Chapter Twelve
When they were shown to their box at the theatre, she could see her father’s wiles at work at once. He arranged the seating, with Bella and Sir George at the front of the box, her aunts and Sebastian just behind, and himself at the back where he could snooze his way through the play. In this way she would be seen in Sir George’s company, rumors of the engagement would no doubt start up again and Bella would presumably realize the futility of going against her father, the rest of her family, Sir George, and the world. He really thought she would be crushed into it because there wasn’t any other option.
But even before Alban, that would never have happened. He’d never understood her any more than she understood him. Even as a child, she’d regarded him as little more than a stranger who occasionally breezed into her life, found fault—loudly—and left again. When he’d spent any time at home, she’d avoided him because he shouted too much. She understood now that the shouting didn’t necessarily betoken anger, but still it caused a dread in her she could never shake off.
She took her place obediently and, without fuss, put on her spectacles. She hadn’t yet attended the theatre in Blackhaven, so she gazed with interest at the blue and gold paint and the plush blue curtains and seating. Of course, compared with London theatres, this was a small one, the boxes fewer and less spacious. But she suspected the same rule would apply, that the audience would pay more attention to each other than to the play.
Certainly, there were more interested stares and glances cast at her box than she was entirely comfortable with, though this could have been due to the presence of the duke himself. A few people bowed to her from other boxes, including Kate Grant. Bella dutifully inclined her head in return. Since no one seemed to be cutting her, she assumed her adventures of yesterday were not yet the subject of gossip.
“You have friends here,” Sir George observed.
“A few acquaintances,” Bella allowed, sweeping her eyes over the audience pit below. The eccentric Lord Tamar sat there in a torn coat. For once, his attention did not appear to be on Bella but on someone approaching from the entrance below the Kelburn box.
Her heart lurched, for Captain Alban made his way through the mixed, milling crowd and appeared to exchange greetings with Lord Tamar. As always, he attracted attention of which he seemed either unaware or utterly uninterested. From the row in front a group of young townswomen gazed at him with awe. When he glanced in their direction, the boldest one smiled and batted her eyelashes. He didn’t appear to notice that either, for he simply dropped into the seat beside the artist and gazed about him, acknowledging boisterous greetings with brisk nods.
Did he know she was here? Was that why he’d come? Had her father’s intervention made any difference to him?
His gaze lifted to the rows of boxes. He inclined his head a few times, once to Kate, before his gaze moved on in her direction. Her breath caught.
“Who is that man?” Sir George asked.
Alban’s gaze connected with hers. His eyebrow twitched and he inclined his head as though she were no more and no less than anyone else. And then the moment passed as Lord Tamar attracted his attention.
Bella swallowed. “Captain Alban,” she replied. And Sir George leaned out of the box to see better.
It was stupid to feel hurt or slighted. Of course he would not single her out in this company.
It was a kind of torture to sit through the comedy that that formed the first part of the evening’s performance. Bella, who normally liked to lose herself in the play, could not concentrate on it. She sat on the edge of her seat lest Sir George spoke about marriage. It would be so much better for his pride if Bella didn’t have to refuse him again. Really, His Grace had put them all in an intolerable position. And then she longed for Alban’s presence, the reassurance of his company. How could the same man churn her up and soothe her at the same time?
Fortunately, Sir George seemed to feel all the awkwardness of proposing in public and sat for the most part in silence. After the comedy came an interval, during which she dreaded being invited by Sir George to take a turn along the corridors before the tragedy.
Sebastian said abruptly, “Kate Crowmore! That’s who she is! I’ve been trying to place her all evening.”
“Kate Grant,” Bella corrected. “She is married to the vicar of the local church.”
Sebastian laughed. “Kate Crowmore, a vicar’s wife? You’re humming me.”
“No, I assure you it’s perfectly true.”
Sebastian stood up. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just pop along to her box and pay my respects.”
“I’ll come with you,” Bella said at once.
“Arabella, we have guests of our own,” Aunt Sarah reminded her, with a quick glance at Sir George and then at the duke, who’d nodded off.
“We won’t be long,” Bella said hastily, and seizing her brother’s reluctant arm, all but fell out of the box with him.
