Chapter Four
“Captain Alban?” Aunt Maria hissed furiously. “How on earth did you meet such a man? Let alone get on such terms with him!”
“I went out for a walk yesterday and encountered him…near the harbor,” Bella said as vaguely as she could. She was trying not to watch his receding back. “He was quite kind, I assure you.”
“I’m certain he was!” Uncle Smedley all but exploded. “The Duke of Kelburn’s daughter had just walked straight into his trap!”
Bella couldn’t help her spurt of laughter. “Oh, it was nothing like that, I assure you. He didn’t know my name any more than I knew his.”
“You are an innocent,” Uncle Smedley said with contempt. “A naive and foolish girl. You will have nothing more to do with him.”
“You’re probably right about that, Smedley,” Aunt Sarah said, bustling over to join them. “But you needn’t scold her, for I believe this has worked out for the best.”
The Smedleys stared at her. “Even you could not wish such a suitor on our niece!” Aunt Maria exclaimed.
“Good gracious, of course not. But since she danced with Captain Alban, I’ve had two gentleman approach me to ask for introductions to her!”
Aunt Maria frowned, exchanging glances with both her husband and her sister. Mercifully, they all seemed to have forgotten Bella’s presence.
“Why should they do that now?” Aunt Maria wondered.
Sarah waved her fan, enjoying her moment of worldly wisdom. “Either because Alban’s distinguished her—he’s spoken to no other lady so far—and this has given her some cachet. Or because she was comfortable enough with him to smile. You might have noticed she was much more animated dancing with him that any other point in the evening so far.”
“Oh, we noticed,” Smedley said grimly.
“Well, stop being so foolish about it then,” Aunt Sarah snapped. “The reasons scarcely matter. Some men just have that knack of making ladies comfortable, of bringing out the best in their companions. The man must have charisma. And I’m sure Bella’s much too sensible to like him beyond that. Or to read anything else into his attentions. If he has imparted some confidence to her, I for one am grateful.”
Desperately, Bella looked around for a distraction from their unbearable conversation. She just hoped no one else could hear it. Unexpectedly, she caught the gaze of an extraordinarily beautiful woman in a gorgeous, dusky pink gown, who smiled at her and came instantly toward her.
“Lady Arabella,” the lady greeted her. “We have met, so I hope you’ll excuse my accosting you uninvited.”
“Of course,” Bella murmured, trying to place her. One didn’t forget such beauty. “Lady Crowmore,” she said in surprise.
Miss Kate Mere had been one of several debutantes who had quite eclipsed Bella during her first London season. She’d married Lord Crowmore almost immediately and speedily become the rage of the ton: beautiful, witty, and just on the verge of scandalous. If Bella had indeed met her, it couldn’t have been more than once.
“Mrs. Grant, these days,” the beauty said now, with a pride Bella was at a loss to account for. “I married the vicar.”
“Truly?” Bella said breathlessly.
Mrs. Grant smiled and sat in the vacant seat beside her. “Go ahead and laugh.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Bella assured her. “Is Mr. Grant here, too?”
“Yes, and I shall be glad to present him to you. But do tell, Lady Arabella, how do you know Captain Alban? What can you give us to feed the legend?”
“Nothing,” Bella said in surprise. “I met him by accident yesterday and had no idea who he was.”
“And is he charming? Fierce and romantic? Or a bit of a clod with nothing to talk about except the sea?”
“Oh no,” Bella replied, then shifted uncomfortably. “That is, he is hardly a chatterer, but he is funny—”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Grant approved. “Then I rely upon you for an introduction.”
Since Bella’s aunts and uncle had ceased their heated debate, the surprising Mrs. Grant greeted them civilly and invited them to call at the vicarage.
“Vicarage?” Aunt Maria said, staring after her. “Kate Crowmore?”
“Kate Grant,” Bella corrected. “She married the vicar.”
*
By the supper dance, Bella had already danced with a Major Doverton who commanded the local barracks, and sat out another with a scholarly young widower who was taking the waters to improve frequent headaches. Bella endured both these ordeals rather better than usual, probably because they had chosen to speak to her.
Mr. Tranter, the unthreatening gentleman with the sick mother, came to claim his supper dance without any outward signs of coercion.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked her. “Or shall we take a turn around the ballroom?”
