Eleven
Bella watched with murder in her heart as Lord Brasleigh marched from the room. There was no one who could ruffle her temper with such ease. Or make her behave in a manner that would no doubt shame her mother. And at the same moment, she was humiliatingly aware of the scent of his warm skin and the lean strength of his body.
It was all so . . . maddening.
He refused to admit that he had behaved in a shameful manner. Or even that he was wrong to force her into a loveless marriage. In all his glorious arrogance, he simply presumed that his every decision was utterly perfect. Like a command from God Himself.
And then he had the audacity to behave as if this entire mess were entirely her fault.
Her fault?
With jerky movements she struggled to remove her gown. As furious as she might be with Lord Brasleigh, her concern should be with finding Lady Stenhold and somehow confessing her secret. The unexpected arrival of Madam LeMont and her son meant that her identity could no longer be kept a secret. She did not want the dear lady to discover the truth from anyone but herself.
Tossing aside her gown, she thankfully reached for one of her own far more modest dresses. She chose a pale lilac satin with a simple ivory lace overskirt. She pulled her hair atop her head and allowed a sprinkling of curls to nuzzle her cheeks and the curve of her neck. Lastly, she clasped on her mother’s pearls.
Ready as she would ever be, she left her rooms and hurried down the hall to Lady Stenhold’s chambers. After a brief tap, she entered slowly to discover the older woman seated in front of the cheval looking glass.
The main chamber was a vast room designed in a French empire style. Ivory panels with an abundance of gilded moldings were offset with French ebony furnishings. A boulle armoire was placed along one wall, a canopy bed dominated the center of the room, and a delicate Mazarin desk was tucked in a distant corner. It was a room that perfectly matched Lady Stenhold. Elegant and yet sprinkled with just a hint of whimsy.
At her entrance, the older woman shifted to regard her with a faint smile. “Hello, my dear.”
“Forgive me for intruding.”
“Not at all.” Lady Stenhold waved a hand to a gilt-and-ebony chair. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Bella perched on the edge of the cushion.
She felt a decided pang of reluctance at the thought of disappointing the woman who had come to mean a great deal in her life. Lady Stenhold was the first person who had opened her home to her out of friendship rather than duty or money. Bella wished that she did not have to ruin their budding relationship.
“I trust that Lord Brasleigh has added his invitation to my own for his guests to remain at Mayfield?”
Although Bella had been shocked by the unexpected arrival of the LeMonts, she was in enough possession of her faculties to recall a poetically handsome young gentleman with soft brown eyes and a large woman with a loud voice and unpleasantly forceful manner. Trust Lord Brasleigh to choose a gentleman with a mother that would make her life a misery, she inwardly seethed.
“I do not believe Madam LeMont is in need of a second invitation,” she said in wry tones. “She appears determined to stay as long as necessary.”
Lady Stenhold regarded her with mild curiosity. “Are you acquainted with Madam LeMont?”
“No,” Bella automatically denied, then swiftly checked herself. It was time the lies came to an end. “That is . . .”
“Yes?”
Bella’s gaze dropped to where her hands had twisted into knots in her lap. “This is very difficult.”
“Is something the matter?” Lady Stenhold probed gently.
Bella drew in a deep breath. This was every bit as horrible as she had expected. “Actually, I have a confession to make,” she admitted in strained tones.
“Oh, my, that sounds ominous.” Lady Stenhold did not appear particularly concerned. Indeed, a hint of amusement could be detected deep in her eyes. “Should I pour us a brandy?”
Bella could not prevent a wry smile. Somehow this woman always managed to make her feel as if everything was going to be just fine. “We shall no doubt have need of it later.”
“It cannot be that bad.”
“I fear that it is.” Bella steeled her quavering nerves and prepared for Lady Stenhold’s anger. “You see, I am not Anna Smith.”
Bella unconsciously held her breath as she waited for Lady Stenhold’s outraged disbelief at her treachery. After all, the woman had opened her home to Bella with the belief that she was a poor widow with no resources and no family. The realization that she was harboring a liar and a runaway was bound to make her feel betrayed.
Shockingly, however, the older woman merely regarded her with a faint smile. Almost as if she were not surprised at all. Bella could only presume she did not fully comprehend the situation.