“Bella, what the deuce?” he demanded. “Never tell me you’re thick with Kate Crowmore for I won’t believe you.”
“Actually, I like her much better than I used to. And besides, you know perfectly well I’m avoiding Sir—”
“Well, I can’t say I blame you for that,” Sebastian allowed, “but in this particular case, you might just have to give in to the inevitable.”
“Would you?” she retorted.
“Sir George and I really wouldn’t suit.”
“You know what I mean. Shouldn’t it be inevitable that you stay in the army until you’re at least a colonel, if not a general?”
Sebastian cast her a harassed glance. “You can win all the arguments, Bella, but you’ll still end up Lady Beaton. Ah, here’s Kate…”
“Lady Bella!” Kate greeted her. “Come in and let me introduce my good friends, Dr. and Mrs. Lampton. Lady Arabella Niven and…Good Lord, is that you, Seb? Captain Lord Sebastian Niven, I should say—unless you’ve been promoted again since last I heard?”
“Why no,” Sebastian declaimed, hand on heart. “As soon as I heard you were free, I gave up my commission to come home and marry you and now I hear you’ve married another! Lady C, you’ve broken my heart all over again.”
“I happen to know for a fact you don’t have a heart,” Kate retorted. “Come and sit down and tell us what you’ve been doing!”
Since Sebastian’s dramatic greeting had somewhat overpowered her civilized introduction to the Lamptons, Bella stepped aside and made to close the curtain between the box and the passage. She didn’t want any of her family to find her too easily if they came looking. One hand on the curtain, she cast a quick glance into the corridor, which was blessedly empty, apart from one man striding along it.
She doubted she even needed her spectacles to recognize Alban anymore. His straight carriage and quick, rolling walk, no doubt from too many years spent on board ship, were quite distinctive. From pure instinct, she stepped out into the passage and closed the curtain on the box. And then she ran to him.
He caught her in his arms at once, pressing his rough cheek hard to hers before he turned and found her mouth. With abandon, she flung both arms around his neck and kissed him back.
“Was my father appallingly rude to you?” she demanded when she could speak.
He shrugged. “No more than I to him. In a civilized way. I think he was warning me off. I hear you’re going to marry someone else.”
“I hear that, too, but I never listen to gossip. I’ll tell him who you are and he might—” He cut her off with another kiss, strong and sensual.
“I don’t care,” he said against her lips.
A faint movement behind froze her.
Sebastian’s voice drawled, “Not sure you should be doing that with my sister. Damned sure you shouldn’t be doing it in a public place.”
Unhurriedly, while Bella cringed, Alban raised his head and released her, although he drew her hand through his arm.
“Captain Alban,” Bella murmured nervously. “My brother, Lord Sebastian Niven.”
“I’m going to marry her,” Alban said quietly. The words thrilled through her. She still couldn’t believe her sudden good fortune.
Sebastian narrowed his eyes, casting a quick glance up the passage where several people were spilling out of a box. “Maybe that’s something we should discuss in private.”
“Maybe,” Alban said steadily.
“Bella, you’d better go back in to Kate. If His Grace wakes up and finds you’ve bolted—”
“You won’t quarrel, will you?” Bella asked, looking anxiously from Alban to her brother.
“No,” Alban said, urging her back toward Kate’s box. “I’ll join you in a few moments.”
*
Faced with the military young gentleman who’d accompanied the Duke of Kelburn this morning, Alban was surprised to receive as much civility as he did. Intrigued, he followed Lord Sebastian into an empty box, and drew the curtain.
“I suppose I should knock your teeth out,” his lordship observed.
“You could try,” Alban allowed.
“I could. But for Bella’s sake, I thought I’d begin with the peaceful approach.”
“Which is?” Alban inquired, taking a seat in the middle of the room, far enough back for his voice not to penetrate the adjacent boxes too easily.
“To point out,” Lord Sebastian said carefully, “that most of Bella’s fortune is dependent on my father’s releasing it. If you marry her, I can’t say you won’t get a penny, but you won’t get much more than that.”
Alban shrugged. “I don’t care. At the risk of sounding vulgar, I have enough money for both of us.”
