Chapter Eleven
At first Bella was too startled by the presence of not only her father but her rejected suitor, to notice the fussing of her aunts and the maid.
Until the Duke exploded, “Stand back in God’s name and let me see my daughter!”
Bella all but jumped out of her skin. As one, her aunts leapt to either side of her, Aunt Sarah bumping heads with Jenson as the maid, too, bolted for cover. Reluctantly, with inevitable dread, Bella raised her eyes to her father’s.
The Duke of Kelburn was a fierce looking man in his sixties, with a shock of white hair and white, bushy eyebrows over steely blue eyes. His nose was aristocratically long and thin, his lips thin and curving downward now with contempt.
“There’s nothing wrong with her,” he uttered in disgust. “Anyone less than an imbecile could see that right away. But my God, girl, I take leave to tell you you’re a disgrace! As for your aunts…what possessed you to allow something like that abomination in her wardrobe?”
“What, the gown?” Maria said nervously, peering more closely at Bella’s presence. “To be sure, it looked a little different the last time I saw it.”
“It got wet in the sea,” Bella admitted. “If you would just excuse me, I shall change—”
“Oh no,” her father said grimly. “You needn’t think you’re off the hook so easily! What do you mean, it got wet in the sea? How did it get into the sea?”
“Um, I’m afraid I jumped,” Bella confessed. “You see—”
“You jumped in the sea?” Aunt Maria repeated, horrified. “Where?”
“From a little boat. The gown did not like the salty water, but perhaps it will improve with rinsing. If I could just give it to Jenson…?”
“Stand still,” barked the duke, causing her to leap several inches into the air once more while he raked her over with his furious eyes. “What will Sir George think to discover you like this? Out alone without your aunts or even a maid or an escort of any kind? To return home in a cloak I wouldn’t give to my scullery maid and your gown ruined with sand and seawater!”
“I suppose that is exactly what he’ll think,” Bella murmured.
Her father’s brows snapped together. He glared at her. “Are you trying to be amusing?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” Bella said fervently. The familiar sense of panic was rising into her chest from her churning stomach and her short breaths sounded more like gasps. If only he wouldn’t shout, it would be so much easier to think, to hang on to the astonishing, vitally important thing that had happened. Surely that would provide all the courage she needed.
“Then explain yourself!” the Duke roared.
“Let the child sit down,” Aunt Maria said, guiding her to a chair. Which is when she realized her brother Sebastian was there, too, sitting beside her in full regimentals.
“Seb,” she said in surprise.
He grinned and ruffled her hair as if she were a child rather than a grown woman a year older than he. “Greetings, funny-face.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Spain.”
“Got bored with the war,” Seb said carelessly. “Decided to come home. It’s all finished anyway, bar the shouting.”
“I’ll deal with you later,” their father uttered grimly. “I’m still waiting to hear why my daughter is running loose about the town like a hoyden—an ill-dressed hoyden at that!—jumping in the sea and rolling, by the look of her, in the sand!”
“Oh dear,” Bella said. “Well…” She drew in her breath. “It began early this morning when I took a short walk, as I often do before everyone is awake. I had just left the room when one of the hotel maids gave me a note from—” She broke off, frowning at Seb with sudden anxiety, for he was her favorite brother in a careless kind of way. “You’re not wounded, are you?”
“Devil a bit,” Seb said cheerfully. “It’s healed completely.”
“Yes, but—”
“Will you stick to the point?” roared their father, making Bella start once again.
When she drew her next breath, it wheezed slightly, and she had to remind herself she was no longer afraid or ill, that she had a future with the man she suddenly loved more than life itself.
“My apologies, sir,” she managed. “I received a note from Mr. Tranter.”
The duke glared. “Tranter? Who the devil is Tranter and what is he doing sending you notes?”
“To own the truth, sir, I rather wondered that myself,” Bella admitted.
“He’s an admirer of Arabella’s,” Aunt Sarah said a trifle smugly.
Sir George sat up in his chair, as if paying attention for the first time since she’d entered the room. The duke turned his wrathful eye on Sarah who subsided into silence.
“The note asked me to meet him at Blackhaven Cove,” Bella said hastily. “It’s only fifteen minutes’ walk so I went and spoke to him and he asked me to bear a lady company while he…er…eloped with her.”
They all goggled at her. She had an inkling this truth might not be as believable to her family as she knew it to be.
“Digging yourself deeper,” Seb warned below his breath.
“What a hum!” her father said contemptuously.
“You’re entirely right, sir, it was a hum,” Bella agreed. “But he was very plausible, and I suppose I must be gullible, for I got into the boat with him and he rowed along the coast for a little. It was such a beautiful morning that I almost fell asleep and when I opened my eyes, we were much farther out and heading toward his yacht.”