“Are you not?”
“No,” she said in firm tones. “My name is Miss Bella Lowe.”
“Miss Lowe,” Lady Stenhold repeated the name, an odd expression of satisfaction settling on her countenance. “Lord Brasleigh’s ward.”
Bella was decidedly confused. The woman was not behaving at all as she had expected. Why was she not furious—or at least shocked by her confession? She sat there as if her houseguests pretended to be someone else every day.
“Yes, I am.”
“I suppose that also means that you were not married to poor Lieutenant Smith?”
Bella flushed at the memory of Lady Stenhold’s concern for her fictitious husband. “No, I . . . merely invented him so that no one would question a young maiden traveling on her own.”
“A very dangerous occupation,” Lady Stenhold murmured with the first hint of reproach in her voice.
Bella shivered as she recalled the horrible moments she had spent fighting off the advances of the young officer. It had been a terrifying occurrence that still occasionally haunted her dreams. “So I discovered,” she murmured.
Lady Stenhold tilted her head to one side. “Would you mind telling me why you were traveling on your own?”
“Because Lord Brasleigh is determined to marry me to Monsieur LeMont,” she said bluntly.
At last Lady Stenhold appeared startled by Bella’s words. Clearly she had not expected this. “Monsieur LeMont is your fiance?”
“Not by choice.“ Bella’s countenance hardened as she allowed her anger at Lord Brasleigh’s arrogant dismissal of her future to simmer to the surface. “After my father’s death, Lord Brasleigh became my guardian. Not that he was much of a guardian. Like my father, he believed that his only duty was to provide a house and pay a staff to keep me buried in the country. As long as I remained properly subdued and created no difficulties, I was happily forgotten, but the moment I refused to submit to the companionship of fools, I was swiftly thrust into an engagement with a gentleman in desperate enough straights that he would wed the devil himself if he brought a large enough dowry.”
A small silence fell as Lady Stenhold pondered her low words. Bella found herself biting her lower lip. Although she felt personally insulted by Lord Brasleigh’s behavior, she logically realized that he was perfectly within his rights to arrange a marriage for her. Somehow, it was important to her that Lady Stenhold not agree with the arrogant lord.
Thankfully, the older woman smiled with gentle understanding. “And so you left?”
“Yes.” Bella gave a tiny grimace. “I had intended to go to London, but those soldiers frightened me, and when you suggested that I join you, it seemed the best solution to my troubles.”
“I am very glad that you did,” Lady Stenhold said in firm tones. “There is no telling what might have happened to you had you actually continued your journey.”
A portion of Bella was not nearly so confident. Lord Brasleigh had managed to track her to Surrey, as impossible as the task might seem. Perhaps a servant had recognized her and contacted her guardian, or maybe the innkeeper had seen her enter Lady Stenhold’s carriage. But it would have been a far more difficult task to have followed her had she reached London.
Still, she was not so lost to reason as to deny that the dangers she faced on the road would only have been multiplied surrounded by thousands of strangers.
The image of being alone and penniless in such a vast city sent a shiver down her spine. “I realize that now,” she reluctantly admitted.
Confident that she had made her point, Lady Stenhold turned the conversation back to Bella’s current difficulties. “I am curious as to why Lord Brasleigh pretended not to know who you were. Surely he came here to take you back to his home?”
Bella discovered herself shying away from revealing Lord Brasleigh’s charade. Although he was the one who should feel shame at his actions, she had no desire to discuss what had occurred between them.
Especially those heart-stopping kisses . . .
“It is a long and complicated story.”
Lady Stenhold’s lips twitched. “Is it?”
Anxious to divert the older woman’s thoughts, Bella leaned forward. “I suppose you are very angry with me?”
The older woman considered Bella’s question before giving a slow shake of her head.
“No, not angry. To be honest, I had suspected that there was more to you than a mere widow. Particularly after Lord Brasleigh’s arrival. I do wish, however, that you would have trusted me with the truth.”
Bella gave a small blink of surprise. So, she had not been nearly as clever as she had thought. All along, Lady Stenhold had been aware that she was not being entirely truthful. A lucky thing she had not attempted to try her skills upon the stage. She would surely have starved to death.