“My father will cut her off,” Sebastian insisted, as though Alban had not perfectly understood.
“I think that would be an excellent idea. The whole parcel of them makes her ill.”
Lord Sebastian blinked. “They shout,” he allowed. “Damn it, I shout myself. But they care.”
Alban met his gaze. “Your aunts might but they understand nothing about her. Your father wants to push her into marriage against her will, with a man more than twice her—who possesses, moreover, eyes like a fish. Or so I am reliably informed. All this just for her father’s own political ends. Or financial ones. I neither know nor care which. None of you seems to imagine she has any value without a husband.”
Lord Sebastian clearly didn’t like that. “Unlike you?” he retorted. “Or do you fancy yourself her champion?” He sneered. “A man of your …profession?”
“My profession is neither here nor there. And no, I’m not her champion. She doesn’t need one. She’s stronger than any of them gives her credit for. And she wants to marry me.”
At some point during this last speech, Sebastian’s expression changed. It might have been when Alban mentioned Bella’s strength.
The young lord’s lips actually curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. “Maybe she does, at that. And maybe you’re just what she needs. But if you’re not, if you hurt one hair of her head—or her heart—I’ll find you and kill you.”
Alban stood. “Finally. A Niven man worth talking to,” he said, and walked out.
As expected, he discovered Bella with Mrs. Grant and a couple he didn’t know. More surprising was the fact that Lord Sebastian followed him in without showing any signs of wishing to punch him. In fact, he seemed more concerned with flirting with the beautiful Mrs. Grant.
Since the curtain came up shortly afterward, Bella was easily persuaded to stay until the next interval. Alban sat beside her, although the opportunity for private discussion was not great.
Under her breath, Bella murmured, “My father brought Sir George to renew his offer for me.”
“I’ll call on your father tomorrow morning,” Alban said abruptly. “But I’m going to fetch the children from Roseley first. Just in case we have to sail.”
“Sail?” she said startled. “Sail where?”
He shrugged. “Wherever we can find someone to marry us. I won’t have you facing the condemnation of the self-righteous and the unimaginative.”
“Such things don’t bother me,” she said, with such carelessness that he knew it was the truth.
“They bother me.”
She searched his eyes. “What did you say to Seb?”
“That I would marry you.”
She flushed adorably. “What did Seb say?”
Alban shrugged. “I don’t think the words matter. It sounded like a mixture of threat and approval. With threat looming larger in the mix.”
“He’s quite handy with his fists,” Bella warned. “And with weapons.”
“So am I,” Alban said sardonically. “But so long as neither of us hurts you, I believe we are both safe.”
It broke his heart that she seemed surprised either he her own brother would care for her that much.
At the next interval, Bella and Sebastian returned to their own box. Giving in to Bella’s dislike of confrontation, Alban did not accompany them. Instead, he bade farewell to Mrs. Grant and her other guests in order to return to his seat in the pit beside the odd but entertaining Lord Tamar.
Mrs. Grant stood to give him her hand. “Thank you for coming to see me! Whatever your motive.”
“Pure pleasure,” Alban said at once.
“Mixed with care, I trust,” Mrs. Grant returned steadily. “Lady Arabella has more friends than she realizes.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” Alban said, and meant it.
*
For Bella, it was all going too well. She’d seen Alban and had managed to get through the evening without Sir George re-offering her marriage. And tomorrow, tomorrow the matter would be concluded once and for all. She didn’t look forward to the confrontation that would inevitably entail, but she was prepared for it. To be with Alban. Her happiness seemed to form a little bubble around her, fostering the foolish belief that nothing now could go wrong.
The first unease to pierce her bubble was as they crossed the hotel foyer that night and a vaguely familiar man stopped and bowed to them, waiting patiently for them to precede him up the staircase. The man’s presence was so unexpected that it took a moment for his identity to register with her. Thomas Waine, the duke’s chaplain.
“What is he doing here?” she muttered to Sebastian. “Did he travel up with you?”
“Yes,” Sebastian replied. “And why do you think?”
There was a brief pause, while they exchanged goodnights with Sir George and then everyone except the chaplain walked along the passage to the suite of rooms she shared with her aunts.
