“Wherein sparks fly and Belle holds a fuse.”

 

Violette watched Miss Holbrook hurry from the room after what had quite obviously been an absolutely furious row with her brother. Though her brother didn’t look furious, not exactly. In fact, he looked - intrigued, at least until Lord Nibley stepped up to speak with him and was promptly cut off as her brother stalked away. Good Lord, but he was rude.

“I like Miss Holbrook,” observed Lady Russell from beside her, her voice mild though her sharp grey eyes had quite clearly been watching the scene unfold just as Violette had.

“Yes,” Violette replied, watching as her brother contemplated the fire in the hearth with a rather fierce expression. “I like her, too, very much.”

“Sensible gel,” Lady Russell continued, sipping at her ratafia with a nonchalant air. “Not the kind of woman to give up easily, either, I should think. Got a backbone. No shrinking violet, that one, no offence meant.”

“None taken,” Violette murmured, remembering the way she had seen the rather diminutive young lady give the marquess as good as he gave, going on Eddie’s expression, at least. It looked very much like she had rung a resounding peal over him, in fact, and Violette found that she very much hoped she had. It would do him the world of good. Actually, she rather hoped Miss Holbrook would do it again soon. She turned around to say as much to Lady Russell’s, only to find she had a rather gleeful look in her eyes. Violette grinned at her.

***

Belle searched the vast house with increasing panic as Crecy was nowhere to be found. She could be anywhere, of course, and Belle didn’t dare deviate from the few rooms she was familiar with for fear of finding herself in the kind of situation she hoped to save Crecy from. Though at least if she was caught with Lord Nibley, he’d be honour-bound to marry her. The thought was so shocking, and so ... tempting that she stopped in her tracks half way across the cavernous entrance hall. Before she had time to consider the idea a polite cough was heard, and she realised the butler was addressing her.

“I beg your pardon, Mr Garrett,” she replied, smiling at him. “I’m afraid I was wool gathering.”

“Might I enquire whether you were looking for your sister, Miss Holbrook?” he replied with a rather concerned, fatherly air, which she found both touching and reassuring.

“Oh yes,” she exclaimed, and then hesitated, not wanting the man to believe her sister was keeping an assignation. “That is, I’m afraid she may have gotten lost.”

The butler smiled at her, a warm twinkle in his eyes. “The young lady expressed a wish to see the library, so I took the liberty of settling her there with some tea and biscuits. I have been here ever since,” he added with a pointed tone that gave her to believe he had been guarding her sister’s honour and ensuring she wasn’t disturbed.

After the events of this disturbing and upsetting evening, Belle found herself quite overwhelmed that a man in the marquess’ employ who neither knew nor had reason to care for them had put himself to such trouble.

“Oh, how good you are, sir,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand before she could consider her actions. She blushed and let go, but Mr Garrett seemed to look on her with approval, so she hoped she had not given him a disgust of her. She knew over-familiarity with servants was frowned on not only by the ton, but by the servants themselves, too. By her actions, she had betrayed not only the depth of her anxiety, but her inexperience at dealing with staff.

Yet Mr Garrett just gave her a rather confiding smile. “I had a younger sister, too, miss. A terrible worry to me, she was. Long married, now, of course, with three children, big strapping lads all of them,” he added with a laugh. “But I can well remember the anxiety of keeping such a sweet-natured and innocent girl from walking into trouble she hadn’t recognised.”

Belle looked at him in surprise. She had believed the staff of a man like the marquess would be dreadfully stuffy and on their dignity, and this shared confidence seemed strange to her. A troubled look entered Garrett’s eyes.

“Forgive me, Miss Holbrook,” he said, a little stiffly. “I did not mean to overstep the mark.”

“Oh,” Belle replied, realising he had misinterpreted her surprise as disdain. “No, not at all. Indeed, Mr Garrett, the truth is I have been in dread of embarrassing myself before the staff of such a distinguished family, let alone the family themselves,” she added with a flush as she remembered her parting words to the marquess. “It is just such a surprise to find you so ... so ...” She faltered, not knowing what word to use without causing offence, but Garrett simply chuckled.

“I served the last marquess before I served this one, and two more different men would be hard to find. I’ve known his lordship since the day he was born, and unlike his father, he doesn’t hold with formality of that nature. Never been high in the instep, that one, despite the old marquess’ teachings.”

Belle found this piece of information rather more fascinating than she thought prudent, but couldn’t help but dig a little deeper.

“If you don’t mind me observing it, he ... he doesn’t seem to be enjoying the presence of his guests terribly.”

The man’s face fell and he nodded. “The war changed him, miss. There was a time when he would have relished such a gathering, but not any longer. He doesn’t like company these days.”

Once more, and despite her overwhelming fury with him, Belle couldn’t help but feel compassion for a man who had clearly been a hero, from what everyone said of him. She could not know or even guess at the terrible things he must have seen and experienced. Such things must leave scars, even if they were not visible to the eye.

Garrett guided her to the library door, and Belle thanked him again, before going in to find Crecy.

She was curled up in a chair by the fire, her shoes discarded and feet tucked under her skirts, her nose buried in a book and a half-eaten biscuit in her free hand. She looked absurdly young and heartbreakingly beautiful. Belle was torn between shaking her for giving her such a fright, and just admiring the picture before her. In the end, she compromised between the two, settling herself in the chair opposite and waiting until Crecy looked up and noticed her existence.