“His yacht,” the duke repeated.
Bella hoped the simmering anger in his steely eyes was aimed at Tranter and not at her. “Well, it transpires he probably stole it, though he claimed it was borrowed. Whatever, his aim was to ruin me so that you, sir, would agree to a marriage between us.”
“What rot!” the duke exploded. “You are of age, girl!”
“Yes, but if you don’t agree to continue my allowances and to the release of such fortune as a I have, I would not be much use to him as a wife. At any rate, I did not want to be his wife at all, so I jumped into the sea.”
Her father regarded her with somewhat ominous fascination. “You jumped in the sea,” he repeated. “And swam ashore, perhaps?”
“Oh no, I think we were too far out by then. But Captain Alban’s ship was passing nearby and the captain jumped in and rescued me. They took me aboard The Albatross and he and his doctor looked after me, and then, when I was warm and dry, they brought me back.”
She thought it only fair to miss out the voyage up the coast and Alban’s departure in the longboat with the men and several barrels of brandy.
“Captain Alban,” His Grace repeated.
Bella lifted her chin. “Yes, sir.”
The duke exploded. “My God, girl, when I want a fairytale, I’ll read a damned book! What is the matter with you, you dim-witted, hen-brained imbecile? Did you actually believe any of us would fall for this farrago of nonsense? Or do you truly believe it yourself?” In disgust, he swung on his sisters. “I blame you for this, Maria! It’s not spa waters she needs, it’s a lunatic asylum!”
Aunt Maria bridled. “As it happens, Kelburn, we are acquainted with Captain Alban. I’m not saying it’s an advantageous acquaintance, but it’s a fact nonetheless.”
Kelburn stared at her. “What, the damned smuggler fellow? At best he’s a mere trader! At worst a damned pirate! Is that who upset Smedley’s dignity? Come, Beaton, let’s leave this madhouse until the full moon goes in.”
Bella held her breath until the door closed behind her father and Sir George, who seemed almost as dazed as Bella, and then released it in a rush.
“Oh dear,” she said shakily.
“Well, it’s your own fault,” Sebastian said, apparently amused. “You might have come up with a more believable story. Being abducted by an amorous stranger and rescued by a smuggler just ain’t you, Bella!”
“Mr. Tranter is not amorous. He’s a fortune-hunter,” Bella retorted. “And believable or not, the story has the simple merit of truth!”
“Well, I couldn’t have made it up,” Aunt Sarah said doubtfully. “Is Mr. Tranter really a fortune hunter and a villain?”
“If he’s alive…but I don’t believe the captain killed him.”
Sebastian let out a crack of laughter. “Are you actually having fun here, Bella?”
Bella couldn’t help her glance of pure mischief. “Do you know, I believe I am? But what in the world is His Grace doing here?”
“Smedley,” Aunt Maria said grimly, dismissing her lord and master with one wave of the hand. “He ran into Kelburn at Audley’s and of course spilled out a lot of nonsense about encroaching sailors turning your head.”
“But he brought Sir George! Please don’t tell me he’s still trying to persuade me marry Sir George.”
Aunt Sarah slid her gaze away. “You could do worse, Bella. Especially now that Mr. Tranter has turned out so badly. And if you’ve truly been all day on Alban’s ship, you’ll be very lucky to get another proposal of any kind.”
“I expect Beaton will bolt,” Sebastian offered with careless kindness.
“Well you needn’t say it with such satisfaction!” Aunt Sarah said indignantly. “Do you want your sister left on the shelf?”
“Yes, if the alternative’s tying her to that crusty old windbag,” Seb retorted. “You do know he bored his first two wives to death? They died in self-defense.”
Bella couldn’t help her choke of laughter, which caused Seb to grin at her as her aunts tutted in disapproval. Aunt Sarah shooed him from the room while Maria dragged Bella into her bedchamber to change, for they were to dine with His Grace and Sir George in the hotel dining room.
*
To her annoyance, Bella slept in the following morning. Totally, exhausted, she’d fallen into bed early, but the excitement of her day at sea had taken its toll and she didn’t wake until Jenson brought her some hot chocolate and a bread roll at ten o’clock. Aunt Maria, terrified that she’d caught a chill during her adventure, dosed her with more of the vile-tasting tonic she’d given her the previous evening, and refused to let her out of bed until after lunch.
As a result, Bella spent a pleasant morning in bed with her books—both Pride and Prejudice and a more obscure hand-written Scottish history that had lots of tales of her pre-union ancestors, long before they were dukes.
