Courting Lord Dorney (19 page)

* * * *

On the following day Bella went to visit the Floods in Highgate. Her attorney had managed to purchase their cottage and the one next to it, and she had arranged for a builder to draw up plans for joining the two.

Jackson drove her in the new curricle, allowing her to take the reins only when the road was quiet.

She was pleased she was able to control the pair of cobs, but admitted this was only possible in the best conditions. She’d had a struggle to prevent them from bolting when a stage coach had passed them as they crossed the New Road.

They were approaching Highgate Hill when she saw Mrs Flood walking along, and Bella pulled up beside her.

Jackson took the reins as Bella jumped down.

‘What have we here?’ she asked, pointing to the bundle Mrs Flood carried.

‘Oh, Miss Bella, I was going to be at home when you came, but I had this message, you see. It couldn’t wait.’

She lifted the bundle and Bella saw it was a sleeping child, she guessed a year or so old, but with the wizened face of near starvation. ‘Who is it?’ she asked softly.

‘Little Samuel. I used to be in service with his mother. She lived in Clerkenwell after she was wed, but her man died of the bloody flux, and she had to scrape a living taking in mending and washing. I had a message this morning to say she was knocked over by a brewer’s dray a week ago, and died yesterday. There’s no one to look after the little mite. She was from Yorkshire, like me, and has no family. I don’t think he’d eaten since she was knocked down. She was taken to the hospital, and the neighbours didn’t care, until one of them found he’d crawled out into the road and then collapsed, from hunger, I suppose.’

‘Oh, the poor little mite. Here, give him to me while Jackson helps you into the curricle. We can all squeeze in for the last mile or so.’

The child, disturbed by being moved from Mrs Flood’s arms, began to cry, a weak, exhausted wail. Bella lifted him higher in her arms and held him over her shoulder, patting him on the back and shushing him until Mrs Flood was settled and she could hand him back and clamber into the curricle herself.

‘Quickly, Jackson, the sooner we can get him home and fed the better.’

* * * *

Lord Dorney had thought hard and long about Sir Daniel’s advice. He couldn’t get the wretched girl out of his mind. Did that mean he really did love her? He’d thought he did in Bath. He’d put aside his resolve not to marry then, but he hadn’t known she was wealthy. Ought he to set aside his scruples now and renew his offer? But would she have him after the way he’d treated her? She could have any one of a number of men, all of them, he was sure, fortune hunters. He’d be one too if he offered for her, and after his brother’s experience he had no desire to have a wife who might wish to rule him because she had a fortune.

An insistent small voice urged him that Bella would not be like that. Yes, she was headstrong, but all he’d seen of her told him she had a warm heart. She cared for those less fortunate than herself, unlike Selina. She wouldn’t try to hurt him if they disagreed. He grinned. He was sure there would be disagreements.

Unable to think clearly he decided to ride out, not in the Park where he would have to keep to a staid canter, but up on the hills somewhere, with the wind in his hair, where he could gallop away his odd humours. He’d go to Highgate, it was time he looked at the two houses his mother had left him there, and decide whether it was time to sell them. With the money he could hasten the work on Dorney Court. Suddenly he longed to be back in that familiar and much loved place, restored to what it had been before Selina ruined it.

He was approaching Highgate village when he pulled sharply on the reins and halted. Was he seeing things? What in the world was Bella doing here? At least she had her groom, Jackson, with her. He would not have been surprised to find her out on her own, trying to control her new pair, which Lady Fulwood had described to him in detail.

‘She’ll break her neck one day,’ his godmother had predicted. ‘Fortunately Masters and Jackson both keep a close watch on her and won’t let her take out this new curricle on her own.’

He watched as Bella stood there while an older woman clambered up into the curricle. Then his eyes widened in astonishment. Was that a child Bella was holding? How in the world did she come to be here, in this unlikely small village, with a child?

He sat still and watched as Bella handed the child up to the other woman, then climbed into the curricle. Jackson drove away, and Lord Dorney resisted the impulse to follow. There was some mystery here, but it was not his affair.

It might be, if the child belonged to Bella.

