Authors: Rhonda Woodward
Bella thought over the duke’s words for a moment. She recalled her brief encounter with the duke and duchess at the marriage ceremony, and because of their kindness, she decided she would indeed like to meet them again.
Bella continued to watch the throngs of people enjoying the park in the warm afternoon sunshine.
Up ahead a vis-à-vis driven by a liveried coachman caught her attention. “There is Margaret,” Bella told the duke.
Frowning, the duke’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the crowded lane before them. “Where?” he questioned.
With a little movement of her parasol, she gestured to the carriage. “Up ahead. She is with a very pretty blond-haired lady and they are speaking to a gentleman on horseback.”
“I see them now,” said the duke, maneuvering his team around a stationary carriage.
As he pulled the phaeton next to the vis-à-vis, Bella saw Margaret break off her conversation with the man on horseback as soon as she caught sight of the duke. Without
waiting to acknowledge Westlake, the gentleman spurred the horse into a canter and left the lane.
“Westlake!” Margaret said with an odd note of alarm in her voice.
“Afternoon, Margaret,” said the duke in a cool tone.
“May I present Lady Kendall, your grace?” she said, looking at Bella and twisting the handle of her beribboned parasol around and around.
It took Bella a moment to respond. “Oh, of course,” she said, recovering quickly. She wondered if she could ever get used to being addressed so formally.
“I am so very glad to meet you, your grace,” the blond woman gushed.
“Thank you,” Bella said, with a slight inclination of her head.
“You will forgive us, won’t you, my dear Duke and Duchess? Lady Kendall and I are shockingly late for our tea with Countess Lieven,” Margaret said, tapping the bench with her parasol to signal the driver to be off.
Bella watched the duke touch the brim of his hat politely and watch the ladies retreat with cool, slightly narrowed eyes.
As they headed back to Westlake House, Bella thanked the duke for the outing. “My pleasure, Arabella.”
Something about the duke’s manner made Bella sense that he was distracted.
“Is something wrong, Westlake? Has the drive been too much for your shoulder? I am sure it must still bother you at times,” Bella asked.
“No. I am fine.” He dismissed her concern with a brief smile. “Tell me, did you happen to take notice of the man on horseback who was speaking to Margaret as we drove up?”
“Why, yes,” Bella answered in a slightly startled tone, wondering what he was getting at.
“Do you believe you have ever seen him before?”
Pursing her lips, Bella tried to recall something about the man that might seem familiar. “No, I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”
“It is nothing very important. But if you ever see him
again, I want you to inform me immediately,” he said firmly, turning his disturbing gray eyes to meet hers.
Bella could not mistake his very serious expression.
“Certainly I will,” she assured him as they turned up the drive leading to Westlake House.
“T
his is Almack’s?” Bella whispered to Triss, looking around in disbelief as they stepped into the large, plain ballroom. “This is the place you have for years so wanted to gain entrance to?”
“Hush, Bella,” Triss said crossly to her cousin. “It will be much better later in the evening. It is early yet.”
Triss had insisted that they arrive at the hallowed halls of Almack’s before the dancing began. The ball would open with a minuet, and it had been arranged that the Duke of Malverton’s younger brother would partner Triss in her very first dance at the exclusive club. She had been adamant in her desire not to miss anything.
It had not been Bella’s desire to attend the assembly tonight, but as Triss had wheedled the duke to act as escort, Bella decided it would look odd if she did not join her aunt, Triss, and Westlake.
Triss had been transported with excitement to finally have a voucher to Almack’s, the most exclusive playground of the
haute ton.
In her desire for perfection, she had driven Bella to distraction with her endless fretting and fussing over her toilette until she had finally been satisfied that she looked her best.
Triss’s new pink gown was scattered with a multitude of tiny seed pearls, and she wore a band of the same on the crown of her head, with her golden blond hair arranged in a riot of upswept curls.
Though the duke had accompanied them to the unprepossessing building, he had taken himself off to one of the antechambers as soon as he had delivered Bella, Triss, and Aunt Elizabeth to his mother’s side.
