Lady Belling's Secret

by Bright, Amylynn

  “Here it comes.” Anna directed the comment to the duchess as she rose from her seat to stand before him. “Did you say that to her?”

  “What?”

  “Those actual words.” Anna had lost the beatific look from only minutes before, and now she appeared skeptical again.

  Had he? “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” Anna cried. She flung herself back on the sofa. “Honest to God, you’re helpless. I don’t know if you deserve her, you dolt.”

  “You’re not helping.” The duchess glared at Anna.

  “I’m not certain he can be helped.”

  “I can too be helped.” He hated that he sounded like a petulant child. All he needed was to be told what he did wrong and he’d fix it.

  The duchess took him by the hand and led him back to the seating area. He sat gingerly on the edge of the seat. “It’s the words, darling. You absolutely must say the words.”

  “The actual words,” Anna repeated. “Now I completely understand what’s happening here. Think about it, Thomas. If you’ve never told her the words and you’ve never actually proposed, she thinks you’re marrying her out of obligation. She thinks she’s a trophy you want to win. You haven’t proven you’re all in.”

  “But I’ve done everything I can think of to show her that I love her.” He ticked off evidence of his devotion on his fingers. “I’ve sent her flowers. I’ve wooed her. I’ve fought over her. I’ve bought her presents.” He thought of the dogs at the house that were probably, at that very minute, destroying some priceless atrocity his mother had paid a fortune for.

  Anna turned to the duchess again. “You’d think a man with his reputation would have a real understanding of women, wouldn’t you?”

  “He has an understanding, all right. He can get them to tumble in bed with him in a heartbeat, but he’s got no real understanding of how to love one of them.” The duchess gave him a soft look he wasn’t expecting. “You, my boy, deserve to love my daughter as much as you deserve to be loved by her. It’s not your fault your family never taught you how.”

  Anna led him from the room by his elbow and pointed him towards the door. “For the love of all that’s holy, man, say the words to her.” Then she gave him a light shove.

  He felt a tad dizzy as he aimed his feet towards the front door. Tell her the words? Really? That was it?

  He was a complete idiot.

  Anna’s voice follow him down the hall. “Lord, I hope he doesn’t botch it up again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Thomas was too worked up from his conversation with Anna and the duchess to linger around their house waiting for Francesca to return. But from the minute he walked into his own townhouse, he knew he wouldn’t get any thinking done there either. The house was in an uproar over the puppies who’d, just as he suspected, cut a swath of destruction through the house. In a moment of inspired brilliance, he enlisted a couple boys from the stables, and he had them take the puppies out for a romp in the park before the entire staff marched out en masse. The lads were clearly thrilled at the opportunity. Thomas gave them each a long leather leash and told them to head towards an empty field where they could run and bounce to their hearts content. He watched from the walk as the boys paraded down the street with the dogs pulling exuberantly on the leads and barking and woofing with glee. Thomas earnestly hoped the boys would be able to tire out the fuzzy little beasts. They were just as adorable as they could be—when they were asleep. It was when they woke up that the house seemed like it had been hit by a hurricane. He shook his head at the memory of the newspaper the butler had so perfectly ironed and lain out for him this morning before the hellions shredded it beyond recognition.

  He checked his watch for the time and pondered how long he should wait for Francesca to arrive home. He also checked the clock in the hall and the one in the study. There were still several hours before he could expect her, so he wandered aimlessly through his home at odds with what to do with himself.

  He was nervous and anxious and excited. He felt like a little kid again anticipating Father Christmas or some sort of rubbish. Grown men weren’t supposed to be giddy. It was embarrassing, but nevertheless, there it was.

  He had the shredded newspaper spread out on his desk and was trying to piece enough of The Morning Post to finish an article about Napoleon’s latest conquests when he heard the knocker bang against the front door. Within seconds, his butler announced the arrival of the Duke of Morewether and Lady Francesca Belling.

  He was caught completely off guard. Here? He surely hadn’t expected them here. “Show them in.” Thomas straightened from where he’d been leaning against the desk with the newssheets.

  Of course, Christian walked in like a storm cloud. He filled the room with his sour disposition and surly attitude. Francesca, however, even as pale as she looked, was everything that was sunlight and goodness. Oh dear God, I’m a pathetic caricature of every man I’ve ever made fun of.

  But it didn’t matter. The pale blue walking dress she wore draped her willowy frame to perfection, showcasing her curves and her outstandingly long legs. She was beautiful and he loved her. He loved her and she loved him. He let out a deep, contented sigh. Whatever was currently irritating her brother, and knowing Christian the list was probably long and wordy, Thomas knew he could overcome it because he loved her.

  He really wanted to say what she wanted to hear out loud. They held a lot of power, those words. He of all people should know. He’d never said them to anyone in his entire life, if in fact he’d ever even thought them before.

  “You’re unexpected.” He smiled at her, a big toothy grin, and ignored Christian for the time being. “I’ve just been waiting for you. Well, not to come here, certainly, since you were unexpected here. I meant for you to get home. Then I was going to come over. To your house, I mean. I’m sorry, I seem to be babbling. How very odd.” Somehow he managed to shut his mouth and stop the gush of words.

