Lady Belling's Secret (5 page)

“Really? The
ton
never forgets, you should know. They’re all waiting around like vultures for something new and exciting to tear apart.” Francesca was feeling just shy of frantic at the prospect of being the center of such attention.

Her present situation might not have been exactly as juicy as her uncle’s, but there was plenty for them to get their hooks into. Her father, Alistair, wasn’t ever supposed to be the duke. He was a second son and had not been prepared to take over the role thrust upon him when his brother’s, the heir’s, love affair became common knowledge. His older brother, Neville, had never had the sense of duty required in a duke-in-the-making, and as much as their father tried to instill that in him, Neville continued to be flighty, impulsive, and inconstant. Alistair had joined the King’s forces and went off to save the world from the tyranny of the Jacobite uprising—just as expected of him as a dutiful second son.

Meanwhile, Neville eschewed his obligations to King and Country and rarely bothered to appear in his seat in the House of Lords. Instead, he took up with a series of light skirts, actresses and, the cause of his eventual downfall, the wives of his fellow peers. He was discovered in the bed of the especially lovely wife of a most notoriously jealous nobleman. A challenge was thrown down and a duel fought in a misty morning in Hyde Park the very next day. Pistols were the weapon of choice, and Neville, having very few talents besides seducing beautiful women, got off a lucky shot that killed his challenger with a ball square in the chest.

Knowing the King’s view of duels and that surely a charge of murder was imminent, he fled the country with his lover before the body had even cooled. Of course the brash decision was not a good one, and the
ton
was able to gossip of nothing else for months. The woman stayed with him less than a week after the boat docked in Calais.

His father was furious with Neville for humiliating the family to this extent. Up to that point, Neville had been forgiven because he was the heir, but his father had reached a breaking point. Neville was disowned and died penniless in Paris of a raging fever less than two months later. His humiliated lover returned to London telling tales of coercion and deviant sexual practices and, more damning yet, allusions to treasonous behavior that brought further shame to the family. It took years for the Belling family to regain the dignity and political connections it had lost due to the sins of the son.

“I’m not going to ruin everyone’s lives because we made a mistake. That’s what it was, a mistake. I understand that you’re angry with me.” She didn’t want to plead with him, but he had to understand. “I can’t do that to Mama, I just can’t.” Oh dear Lord, don’t let her be sick again.

Thomas glared at her. “This is intolerable. I will not stand for it. You will break it off with him. You’re mine.” Thomas stated it as though it was fact.

How had she never known he was such an infuriating ass? “I could have been yours. I wanted to be yours. Damn you. I waited and waited here for you, but you left. Besides, you never gave me the slightest indication you were interested. You left so angry at me.”

“I didn’t stay angry, damn it.” Thomas’s pacing resumed. “I was in a war, Francesca. And besides, you never wrote me either.”

“It didn’t matter. There was so much pressure to marry someone, anyone. Christian was pushing and pushing. I couldn’t keep waiting for you to return and find me grown. Besides, there was no guarantee you’d want me if you did ever come back.”

They squared off, staring at each other, not speaking.

“This is a terrible mess.”

“Break it off with him.”

“I gave my word.”

“You speak of honor?” Thomas sneered. “After last night, you’re going to talk to me of honor? You’ve already broken your promise to this fiancé of yours. You’re not even whole anymore.”

Francesca stood there with her feet rooted to the grass, aghast. “When did you get so mean? You sound like your father.” It was the most vicious thing she could think to say to him after his cruelty.

“And you’re a spoiled little brat, as usual, Frankie,” he said, using her childhood nickname with disdain.

Through her rage, Francesca heard someone on the bridge behind them.

“Yo ho!”

She closed her eyes at the sound of her brother’s voice. In typical Christian fashion, he failed to sense the tension in the air, and he boldly strode right into the middle of the miasma.

“Thomas! Damn, it’s good to see you.” Christian grabbed his best friend up in a ferocious hug. “You look well! Hale and whole. It was good of you to avoid a cannonball.” At some point he managed to notice his sister standing there and the unusualness of the situation. “You’re both up awfully early. Or maybe some of you haven’t been to bed yet either, eh, Thomas?”

