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Authors: Sally James

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BOOK: Courting Lord Dorney
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He held out his hand, but Lord Dorney simply bowed slightly. ‘Sir.’

Bella edged nearer the door. ‘Gareth, please go. And don’t ever come here again. I’ll send your son’s christening gift direct to Helen. And if you try to encourage that odious wretch Salway to make up to me again I’ll - I’ll shoot him!’

 

Chapter 12

 

‘Richard, what can I do?’

Lord Dorney looked sympathetically at his young cousin.  ‘At first I understand Felicity was all in favour of a wedding soon. Now you say she hesitates, and won’t fix a date.’

‘She’s regretting it, I know!’

‘I don’t think so.’ He sighed. At least Alex knew his mind, was certain he wanted to marry Felicity. He didn’t have the searing doubts, the unwelcome desires that plagued himself.

Seeing Bella almost every day was proving to be agony. He’d been pursued by many girls, undeterred by his lack of fortune. And before Robert died, they hadn’t cared for his lack of title and estate. Now he had acquired both it seemed sufficient for most. They were unaware of how encumbered the estate still was, the traces of Selina’s rule he needed to sweep away before he could once more be comfortable in his childhood home. They assumed he had a position to give them and could afford to keep them as they wished to be kept.

Until now he had been touched by none of them. But Bella, from the start, had crept past his guard. Perhaps it was the astonishment he’d felt when he saw her threaten those men in the inn yard, something he’d never expected of a female. Or her fierce compassion and lack of hesitation defending a mongrel dog, or a lad being beaten by his father. He smiled. But then she’d been revealed as a rich woman playing at being poor. Oh, he could understand her motives, but the horror of himself being stigmatized as a fortune hunter, as well as the foolishness he felt at being misled, had made him reject her. Now there was the horrid possibility that she had a child, even children. And Lady Hodder must know, since the first child he’d seen Bella with had been at her house. The woman in Highgate had looked, to his eyes, the sort of clean, poor woman he and his brother had been farmed out to in the village for the first year or so of their lives. They had been excellent wet-nurses, and he’d retained considerable affection for his own Bessy, visiting her regularly and making sure she and her brood wanted for nothing.

Alex was speaking again and he dragged his attention back to his cousin’s concerns.

‘I think I should insist she names a day.’

Lord Dorney shook his head. ‘Females can be remarkably stubborn. If you challenge her, she’s likely to accept it and give back your ring. It would be better, bring her to her senses more quickly, if you retired to Bath, told her you had affairs to settle there, and would await her decision.’

Alexander looked appalled. ‘And leave her to Frederick Ross?’

‘I suspect, if he is like most aspiring poets, that she will soon tire of him and begin to feel the loss of your company.’

‘But she drives or rides with him almost every day, and dances with him at every ball we go to. People are beginning to remark on the partiality she shows him. And Lady Andrews has turned me away from the house twice, saying Felicity was tired and resting. I’m sure it wasn’t that. Ross was with her. And she keeps asking me what your intentions are. She’s afraid you’ll marry after all, and I won’t be your heir if you get yourself a son!’

‘Are you worried about that possibility?’ he asked.

Alexander shook his head. ‘Of course not! I’m not rich, I don’t have a big estate like you do, but I can support a wife in reasonable comfort, and when Mama dies, I’ll have more. Not that I want her to die! I’m not counting on that!

‘Leave Felicity for a while. It probably flatters her to know you are anxious. Go away, back to Bath,’ he repeated.

He wished he could follow his own advice and take himself out of London and the disturbing company of Bella Trahearne.

‘You think that would bring her to her senses?’ Alexander asked doubtfully.

Lord Dorney shook his head. ‘I can’t say, but if it doesn’t, you have to ask yourself if she is the right wife for you. I’m sorry, Alex, it’s brutal, I know, but you need to start married life knowing who is the head of the family. If you permit her to rule you now, what will your life be like in a few years’ time? Do you want to marry a girl who will turn out to be like your mother?’

Alexander looked appalled. ‘Not Felicity! She couldn’t!’

‘She might, if you give way to her, let her see you can’t bear to be away from her. You need to keep the whip hand.’

