Seeing Miss Heartstone

by Nichole Van

  What was that line from Sir Walter Scott?

  Oh, what a tangled web we weave . . .

  She bit her bottom lip. And then nodded.

  “You proposed marriage to me.” He said the words without looking at her. His face turned to the garden beyond. Tone dead and flat.

  She choked. A sound somewhere between a laugh and despair.

  Oh, Colin!

  “Yes, I did,” she managed to whisper. “I was the young woman that morning.”

  Silence.

  The sound of murmured voices and crystal clinking drifted out from the room behind them.

  “I am at a loss as to what to say, Miss Heartstone. What has been your aim over this past week? To attempt again to purchase my affections, perhaps through entrapment this time?”

  Belle flinched. “That was beneath you, my lord.”

  “What would you have me believe, given your past behavior?”

  “I was young and foolish—”

  “An understatement.”

  “—and I felt desperate. My mother pushed me into the arms of this lord and that. I wanted to have a measure of control over my life.”

  “How could you say nothing about this? You had only to open your mouth and indicate that we had a prior acquaintance. There was no need for a lengthy introduction to the topic—”

  A bolt of righteous indignation jolted through Belle. “Had you shown a flicker of recognition, I would have said something immediately.”

  “So you claim.”

  “Heavens! What would you have had me say?”

  “Anything other than this condemning silence—”

  Belle let out an embarrassing cross between a snort and a huff. “So when I stumbled into you that morning in Hyde Park some weeks past, I should have said, ‘Pardon, my lord, but this reminds me of the time I proposed marriage to you in nearly this precise spot seven years ago—’”

  “I do not appreciate your sarcasm, madam.”

  “‘—you know, the woman you do not remember and were quick to dismiss?’”

  “How long were you going to withhold the information from me?”

  Belle blink, blink, blinked. “I have been trying to speak to you! Besides for all I knew, you did not remember the incident at all.”

  “For future reference, Miss Heartstone, a man never forgets that a woman proposed to him.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “So all the other men you proposed to were sensible enough to refuse as well?”

  Belle turned her head, finally fixing him with such a look—

  “Do not glare daggers at me.” Blake kept his gaze sternly on the garden before them, bathed in bright moonlight. “Might I remind you, I am the injured party here.”

  Belle turned back, mimicking his pose, willing the people in the ballroom behind them to miss the abrupt tension between them. “There have been no others, as I am sure you can see.”

  “Why give up so easily? Surely, you could have purchased at least the title of viscountess—”

  “Enough, my lord. There is no need to be vulgar.” Belle managed to keep her voice low. “You have made your point. I know I acted brazenly seven years ago. You offered me excellent advice at the time, which I took. You were not outraged then. Why are you so upset now?”

  Blake didn’t look at her. He kept his head firmly directed forward. Belle pressed her lips together.

  How ironic that this should be their conversation . . .

  In the grand list of The Ways Belle Heartstone Has Wronged the Marquess of Blake, the time she had proposed marriage to him barely merited a mention.

  How terrible would his anger be when he knew the whole truth? Though at this point, what did it matter?

  “As I have been trying to tell you, my lord, there is a matter I would discuss with you—”

  “So your proposal of marriage to me is not this mysterious matter?”

  Belle bit her lip. “No, my lord, it is not. There is another item, that might be tangentially related—”

  “Enough,” Blake laughed, bitter and angry. “Save your rehearsed lines, madam. I do not care to hear them.”

  “But, my lord—”

  “What more can you have to say to me? I will not allow you the last word in this. I will not be sent packing with one of your practiced speeches.”

  She took a step back, trying to gather her words. She noted more than one curious head turned their way.

  Oh, dear.

  Their conversation was clearly gathering attention.

  Belle leaned forward, voice low. “My lord, perhaps we could still speak tomorrow as you mentioned earlier—”

  Blake shot a glance at their onlookers. “There is nothing more to say at present, madam. I bid you good evening, Miss Heartstone.”

  With a curt nod, Blake turned on his heel and strode down the stairs and into the dark garden beyond.

  Never once looking back.

  Belle excused herself early from the ball, claiming a headache. But even by that point, rumor was running rife that she had somehow displeased the Marquess of Blake. His curt leave-taking had been well-observed. Some even asserted that he had given her the cut-direct. Whispered conversations followed Belle out of the ballroom.

  Belle shut herself in her room. Clouds now raced across the night sky, blocking the moon. The winds had picked up, the vicar’s promise of rain rapidly materializing.

  After pacing her bedroom for nearly an hour lost in sluggish thoughts, Anne knocked on her door. Her expression was sympathetic as she slid into the room and latched the door.

  Without saying a word, Anne personally helped Belle undress and slip into a cotton night rail. Wind gusted, rattling the window. A spattering of rain quickly followed.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” Anne looked at Belle in the vanity mirror, running a brush through Belle’s hair.

  Belle pondered her own reflection for a moment. Lightning flashed, followed quickly by rumbling thunder. “I feel like a fox with the hounds closing in.”

  Anne paused and then resumed her brushing. “Your discussion appeared quite heated.”