Francesca wanted to strangle both of them, right there on the foot path, with her bare hands. Spoiled, indeed.

Thomas shook his head. “No, I’m just up early. I didn’t sleep well.”

“Were you alone? I never sleep well when I’m alone.” Christian pulled a long blond hair off the sleeve of his coat and set it free into the breeze.

“I was alone, though by no fault of my own.” Thomas dared a glance at her, but she glared at him with her arms crossed over her chest. He glared back.

“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing out so early, Frankie.” Christian didn’t bother making eye contact as he spoke, too busy checking his attire for more random tresses.

“It just wouldn’t do for your afternoon mistress to see the hair from the late-night mistress, would it, Christian?” She couldn’t resist being peevish.

Christian raised his eyebrows and gave her a lazy look. “Not that my reputation is any of your business, sister dear, but it’s not my mission to make any young lady miserable.”

Francesca snorted in reply.

“You still didn’t say why you are out so early. Bond Street isn’t open yet, so you can’t be out buying more fripperies.”

Francesca’s eyes narrowed and her jaw set, but she didn’t speak. She relished the fact that her lack of explanation would annoy her brother more than arguing with him ever would.

Christian gave her a faint, condescending smile, and then turned to Thomas.

“We got your calling card last night. Mother expected that I’d see you today at White’s or wherever and wanted me to extend an invitation to dine tonight. Just the family.”

Francesca stiffened. “Thomas isn’t available tonight,” she blurted without thinking.

Thomas spoke in the most infuriatingly unaffected voice she could imagine. “I can speak for myself, thank you so much, Francesca. Tell your mother that I will be delighted. Eight o’clock then?”

“No,” Francesca said, eyes wide in dawning horror.

Christian either didn’t notice the tension or pretended that he didn’t. “Eight o’clock is the usual time, of course.”

“I’ll be there. After all,” Thomas said as he turned to Francesca, “we all have much to discuss.”

The need to vomit rose up in Francesca again. She had no idea how to get out of this disaster. If Thomas was bound and determined to make a mess of things and embarrass everyone, she didn’t know how to stop him. All she was certain of was that she didn’t want to put her loved ones through another scandal. She’d seen how a family could completely unravel in the face of that kind of scrutiny. The
ton
was a vicious place, and mistakes ate you alive.

Chapter Five

“Dinner, Anna.” Frankie gestured wildly with her hands. Try as she might, she could not seem to calm down. “He’s coming for dinner. What am I to do now?”

Anna sat calmly in a wing chair, sipping tea with a perplexed look on her face. “Ummm, I’m sure I don’t understand the problem. Just yesterday, you were so excited to see him.”

“That was yesterday. A lot can change.” She glanced down at the tiny satin bag lying on her dresser. It held her engagement ring, back from the jewelers, the stone having been reset from a mishap last week. It made her woozy to even think of putting it on.

“Overnight?” Anna peered at her, her eyes as big as an owl’s over the brim of her teacup. Francesca thought there might be a hint of accusation in them, but more likely she was being paranoid.

“Yes, overnight,” Francesca confirmed. Oh how desperately she wanted to confide in someone. But what she had done was so dreadful. She couldn’t forgive herself. How could she hope to lay her sins in front of someone else and expect them to forgive her, even someone as dear as Anna? No, this was a secret one took to the grave.

“I’m trying to understand, but you’re not making sense, whirling like a dervish over there. Please, come sit down. You’ll only hurt yourself flailing around like that.” Anna pointed to the matching chair across from hers.

Francesca sat down delicately in the chair, poised on the edge, so nervous she thought she might take flight at any moment. She placed a hand on either carved arm of the Chippendale.

“Tea?” Anna asked her. Her calmness actually grated a bit on Francesca’s nerves.

“No. I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”

Anna silently stared at her, her gaze long and patient. When Francesca couldn’t take it anymore, she agreed to a cup.

“I always find our role reversals so very interesting,” Anna noted as she handed her the cup and saucer. “Since yesterday afternoon, you have been just shy of a fit of hysteria.”

Francesca couldn’t answer her. Her friend was so close to the mark it was unsettling.

