming mothers seeking to catch you with their wholly unacceptable daughters.”

  “Which is precisely why I don’t court the marriageable ladies, mother,” Christian told her. “The widows who entertain me aren’t angling for another marriage.”

  Thomas laughed at the two of them as they continued to spar on the way to the dining room. Nothing had changed in the years of his absence, and he was thrilled to be back in the comfort of this family that he knew and loved so well.

  The door to the parlor stood ajar when the three of them approached. Thomas’s gaze immediately found Francesca standing alone at the far side of the room. She wore a blue gown with a lace fichu demurely covering her chest and shoulders.

  When her gaze met his, he could see the fear in her eyes. Perversely, he loved her anxiety. Damn if it didn’t serve her right.

  He strode to her confidently, watching her expression darken as he neared.

  “Francesca, how charming it is to see you again.” His bow was extravagantly low, and in an inspired flourish he kissed her hand before she had the opportunity to wrench it away. He held her gaze as he rose up to his full height, his lips curled in a sardonic grin.

  “Good evening, Thomas.” Her look of a terrified deer in a hunter’s sights gave him a moment’s pause.

  “You are looking as lovely as ever.” Thomas let his eyes travel over her slowly and obviously, lingering at her hips and breasts, just long enough to remind her that he’d already seen all of her. “That color serves you well. Blue has always made your eyes seem greener.”

  “Thank you.” Her cheeks pinked prettily, and she cast her gaze at the carpet.

  He leaned in to whisper, “I don’t think you’re ever more breathtakingly beautiful than when you’re blushing head to toe.” He was gratified to hear her sudden intake of breath and the promised blush spread down her neck.

  “You will mind yourself.” Her voice was equally low but no less intense.

  “Perhaps I will.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I won’t. I’m in the mood for a little sport this evening.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. He felt a little twinge of guilt when, once again, her fear registered in his mind. But then he remembered her unabashed passion in his bed, and his determination was renewed. Damn it, he was going to get what he wanted this time.

  “I don’t exactly know. Let’s just see how things go, shall we?”

  “What is wrong with you?” Francesca hissed at him as he took her arm and drew it threw the circle of his. The rest of the family had already started out the door and to the dining room.

  “Me? You used me, Francesca, if you recall. I am aware that you want to put this behind you, and it is a lovely behind. I know because I’ve seen it. It’s like a succulent little peach. Still, I am not inclined to succumb to your wishes on this matter.”

  Francesca made a disgusted noise and tried to wrench her arm free of his grasp, but he held on strong.

  “You sound like a scheming debutante. I didn’t use you,” she said in a fierce whisper.

  “Really? Shall we review the events?”

  “I don’t need to review anything. Believe me, I remember exactly what happened.”

  “Mmmm,” he murmured in her ear. “When I close my eyes, I can still remember exactly how you feel.” And how she smelled, and the lovely little noises she made.

  “Stop that!”

  “Oh, my darling, I wish I could. But it turns out that I don’t really want to.”

  “I tried to explain this morning,” she protested. “I’m sorry. You can’t even imagine how sorry. Can you please let it go?”

  “Let it go? You are outrageous. I’m never going to let this go.”

  “Please, what can I say that will change your mind?” She gazed up at him with real concern, but he wasn’t falling for it.

  “You can’t blame me for this, Francesca.” They were alone in the parlor now, and they slowed their footsteps so that they lingered in the room behind the others. “There was ample opportunity for you to tell me you were engaged before you let me make love to you. Not that I didn’t enjoy every single moment of it.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she hissed furiously, her eyes flashing in fury. How had he never noticed her passionate nature before? “Why are you trying to humiliate me? Are your feelings hurt? Is that it?”

  He wasn’t trying to humiliate her, was he? “I’m a man of the world, dearest. The seduction of one pretty little debutante certainly isn’t going to crack me.”

  “I don’t know why I ever thought I loved you. You’re an unrepentant ass!” She turned back towards the door. “Isn’t this the desired outcome of all scoundrels? You’ve bedded me and I’m not demanding marriage. What could be better?”

  Thomas wasn’t about to let her get the last word. “What if you’re carrying my child?”

  Francesca’s face fell in an interesting mix of terror and fury.

  He yanked her back to him before she could stalk out the door. She teetered off balance, and he steadied her against his chest. His lips took hers before her hands were able to shove herself away. His tongue easily found its way past her lips. What started as a kiss meant to punish her turned passionate quickly, and de
spite himself he deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped tightly around her, he slanted his mouth for a better angle and stroked his tongue against hers. His arousal grew as her body responded to him.

