A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) (34 page)

“Or when he's desperate,” Drew offered. “In any case, he'll not return under his own name and he will be a danger to you.”

“I have resources now, friends in positions of authority. He won't get away this time,” Belle said coldly.

“Your greatest resource is the protection of the Earl of Stowebridge.” Drew watched her closely and Belle knew this was going to be the most difficult part of their conversation.

“My situation with your brother is complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be, not really,” Drew said. “You’re in love with him.” He paused to emphasize his point. “Still.”

“No,” Belle returned sharply. “I don’t believe in love. You know that. It’s just some pretty paper we wrap around marriage when really it’s all about financial advantage, or lust.”

“And you wonder why I'm still angry with Michael?”

“Drew, my opinions on love and marriage aren’t Michael’s doing – well, not entirely. I simply grew up. This is the way the world works, or at least the world of polite society, and it’s that way for a reason. My friend, Molly, loved her husband and it destroyed her when he died.” Belle stood up and crossed to a row of forsythia bushes. “No. I’m better off without the ability for finer feelings. More honest with myself and those around me.”

“Ballocks. You can deny it to yourself and me if it makes you feel better, but you are still in love with my brother. This time he will do the honorable thing, or he'll answer to me.” He grinned at her again. “Bath chairs at ten paces. Perhaps we'll use sling shots.”

Belle laughed, and suddenly the last shadows of her nightmare melted away in the presence of sunshine, flowers and the warmth of her friend. Bit by bit, Drew was making his way back to her, back to life. When she left here... no, she wouldn't think about that now. Today was for springtime, for hope and even desire. She could hardly wait to see Michael today.

***

Michael watched them through the veil of the wisteria arbors. Belle laughed out loud at something Drew said and lifted her face to the sun. She was pale today but otherwise she appeared well – lovely, as always. He'd been loath to leave her in the early morning light. She’d slept soundly curled up against him, making the most enchanting sighs and it had taken every bit of his iron control to keep from waking her to make love. Yesterday he'd felt torn between his desire for her and his responsibilities to protect her. Today he felt completely vivisected. He wanted Belle, but he had no right to take anything more from her than he'd already taken. Yes, he could claim her. Last night she'd all but guaranteed him they would become lovers and if she'd done so a few days earlier he would’ve swept her into an affair, heedless of the cost to her, but her revelations last night had changed everything between them. She was even more his responsibility now and he owed it to her to see her safely settled in life.

Michael couldn't go back – they couldn't go back and they had no true future together after the harm he'd caused her. The words he'd flung at her that first day in his library came back to haunt him
.
You deserved everything that happened to yo
u
. The memory of those ridiculous words tightened his chest with sorrow and pain for what that young woman had suffered. He'd had the arrogance to condemn her. Belle had wanted him to save her back then, to be her hero, but instead, he'd tossed her into a pit with a wild dog. He was a right bastard.

Michael turned back towards the house. He had arrangements to make. First, he'd contact Rafe and have him locate Seaton as soon as possible. He would have to take his friend into his confidence and Belle would be none to happy about that, but ultimately it was for her own protection. She would never be safe until they'd dealt with that animal. He also planned to write his solicitor. He couldn't erase the past five years, but he could make certain that Belle was financially secure. He'd settle funds on her and see to purchasing property for her as well. Perhaps he could even start a clinic. She'd like that. He thought about her kissing that little's girl’s cheek.

A woman like her should have children, he reflected and felt a deep pang of regret that she would never have his children. He paused and looked back at her seated on the bench near his brother. The last blossoms of spring swirled on the breeze like a pink and white snow fall. Belle smiled as she caught some of the petals in her hand. In that moment Michael steeled himself to do one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life – say goodbye to her.

Chapter Twenty-three

Belle jammed the cork stopper into the small, brown bottle she'd filled with tincture of valerian. The stuff smelled ghastly, but it was highly effective in easing anxiety. Perhaps she should take a big swig of the stuff herself, she thought irritably. It might stay her temper. She set the vial smartly beside her remedy box.

