Seven
There appeared to be an inordinate amount of white skin.
Leaning forward, Bella regarded her plunging neckline in the mirror with a decided flare of unease. It was one thing to request her maid to alter the numerous gowns that Lady Stenhold had insisted upon giving her. It was quite another to actually appear downstairs attired as a . . . a common courtesan.
Stop it, Bella Lowe, she scolded herself. The rose-patterned French silk was certainly more daring and sophisticated than she was accustomed to wearing. And her maid had been unfortunately enthusiastic in lowering the neckline. But there was nothing precisely indecent about the gown. Indeed, there was no doubt that if she were in London, her attire would not even raise a brow.
Besides, her gown was the least of her concerns, she reminded herself sternly. She should be concentrating on how best to begin her campaign against Lord Brasleigh, not worrying over the decided draft in the front of her dress.
With an effort, she turned her thoughts to the problem at hand. It would be difficult, she had already conceded. She would have to be subtle enough not to alert Lord Brasleigh that she had discovered the truth, and yet bold enough to make him squirm. Hardly an easy task for a woman who knew as much about gentlemen as she knew about the strange creatures that swam in the depths of the ocean.
Giving a slight shake of her head, Bella forced herself to square her shoulders and take a deep breath. Ready or not, it was time to make her appearance downstairs. With considerable effort, she crossed toward the door of her chamber and stepped into the hall. It took another moment to conjure the nerve to make her way to the staircase and down to the main floor.
Entering the lower hall, Bella headed toward the front drawing room only to come to a halt as she caught sight of the raven-haired gentleman in the library. Seated in a wing chair, Lord Brasleigh was busily studying the large book laid open on his lap. Her gaze narrowed as she studied his chiseled profile before moving down to the fitted emerald coat and silver waistcoat.
An odd tremor raced through her body as she reluctantly acknowledged that he was a handsome devil. Far more handsome than any other gentleman she had ever encountered.
Not that being handsome and far too practiced in seducing women in any way compensated for his wretched behavior, she assured herself. No gentleman could be so handsome or charming as to compensate for that.
Sending up a swift prayer that her courage did not fail her, Bella determinedly stepped into the room, pretending to come to a surprised halt as Lord Brasleigh politely rose to his feet.
“Oh . . . Lord Brasleigh.” She batted her lashes in his direction.
Just for a moment his gaze skimmed over her altered gown, lingering on the plunging neckline far too long for comfort. Bella stifled the urge to cover herself with her hands. Then surprisingly, a flare of color touched his high cheekbones, and an unreadable expression descended upon his elegant features. “Mrs. Smith, please join me.”
“Oh, I do not wish to intrude.”
That practiced smile curved his lips. “You are quite aware that I treasure our moments together.”
Treasure? Fah. He could not wait to unload her on the first witless buffoon who would take a bride. “Absurd man.” She gave a shrill giggle. “I simply wished to find a book to read.”
He gave a startled blink at her antics. “Perhaps I could help?”
“I do not know. What would you suggest?”
“Something that stirs a young lady’s blood?” He slipped into character as his voice lowered to a husky pitch. “Romeo and Juliet, or perhaps Anthony and Cleopatra?”
“Ill-fated love, my lord?” she asked in coy tones.
“Love that was willing to set aside the restrictions of society. That is true passion.”
She once again batted her lashes, feeling like the veriest fool. How did any maiden enjoy behaving in such a ridiculous manner? “A pity that it so often ends in tragedy.”
“Not always.” He moved closer, but there was a decidedly wary glint in his eyes. “We could prove that passion has its share of happy endings.”
She felt a flare of wry humor as she recalled his earlier complaints that he was desperate to return to ladies who did not drive him batty. She would show him just how batty she could drive him.
She widened her eyes and gave a faint pout. “But surely you are anxious to return to London?”
“No more anxious than I am to hold you in my arms,” he smoothly lied.
She watched as his gaze narrowed, no doubt awaiting her furious set down to his bold words. Instead, Bella glanced up at him through tangled lashes. “You would remain for me?”
A gathering frown tugged at his brows at her breathless words. “But, of course.”
“What of your mistress in London?”
“What is she to us?”
Bella leaned deliberately forward. “Is she very beautiful?”
His gaze skimmed over her pale countenance before dipping with seeming fascination to her neckline. “Not as beautiful as you.”
Bella resisted the urge to bat him on the nose with her fan. Hadn’t she requested her bodice to be lowered for precisely this purpose? “You think me beautiful?”
His gaze slowly rose to closely scrutinize her set features. “Of course. What gentleman would not find you breathtaking? Hair as brilliant as gold, skin as rich as cream, and lips that beg for a man’s kiss!”
Until this morning she would have blushed with embarrassment at his deliberately provocative words. Now she summoned a brilliant smile and tapped his chest with her fan. “Oh, sir. You always seem to know precisely what to say.”
His frown deepened at her odd behavior. Reaching up, he grasped her slender wrist and raised it to study the lacy concoction in her hand. “I see you have my fan.”