The unwelcome thought made him jerk the reins, and for some moments all his attention had to be given to the horse. When he was once more in control he abandoned his ride to Highgate and turned back towards London. A sudden vision of Bella, as he’d first seen her in Lancashire when he was visiting Lady Hodder, getting out of a coach and helping a small child out, came to him. He did some swift calculations. That child had been about five years old. Bella was three and twenty. But surely, Lady Hodder would not have countenanced -

He forced his swirling thoughts into some kind of coherence. There was a mystery, but he must not jump to conclusions. She’d told him the child was one she’d rescued from working in the cotton mills. Surely she would not have pretended that if he had been her own?

Then he recalled her response when he’d kissed her. It had been shy, tentative, not the response of an experienced woman who had known lovers in the past. She could not have counterfeited that.

Did he want to discover the truth? One part of him said he had no further interest in Bella Trahearne, but deep down he knew he must find out, if only to satisfy himself that she could not be as depraved as it sometimes seemed.

* * * *

The house was in an uproar when Bella reached Mount Street. From the trunks and other baggage in the hall Bella knew someone had arrived. When she went into the drawing room she found Jane sitting on a sopha, and her husband with his arm round her.

‘Philip! Oh, how good to see you!’ Bella cried, and Philip stood up to kiss her heartily on the cheek.

‘You too, Miss Mischief! How come you and my wife have been gallivanting in Bath? I’ve no doubt it was your suggestion!’

Bella glanced swiftly at Jane, who shook her head slightly.

‘Well, yes,’ she began, wondering how much it would be wise to tell him.

‘Oh, we’ll talk about that later,’ Jane said hastily. ‘I want to know all about your voyage, my love.’

‘Uneventful,’ Philip said with a laugh. ‘I’m sure Bath has been far more exciting.’

‘Bath? Exciting?’ Lady Fulwood said, laughing. ‘It is never exciting in Bath, and it was the end of the Season there, and many people had come back to London well before my dear Jane and Bella came to me. The house has been far livelier with them here.’

‘How long a furlough do you have?’ Bella changed the subject.

‘Two months, and I mean to enjoy every minute.’

‘I - I suppose you’ll want to take Jane home to Lancashire,’ Bella said, suddenly realizing the implications of Philip’s arrival. Of course he would want to be in his own home, and have Jane to himself. What would she do? Could she stay on in London with Lady Fulwood, or would she have to move to the little house she was thinking of renting? If she did, she would need to find a companion as soon as possible. She would visit one of the agencies that provided such people on the following day.

‘We’ll stay here for a short while, as I haven’t seen my dear godmama for a long time,’ Philip said. ‘Then I want to go home.’

‘You are welcome to remain with me, Bella dear,’ Lady Fulwood said. ‘I enjoy your company, and taking a young gal to balls reminds me of the days my own daughters were young.’

‘I’m grateful,’ Bella said. She felt an enormous sense of relief. If Lord Dorney remained too, they would inevitably be thrown together more. She still had hopes of making him change his mind, but she knew she had more chance of success if they were living in the same house.

* * * *

They were invited to a ball that evening, but Philip pleaded tiredness, and with a smile Lady Fulwood bade him and Jane to have an early night. Jane blushed, then laughed.

‘Very well, ma’am.’

Bella wore a new gown, in a delicate shade of green with a silver gauze overskirt. One of her uncle’s necklaces was of emeralds, and Bella, feeling rebellious, determined to wear that instead of the discreet pearls Lady Fulwood preferred. She was very rich, and everyone knew, so why should she pretend not to be?

The first dance ended, and she was standing at the side of the ballroom with her partner. Her card was filling up quickly when she saw Gareth approaching across the room. He reached her and stepped slightly to the side, revealing Mr Salway who had been behind him. Bella’s partner, bowing himself away, did not see her sudden pleading glance, and politely removed himself.

‘Dear Coz,’ Gareth said, with what Bella could only describe as a smirk. ‘How pleasant to see you here, and so well provided with jewels. Or are they glass? I understand the Indians can be very clever at imitating real gems.’

‘You understand nothing,’ Bella snapped. ‘I would have thought you were needed at home, to support your wife, and your son and heir!’

‘Oh, nursery doings bore me. I’d far rather be in town. I believe you met Mr Salway in Harrogate? He’s been telling me all about your successes there.’

‘Has he, indeed? And his failures, too, I suppose,’ she said, trying to drag her hand away from Mr Salway’s, but he had pretended to shake it and was holding her too tightly, and she was not prepared to indulge in a public trial of strength, for she would be sure to be worsted. ‘Pray release me, sir!’ she added.