Of His Grace her father there had been no sign. Nor any of Sir George or Lord Sebastian, although they were all staying at the hotel. The Duke had apparently commandeered the largest suite of rooms at the top of the house, and Sir George a more modest chamber close by. But the only word they received from any of them was a scrawled note from the Duke enclosing theatre tickets for this evening—seemingly Sebastian’s idea.
“I don’t know whether Sebastian’s being here is a good thing or a bad,” Aunt Maria commented. “I thought at first it might deflect His Grace from you, but Sebastian’s latest start seems just to have made him angrier with everyone.”
“Why, what has Seb done?” Bella asked with interest.
“He says he has resigned his commission. Or will resign it, one or the other! Because his commanding officers are fools.”
Bella blinked. “Lord Wellington included?”
“No, I believe his lordship was exempted,” Maria replied scathingly. “But the question is, if he really has given up his commission, what in the world is he going to do with himself? His Grace cannot abide idleness.”
“I can’t see him in the diplomatic service like Harry,” Aunt Sarah contributed. “Or in politics like Kelburn and Monkton.”
“Then it has to be the Church,” Bella said, laughter bubbling up at the very thought of Seb giving sermons. “Go forth from this place of worship and indulge in wine, women, and idleness. Play cards! Fight! The good Lord put us here to enjoy life!”
“Bella!” exclaimed both her aunts, scandalized.
“Not the Church, then,” Bella agreed.
Still, in spite of her jesting, she did worry about Sebastian, in between bouts of longing for Alban to visit and remembering everything he’d said to her, every touch, every kiss.
After luncheon, she was reluctant to go out, in case she missed him. But in the end, she gave in and accompanied her aunts to the pump room. After all, she was as likely to see him in the town as elsewhere. In fact, remembering, she found herself peering at the coffee shop opposite as they left the hotel.
*
In the wake of several of his most villainous crew, Alban strolled from the harbor toward the tavern.
Since his men were restive stuck on board with very little to do, he’d released them in relays into Blackhaven, with the warning that if anyone got into trouble he’d leave them to rot in prison. He didn’t want them to think he was growing soft, because he was pretty sure they understood the reason they were anchored here for so long.
Alban wasn’t so sure he understood it. At times, he found himself terrified by the speed of this feeling for Bella, and the strength of his will to act on it, to have her as his own. For in truth, she was not the type of woman he was usually drawn to—sophisticated, independent females who understood that the game of love wasn’t really love at all. In fact, it was strictly temporary.
Bella didn’t understand that in the least. Or the inevitability of his letting her down. And yet she expected nothing of him, was only just beginning to understand her own attractions. And so, he set wheels in motion to clear his path to her, to a name and a home. And God help him, he liked the idea of her greeting him there on his return from sea. Almost as much as he liked the idea of her voyaging with him.
Occasionally, he wondered what the devil he would do with her when he was bored with her. But somehow, he could never imagine that. There might come a time when he didn’t burn for her as he did now, but she would always be his friend, quirky, intelligent, understanding, with her own unique perception the world. She would always be…fun.
He guessed her family’s bullying disparagement and her own lack of confidence had prevented some people, some men in particular, from seeing the gem within. And he was only too aware of the dangers to his own cause of breaking down those barriers and encouraging her to shine. He’d seen the way Lord Tamar and several other men looked at her at the Grants’ soiree. Even Tranter, he suspected, wasn’t motivated entirely by money in his pursuit of her.
But the truth was, she’d dragged him from his blinkered, narrow view of life where he only looked after himself, his men, and his business. For the first time that he could remember in his adult life, he wanted to make someone happy. And he wanted it with a force that scared him. Even more astonishing, he’d begun to glimpse his own happiness, and not just in the odd moments he was with her.
He paused, one foot on the tavern step. He should sail with the evening tide and come back in six months or a year…
And find her married to someone else. Or, hurt by his neglect, retreated back into her shell of crushed misery.
She loved him for some reason. Him. And she wasn’t the sort of woman who loved easily.
Alban spun on his heel, away from the tavern, narrowly missing a fisherman who cursed him instinctively and then relapsed into wary silence when he recognized him. Alban barely noticed. He strode away in the direction of the hotel. She might deserve better than him, but by God, it was him she was going to have.
From habit, he cast a quick glance around the busy hotel foyer, but recognizing no one among the wealthy and fashionable, or among the staff carrying bags and portmanteaux, he went straight to the reception desk and asked for Lady Arabella Niven.
“Her ladyship has stepped out, sir,” the clerk returned.
He had no right to be either disappointed or irritated. Besides, there were a limited number of places he was likely to find her.
“Very well,” he said to the clerk. “I’ll call again later on.” He swung away and found himself face to face with a haughty, white-haired man of perhaps late middle years.