  Christian stood behind his sister and shook his head at Thomas with a look of bewildered disgust. “What is bloody wrong with you?”

  Thomas replied by grinning wider. Christian snorted with derision.

  Thomas finally tore his gaze from Francesca and the endless green of her eyes to speak with both of them. “Why are you here?”

  Francesca opened her mouth to answer, but her brother interrupted her. “There are matters that need resolution.”

  Thomas nodded in agreement. “Christian, I need to speak with Francesca. Alone.”

  “No,” Francesca told him and then reached behind for her brother’s hand. She clasped a handful of Christian’s coat, grasping the superfine wool in her fist. “Don’t leave us.”

  “Whatever you need to say to Francesca can be said with me in the room.” When had Christian become so hard?

  “Are you sure?” Thomas asked her.

  Francesca agreed warily. “He knows everything.”

  “Then at least give us some room,” he asked Christian. Francesca still grasped her brother’s coat like a life preserver. “I won’t touch you,” he promised. “I just have some things to say.”

  Her fingers relaxed, and eventually she let go of her brother completely. “It’s just that you have a way of making me forget myself, Thomas.”

  Thomas understood. She did the same to him. He hadn’t made a sane decision in almost two weeks—a fact he could lay at her feet if he was inclined to want to blame anyone.

  “I’ll be right over there,” Christian told her, and sauntered over to the far side of the room, pretending to ignore them.

  Thomas strode from behind his desk and stood in front of her, but true to his word, he didn’t touch her. “I’ve done some soul-searching.” He hesitated. It seemed like there should be a way to say this perfectly. Maybe he should have read some of Lord Byron’s poetry or Shakespeare’s sonnets for inspiration. Finally, he just said them.

  “I love you.”

  Francesca’s mouth opened softly, a
nd she inhaled a gasping breath. Her eyes watered, and she blinked several times. “Christian, we’re going to need a few minutes alone.”

  Thomas leaned his head back and chuckled. Before Christian had even closed the door to the study, Francesca flew into Thomas’s arms. With a hand on either side of his face, she drew him down to her and kissed him.

  He’d said the words.

  She had come here today, towing her big brother along for protection, with only a dying flicker of hope. But she’d come anyway because Anna had asked her one simple question: When his every deed tells you he does love you, will you throw everything away because he can’t say the words?

  It was a different perspective than she had ever considered before. She had been so self-absorbed she’d never stopped to think about it that way. She knew Thomas’s family history. She could clearly remember the forlorn little boy who spent so much time with her family, even flourishing there. For a child who never knew love and affection from his parents, it was a miracle he was able to give her as much as he already had. How hard must it be for him to admit he loved her?

  Nevertheless, she’d been wary.

  And then he’d said the words.

  She couldn’t even wait for her brother to quit the room before she launched herself at him. She put everything in that kiss: the strength of her childhood crush, her adult love of the grown man, her newly discovered sexuality. Her mouth ravaged his, and he returned her passion by taking charge of the kiss. His hands supported her body as he pulled her flush against him. Their hands seemed to be everywhere. His strong fingers ran down her back and over her buttocks then slipped between their bodies to cup her breast. Eventually he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  “It took me a while to understand what you needed,” he admitted, his breath coming in pants that puffed against her face. “I’m sorry. The feelings were always there, I just didn’t realize how important the words were. I do love you, more than anything, and the thought of being without you makes me ache.”

  She hiccupped a little sob.

  “I don’t want to be without you. I can’t sleep, I’m surly, and I drink too much. Please, will you marry me?”

  The agonizing reality struck her full force. He’s said the words—the only words she’d ever really wanted to hear. Everything she’d ever wanted was in her grasp. But it wasn’t. Not really. They couldn’t marry—she was still engaged and her wedding was three days away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Certainly the reason Christian came charging back into the room was because he heard Francesca crying. His arm cocked back ready to throw a punch, he roared, “Damn it, I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

  “I am bloody well tired of everyone trying to hit me,” Thomas shouted at the same time.

  “Stop, Christian. He didn’t do anything.” Francesca rushed between them. “Everything’s all right. Only nothing is all right.” Her tears returned in earnest.

  “Why is she crying?” Christian demanded. “Why is she always crying when you’re around?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas retorted. “I have done nothing to her. Ask her. She’ll tell you.”

  Christian still hadn’t backed down. Francesca knew she was going to need to pull herself together and calm the situation down before hot heads let it get completely out of control. “Christian, please, calm down. You’re making this situation out to be much worse than it is.”

  “How much worse could it possibly get?” Christian insisted. Thomas simply glared at him, his dark brown eyes narrowed and the brows gathered together in a frown.

  Francesca put both hands on her brother’s chest to keep him from advancing any farther. “He told me he loves me.” She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice even through the tears. She didn’t really want to anyway. Even though this new development complicated an already complicated situation, it was still the best three words she’d ever heard.

  “Yeah, I know he loves you. Everyone knows he loves you.” Her brother shook his head in frustration. “Why does this make you cry?”