She did not tell him that she had scoured the garden until she found where she had tossed it. “Yes. I fear that I never did properly thank you.”
“No,” he retorted in dry tones. “You did everything but throw it back in my face.”
She could hardly deny the truth of his accusation, so she heaved a faint sigh. “Yes. Very ungracious of me.”
Dropping her wrist, Lord Brasleigh regarded her for a long, silent moment. “Are you quite well, Mrs. Smith?”
“But, of course. Why do you ask?”
Her seeming innocence did nothing to ease the suspicion carved into his handsome countenance. “Until this moment there has always been a distinct frost in the air when I was near. Now . . . Something seems different.”
Bella knew that she would have to be careful. She wanted to prolong his suffering as long as possible. “Perhaps I have realized that I was behaving rather foolishly.”
“Oh?” Something flashed deep in his silver eyes.
A thrill of power raced through her as she stepped closer to his large frame. “You must understand that it has been quite some time since a gentleman has revealed an interest in me.”
She sensed him stiffening at her soft words. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“I have always lived quietly,” she pointed out. She had to have some excuse for supposedly desiring a gentleman who had treated her with such a shocking lack of respect. “There have been few opportunities to meet gentlemen. I must admit that you frightened me.”
A guarded expression descended upon his dark features. “That was not my intention.”
Liar, Bella inwardly seethed. That was precisely his intention. “I suppose you must think me very missish.”
He regarded her for another long moment. “I am uncertain what to think,” he admitted slowly.
Bella gave a flutter of her fan, but before she could utter a word, the decidedly plump form of Lord Blackmar entered the room. Bella instinctively stepped away from Lord Brasleigh as she regarded the intruder attired in a shocking yellow coat.
“Hi, ho, Bras.” Lord Blackmar turned toward Bella and offered her an elegant leg. “Mrs. Smith. Am I intruding?”
Lord Brasleigh’s familiar mocking expression returned. “Would it matter?”
Lord Blackmar smiled in a lazy fashion. “Not at all. How charming you look this evening, Mrs. Smith.”
Although Lord Blackmar was as elegant and sophisticated as Lord Brasleigh, Bella felt none of the prickly unease she felt in her guardian’s presence. Indeed, if he were not in devious companionship with Lord Brasleigh, she might even have enjoyed his sharp wit. “Thank you, Lord Blackmar. And you are as brilliant as ever.”
Lord Blackmar chuckled as he glanced down at his yellow attire. “My little joke upon society, Mrs. Smith.”
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “I have always known that I could never cut a dash such as Brasleigh or Challmond or Wickton. So I devised a means of creating my own stir among the ton. If I could not be irresistible, then I would be remarkable.”
Bella could not help but smile at his blunt revelation. It was true he could never claim the potent appeal of Lord Brasleigh, but he was obviously wise enough to realize that the bored ton would be intrigued with his audacious manner. “Very clever.”
“Yes, well, I am a rather clever bloke,” he informed her with a wicked smile. “As you would know if Bras were not so beastly selfish as to devour the lion’s share of your time.”
Lord Brasleigh smoothly moved closer to Bella, his smile dry. “I have no desire to be cut out by a notorious rogue.”
“Notorious?” Lord Blackmar protested.
“I urge you, Mrs. Smith, to avoid the attentions of Lord Blackmar with assiduous care. The streets of London are littered with the broken hearts of ladies he has loved and cast aside.”
Lord Blackmar gave a loud snort, his lips twitching. “I fear you have me quite mistaken with some other rogue, Bras,” he retorted in pointed tones.
“Nonsense.” Lord Brasleigh lifted his raven brows. “Should you not be with your aunt in the drawing room?”
“She is not down yet, and I was seeking a bit of entertainment.”
“You shall have to seek your entertainment elsewhere,” Lord Brasleigh informed him in tart tones.
Lord Blackmar merely smiled. “But I am enjoying my entertainment here.”
Lord Brasleigh stepped forward. “Elsewhere.”
The two gentlemen regarded each other in silence for a long moment; then a mysterious smile suddenly curved Lord Blackmar’s lips. “Be at ease, Bras. I am going.” He turned to bow toward the silent Bella. “Until later, my dear.”
Watching until the gentleman sauntered from the room, Bella slowly turned to regard Lord Brasleigh with a wide-eyed gaze. “You were very abrupt with your friend.”
“He was being a nuisance.” Lord Brasleigh dismissed his friend with a wave of his hand; then with obvious effort, he summoned a seductive smile. Bella felt a tingle of anticipation as she prepared to resume their game.
“Now, I believe we were about to choose a book?”
She ducked her head in a shy motion. “Do you not think that we should see if Lady Stenhold is down?”
“She will be adequately entertained by Lord Blackmar.”
“I am her companion,” she reminded him.
A slender finger reached out to brush her jaw. In spite of herself, Bella felt a tingle of heat rush through her body.
“I have offered to make you mine.”