“It was never a matter of trust,” she assured her friend. “But if you had known the truth, I feared that you might feel compelled to contact my guardian.”
Lady Stenhold gave a click of her tongue. “Not unless you wished me to.”
“Of course, it would not have done much good either way.” She gave a restless lift of her shoulder. “Lord Brasleigh somehow knew where I was the entire time.”
“So, what will you do?”
“Do?”
“Will you marry Monsieur LeMont?” Lady Stenhold demanded. “He appears a kindly sort, although I regret that I cannot say the same for his mother.”
Bella stiffened her spine in a determined manner. “I have no intention of marrying anyone.”
“Lord Brasleigh is in the position to make such a decision.”
Bella needed no such reminder. She was aggravatingly aware of Lord Brasleigh’s control over her life. Unfortunately, there was precious little she could do to alter the situation. At least for the moment. “Then I will flee again, and this time I will ensure that he does not find me.”
Lady Stenhold abruptly rose to her feet, her expression troubled. “Please do not act hastily, my dear. You recall what occurred at the posting inn.”
Bella lifted her hands. “What else can I do?”
“Let us wait and see. Perhaps together we can convince Lord Brasleigh that you deserve better than a marriage of convenience.”
Bella also rose, inwardly acknowledging that it would be easier to convince the prince regent to live upon a modest income. “He is not concerned with what is best for me,” she retorted in faintly bitter tones. “He only wishes to be rid of his pledge to my father.”
“Just promise me that you will do nothing without discussing it with me first,” Lady Stenhold insisted.
Bella wavered, uncertain whether she was willing to give such a pledge or not. There might come a moment when she felt compelled into flight. Then, with a tiny sigh, she accepted that if she did leave, she would have to seek this woman’s help. She would not flee again with no money and nowhere to go. And besides, she instinctively knew that she could trust Lady Stenhold with any trouble. “I promise.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
“I will leave you to finish preparing for dinner.”
With an unknowingly sad smile, Bella turned and left the room. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts for the moment.
Heading downstairs, she avoided the drawing room and instead entered a small sitting room. It would soon be time for dinner, but until then she desired a bit of peace. Closing the door behind her, she stepped toward the lion-clawed sofa only to give a soft gasp as she realized that there was already a slender, dark-haired gentleman seated upon the brocade cushions.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened as Monsieur LeMont politely rose to his feet. Attired in a pale blue coat and cream pantaloons, he appeared remarkably handsome. Far too handsome to need to marry for a paltry dowry, she acknowledged. Surely there must be dozens of heiresses anxious to wed such an eligible gentleman?
He performed an elegant bow. “Miss Lowe.”
“I did not know anyone would be here.”
“I fear you have caught me hiding out,” he confessed with a rueful grin.
“Hiding?”
“I was in little mood for conversation.”
She took a step backward. “Then I will leave you.”
“No, please.” Again he flashed that persuasive smile. “I wish you would stay.”
Despite all her hard feelings toward this gentleman, Bella found that it was impossible to resist his gentle charm. There was something quite endearing about his manner. “Very well.”
Crossing the carpet, she settled on the edge of the sofa. Monsieur LeMont resumed his seat beside her. “I wished for an opportunity to apologize for my mother.”
“There is no need,” Bella murmured.
“There is every need,” he insisted. “I fear she possesses little shame in acquiring what she wants. I begged her to remain in London, but she fretted that Lord Brasleigh might change his mind while away from town.”
“She need have no fear.” Bella smiled wryly. “Lord Brasleigh is determined to force us into marriage.”
He gave a grimace, but his tone was light. “That makes it rather awkward for us, does it not?”
“Decidedly awkward,” she agreed.
For a moment he studied her tiny features. “May I be so bold as to inquire about your feelings toward a marriage between us?”
Bella was uncertain how to respond. Oddly, she discovered herself reluctant to hurt his feelings. “To be honest, I have no desire to wed anyone. I am sorry.”
Surprisingly, an expression of genuine relief fluttered across his thin face.
“Do not apologize. I am no more inclined to marriage than yourself.”
He did not wish to wed? Was it possible that he was no more than a pawn, just as herself? A flare of hope bloomed deep in her heart.