  “That is an understatement. Blake finally remembered the incident from Hyde Park seven years ago.”

  “He realized you proposed marriage to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “That cannot have gone over well.”

  “No.” A hiccuppy sigh. “It did not.”

  A harsh gust of wind hammered the window; rain pummeling the glass. Lightning flashed.

  “This is a fine fettle you have landed yourself in.”

  “H-he has asked to sever our acquaintance.”

  “Given that you still have business interests tied up with his, that might be easier said than done.”

  Thunder crashed, vibrating the room.

  It seemed fitting somehow. That the very heavens should unleash such anger and frustration, as if Nature herself was feeling Belle’s anguish.

  Anne brushed in silence.

  Who knew that heartbreak literally felt like one’s heart was being torn asunder. She had never realized that the figure of speech was actually excessively accurate.

  Anne set down the brush and braided Belle’s hair into a long rope, tying it off with a bit of ribbon. She placed her hands on Belle’s shoulders before meeting her gaze in the reflection.

  “I will tell him tomorrow. I have tried to be circumspect and polite about it, but I cannot wait any longer. I will be bold.” Belle’s shoulders slumped. “And then take my punishment.”

  “Perhaps if he knows the entire truth, it will soften his heart.”

  Belle brushed a tear away. “No. He already felt so betrayed by Miss Forrester. I am sure I will only make him angrier.”

  “That is also a definite possibility.”

  “I was so foolish to think that he might forgive me. That we might—” Her voice cracked.

  Anne sighed. “Sometimes you cannot have your cake and eat it too.”

  “But I so enjoy
cake.”

  A weak smile. “Don’t we all, my dear.”

  Belle sniffled, lifting a handkerchief off the vanity. Silence hung in the room, broken only by the popping of the fire.

  “Oh, Anne.” Belle’s chest heaved. She dabbed her wet cheeks. “Until tonight, I had thought that I was s-simply avoiding the messiness of c-confronting him, that I f-feared having his anger and scorn heaped on my head. I feared losing his friendship. But now . . .”

  Silence.

  “But now?” Anne prompted.

  “B-but now I realize that it’s more than fear of losing him.” Another gasping breath. “Somewhere along the way, I gave Blake so many p-pieces of my soul, I feel as if I am l-losing m-myself.”

  “My dear friend.” Anne pulled her into a tight hug.

  “H-how shall this ever be put to r-rights?”

  Belle sobbed her grief.

  After shattering into a thousand jagged shards, how was she ever going to piece herself back together again?

  And at the end of it all, would she be like a broken mirror? Hundreds of fractured versions of herself with no way to see the whole?

  Long after Anne left and Belle cried herself to exhaustion, she stared at the ceiling, listening as rain pummeled the house and lighting crashed and wind howled.

  All of it echoing the despairing ache of her own soul.

  19

  . . . I have reached an impasse with the magistrate near Fyfe Hall. It appears that several of the local gentry have raised objections to having an orphanage in their jurisdiction, citing the children as being an unsavory influence in the area. They wish to evict the children and veterans. My illness has exacerbated the situation, as I was unable to reply in a timely fashion. I have sent an inquiry to Lord Blake, as well, but I am unsure how to proceed. I await your reply . . .

  —letter from Mr. Sloan to Miss Heartstone, sent but languishing in the mail coach due to poor weather

  Colin strode down the main staircase the next morning, tapping a ledger against his thigh. He skirted two footmen hauling a trunk out the front doors to a waiting carriage.

  Rain continued to fall, having morphed from the drenching downpour of the night before into a steady drumming. The footmen ducked their heads as they strapped the large trunk onto the back of the carriage.

  The chattering sound of the Desperate Debutantes floated down the central staircase. Theirs were the carriages currently being prepared, though it seemed they were in disarray over a lame horse and sick footman. Colin knew it was uncharitable of him, but he hoped and prayed they would not be delayed on their journey.

  The Gold Miners had already departed earlier in the morning, Lord Odysseus accompanying them as far as Warwick. He would attend to some business in Warwick and return that evening.

  “I do hope the roads aren’t too horrid.” The voice of one of the girls floated down to Colin.

  “The rain was so terrible last night, I could hardly sleep,” another said.

  “Indeed. And my maid mentioned that the river through town can become nearly impassable after a good rain,” a third joined in.

  “Just think,” the first said, “we might have to return and spend another few days with Lord Blake.”

  Laughter greeted that statement.

  Heaven help him.

  Colin stepped into the music room adjacent to the entry hall, not wishing to engage in small talk with the gaggle of debutantes.

  Would Miss Heartstone stay on now? After the events of the night before, he had to wonder.

  He had no intention of quitting the field. He would remain with the Strattons through the end of the week, shoring up his friendship with Stratton himself and catching up on some business, hence the ledger he currently carried. Besides, there was still the matter of LHF to suss out.

  Even without the raging weather, he would have found sleep elusive, staring at the ceiling for hours.

  Miss Heartstone . . .

  Aptly named, that one—

  No. That was being unkind.