  It was her little moan that brought him to his senses.

  He straightened and tucked her arm back into the curve of his.

  “Wipe your mouth, dear, or someone will talk,” he told her dryly as he steered her into the hallway.

  “How is your father?” Thomas directed the question to Anna.

  Anna’s father, Major-General Viscount Albemarle, was on the continent with his troops. Anna was twelve when her mother died, and the general happily allowed Lord and Lady Belling to foster his daughter since it wasn’t seemly to allow the girl to follow the camp with the rest of the rabble, and she’d lived with them ever since. When the time came, and since there were no female relatives willing to step up to the task, the duke and duchess sponsored her during the season. Anna had long become more of a sister to Francesca than a friend.

  “As I’m certain you’re aware,” Anna told him, “he’s leading the charge. I regret that his letters are few and far between these days. The only real news I get is from the Times.”

  “Try not to worry. I’m certain he’s very busy,” Thomas agreed.

  The conversation was moving along perfectly. If Francesca could keep the topic away from sensitive subjects, she might make it out alive. “I hear the talks aren’t going well with the Colonies either. Mr. Madison doesn’t have much to commend him.”

  Thomas raised his eyebrows at her knowledge and interest in current affairs. “You’re following the story?”

  “Why wouldn’t I, especially when people who are important to my family are in the service of the King?” She’d meant to imply Lord Albemarle, but the grin from Thomas told her he knew she had been following the news because of him. Drat.

  “Oh, you’ve done it now.” Christian laughed at Thomas. “Don’t insult her dedication to current affairs, my man, or your ears will be bleeding before we ever get to the pudding.”

  Thomas shook his head and crooked an eyebrow. “I’m not being insulting. On the contrary, I am very impressed, Francesca.” No, he was flattered, which was outrageously annoying.

  Her brother couldn’t keep quiet either, even when she kicked at him under the table. “You can ask Frankie anything about the Regent’s foreign policy. She has an opinion on everything. Quite annoying.”

  Thomas still had an irritating grin spread across his beautiful face. “I am certain that not many women of the ton follow the news sheets as closely as they do the gossip.”

  “That’s what she has me for,” Anna added. “I love the gossip sheets.”

  Francesca smiled at Anna. “I promise to let her know when we go to war, and she lets me know who is in disgrace this week.”

  “Sounds like a fair trade,” Thomas said.

  The duchess beamed from the end of the table. “I am just happy that you’re home, especially since Wellington is on the Peninsula and with all those angry words coming from France promising more trouble there.”

  “I am torn,” Thomas admitted. “I’m happy to be home, but at the same time, it’s difficult to know my men are in danger.”

  “You’re in a whole different war now.” Christian chuckled. “Wait until the society mamas get a hold of you.”

  “I’m not worried,” Thomas told the table at large, but the look he gave Francesca conveyed to her that she had everything to be worried about.

  Dinner continued on in that fashion. Francesca’s family chatted blithely on, completely oblivious to the fact that Thomas was making her miserable. She barely ate. She was too busy trying to avoid conversational pitfalls.

  “Have you met Lord Dalton, Frankie’s fiancé, yet?” her mother asked.

  Francesca closed her eyes briefly and wished for death.

  “No,” Thomas answered. “I’ve only just learned today that our dear Francesca is engaged. I’m sure that you can’t even imagine how shocked I was.”

  Francesca didn’t meet his gaze. She knew that he looked directly at her as he spoke. She could feel his gaze on her as keenly as if it was a sturdy rope that bound them together.

  Her mother dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “You must not have received my latest letter, what with coming home so abruptly. We are very happy with the young gentleman. He comes from an excellent family and he’s quite agreeable.”

  Christian motioned for a footman to fill his wineglass. “Actually, Dalton is a friend of mine. I think you’re really going to like him. An all-around good chap.”

  Francesca rolled her eyes. “You make him sound like a spaniel, Christian.”

  Christian just looked at her quizzically, but then turned his attention back to Thomas. “We’re going to meet at White’s later. Come with me and I’ll introduce you. After all, he’s going to be in the family now, too.”

  I’m going to be sick. Right here at the table. Francesca took a large sip of wine, and it went down the wrong way, causing her to sputter and cough. Thomas spared no time in thumping her on the back.