Some time later Alexander reluctantly agreed that he would return to Bath. Lord Dorney wished he could follow his own advice, then consoled himself that the situation was entirely different. He and Bella were not promised to one another. Soon she would be returning to Lancashire with Sir Philip and Lady Hodder. He would be free of her disturbing influence. He could forget her.

* * * *

Hiding her trepidation, Bella ventured into the Park for the first time on her own, driving herself in her curricle. Jackson, on the recommendation of Lady Fulwood, had taken the horses out earlier that morning, so their first freshness had been worn off. She negotiated the streets without mishap, though she had almost clipped the wheels of a high perch phaeton when turning out of Mount Street. Ignoring the imprecations of its driver, she reached the Park and relaxed.

After a few hundred yards, during which she had nodded at several acquaintances, she saw Major Ross driving towards her. Mrs Ford was seated beside him, looking very fetching in a pale blue pelisse and a jaunty little hat of the same colour.

They halted as the vehicles drew level. Major Ross was driving a phaeton, not so tall as the one Bella had encountered earlier, but high enough to cause her to crane her head as they exchanged greetings.

‘I see you have dispensed with teachers and grooms,’ Major Ross said.

‘You are a credit to your teachers,’ Mrs Ford added, with an arch glance at the Major.

Bella was intrigued. They were much of an age, and she had first encountered the Major at Mrs Ford’s house. She had not noticed that he paid particular attention to her on public occasions, but in future she would be alert for it. How appropriate it would be if they made a match of it. And how convenient if it removed Mrs Ford as a potential rival for Lord Dorney’s affections.

‘Do you go to the Kellaway ball this evening?’ the Major asked. ‘If so, I must beg the pleasure of a dance.’

‘I believe Lady Fulwood intends to go,’ Bella replied. ‘Of course I will keep a dance for you, Major. I think I’d better move on now, the horses are becoming restive.’

For the rest of her three circuits of the Park half of her attention was directed to the prospect of an engagement between the Major and the woman she sometimes thought of as her main rival for Lord Dorney’s affections. Mrs Ford was older, more sensible, calmer and much more suitable to become his wife. She didn’t believe his declaration that he would never marry. He would change his mind at some time. Mrs Ford was still young enough to give him several children. Surely he would in the end prefer a son of his own to inherit rather that Alexander?

Bella had met him on several occasions, and had no great opinion of Alexander, whom she thought rather young and unformed in character. She doubted whether Felicity was the right wife for him, thinking her a rather silly, flighty chit who was displaying her immaturity by her encouragement of Frederick Ross. Bella had overheard several of the more staid dowagers commenting unfavourably on Felicity’s behaviour, and she herself found Frederick decidedly tedious with his self-absorption.

But then Bella had little time for poets. There had been a couple in Harrogate, younger sons of Yorkshire mill owners, indulged by their fond parents who had considered their outpourings on a par with those of Lord Byron, and were quite ready to declare that the latter’s fame rested more on his position in the
ton
than any intrinsic merit in the verse. She found them dreamy, abstracted and impracticable. Did Felicity really prefer him to Alexander? Was she merely flattered? There could be no other reason. She must know Alexander adored her, so she had no reason to try and make him jealous.

Bella thrust thoughts of both Mrs Ford and Felicity from her mind, and prepared herself somewhat nervously for her return to Mount Street.

* * * *

Bella had much to consider that evening. Alexander looked moody and resentful, and after one of the waltzes Bella observed what looked like a tiff between him and Felicity, who positively flounced away from him and went straight to Frederick, smiling up at him with what Bella considered artificial brilliance.

Soon afterwards she saw Lord Dorney conversing with Alexander, and the younger man gave a shrug and in a little while left the ballroom.

Bella happened to be watching Felicity, who was dancing one of the country dances with Frederick. She missed her step, and turned as if to leave the set and follow Alexander. Then, at a word from one of the other ladies, turned back and continued dancing.

Intriguing, thought Bella. She looked around for the Major and Mrs Ford, but neither were to be seen until after the supper interval, when Mrs Ford, looking paler than normal, came into the ballroom escorted by her sister’s husband.