Mr Salway smiled, and instead of letting go her hand, carried it up to his lips and planted a wet kiss on her wrist.

This time Bella succeeded in snatching away her hand, and rubbed it furiously against her skirt. She looked round for help, but no one she knew was near enough for her to attract their attention.

‘May I crave a dance?’ Mr Salway was asking.

‘My card is full,’ Bella began, but Gareth twitched it out of her hand and held it out to Mr Salway.

‘You can have the supper waltz,’ he said. ‘Won’t that be delightful for you, my dear Bella? I’ll find a partner and join you both. We’ll have a cozy little chat over the salmon mousse and the crab patties.’

Mr Salway was writing his name against two other dances, and with a flourish handed Bella her card. She snatched it, and tore it into tiny pieces.

‘I don’t dance with you, Mr Salway,’ she said, loudly enough for a couple of passing gentlemen to hear. They turned, eyebrows raised, and stared. With relief Bella recognized Major Ross, and before Gareth could intervene she stepped forward and grasped the Major’s arm.

‘Please sir, will you escort me to Lady Fulwood? The air just here is decidedly malodorous!’

‘Are they annoying you?’ the Major asked, and both he and his companion turned to face the other men.

They both showed clenched fists, and Bella shrank from an even more dreadful confrontation. ‘No more than usual. The larger one is, unfortunately, my cousin, but I wouldn’t dream of presenting either of them to gentlemen. It would be an insult.’

They moved away, the Major bending solicitously over Bella.

‘You’re trembling, my dear. Do you wish to go home? I could call for our carriage and escort you, if you’d permit.’

Bella shook her head. ‘Thank you, but it’s fury rather than fright. Oh, how could they!’ She laughed. ‘Now I shall have to obtain another dance card and try to remember who I’ve promised dances to!’

‘I’ll find one for you,’ the Major’s friend offered. ‘Ross, as a medical man, I recommend you take the lady to find a glass of wine.’

* * * *

Bella saw no more of her cousin or Mr Salway that evening. She was aware of Major Ross hovering nearby, and was grateful. He was large, strong and determined. She hoped Mr Salway had taken fright.

Gareth, however, appeared in Mount Street the following morning, and she had no chance to deny him since Lady Fulwood was with her and bade the butler to show him in before Bella could protest.

‘I am delighted to meet Bella’s cousin,’ Lady Fulwood said, gesturing him to a chair. ‘I understand your wife has just presented you with a son, Mr Carey. My congratulations. You must be overjoyed.’

‘We’re delighted to have an heir,’ Gareth replied. ‘He’s the only boy in the Trahearne family,’ he added, with a significant glance at Bella.

‘Not a true Trahearne,’ Bella said swiftly. ‘Your mother may be my father’s sister, but you are a Carey, so is your son.’

After a few minutes of general conversation, during which Bella remained silent, Lady Fulwood rose.

‘I have no doubt you wish to discuss family matters, so I will leave you for a while.’

‘Your behaviour last night was deplorable!’ Gareth burst out almost before the door was closed. ‘I was ashamed to be related to you! How could you treat a friend of mine with such discourtesy?’

‘I’m even more ashamed to have to own you as a connection! As for that creep Salway, I can’t imagine even you would approve of a man who tries to seduce an heiress just to gain control of her fortune! Though perhaps you consider it normal, acceptable behaviour. Now please go, I have nothing to say to you.’

She turned towards the door, but Gareth as there before her, and he grasped her arms and forced her close to him.

‘Don’t be so hasty! I’ve a proposition to put to you.’

Before she could reply the door opened, and Lord Dorney entered the room. He stopped short, and coughed.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said coldly and began to leave.

‘No, don’t go!’ Bella cried, wrenching herself free. ‘It’s not what you think! This is my cousin, and I want him to go! I never want to see him again! Please, can you throw him out?’

Lord Dorney raised his eyebrows at her vehemence, but came slowly back into the room. ‘Are you Miss Trahearne’s cousin?’ he asked.

Gareth laughed. ‘Of course I am. But I’m afraid Bella’s taken offence at my attempts to help her. She always was hot at hand when she was a child. Gareth Carey, sir, at your service.’