Bath Belles (23 page)
There was some little ambiguity in that “both.”
“To give us all time to become better acquainted,”
he added blandly, and walked to the sofa.
“If Mr. Duke has some hidden virtues, you must advise him to reveal them without delay.”
“His good nature is evident to the unprejudiced eye. He doesn’t gamble; he’s not a womanizer; he loves her. And she appears to return the honor. His little human failings need not concern you unduly. After all, you won’t have to live with him. He’s a sound man. What more can you want in a brother-in-law?”
“At least six inches! He’s not as tall as I am.”
“He’s taller than Esther. A man’s value isn’t measured in inches.”
I considered this unlikely gentleman as a brother-in-law and proceeded to the next matter of importance. “He’s well-to-do, at least, I believe you said?”
“A regular nabob. A baronial estate in Sussex and a mansion in Belgrave Square. You will have an opportunity to see the latter tomorrow, if all goes well, and the former at Christmas. He hopes to have you all there for the holiday.”
“Both”
had become “you,”
not “us,”
and my spirits flagged accordingly. “You spend the Christmas holiday in London, do you, Des?”
“No, I’m a near neighbor of Duke’s in Sussex. That’s how we became bosom beaux. I hoped to induce you to visit me for New Year’s. I usually have a ball. Liz and her husband will be with me for the season, or I would be joining Duke’s party.”
This sounded interesting enough that I cast no more spokes in Duke’s wheel. “It is in Mama’s hands. It is to her you should be telling these things, not to me.”
“Duke is telling her, if he is following my instructions. My job was to convince
you,
Belle. Are
you
interested?”
The glow in his eye denoted more than concern for Duke’s success. “I shall abide by my Mama’s decision.”
“But before I speak to her, do you dislike the idea?”
“As long as Esther is happy ...”
“My sweet shrew, I have just been telling you that the failings of a brother-in-law need not concern a lady unduly. I’ll undertake to please Esther—it’s
your
opinion we’re discussing.”
I revised the meaning of a few pronouns and understood that his speaking to Mama was on his behalf and my own, not Duke’s. I listened in a trance as he continued. “Could you be happy with a man who consorts daily with the ragtag and bobtail of society, and who occasionally serves you with a warrant? I will undertake to remove Grant from my household if you really dislike him.”
“No!”
His brows rose swiftly, and a stiffness entered his body, requiring me to hasten on and make myself clear. “I begin to understand Mr. Grant’s language. It won’t be necessary for him to leave.”
The stiffness melted, and his arms folded around me like a warm blanket. His voice in my ear was ragged with relief. “You gave me a bit of a turn there. Offering to dispense with Grant was the supreme sacrifice. He’s my lifeline to Stop Hole Abbey. Between Grant and me, we’ll have you pattering flash in no time.”
“Stubble it, Des.”
“Well spoken, moll,”
he said, and lifted his head to smile at me. For a moment we gazed at each other in that witless-looking way lovers have. Des appeared quite bereft of common sense, and I knew I was smiling like a moonling, yet I couldn’t stop. Far from being revolted by my expression, he crushed me against him for a merciless kiss. My blood quickened as his lips firmed in attack. I returned every pressure with unladylike force till my scalp tingled and my lungs felt ready to burst. Christmas suddenly seemed very far away.
“It’s early to be asking you for a commitment,”
Des said a moment later, “but sometimes
later
doesn’t come. It flashed into my head when I was looking down Eliot’s gun muzzle that I was going to die and I had never told you I love you, Belle. That’s why I told you at such an inopportune moment this afternoon. I don’t need a year to make up my mind, and I think you’re like me in that respect. At least, you seem capable of
hating
me at the drop of a hat, so your emotions must be easily engaged,”
he added, quizzing me with a smile.
A bustling in the hallway announced that the others were joining us, and we jumped to our feet in guilty haste. It would be hard to say which smile was broader, but I think Mr. Duke won the day. His smile dwindled as he caught sight of me, but he came forward manfully for my congratulations.
“You’re saddled with me now, Miss Haley,”
he said, rubbing his palms against his trousers to remove the perspiration before touching me. Something in my face told him he was safe. He laughed, and instead of shaking my hand, he reached up and placed a brotherly smack on my chin, then jumped back, astonished at his own daring.
“Am I to congratulate you, Des?”
he asked.
“She got me”
was Des’s refined way of announcing my capitulation.
“She has agreed to consider an offer,”
I explained.
I felt a little sorry for Mama, who was left out in the cold. We broke open a bottle of Graham’s champagne and discussed our future, the only bone of contention being which of us should have the pleasure of Mama’s company, though she was much inclined to return to Bath alone.
“Well, girls, the trip didn’t work out so badly after all, did it?”
Mama asked happily. She would have had to go some length to outdo herself on that understatement!
This and other details were to be worked out later. Des claimed his aunt was still interested in my house, and there was a lawyer to consult about arranging Kate Norman’s trust fund. It seemed December would be busy, but not busy enough to preclude our courting.
The little house on Elm Street would ring with much merry joy, and I sincerely hoped that Desmond’s aunt, or whoever bought the house, would be as happy in it as I was at that moment. I knew I would never have been a tenth as happy with Graham. I had learned to forgive him—how could I not, when he was indirectly the cause of my good fortune? I would forgive and then forget. It was time to bury the past and start a new leaf.
Copyright © 1986 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest (ISBN 0449208990)
Electronically published in 2014 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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other means without permission of the publisher. For more
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are
fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is
coincidental.