Then Bella stiffened. Gareth and Mr Salway strolled into the room. They grinned across at her, but to her relief made no attempt to approach her, and soon afterwards the Major appeared to claim his dance with Bella. He seemed his normal self, but Bella detected signs of strain under his habitual calm, and when the dance ended he disappeared into one of the rooms set aside for cards. She saw no more of him, and soon afterwards Mrs Ford departed.

What could have happened? Had they quarrelled? But they were both older and much more calm than she knew herself to be. Older, staider people did not quarrel. At least, in Bella’s experience they did not. But she could do nothing to solve the mystery, and soon her thoughts turned to her own problems. It could not be long before Jane and Philip went home, and then she would have to decide what she herself wanted to do. Should she give up all hope of attaching Lord Dorney, and go home with them? Or should she create scandal by staying here in London on her own?

* * * *

A week later Jane announced they intended to set off for home the following day. ‘Bella, will you come with us? It really would be best.’

Bella shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said simply. ‘I need to stay in London.’

‘Bella, dear, you’ve had several weeks here, living in the same house as Lord Dorney, and he’s as cold as ever. He won’t change his mind.  Why do you keep hoping? Wouldn’t it be better to forget him?’

‘How can I? He’s the only man for me, and while I am in London there is still some hope he will forgive me and change his mind.’

Jane sighed. ‘I don’t believe he is the sort of man who ever changes his mind.’

‘Then if he does not, I can concentrate on my homes. I heard from Mr Jenkins of another married couple living south of the river who might be suitable to run another one. I mean to go and see them tomorrow. When do you leave?’

‘Tomorrow. Philip wants to be at home for as long as possible. He’s never liked London, and to tell the truth, neither do I.’

Bella hugged her. ‘You’ve been so good to me! Thank you!’

‘I’m sorry it hasn’t turned out as you wished. Come home soon, I’ll miss you when Philip goes back on duty.’

* * * *

The next morning Bella left early, driving with Jackson to visit a couple living in a village near Greenwich. She didn’t like farewells, and told Jane she thought it was for the best if there were fewer people to see them off.

Jane sighed, and turned her attention to ordering all the luggage, hers and Philip’s, into the carriage he’d hired to convey it all to Lancashire.

Lord Dorney appeared, dressed for driving, and paused to wish them farewell.

‘Miss Trahearne does not go with you?’ he asked stiffly.

‘No, she stays here,’ Jane replied. ‘Susan, I want that box inside, please. I wish she would come with us, but she prefers to stay here, with her children.’

Lord Dorney gulped. Her children? How could she be so open about it? ‘Yes. Pray, how many does she have?’

Jane glanced at him. ‘I don’t know. They seem to multiply every day, from what she says! At least three in Preston, and some in Bristol, There was another child in Highgate only the other day, and now there will be others in Greenwich. It’s fortunate she has enough money to support them all!’

Lord Dorney turned away, his head reeling. It couldn’t be what he’d thought! But what was it?  How could he have misjudged her so? He walked away, his head spinning. He had to find out about this. Did Lady Fulwood know? He’d ask his godmother as soon as the house returned to normal.

* * * *

Bella was driving her curricle in the Park, still rather tentatively, but pleased with the progress she had made with her pair, when Major Ross, walking along by himself, hailed her. She drew to a halt and invited him to join her, which he did with considerable alacrity.

‘My dear Miss Trahearne, I’m so glad to see you. I trust those dreadful boors from the other night have caused no more trouble? I saw them at the ball again, and hoped they had learned their lesson.’

‘They did not speak to me at the ball, but my cousin inflicted himself on me and Lady Fulwood a few days earlier. He was told in a way he could not mistake that he was unwelcome. I was so grateful for your support the other night.’

‘My dear, I would wish to support you all the time. I am only too conscious of the disparity in our fortunes, and our ages, but believe me, I am no fortune hunter. I would wish you to control all your money as you do now.’

Bella looked at him in astonishment. She’d known the Major liked her, and she liked his sturdy good sense, but she’d had no intimation that he had warmer feelings for her. She’d thought those were reserved for Mrs Ford. But something seemed to have gone wrong between them. From his hesitant words she deduced that he was, however ineptly, making her an offer.

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