“Of course, I have long known of your feelings for Harrington. That is why I didn’t think for even one moment about giving you time with him. Ever since though,” Anna noted and gave a long glance over the brim of her teacup, “I’m at a loss for your behavior.”

Francesca swallowed her tea hard, forcing it down as if it were medicine. She closed her eyes in a long blink, but when she opened them again, Anna was still gazing at her patiently. “He makes me nervous.”

“I see.” Anna replaced her cup on the saucer and then placed both on the silver tea tray. “Frankie, how can I possibly help you when I don’t even know what the problem is?”

“Thomas wanted to ask Christian for permission to marry me.”

“Oh, well that is distressing, isn’t it, considering recent events. He didn’t know you’re engaged then?”

“He does now.” Her friend’s expression became even more perplexed, so Francesca barreled on. “I fear that he will make a scene this evening at dinner with Christian and Mama.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “I don’t see why. That doesn’t seem like Thomas.”

Francesca looked away towards the window and tried not to fidget. “I may have inadvertently encouraged him, although I didn’t do it with any malice.”

Anna let out an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands. “Please stop being so obtuse, for heaven’s sake. Speak plainly.”

“I’m not trying to be obtuse,” Francesca told her, but of course she was. She couldn’t bring herself to say out loud what she’d done.

Suddenly Anna’s expression cleared and her voice filled with dread. “Oh dear. What happened yesterday?”

She tried to rise from the chair, but Anna grabbed her hands and kept her there. They exchanged a long look, and Francesca tried to infuse everything she couldn’t say out loud in her gaze. “He brought me to the house to advise him on redecorating. I finally got the opportunity to apologize for that other time.” Anna nodded in understanding. “And then…things happened.”

Anna’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “Things?”

“Yes. Intimate things.” Francesca swallowed hard.

“Oh no. Oh dear.” Her friend shook her head back and forth as if by denying the words, then nothing had really happened. Francesca wished it were that easy. “This is a disaster.”

She covered her face with her hands. “You have no idea.”

“I know you’ve always loved him, but… Did you actually…you know…have relations?”

She confirmed with an infinitesimal nod.

Anna stood and took up pacing the same path where Francesca had left off. “Why would you do this to yourself? Oh my God.”

“It just happened. One minute we were discussing how to redo his bedframe and then, well, we were on the bed.”

“What were you doing in his bedroom? Frankie, how,
how
, do you get yourself into these situations? Honestly, in his bedroom. It’s like you don’t even think.”

Francesca caved in to the urge to defend herself. “It was all quite innocent, I assure you.”

“Sure it was, right up until the point when it most definitely wasn’t.”

Now they were both standing in the sitting area of Francesca’s bedroom. “Well, who would have thought
that
would have happened? He’s feeling lost. What was I to do?”

Anna grasped Francesca’s hands again and peered up at her with a great deal of concern. “Sweetie, no one knows of your lasting affection for Thomas more than I. You’ve been wrapped up in him since you were six. I should blame myself for allowing you to go off alone with him.”

“Who would have thought he’d be interested in me, especially after the way things were between us when he left.”

Anna heaved a sigh in sympathy. “I assume you worked all that out then?”

“For what it’s worth.”

Her friend pulled her into an embrace and hugged her swiftly, then drew her back to the chairs. “Was it wonderful?”

Was it wonderful? The biggest mistake of her life was both the single best and worst thing that had ever happened to her. How could she ever go on with her life knowing how it could be? She felt tears coming again and blinked hard to hold them at bay. “It was.”

“I’m so sorry. That seems such a strange thing to say, considering how long you’ve cared for him, but I can’t help being concerned for you. Finally, he sees you and you can’t have him. You can’t, you know? In every way that matters, you might as well be already married to Lord Dalton. The contract is signed. It’s all over.”

Oh, Francesca knew. There was no way out. All exits led to catastrophe. “That’s why I’m so worried. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him when he found out.”

“Surely he’ll be made to see reason. Won’t he?” Anna nodded to herself. “Yes, I’m certain we’ll get through this. Everything will end up as it should.” She patted Francesca’s hand and gave her a brave smile.