  “Something make you choke, Francesca?” he asked her. She wasn’t falling for his solicitous tone one bit.

  “Thank you, Thomas. I’m fine now.” She would be fine if he hadn’t kissed her. She simply couldn’t have a conversation about her fiancé immediately after kissing him.

  The family babbled on, inane conversation bantered back and forth, and Francesca stewed. She desperately wanted to hate the man seated to her left. He’d been mean and spiteful and vicious, and the Thomas she’d always loved had never been that way with her. Of course, the Thomas she loved had never noticed her before either.

  Even as nasty and cruel as he was tonight, she’d never be able to forget the look on his face when he’d found out she was engaged. Could he possibly have been crestfallen? Certainly not. That was simply absurd.

  “You have a ring,” Thomas stated in an absolutely toneless voice. “Of course you do. Well, let me see it. I’m quite sure that it’s a magnificent token.”

  Francesca stretched out her left hand. There, on her third finger, was a simple band of gold with a large square sapphire set between two smaller ones.

  “Very nice,” he said then added in a low enough voice that only she could hear, “It seems he didn’t try very hard. When you wear my ring, it will be emeralds and diamonds to rival the sparkle and color of your eyes.”

  Francesca closed her eyes. She was desperate to shutter him out, to not let him in to any more of her feelings than she already had. Damn him. He knew she was in love with him. Did he have to make her miserable to the end of her days because of it?

  Chapter Six

  After the tension-filled dinner, Thomas arrived at White’s with the need to let loose a little. Christian had some errand or other, and Thomas wasn’t interested in tagging along, but his friend promised he would follow him to the club shortly.

  Thomas handed his hat, walking stick and gloves to the butler at the door, and headed through the richly appointed rooms. He joined several old acquaintances at a card table and ordered a brandy from a footman. It wasn’t long before Christian arrived with a gentleman whom Thomas couldn’t remember meeting before. Still, he had a sinking feeling he knew who the gentleman would prove to be. He made a conscious effort to keep from glaring.

  “Thomas, old man,” Christian greeted him with a familiar clap on the shoulder. “Meet my friend Henry Cavendish, Marquess of Dalton.” And turning to Dalton he said, “My friend Thomas Wallingham, Earl of Harrington.”

  Thomas stood and shook the other man’s hand. “Dalton.” He nodded and made every effort to reserve judgment, but he was pretty sure he hated the man on the spot.

  “Harrington,” Dalton responded. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to hear you’re back safe from the wars. King’s Navy, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Damn sorry to hear about your brother.” Both the man’s tone
and expression were sincere. “He was a good man.”

  Thomas didn’t reply. He had his own feelings about his brother that didn’t need airing at a poker game. Besides, Basil was dead.

  “How are you faring at the table?” Christian smiled, clearly seeing the large sum of money piled in front of Thomas.

  Thomas raised his eyebrows and replied tauntingly, “Sit down and see for yourself.”

  “You are going to be sorry you made that suggestion.” Christian laughed and threw himself down in the leather chair next to him.

  “I believe I will as well.” Dalton lowered himself in the chair directly across the table from Thomas.

  Thomas raised his hand to a footman and signaled for more brandy. “Better make it a bottle,” he told the servant.

  He surveyed his opponents. On his right sat his best friend; across the table, his bitter rival. Of course, Dalton didn’t know that they were rivals. Yet. Thomas had to wonder briefly, if forced to pick, on which side Christian would fall? He made his expression amiable and settled in for a conversation. Know thy enemy, right?

  “So, Dalton, how is it that I never met you in school? You didn’t attend Eton or Oxford?” Thomas asked.

  “Both,” Dalton conceded. “But I was three years behind you.”

  “Ah, a whippersnapper.” He was certain he knew the type—one of the younger sort at school, the detestable hangers-on of their popular crowd.

  “You’d think so.” Christian shuffled the cards with a curt snap. “But no. Dalton ran with the Lawrence brothers and their lot.”

  Thomas’s eyebrows lifted. “The Lawrence brothers?” Damn, not a whippersnapper after all. The Lawrence brothers and the boys who ran with them were the up-and-coming boys behind him and Christian. Their reputation was one of good-natured mischief and gallantry towards the village lasses. Despite himself, his opinion of Dalton elevated ever so slightly.

  “We were all stupid lads then.” Dalton picked up the cards dealt him and glanced at them briefly before making a quick bet.

  Christian nodded. “I’d like to think I still retain some of that same spirit from when we were boys.”