  His thinking brain clearly understood the facts. Belle had been so young seven years ago and, obviously, had taken his words to heart. She should be commended not excoriated, assuming her motives—then and now—were as innocuous as she claimed.

  It was just . . . he had truly begun to care for her. The slap of realizing she was the girl from Hyde Park so many years ago—

  It had definitely caught him off guard.

  Worse, that haunting sense of rightness would not leave him. The feeling that she was somehow already a part of him. What had she called such connection? Woven into the fabric of one’s heart—

  Enough.

  He steadfastly refused to examine the turmoil of emotions she caused.

  Yes. He had reacted badly last night. This whole business with LHF left him on edge, betrayal scraping him raw and making every other prick hurt so much worse. He was a wounded tiger lashing out at those around him.

  Colin would speak with Miss Heartstone later today and see if there was anything to salvage from the situation.

  He was in the process of crossing through the music room when a hand touched his elbow. He turned to find a footman at his side.

  “I was asked to give you this, my lord.”

  Colin took the neatly folded missive with a nod, glancing at his name on the front.

  Lord Blake stared back at him in a bold, loopy script he knew as well as his own.

  Gooseflesh instantly pebbled his arms.

  He unfolded the note.

  Forgive me, my friend. I know the puzzle of my anonymous identity has weighed on you. The reason for my silence on this matter is breathtakingly simple. The time for a full disclosure has long passed. I await your pleasure in the library, should you care to join me.

  Your true friend,

  LHF

  Colin froze. Eyes wide.

  And then the words sank in.

  Hallelujah! At last.

  The man had come to his senses.

  Colin walked through the music room and subsequent drawing room, intent on the library door at the opposite end.

  Finally, his friend had seen reason. His heart sped up as the door drew near.

  Who would he find?

  Had LHF truly been here all week?

  Blood thundered in his ears, his throat abruptly scratchy and dry.

  Taking in a deep, fortifying breath, Colin pushed the door open and stepped into the shadowed interior.

  Dark skies and rain made the room dimmer than normal. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling on three sides, broken only by a marble fireplace and mantel. A cheery fire popped in the hearth. Two tall paned windows made up the fourth wall, bleary and rain-streaked. A large map table stood in the middle of the room.

  At first he did not see the slim figure staring out of the farthest window. But then Miss Heartstone turned to face him, drawing his attention.

  Colin froze, brows drawing down. He was intent on meeting his business partner, not resolving past romantic entanglements. Though he was resolved to discuss the matter with her, he was not in the proper frame of mind to do so at present.

  “Pardon me, Miss Heartstone.” He gave a short bow. “I was to meet someone here.”

  “Lord Blake.” Her voice soft and low.

  He shook his head, glancing down at the note in his hand. What game was LHF playing now? Colin needed to find the man. “I am afraid I do not have time for a conversation at present. May I ask, was there another individual here before you?”

  A brief hesitation and then, “No, my lord.”

  Ah. Colin backed toward the closed door. “If you will excuse me then—”

  She stopped him with an outstretched hand. “My lord, as I said last night, there is another matter to discuss between us. Forgive me for calling you here, but I need you to hear me out—”

  “Calling me here?” Colin frowned. “I did not receive a summons from you.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Weariness flashing across h
er face.

  She waved a hand toward the paper in his hand.

  Colin glanced at LHF’s note.

  And then back up at Miss Heartstone.

  She did not appear confused or bewildered.

  Was it possible—

  “You admit to having a hand in this?” He brandished the letter at her.

  “Yes. If you will please listen—”

  Colin held up his hand, palm out.

  Stop.

  Miss Heartstone instantly silenced.

  He looked down at the missive. It was LHF’s handwriting. His mind reeling, punch-drunk, trying to fathom how there could possibly be a connection between his business partner and this . . . woman.

  He felt the entire situation spooling out of his control.

  He forced himself not to notice the white knuckles gripping the edge of her morning dress. The strain of her mouth. Her red-rimmed eyes.

  Marveling that, even now, he found her attractive.

  She took his prolonged silence as permission to continue speaking.

  “You want answers. I wish to provide them.” She clutched her dress tighter.

  “What answers could you provide, Miss Heartstone?”

  She motioned toward the letter again.

  He sighed. “I asked you point-blank last night if knew anyone named LHF. You said no. Did you lie to me?”

  “Not precisely, my lord. You asked me if I knew a man by that name. I merely answered truthfully.” A deep breath. “I do not.”

  “Semantics, Miss Heartstone?”

  “If I must.”

  A strained silence. Rain pattered against the window panes. Colin snapped the letter against his thigh with one hand, the ledger still in his other.

  “Yet you claim to have something with the sending of this letter?” He held it aloft.

  “Yes.”

  Grimacing, he stuffed the letter into his coat pocket.

  “Miss Heartstone.” He sagged, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Will you please just get to the point? I am a busy man and do not enjoy being led a merry dance.”

  She sucked in another deep breath, as if readying herself for battle.

  “I hoped this moment would never come. Please understand, I was in the middle before realizing it had begun—”