With an effort, Bella ignored her traitorous reaction to his touch. “A most improper suggestion, my lord.”
“Perhaps, but a delicious one, nonetheless.”
“This is all so”—she allowed herself a breathless pause—“so sudden.” Peeking from beneath her lashes, Bella watched his gaze narrow.
“Hardly sudden.”
“A woman needs time to consider her feelings.” She felt his body tense at her deliberate words.
“Indeed?”
“Oh, yes.” She gave a toss of her head just as she had witnessed by countless other maidens. At the same moment she wondered if she appeared more like a mare with a bur beneath her saddle than a bewitching flirt. “I would never be with a gentleman for whom I did not care a great deal.”
The wariness that had been simmering in his eyes deepened to a barely concealed alarm. “This is not about caring for each other,” he cautiously backtracked.
Bella was swift to press her advantage. “But, of course it is. How could it be otherwise?”
He took a step away, his brow furrowed together. “Mrs. Smith . . .”
“Yes, Philip?”
He carefully considered his words. For once his arrogance appeared to be in danger of slipping. “Are you attempting to imply that you have changed your mind?”
Slowly, Bella, she silently warned herself. She did not wish to startle him into a confession. Not until he had endured a sleepless night or two. “I was merely speaking my thoughts out loud,” she coyly hedged. Then, as ifon cue, the sound of the dinner bell resounded through the house. Bella heaved an inward sigh of relief. It was not an easy task to play to role of a tart. “Oh, we must go.”
Lord Brasleigh opened his mouth as if to protest, but clearly realizing it would be rude to hold up dinner, he stiffly held out his arm to escort her to the dining room. She felt him studying her profile, but she kept her gaze firmly averted, Let him stew over her peculiar behavior. Perhaps it would sour his dinner.
They entered the dining room to discover that Lady Stenhold and Lord Blackmar were already seated at the long mahogany table. Lady Stenhold arched a silver brow as Lord Brasleigh escorted Bella to one of the gilt chairs and then took his own seat.
“There you are,” she murmured. “I wondered if you would join us.”
Bella struggled to maintain a cool composure beneath the older woman’s scrutiny. Lady Stenhold was far too shrewd for comfort. “Lord Brasleigh was kindly helping me to choose a book.”
“Oh?” Lady Stenhold turned her piercing gaze in Lord Brasleigh’s direction. “And what did you select?”
Although Bella suspected that Lady Stenhold could detect a faint hint of color on his high cheekbones, Lord Brasleigh appeared as arrogantly in command as ever.
“We unfortunately were unable to decide among such a wealth of wonderful literature.”
Although Lady Stenhold hesitated, as if debating whether or not to pursue their tardy entrance, she at last allowed herself to be distracted. “Oh, yes, Lord Stenhold was quite proud of his library.”
“As he should be,” Lord Brasleigh complimented. “I quite envy his collection.”
“Are you a great reader, then?” Lady Stenhold inquired as the servants placed the turtle soup before them.
“I would not say great.”
“Fah,” Lord Blackmar abruptly intruded, his expression mocking. “Bras was always a tedious scholar. When the rest of us would slip from our rooms for a bit of a lark, he could be found in his room hunched over some tomb beside a flickering candle.”
Bella could not halt her surprised glance toward Lord Brasleigh. A scholar? Surely a person had to possess a questing soul and sensitivity to find delight in the love for books?
Lord Brasleigh gave a faint shrug. “You make me sound quite dreary.”
“I think it is quite commendable that you prefer studies to Richard’s notion of a lark,” Lady Stenhold commented. “I recall they had him sent down more than once. What do you think, Anna?”
Abruptly realizing that all eyes were upon her, Bella hastily recalled her latest role. Not an easy task. Ward. Widow. Flirt. It was difficult to recall who she was to be at any given moment. The only thing she truly wanted was to be free.
She turned to toss Lord Brasleigh a smile. “I have always greatly admired scholars,” she simpered.
Lord Brasleigh gave a sudden cough as his wine became lodged in his throat. “You shall quite put me to the blush,” he managed to mutter.
Perhaps sensing the unease in the air, Lady Stenhold took command of the conversation. “Then perhaps we should discuss the small gathering that I intend to hold here at Mayfield.”
“A gathering!” Lord Blackmar cried, a wicked glint in his eyes. “What a delightful notion, eh, Bras?”
“Delightful,” Lord Brasleigh dutifully agreed, although there was a decided lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
“It will be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the neighborhood,” Lady Stenhold stated firmly. “I will warn you that it shall be a most modest affair.”
“No matter how modest, or how grand the event, Mrs. Smith is bound to be the most beautiful lady present, just as you, Aunt Caroline, shall be the most elegant,” Lord Blackmar proclaimed with lavish praise.
“Very pretty, Richard,” Lady Stenhold retorted with a knowing smile. “Perhaps I shall give you a small token to hold you over until your next quarterly allowance, after all.”
Lord Blackmar raised a dramatic hand to his heart. “I have always said that you are my dearest aunt.”