Bella seized her brother’s arm and held him back as the others entered. “Seb, has His Grace brought a special license with him?”
Sebastian nodded. “He’s pretty determined, Bella,” he said ruefully. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to make a stand for what you want. If you want Alban, you’ll have to fight for him. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe the fellow means you any harm. In fact, I almost like him. But the safest bet is undeniably Beaton.”
“He doesn’t make me feel safe,” she said in small voice.
“And Alban does?” he asked incredulously.
A smile she couldn’t prevent flickered across her lips. “Yes. But it’s more than that. Much more.”
Sebastian raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll back you up, Bella, but you’ll have to tell him.”
“I will,” she said, giving his arm a quick squeeze before she released him and walked into the sitting room, where her father and her aunts were all seated facing her. She had no time to read her aunts’ expressions, for the duke’s face was so thunderous she knew she was about to be verbally annihilated. At the very least.
She stopped in her tracks, pulling ineffectually at her gloves.
“Answer me this,” her father began with deceptive calm. “Did you sneak off tonight to meet that Alban fellow who’s been sniffing around you?”
Bella bridled at this description. “No,” she said truthfully. “Although in fact, that was what happened. He too visited Mrs. Grant’s box.”
“And I suppose you took no account at all of Beaton’s feelings?”
“None,” Bella admitted. “Although I managed to prevent him proposing to me again.”
“Ha!” the duke barked in triumph. “He doesn’t need to propose again. I have already accepted him.”
“Then I wish you both very happy,” Bella blurted before she could bite her unruly tongue.
Appalled, she stared at her father who, however, seemed to have too many grievances against her to even take that one in. It was Seb who sniggered and her aunts who stared at her aghast.
“Happy?” he exploded. “How can any of us be happy when you have so clearly lost your mind? To say nothing of your duty! Without any concern for your name or your family, you are trying to drag us all into the mud. Well, I won’t have it, d’you hear? Tomorrow at midday, you will marry Sir George Beaton, here in this room by special license. Waine will perform the marriage and after that, I wash my hands of you. You’ll be Beaton’s concern, not mine.”
It didn’t seem worth pointing out that she’d never truly been any concern of his at all. None of his children had been except in so far as they could be useful to him. His sons were all fine, strong men with bright futures, especially Monkton, the eldest, guaranteed to reflect well on their proud father. Likewise, her younger sisters had all made splendid matches, bringing land and influence to Kelburn’s already overwhelming collection. Only Bella had failed in that respect. Or at least he thought she had.
“I can’t marry Sir George Beaton,” she said firmly. “I have promised my hand to another, who as—”
“A damned, nameless pirate!” her father exploded.
“He is neither,” Bella said earnestly. “Papa, I’m very aware this is not the match you would ever have chosen for me. But please understand Captain Alban is a gentleman and, moreover, quite wealthy in his own right. You see, Alban isn’t his real surname. It’s his Christian name.”
Finally, she’d caught his attention. And everyone else’s. “Not his real surname?” the duke repeated. “Then what the deuce is?”
“Lamont,” Bella answered. “He is the Honorable Alban Lamont, brother of the late Lord Roseley.”
Her father’s jaw went slack with something very like shock. Everyone stared at her with varying degrees of disbelief and consternation.
“You didn’t recognize him,” Bella guessed. “But he knew you.”
“I didn’t know he was still alive,” the duke said. “They couldn’t find him when his father died…” The old burning ferocity broke through the temporary distance in his eyes. “So, he was Alban all along. And this man just happened to find you out of all the women in Blackhaven, so irresistible that he must have you as his wife. Maybe. And you fell for it?”
The contempt in his voice cut her, but more than that, there was something she wasn’t seeing, something that was so obvious to him she deserved to be reviled for her blindness.
“Fell for what? Captain Alban—Mr. Lamont—is an honorable man.”
The duke laughed mirthlessly. “Honorable! I doubt he ever meant marriage, unless it was to diddle you out of your money and run! He believes I ruined him when he was a very young man, and I could see in his eyes even then that he’d never forgive me. And he never has. You stupid, gullible old maid, you are his means of revenge!”