Mary had trained her to stay calm, even contemplative when preparing herbal remedies. She claimed, and Belle agreed with her, that the healer's intentions were as much a part of creating remedies as the actual ingredients themselves. She glanced around the stillroom at the stores of dried herbs and equipment, hers as well as what she'd commandeered from the earl's household. Stillroom work always calmed her whether she was preparing medicines, or more mundane things such as cleaning compounds and spice blends for cooking.

She took a deep breath as she carefully wrote out the label using the Latin plant genus name. She affixed the label and stored the bottle in her kit. No more medicines today, she decided, not when what she really wanted to do was kick a certain earl in his aristocratic arse. It had been two weeks since he'd slept beside her and held her tenderly throughout the night. They'd planned to become lovers and now he not only avoided her, but he refused to even see her. He summoned Paddy to his study to discuss Drew's progress instead meeting with her and when she’d tried to breach his stronghold two footmen advised her that his lordship was too busy to see her. Worse yet, she saw the pity in both young men’s faces. It was impossible to keep secrets in a large household.

Things had only gotten worse since the arrival of the earl's secretary. The man treated her courteously but he was as stiff as a new boot. No, the earl was not available to see her today, yes, he would inquire as to when the earl would be available, but his lordship was a very busy man and so forth. The rest of the staff tiptoed around her as if in fear of setting off a tirade, or worse, tears. Only Mrs. Babcock and Hodges acted as if nothing had changed and Belle was grateful to them. Clearly, she would have to force her way past Michael's guards and she'd best do it sooner rather than later.

Belle yanked open the drawer in the worktable and began to rummage around for some string to retie her packet of herbs.  She spied the leather pouch containing the notorious Tonic Tea and remembered her plan to send it to Mary for identification. She rounded up some writing paper and quickly bundled up a note and the pouch in a package to her friend and mentor.

Just then the door to the still room opened and Mrs. Babcock bustled in, her eyes bright with excitement. She took in Belle's old and faded work gown, the one she always wore when doing grimy work, and clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“And of course you'd be wearing that,” she huffed, shaking her head in disapproval. “Come, Miss Belle, we've no time to turn you out better. We can't keep her grace waiting any longer.”

There was that familiar sinking feeling again. “The duchess has called?” Mrs. Babcock nodded as she turned Belle around to untie her apron. “Surely she's here to see the earl, not me.”

“Her grace specifically asked for you and she sent Hodges with a note for his lordship. You'd best hurry, dear. There's no time for you to change first. She's been waiting a while already. I'd no idea where to find you,” Mrs. Babcock admonished, “and I've no idea what she’s up to either, but I have my suspicions.” Belle had hers as well. Apparently the duchess had come to make good on her threat to slap her.

Belle barely had time to button her cuffs before she found herself face to face with Damaris Wentworth, Duchess of Strathmore. The other woman ran an appraising eye over Belle’s dress and allowed herself a small, but nonetheless triumphant smile. The Duchess wore a vibrant, blue-colored carriage dress in the first stare of fashion while her former rival wore a dress little better than rags.

Belle was still vain enough to be embarrassed by her own appearance. “I apologize for not changing my gown before attending you, your grace. I was told to hurry.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Damaris replied with a sparkle in her hazel eyes. “Honestly, I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“No, I don’t imagine so,” Belle replied evenly, keenly aware of the heat coming to her cheeks.

“You could at least have had the decency to get fat, you know.” The duchess' voice was filled with mirth and that went a long way in softening her words. “Perhaps you could have lost some teeth, developed warts – anything really.”

Belle laughed. It really was a funny situation. Heaven knew she'd made Damaris miserable more than once over her lack of a proper wardrobe. “As you see, your grace, I’m still a contrary creature.”

“No, you’re not, Belle,” the Duchess said quietly. “You’re really quite remarkable.” She sat gracefully on the settee and motioned for Belle to take a seat in the opposite chair. Belle dipped her head in deference to the other woman’s rank and did as requested.