Bella watched him stride away, relieved to be out of his disturbing presence.
“It is a very good thing you are married, Bella, or I would be quite jealous of you right now,” Triss said, eyeing the jewels Bella wore with envy.
Glancing down, Bella admitted to herself that she felt odd wearing the diamond
demi-parure
the duke had given her before they had departed for the evening. She felt even more disturbed recalling the scene that had taken place between them in her bedchamber.
An hour earlier, after her maid had just finished helping her dress in her lavender-blue evening gown, there had been a knock on her bedchamber door.
It had been a complete surprise to see the duke enter. Dressed in formal evening attire, he presented an impressive picture. Carter the maid slipped from the room and closed the door softly behind her. Bella’s questioning gaze immediately went to the large flat leather case the duke held.
“I thought you might enjoy wearing these this evening,” the duke said, stepping farther into the room.
Bella could only raise a brow in surprise and watch as the duke placed the case on her dressing table and opened the lid.
Taking a step closer, Bella did not glance down at first, but continued to look at the duke. There was something different about his demeanor this evening, some indefinable emotion she could not put her finger on.
Finally she looked down at the open case. A gasp escaped her lips at the sight of the glittering jewelry lying against the deep blue velvet that lined the case.
“They would look very well on you,” he said, his voice deep and gentle.
The necklace was made of a triple strand of graduated diamonds; the brooch was large, with three large diamonds dangling from the bottom of a round cluster of diamonds. A pair of diamond earbobs nestled between the necklace and brooch.
“Oh, no. I could not wear these,” she said.
Reaching into the case, the duke picked up the necklace.
“Of course you can. Don’t all women like to wear jewels?” he responded with a slight smile on his firm lips.
“But, your grace, I already feel such a fraud. Somehow wearing these would just make it worse,” she tried to explain, twisting her hands together.
The duke’s piercing gray-green eyes met hers as he moved to step behind her. “Arabella, it is only jewelry. You are a beautiful woman on your way to attend a ball. The Westlake vaults are full of such trinkets. Why not enjoy their beauty?” he questioned as he brought the necklace around to rest on her neck.
Bella could see the duke’s reflection in the mirror on her vanity as he stood behind her. Something about his nearness made her stand very still. She found it difficult to breathe as he fastened the heavy piece of jewelry around her neck. It lay cool and sparkling against her collarbone.
Their gazes met in the reflection of the mirror, and Bella saw a smile lurking at the corner of the duke’s mouth. The warmth of his breath was on her nape, as he stood very close behind her. His long fingers still rested very lightly on her neck, and a shiver went down her arms as she stood, as if frozen, in front of him.
His piercing gaze held hers in the mirror, and she found that she suddenly had no desire to pull away. Again, an exquisite shiver danced down her spine.
Was this the same man she had cared for while he had been so weak? she asked herself in wonderment. It was almost impossible to recognize this broad-shouldered, disturbingly confident, and heartbreakingly handsome man as the one who had been so near death in her bedroom.
Slowly his fingers trailed down the sides of her neck to the tops of her shoulders. She felt the strength of his hands through the sheerness of her evening gown. All of a sudden the feel of his warm hands and the intensity of his gaze were too much for Bella to cope with.
Taking a ragged, deep breath, she let a feeling of self-preservation make her step away from him. With trembling fingers, she reached for the earbobs.
“Thank you. I shall enjoy wearing such lovely things,” she said shakily, refusing to look at him. “Thank you, Arabella,” he said.
Holding the earbobs in her hand, Bella cast a quick sideways glance at the duke, and caught the speculative gleam in his gray gaze as he turned to leave without another word. When the door closed behind him, Bella moved on unsteady legs to sit on her bed, still feeling the warmth of his fingers almost caressing her neck. A feeling of near disorientation seized her emotions, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of unfamiliar feelings.
It is what sophisticated men of the duke’s ilk do for amusement
, she told herself sternly. Since coming to London, had she not heard story after story about the duke’s reputation as a rake? Had she not seen for herself the notes women had given him, so that he would meet them in private?