Bella chose the latter. As they strolled, Mr. Tranter kept up an amusing commentary on the people they passed, and then asked her what she liked to read.
Bella stared at him in amazement. Such a question was so far from the normal small-talk of gentlemen to unmarried ladies, that she was temporarily stunned.
“Your aunt told me you were bookish,” he said apologetically.
“She did?” It seemed very unlike Aunt Sarah to scupper Bella’s chances with such an admission, but Mr. Tranter did seem to be the kind of man to whom one confided the truth—and the kind of man who did not object to a lady with more than two thoughts to rub together.
“Have you discovered the circulating library, yet?” he asked.
“What, here in Blackhaven?”
“Oh yes. It is just behind High Street. I would be happy to escort you and your aunts there, if you wish.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind,” Bella murmured, just as her heart gave a sudden bump.
The unmistakable figure of Captain Alban was emerging from the card room door, ushering before him the beautiful Mrs. Grant. She had the most devastating smile imaginable and it was directed straight at the captain. Bella could imagine all too easily his straight-faced amusement, and something inside her began to hurt so much that she pressed her free hand into her body.
I’m jealous, she thought, stunned. Jealous of a stranger’s attention to a married woman. Which was absolutely pointless. There never had been and never would be any contest between Bella and Kate Grant. She didn’t want there to be. She just wanted to be…different to Alban.
Another two men followed him out of the room before Bella dragged her gaze free.
“Does he bother you?” Mr. Tranter asked, low.
“Who?”
“Captain Alban.”
“Of course not.”
“I only ask, because I saw you with him earlier.” He seemed to hesitate. “Such a man may not know what is quite proper in polite society.”
“I think he knows,” Bella murmured. “I think he just doesn’t care.”
“Lady Arabella,” came Kate Grant’s distinctively lazy yet captivating voice. “Will you allow me to present my husband?”
Mr. Tranter made a quick movement, as though to encourage her onward, to pretend not to hear. But she’d already paused and now she turned deliberately to face Kate, Alban and the other two men. One of those was a thin, pale gentleman. The other, taller and more handsome, looked as if his leanness came from exercise rather than ill health. It was to this second gentleman that Kate gestured.
“My husband, Tristram Grant. And Mr. Conway. Gentlemen, Lady Arabella Niven.”
Both gentlemen bowed to her, but as she gazed with some curiosity at the young vicar Kate had married, Bella was more conscious of Alban’s gaze than of anything else. Somehow, it made her feel better that Kate’s husband was present.
Remembering her manners, she introduced Mr. Tranter, who seemed to be already known to both the Grants and Mr. Conway. She thought their manner rather cool.
“Shall we all go into supper together?” Kate suggested.
From his tension, Bella knew Mr. Tranter was annoyed. He didn’t want other company, which was flattering. Bella wasn’t sure she did either. Kate was not someone she was ever likely to be comfortable with. She didn’t even know if Alban and Conway were included in the invitation. But as the Grants led the way toward the supper room, she and Mr. Tranter could do nothing but follow.
“We don’t have to sit with them,” Tranter murmured. “You must choose.”
During Bella’s miserable London seasons, she doubted Kate ever noticed her. So she was surprised when the Grants kept to the plan and sat down with her and Mr. Tranter. Fortunately, Mr. Grant, who sat beside Bella and opposite his wife, was a likeable man and conversed with easy charm. Even more surprising was the banter which passed between the couple. It seemed Kate was not really anything like Bella had imagined.
As she picked at her food, which Mr. Tranter had kindly chosen for her, Alban and Mr. Conway joined them, sitting opposite Bella and Mr. Tranter.
Mr. Tranter sat back, curling his lip as though he expected Alban to eat with his fingers, or even straight off the plate. “So, Mr. Conway,” he said. “Are you a native of Blackhaven?”
“No, sir, though I don’t live so far away either. Like so many, I came for the waters.”
“And do you find them beneficial?”
“I feel much better than I did when I arrived,” Mr. Conway allowed.
“As does my mother,” Mr. Tranter agreed.
“There’s no science in it,” Alban said abruptly. “What makes you feel better is merely fresh air and relaxation.”
“My friend, the town’s physician, is of the same opinion,” Mr. Grant said. “He is a man who needs evidence.”