“Thank you, your gr....”

Damaris held up one of her hands to interrupt her. “When we are in private please address me as, Damaris.” There was nothing unkind in her words, but her voice rang with the firmness of someone accustomed to having their wishes followed by both staff and lesser nobles. “I’ve decided not to strike you.”

“Excellent.” Belle returned the Duchess’ smile.

Damaris’ eyes sparkled as though she had a discovered a grand secret that she couldn't wait to share. “I stopped by to invite you to accompany me to the village on a shopping expedition.” Her words couldn’t have startled Belle more than if she’d said she was abandoning her family to join a band of traveling minstrels.

“I’m afraid I have my duties....” Belle began, but Damaris silenced her again with another waive of her hand. Belle suspected she was thoroughly enjoying herself too.

“Nonsense. I understand that Drew is much improved. Surely he can spare you for a few hours. Besides, you have an orderly here as well, don’t you?” Belle was tempted to tell her that if she had any free time she’d most likely use it for sleep, but she played her final card instead. “I’m afraid that I haven’t discussed the possibility of time off with his lordship. As much as I sincerely appreciate your invitation, I must decline. Perhaps another time....”

“Pooh,” said the Duchess, rising from her seat. “Michael won’t object. Besides, I've already sent Hodges with a note asking for your company today.” As if he were awaiting his cue, Hodges opened the door and approached Belle carrying a salver with a note addressed to her. The butler gave her a reassuring smile and bowed to both women before he left.

Belle opened the envelope both eager to see what he'd written her and irritated that he'd only penned a note to her because of the duchess' request. His note was brief, almost curt.

Here is an advance on your salary. Take your time. There is no need for you to hurry back.

ML

A ten pound note accompanied his missive. Belle fought the urge to crumple the bank note and hurl it to the floor. Of all the arrogant...he knew it was far too much. “Splendid,” she said, managing a tight smile. “The earl has paid me my wages. If you would allow me to change, your...Damaris, I would be happy to accompany you.”

The other woman laughed gaily. “Certainly, but I doubt you’re truly happy about it. Let’s see if we can change your mind about that.” It was hard to resist her impish grin and Belle found herself smiling in response. She excused herself and hurried off to change her gown.

Half an hour later Belle found herself ensconced in the Wentworth’s lavishly appointed coach. The seats were upholstered in a rich, red, plush-velvet – the squabs, deeply dimpled for comfort. Two small, cut crystal vases filled with nosegays were mounted on each side of the interior. Belle looked down at her lavender-gray gown and then at the Duchess’ fashionable ensemble. Damaris’ gown probably cost more money than Belle earned in three years. If the earl and the duchess had plotted this excursion to remind her just how far she’d fallen both socially and financially, they couldn’t have found a more effective method. Though she tried valiantly not to let it bother her, Belle gazed wistfully at Maris’ gown. It would be nice to have new clothes occasionally, ones that weren’t black, gray, or some half-mourning color like the gown she presently wore.

The afternoon began pleasantly enough as Belle dutifully followed Damaris from shop to shop. The village thrived under the patronage of the four noble families who held estates in the area and as a result, boasted a higher quality and better variety of merchandise than most rural areas could claim. Damaris Wentworth spent freely, distributing her husband’s wealth equally among the merchants. She arranged for the tailor to come to the estate to measure the male servants for their annual outfitting, both livery, as well as shirts and a new coat for church and days off. Likewise, the modiste would arrive to measure and outfit the female servants. Once the household expenditures were seen to, Damaris surveyed the more expensive bolts of fabric the cloth merchant had to offer. Undoubtedly London offered more exotic fare, but the shop had a surprising variety of beautiful silks and satins.

Belle permitted herself the luxury of looking them over as well. There was a particularly lovely, bronze silk that flashed green as she turned it in the light. What a spectacular gown it would make and the color would suit her. Damaris was occupied purchasing several bolts for herself. Belle studied the cloth as it lay against her arm. If she was extremely frugal for the rest of the year and with the ten pounds Michael had advanced her she might be able to....