Bella felt confused and frightened, betrayed by her own thoughts and emotions. She had always prided herself on her good sense and judgment. From the time she was twelve, after the unexpected death of her mother, she had planned her life out very carefully. But since the day she had found the duke half-dead on her front drive, everything she had believed in and planned for was now gone.
If she allowed herself to succumb to his obvious expertise where women were concerned, she knew she would only be a fool.
It was horrible enough that they had been forced into this sham marriage, but how much worse it would be if she actually cared for him, she thought, clutching the earbobs to her chest.
Since the wedding Bella felt that she no longer truly belonged anywhere. Virtually rejected by her father and uncle, she knew she could not go home. So she had grasped at the idea of an annulment to save her from being a faceless nobody in one of the duke’s homes. She would continue to be treated with contempt by his servants, because even they knew that she did not belong.
She recalled the duke’s words about assignations in atriums being unimportant. The women who had written those
notes had been guests in his home, ladies from good families, and it had meant nothing to him. She wondered how they felt. Had they been in love with him and felt the sting of his rejection?
If those women had meant nothing, Bella knew in her heart that she would mean less than nothing.
Oh, she knew that he was grateful to her for her care of him while he had been injured. He probably had no compunction in starting a flirtation with her. She could even believe that to save his family from the scandal of an annulment he might even accept this marriage. But he certainly would never have chosen her for his bride.
Even if they agreed to continue with the marriage, his life would not change. She would be the one to suffer the pain of his faithlessness, the shame of his flaunting his dalliances in front of the world.
No! She would not live that way, she vowed to herself, thankful that anger was now clearing her confused senses.
Once she obtained the annulment, Papa would have to take her back. She did not care if she lived the rest of her life as a pariah. She would not consign herself to this kind of misery if she could do something to prevent it.
Feeling relief at her new resolve, Bella had affixed the earbobs to her earlobes and clipped the brooch to the front of the high-waisted bodice of her gown. She then grabbed her shawl and reticule and left her bedchamber, determined to ignore the duke at all costs.
“Bella, are you well? You are awfully flushed.”
Bella was pulled back to the present by her aunt’s concerned question, and saw that the duke’s mother was also looking at her with a frown.
“I am perfectly well.” She forced a smile and opened her fan.
Looking around, she noticed that there were now scores of people milling about, and the room was becoming noisy as the musicians tuned their instruments.
Triss and Louisa came to her side, and for once Bella was grateful for their chatter. She thought the two younger girls looked enchanting together, Triss in her pink gown and Louisa in one of spring green.
It occurred to Bella that she had not seen Margaret this
eve, and she questioned Lady Louisa regarding the whereabouts of her sister-in-law.
“Oh, Margaret. She is at some rout or crush,” Louisa said with a dismissive shrug. “More than likely somewhere with high-stakes faro. Margaret was always one for the cards.”
Bella raised a brow at Louisa’s cold description of her sister-in-law but made no comment.
“Arabella, you look stunning in Grandmama’s diamonds,” Lady Louisa told her a moment later. “Grandpapa had the set made for their wedding. I always remember Grandmama wearing them on special occasions. I wonder what kind of jewelry Malverton will give me? Do you think I should let him know that I much prefer diamonds and emeralds to rubies and sapphires?”
Bella left the answer to that question to Triss’s expertise, turning to converse quietly with her aunt.
After the orchestra began to play, it suddenly became clear to Bella why Almack’s was so popular. Besides the exclusivity created by the patronesses, the orchestra was very good. As she stood on the edge of the dance floor with Aunt Elizabeth and the Dowager Duchess of Westlake, Bella watched Triss as she performed the intricate steps of the minuet. Bella observed that the Duke of Malverton’s brother seemed very young, but he partnered Triss well.
Afterward, the young man returned Triss to her mother, thanking her with a bow for the honor of their dance. Triss turned shining, excited eyes to Bella.