Alban cast him a challenging look. “Unlike the clergy.”
Grant smiled good-naturedly. “I have enough evidence for my beliefs.”
“So do I.” Alban raised his glass.
“I must introduce you to my friend, Dr. Lampton,” Grant remarked. “You would get on famously.”
“Do you stay long in Blackhaven, Captain?” Kate asked.
“Just until my ship is repaired.”
“Then I shall send you a card to our soiree,” Kate said.
Alban glanced at her, clearly about to refuse without inhibition. But before he could speak, Mr. Conway said smoothly, “You can reach him at my house on Harbor View.”
“Ah! Then you are old friends?” Kate said, clearly eager for more information.
“No,” Alban said. “I never liked him.” Without warning, his gaze came back to rest on Bella’s face, intense, unsmiling, and yet curiously intimate, inviting her to share the joke. It deprived her of breath.
“The feeling is mutual,” Mr. Conway retorted. “And you, Lady Arabella, are you in Blackhaven with your family?”
“Just two of my aunts,” she managed, forcing her attention away from Alban. “And an uncle for a day or so. I don’t believe the hotel is big enough to take all of us.”
Kate laughed. “I don’t think Blackhaven itself is big enough for your brothers! Apart from Lord Monkton, of course.”
“Apart from Monkton,” Bella agreed. Since her eldest brother had gone into politics like their father, he had become quite staid. Not to say self-righteous. He had scolded her at least as much as their father for refusing Sir George Beaton.
“Where is your home, Mr. Conway?” Kate asked. She had the enviable knack of making small talk sound interesting.
“A good three hours’ drive from Blackhaven,” Mr. Conway replied. “Wayfare House, near Roseley.”
“Ah, I don’t believe I’ve ventured so far, yet.” Kate frowned. “But the name Roseley sounds familiar. Why is that?”
It was familiar to Bella, too. Lord Roseley was the absentee owner of Powmill, near the family home at Kelburn. And then, she had a distant recollection of a very brief meeting with a Lady Roseley in London, before Aunt Maria had dragged her away to meet some dreary heir. Not that she could recall the lady’s face since it had been mostly a myopic blur.
“Perhaps you were acquainted with the late Lord Roseley,” Mr. Conway said. “Or with Lady Roseley.”
“Yes, I believe I am, slightly,” Kate agreed, apparently pleased to have recalled. “Was there not some scandal in the family? A rebellious younger son forced to flee the law?”
“Something like that,” Mr. Conway said evenly, although he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But I believe it all happened in Scotland.” For some reason his gaze settled on Bella. “Your family also has land in Scotland, I believe?”
Alban turned his head and looked at Mr. Conway. Bella found his face unreadable. Did he know she was the Duke of Kelburn’s daughter? She’d given herself no title, no surname. Would it make any difference to him?
And why did she care so much?
Bella took some food onto her fork. “Yes. Kelburn, in the Scottish Borders.” She let the food slide off her fork again, for she had no appetite. “I’ve lived there mostly, although we also spend a lot of time at the estate in Sussex.”
“I attended a ball in Sussex quite recently,” Kate said to her. “About a year ago. You must have been there, too.”
“Oh no, I was in Kelburn by then.” Bella laid down her fork to avoid mangling the food any further.
Alban leaned forward, pushing a glass of sparkling wine across the table to her.
She took it, glancing up at him with a spontaneous smile.
He inclined his head with a hint of irony and stood up. “Please excuse me.” With a slight bow to herself and to Kate, he turned and strolled away.
“Well,” Mr. Tranter said into the astonished silence. “I suppose he isn’t used to polite society.”
“He is something of a free spirit,” Mr. Conway allowed.
“He’s not what I expected,” Kate observed.
“What, were you hoping for a roistering Viking?” her husband inquired.
Kate raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure that’s why he’s left us, to go a-roistering. Assembly balls are too tame for…” She broke off.
“Pirates?” Mr. Conway suggested, just a little dangerously.
“Traders,” Bella said, and sipped her champagne.
To her surprise, everyone laughed.
*
It came as something of a shock to Bella to realize she was almost enjoying herself. After supper, she spent some time with Kate and her husband, who turned out to be both funny and well-read. But if she hoped for any further encounter with Alban, she was disappointed. She wondered if he’d left the ball as soon as he left the supper table, but she refused to ask anyone.