“Oh, and I’ll take that bolt as well,” Damaris said airily, indicating the fabric Belle held against her. It will make a splendid ball gown, don’t you think, Belle?” Damaris’ smile was sweet, her overall expression coy, leaving little doubt in Belle’s mind the duchess knew full well the bronze fabric wouldn’t suit her golden-brown hair and rosy complexion. She simply wanted Belle to realize that Damaris Kingsford, whose mother had scrimped together money to feed herself and her children, could now afford anything she wanted. Not that she particularly wanted the bronze silk. The point had been Belle wanted it and once upon a time, Belle had intentionally ruined Damaris' only party frock. The other woman was only human, after all, and she wanted Belle to feel the sting of loss at the hands of her former rival. It certainly did sting, but Belle, being ever practical, realized losing the fabric stung far less than a slap across the face. Besides, when would she ever have occasion to wear a gown like that again. She returned Damaris’ smile and complimented her on her taste. It was hardly the reaction the Duchess had anticipated and she lost some of her smugness.

Damaris continued baiting Belle at the other shops as well. At the milliner's she purchased a bonnet Belle admired, at the book shop she bought anything Belle looked at for more than a few seconds. Belle began to make a game of it, seeing how far the duchess would go to needle her. By the time they left the bookseller’s Damaris had purchased a book on fly fishing in the Scottish highlands and another on naval battle strategies. However, when her grace tried to purchase a lace-trimmed handkerchief from Belle’s own hand, she had had enough. She politely, but firmly explained to Damaris that the item was an intended gift from Drew for one of the servant girls and not for herself. Damaris had the grace to blush and hurried out of the shop leaving Belle to complete her purchase. Damaris was nowhere in sight when Belle stepped outside, so she stopped at the confectioners to buy comfits for the staff and chocolates for Mrs. Babcock, as well as made a quick visit to the tobacconist to buy pipe tobacco for both Paddy and Mr. Hodges. Small thank you gifts, but heartfelt none-the-less. When Belle arrived at the duke's carriage one of the footmen took her packages and escorted her to the inn where the duchess awaited her for tea.

Belle joined Damaris in the private dining parlor. As soon as she stepped through the door Belle thought of the last time she’d been here. Michael. The warmth of his hand holding hers, the way he brushed her arm as he poured wine for her and served her dessert. Damaris stood looking out the window much as she, herself had done that day. Belle shook off the memories. Whatever had stirred to life between Michael and her that day was dead now – at least for him. He’d successfully avoided her for the past two weeks and that fact, coupled with the coolness of his note today, told her all she needed to know.

“I’ve been a perfect beast today,” Damaris began without preamble.

“Not really,” Belle replied lightly. “I can still give you lessons.”

Damaris turned to her. “I wanted so badly to put all this behind us, but....” She gave a helpless gesture and Belle smiled at her in sympathy. Damaris was a nice woman and Belle had made her years at school and her first Season miserable whenever the opportunity arose. On top of it all she had knowingly placed the other woman in danger. No one could hold it against Damaris for wanting to secure some form of revenge – Belle least of all. “I bought a book on Scottish fly fishing, for God’s sake, just to best you!” Damaris started to giggle. “What on earth am I going to do with that?”

“I'm not sure, but there's probably someone you can bribe at the Admiralty with the book on navel battles,” Belle answered, laughter filling her voice. Soon it filled the room as both women gave in to the humor of the situation.

Once their laughter had died away Damaris stood quietly studying her feet, her mood suddenly somber. “I hated you so very much after...after Elkhorn,” she whispered. “I couldn’t believe that a woman would allow something like that to befall another of her own sex. Now I've learned that you secured my rescue.” Belle's surprise must have shown on her face, because Damaris went on to explain. “Drew wrote to Jules last week explaining that it was you who sent the note telling him where to find me. From what I learned of your stepfather during my abduction, I know you put yourself in harm’s way for me. He is not a good man in any respect and what you did could have cost you dearly.”