“May I enquire, sir, as to your business with Lady Arabella?” this personage said coldly. Hovering behind him was a young man in military uniform.
“No,” Alban said, “you may not.”
The older gentleman blinked in surprise, as if unused to being denied. An unpleasant suspicion slid into Alban’s mind. He looked more closely.
“It is a civil question!” the gentleman barked. “What is your name?”
“Alban. What is yours?”
The officer behind him folded his arms and grinned a trifle wolfishly. The old gentleman scowled. “Kelburn,” he growled.
It had been twelve years since he’d laid eyes on this man. Twelve years during which his features had got lost in Alban’s mind, in a welter of fury and hatred and contempt. And then in indifference. Quite clearly, the Duke of Kelburn still didn’t recognize him.
Alban tipped his hat. “I thought so,” he said, and he walked on.
“And that’s the last we’ll see of him,” Kelburn said with satisfaction.
Alban’s lips twisted. You couldn’t be more wrong.
*
As Bella emerged from her bedchamber into the sitting room, her father looked her up and down and grunted. Then he scowled. “What are those ridiculous things on your face? Get them off.”
He was her father. Wordlessly, Bella took off her spectacles. Aunt Sarah, who now had an ally in this particular fight, held out her hand to receive them. Bella pretended not to see and tucked them away in her own reticule before raising her now somewhat blurry gaze to her father’s face.
“You’ll do,” he said grudgingly. “Beaton will meet us in the foyer. Mercifully, he seems prepared to overlook yesterday’s behavior. If nothing else proves his good nature and his regard for you, that does. Because I haven’t forgiven or forgotten.”
Bella opened her mouth to point out that whatever Sir George’s regard she still did not and could not return it. But the duke turned away, striding toward the passage door.
“I’m a busy man,” he pointed out. “I want this business concluded by midday tomorrow so that I can return to London.”
“What business, sir?” Bella asked in dismay.
“Don’t give me that innocent look,” her father said disgustedly, standing aside for the ladies to precede him out of the open door. “You know exactly what I mean, and this time, you’ll do the right thing and accept him.”
“I can’t,” Bella said determinedly over her shoulder. “I accepted another offer yesterday.”
To her surprise, her father laughed, a sound of cruelty and anger that wasn’t necessarily aimed at her. “You can forget that. I’ve taken care of it.”
The blood rushed from Bella’s face so suddenly that she halted. The duke brushed past her, impatiently giving Aunt Maria his arm.
“What have you done?” It came out as little more than a whisper which her father had little hope of hearing.
Sebastian caught her elbow and dragged her forward. “Was it Alban?” he murmured in her ear.
Bella nodded mutely, staring at him.
“We met him in the foyer,” Sebastian said under his breath. “Asking for you. His Grace sent him about his business.”
Bella blinked, unable to quite imagine that.
Sebastian’s lips twitched. “That is, when he heard you weren’t in the hotel, he left. With His Grace’s verbal boot up his rear. If he noticed. What’s going on, Bella? You can’t really marry such a fellow, you know, however much you might like him. You must know he’s encroaching, fortune-hunting, and Lord knows what else.”
“Must I?” Bella said harshly, and tugged free of her brother to walk downstairs alone.
This turned out to be a mistake, for once they reached the foyer, the duke barked at Sebastian to escort his aunt, leaving Sir George Beaton to offer Bella his arm. And in all civility, she could not refuse.
They walked out of the hotel in silence, since Bella was furious at such treatment of Alban. Even if His Grace had no idea who he actually was, that was no excuse for such rudeness. Or such high-handed dismissal of her rights and wishes.
But then, she had never given them any idea that she would stand up for herself. Until even her refusal of Sir George Beaton was not taken seriously. Instead, they seemed to imagine it was something her father could reverse with a little more bullying from him and a little more perseverance from Sir George. And no doubt, that’s what His Grace had told the poor man, which made him almost as much a victim as she was.
“I am glad of this opportunity to speak to you, Lady Arabella,” Sir George said at last, as they walked along the darkening High Street. “I want to say I am very sorry for your trouble.”
“What trouble?” Bella asked, bewildered.
“Your trouble yesterday. With fortune hunters and the like.”
Bella gave a slightly twisted smile. “My brush with fiction? Or the lunatic asylum?”
“I’m sure the Duke believed you as soon as he had time to think about it,” Sir George said hastily.
Bella drew in her breath. “Sir George, I have to tell you that I—”
“Have you been to the theatre here before?” His Grace’s voice boomed. “Is it any good?”
It wasn’t something she could shout over the voices of her father and aunts, so she closed her mouth and bided her time.