  Francesca made an effort to control her feelings and stop crying. Thomas placed a tender hand on her shoulder, offering love and support. “Because we still can’t get married. I don’t know if I’m engaged to Lord Dalton or not. The ton is still trying to figure out if there is a scandal here to be uncovered.” She paused and made a hearty, watery sniff. “Oh Lord, we’ve made such a tremendous mess.”

  “I already told you.” Thomas turned Francesca towards him. “I think Dalton can be convinced to release you from the contract.”

  “Why would he do that?” Christian and Francesca asked in unison.

  “Because I can’t resist a good love story,” a voice from behind answered. All three turned to find Dalton sauntering into the already open study door. Thomas smiled in greeting at his new friend. “Dalton?”

  “Morewether?” Dalton shook Christian’s hand and then kissed Francesca’s. “Lady Belling? Where are the devil’s spawn?”

  Francesca blinked at Dalton’s odd question.

  “Out running amok, I’m sure,” Thomas cryptically replied.

  A maid hurried in the room with a tea tray followed closely behind by the butler, Anna and the Duchess of Morewether.

  “Mama?” Francesca looked to her mother and friend, Dalton and Thomas’s bizarre exchange momentarily forgotten. “What are you doing here?”

  “We have come to resolve this entire situation,” the duchess explained. “Thomas, I took the liberty of ordering a tea tray. We’ll all need fortification if we’re going to come up with a solution to this mess.”

  “I’ll take my fortification in the form of a whiskey, thank you very much.” Christian eschewed the tea cup Anna offered and headed for the liquor sideboard instead. He raised his eyebrows and the bottle of Scotch whiskey to Dalton in question. Dalton declined both the whiskey and the tea and took a handful of biscuits instead.

  “Oh. How did you know to come here?” Francesca asked her mother and Anna. Thomas’s hand found hers and twined his long fingers with her smaller ones.

  “Where else would you be?” her mother wondered. “Thomas, can I assume that you took our very good advice and secured my daughter?”

  Thomas kissed Francesca’s temple and smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that,” Francesca told the room in general. “What does that mean exactly?” She swiveled her head from Thomas and back to her mother.

  It was Anna who replied, “Your mother and I just nudged both of you in the right direction.”

  Why did she suddenly feel so indignant? “Nudged?”

  “Yes, nudged.” Anna stood from her seat in front of the tea tray and brought a cup to Francesca who was standing with Thomas in front of the desk. “Don’t get self-righteous. We were running out of time, and neither of you were going to be able to work this out without at least a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

  “Of course,” the duchess agreed. “As it is, we have very little time to work this out.”

  Thomas squeezed her fingers gently. “She’s right, you know, as far as I can see. I don’t know when I’d have come to my senses and figured it all out on my own. I’m grateful for the nudge.”

  Francesca didn’t relax. She wanted to be fine with their interference, but somehow this revelation diminished Thomas’s confession in her mind.

  Thomas must have sensed this in her. He pulled her back flush with his front and murmured, “I love you, Francesca. Let that be the only truth in your mind. I love you and I need you.”

  It was hard to maintain an appropriate level of indignation as his arms slid around her waist and embraced her. His whisperings in her ear soothed her one minute and then inflamed her in another. She wanted to be alone with him to celebrate this revelation. But reality came crashing back to the fore. They were not alone; in fact, there may not be anything t
o celebrate if a suitable solution wasn’t found to dissolve her engagement without causing any humiliation to the blameless.

  “Please let me express my apologies, Lord Dalton. I hope you can believe I never intended to embarrass you. Until Thomas returned to London, I was quite content, even happy, about our impending wedding.”

  Dalton smiled. He was so awfully handsome with his tousled blond hair and friendly, toothy grin. The marriageable ladies and mamas of the ton would rejoice when he was set loose back on the eligible circuit.

  “I understand you’ve loved Harrington a very long time,” Dalton said, his voice holding not one ounce of sarcasm or spite. “How could I ever compete with that?”

  The warmth of a blush heated her cheeks. “I can’t understand how you can be so good about all of this.”

  “Me neither.” Christian expressed some skepticism. “What did Thomas say to convince you?”

  “Nothing really,” Dalton told them all. “Getting married this year was my mother’s idea.”

  Christian snorted and looked pointedly at his own mother who studiously ignored him.

  Dalton continued, “So I chose Lady Belling to be my marchioness.” Shifting his gaze to Francesca, he gently added, “Not that I wouldn’t have been altogether happy to have you as my bride, you understand, but I’m not about to stand in the way of true love. Besides, I’d much rather be slightly embarrassed about a cancelled engagement than embarrassed for a lifetime because my wife is so obviously in love with another.”

  “None of that really matters if we can’t find a way to fix this.” Always the voice of doom and gloom, Christian piped up while he refilled his whiskey glass.

  “Actually,” Anna announced to the room, “your mother and I have been contemplating the very subject at some length.”

  Francesca wanted to know when all this contemplating was going on. Where had she been all that time? She realized she’d been self-absorbed as of late, but still.

  “There is much to consider when finding a solution,” Anna continued. “Obviously, a scandal needs to be avoided at all costs.”