“Oh, hello, Belle,” she said, smiling at her before taking a bite of the previously forgotten biscuit. “This is awfully good,” she added, gesturing to the book and brushing crumbs from both her lips and the pages as she spoke around the biscuit.

Belle sighed over her slovenly manners.

“Are you quite determined to turn my hair grey before this wretched house party is over?” she demanded, folding her arms and hoping she looked stern and forbidding. “How could you be so foolish as to go off on your own, Crecy? What if someone had followed you and found you here alone? What then?”

Crecy frowned, and Belle knew the idea hadn’t even occurred to her.

“You are on your own,” her infuriating sister observed, before popping the last morsel of biscuit in her mouth.

Belle scowled and gave a tut of impatience. “And I don’t have a legion of admirers desperate to get me alone and make love to me!” she snapped, wondering when Crecy would finally get it into her head that men would follow her like sheep, or stalk her like tigers, and that she must be on her guard at all times. Belle felt a twinge of guilt as Crecy blushed and looked rather mortified.

“Sorry, Belle,” she muttered, closing the book and smoothing her hands over the cover. “But that dreadful Lady Scranford was so infuriating and ... and I just needed to escape before I said something awful.” Belle thought she showed remarkable restraint in keeping her mouth shut at this point. “You know I can’t bear it when everyone sits around talking inanities,” Crecy continued, growing increasingly angry. “And she was such a ... a ...”

“Yes, she was,” Belle replied, her tone dry. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you cannot simply wander off on your own. It’s too dangerous. Especially the way those idiotic beaus of yours follow you about.”

Crecy snorted. “Not now, they won’t,” she replied, looking far more pleased than Belle would have liked by the idea. “Not after tonight.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “No. Well, you needn’t look so gleeful about it, you wretched creature.” There was no heat behind the words and Crecy just laughed.

“Oh, but wasn’t the marquess terrific!” she added, her grey eyes alight with laughter. “Do you know, I actually thought Lady Scranford would cast up her accounts, she looked so mortified.”

“Crecy!” Belle snapped, shaking her head in exasperation. “Will you please keep such vulgar expressions to yourself?” she scolded as Crecy hid a grin. “And as for the marquess ...” she began, only to snap her mouth shut. She remembered Garrett’s words and her own observations, and found she didn’t know what she wanted to say about the marquess. She seemed to lurch between fury and compassion and ... Well, the least said about that, the better.

“Come along, young lady,” she said, rather than allow Crecy to wonder what exactly she had been going to say. “If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I think we can do nothing more than wish this day well behind us and go to bed.”

***

Once Miss Holbrook had stormed from the room, Edward had retired to his study as soon as he could without looking utterly beyond the pale for deserting his guests. God, but would this interminable week never end? Two more days, he reminded himself, just two more days and they’d all be gone and he’d be left in peace. Thank heaven.

Settling himself behind his desk with a large glass of brandy, he felt his lips twitch into an unwilling smile as he remembered Miss Holbrook’s fury. Good Lord, but the Holbrook sisters had the most frightful tempers he’d ever come across, and he’d lived with Violette!

He had to admit to a grudging admiration for her, however. Her rage and indignation had been quite something to behold. Her candour, too, had been a surprise. Most women simpered and fluttered around him, and either expected lavish comments or did their best to shine a light upon their own talents and assets, and put others in the shade. Miss Holbrook, however, had told him to his face what he had first thought of her, almost word for word, and it hadn’t been pretty. A twinge of something that may have been guilt - and possibly even regret - assailed him as he realised he’d been both harsh and unfair.

In truth, he had to admit that she wasn’t devoid of beauty as she had so vehemently judged herself on his account. In fact, once she was out of sight of her beautiful sister, she was really quite lovely. Not a startling beauty, no, but she had the right amount of curves in all the correct places, her eyes sparkled and showed her forthright nature and a readiness to laugh, and her mouth ... He paused and decided he’d already spent quite long enough considering her mouth.

Edward tried to get his brain off the subject of Miss Holbrook, but that recalcitrant organ refused to consider the accounts he ought to be checking, or reading his correspondence, such as it was. Instead it returned to that pitying expression he had seen in her eyes when he’d asked her if marrying Nibley would be enough for her. She believed him a fool for that, and little could he blame her on reflection. He hadn’t really stopped to think what her future might be, though, especially with Mrs Grimble thwarting any possible hopes she might have with each outrageous turban or hat she flaunted, and every single time she opened her ghastly mouth. Yet to think such a fiery and passionate woman should find herself married to a dry old stick like Percy Nibley ...

There was a strange and slightly unsettling feeling in his chest at the idea.

Poor Percy wouldn’t know what hit him.

By this time Edward was aware of a growing sense of disquiet, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the problem. He felt irritated and frustrated and really quite out of sorts. He refilled his glass and gave a huff of frustration. Whatever the problem, the Miss Holbrooks of this world were really not his affair. In two days, they would be gone and his life would return to some semblance of normality.

Whatever the hell that was.

Whatever the future held for the irritating, outspoken creature, it was not his to dwell upon, though he did feel some need to prevent her catching Lord Nibley. After all, Percy was a friend and he owed him loyalty. He should at least make the fellow aware he was being stalked; the poor fool probably didn’t have a clue. He considered the idea of Miss Holbrook married to Percy and found himself unsettled and even somewhat nauseated by the idea. Yes, he should do that, simply out of friendship and for Percy’s sake, of course.

Yes, for Percy’s sake.

He must keep a close eye on Miss Holbrook and her machinations, and put a spoke in her marital wheel at the earliest opportunity.