“Then . . . why?”
For a moment, she thought he might not answer her question; then he gave a rueful shrug. “You have met my mother. Once she discovered that Lord Brasleigh was offering a handsome dowry, there was nothing that could sway her determination that I should be chosen as the prospective bridegroom.”
Bella abruptly leaned forward, her eyes unconsciously pleading. “You could always refuse.”
Monsieur LeMont gave a slow shake of his head. “I have on several occasions, but my mother will not listen to reason.”
Bella slowly leaned back. After meeting Madam LeMont she could well imagine her son’s difficulties. Madam LeMont was every bit as tenacious and arrogant as Lord Brasleigh. Maybe even more so if that were possible. “It appears that we are in the same muddle,” she retorted.
He cast her a sympathetic glance. “Yes, it does.”
She lifted her hands in a helpless motion. “So, what is to be done?”
“There seems little we can do.”
Her expression unconsciously became despondent. “No, I suppose not.”
For a moment, he regarded her drooping lips; then he abruptly leaned forward. “Hold on. Perhaps we should consider our options.”
“Options?”
A teasing glint entered his brown eyes as he pretended to ponder their dilemma. “There must be something we can do. Let us see.... Perhaps we could barricade ourselves in the room and refuse to come out.”
A reluctant smile curved her lips as she realized that he was kindly attempting to ease her troubled spirits. Any lingering resentment toward the gentleman whom Lord Brasleigh had chosen as her bridegroom was swept aside. He was not to blame for the treachery of her guardian and his mother.
“I do not believe that one small bowl of grapes would hold us for long.”
He heaved a sorrowful sigh. “I suppose you are right.”
Entering into the teasing, Bella tapped a slender finger to her chin. “We could always become smugglers and live in a cave.”
“I fear that caves make me sneeze,” he informed her in regretful tones.
“Well, we could not have that.”
He considered her another moment. “We could take to the stage. With your beauty, we would no doubt be an overwhelming success.”
Bella gave a dramatic shudder. “Thank you, but I believe that I prefer the cave.”
“Well, then, perhaps we will simply become highwaymen,” he suggested.
Rather unbelievably, Bella discovered herself enjoying their ridiculous bantering. She had never had the companionship of those her own age. It was rather nice to have someone about who did not treat her as a child and did not twist her stomach into knots.
“Ah . . . That I like,” she retorted with a saucy grin. “We could dash about the countryside and become quite legendary.”
“Oh, yes. And we would chose only the most expensive coaches to plunder,” he insisted.
She nodded her head in agreement. “We would be most particular.”
“And our only concern would be the local magistrate.”
The image of herself and this elegant young gentleman galloping across the countryside to hold up carriages with armed servants and outriders made her chuckle. “A trifling problem when compared to Lord Brasleigh and your mother.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Trifling, indeed.”
His laughter was still floating through the room when the door was abruptly thrust open and Lord Brasleigh stepped inside. In the blink of an eye, the frivolous atmosphere was dispelled.
Appearing annoyingly handsome in a moss-green coat and silver waistcoat, his large form easily dominated the room. He was so commanding, so utterly sure of himself. Bella gritted her teeth even as her stomach gave that odd twinge that seemed to travel to the tips of her toes.
“There you are, Bella,” he said unnecessarily, his gaze taking careful note of her rather intimate position next to Monsieur LeMont.
“My lord,” she retorted in clipped tones.
“Dinner is about to be served.”
At his announcement, Monsieur LeMont rose to his feet. “Mother will be searching for me. Excuse me.”
With a lingering smile toward Bella, the younger gentleman strolled from the room. Alone with the aggravating man, Bella rose to her feet. She felt intimidated enough without having to twist her neck to meet his narrowed silver gaze.
Lord Brasleigh watched her movements with an unreadable expression. “You appeared to be quite enjoying LeMont’s company,” he said abruptly.
Bella gave an indifferent shrug. “He is very charming.”
Oddly, Lord Brasleigh did not appear particularly pleased with her response. “I would not have chosen him if he had not been.”
She gave a disgusted snort. “You would have chosen Napoleon if it would have suited your purpose.“ Tilting her chin, she marched forward. “Now, excuse me. I should not wish to be late for dinner.”