With her poor eyesight, he could have been sitting on the other side of the room and she would have had little chance of seeing him. And with the understanding of his departure, the excitement seeped away from her evening of unexpected fun.
When she returned to her family, she barely heard Uncle Smedley’s denunciation of Kate’s lifestyle and morals. She thought it had been going on for some time before she finally noticed and stared at him. “Uncle, she’s married to the vicar.”
Smedley blinked in surprise. “I don’t appreciate your tone, young lady,” he blustered.
“No,” Bella agreed. “I don’t suppose you do. Excuse me.” She stood up.
“Where are you going?” Aunt Maria demanded.
“To the cloakroom. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
As she hurried from the ballroom and across the foyer to the ladies’ cloakroom, which was located close to the front door, relief washed over her. She’d enjoyed supper and her time with Kate, but her family made her feel smothered with constant disapproval. And she’d grown tired of always either agreeing or keeping quiet for fear of offending.
Fortunately, the cloakroom itself was quiet. A lady and her daughter were just leaving and curtseyed politely to her. She sank down on the bench where she’d changed her shoes and thought quite seriously about putting her outdoor shoes back on again and simply walking back to the hotel. She could send a message in to her aunts.
She sighed. Such behavior would only lead to a massive scold, which was scarcely worth the trouble for such a tiny gain. Somewhere, though, she was growing aware she would need to assert herself to make her life tolerable. And she would begin tomorrow by going to look at the cottage she’d inquired about this afternoon.
After a few deep breaths, she stood and brushed down her too-fussy gown. Glancing in the looking glass, she saw that the curl was already unravelling in her hair. She gave the loose parts a quick rake with her fingers to help the process along, then guiltily made her way to the door.
The foyer was empty, apart from a man about to leave the building. He paused, his hand on the front door, and her heart lurched, for it looked very like Alban.
“Lady Bella,” he said, releasing the door.
She took a step nearer him, mainly to make sure it was truly him. “I thought you’d gone already. Are you going back to your ship?”
His lips twisted. “No, I’m going to get vilely drunk. Would you like to come?”
“I’m a poor drinking companion,” she replied apologetically. “I’ve already had two glasses of champagne. One more and I shall fall asleep.”
Rueful amusement softened his hard eyes. “You’re not even offended, are you?”
“No. But I won’t come.”
“No. But then, even I wouldn’t really have taken you to the tavern.” His tone was sardonic, his stance curiously restless.
Impulsively, she came nearer yet, close enough to touch him, and for an instant, she read pain in those hard, turbulent eyes. Then his lids closed down like hoods, and when they lifted again, his expression was merely predatory. As it had been before he kissed her at the harbor. Her stomach gave an excited little lurch.
His gaze dropped to her lips. “You should stay away from me.”
“My uncle says you’re dangerous,” she admitted.
“I am. And I want you, Bella Niven, in spite of everything.”
Heat surged through her body, burning her cheeks. She seemed to be rooted to the spot. Slowly, he raised his hand and brushed two fingers across her lips. A tiny gasp fell from her, of shock and a need she barely understood.
His gaze lifted once more to her eyes.
“In spite of what?” she managed.
“Avoid me like the plague,” he said huskily, bending his head.
The breath seemed to leave her body, for she knew he meant to kiss her again. Everything in her leapt toward him. His fingertip pressed lightly, parting her lips.
And then a surge of noise from the ballroom told her the door had opened. Instinct propelled her backward. It didn’t feel like shame. She just didn’t want anyone else sullying such a moment. A party of local people emerged into the foyer, talking loudly. Beside her, the door shuddered on its hinges, and she realized she was alone. Alban had gone.
She walked slowly back to the ballroom, churned up by the peculiar encounter which had left her feeling both exhilarated and disappointed.
He wants me, she thought in wonder. He wants me.
She wasn’t as naïve as everyone thought her. She knew perfectly well he wasn’t proposing marriage to her. Even a respectable trader captain had no hope of marriage with a duke’s daughter, and in Alban’s case, she suspected he was not a marrying kind of man.
She should probably feel insulted, she thought as she made her way around the edges of the dance floor in the vague direction of her family. But in truth, she didn’t. She felt warm and curiously powerful, and knew it was time to set in motion her own plans for independence.