Belle's Beau (12 page)

Mrs. Weatherstone gave a small laugh. "No, how should you? You are too inexperienced to catch these little nuances. It would be quite unexceptional to include an unmarried gentleman who was related to one's family to a small, select dinner such as this, or a close family friend. Lord Ashdon is neither. His lordship's only entree is his relationship to Mr. White, who is undisputedly a friend of the family. Therefore I am fairly confident that Lady Moorehead harbors hopes of promoting a match in that direction."

"I see." Belle managed to drum up a smile. "Well! I had no notion that such scheming was going on."

"Oh, it happens all the time. The Season is one big brew of plots and schemes and subterfuges to land the most eligible matches possible," said Mrs. Weatherstone.

"Aunt Margaret, are you plotting on my behalf?" asked Belle quietly.

Mrs. Weatherstone looked quickly, sharply, at her niece. The faintest tinge of color rose in her face. "Why, Belle, what a question! Of course I am not...plotting! I merely think it a very good thing that we are going to this dinner. And I wish you to wear that new gold gown to it, too; it will be perfect for the occasion, and you look so lovely in it." She reached out and patted her niece's clasped hands. "You will turn a few heads with it, I assure you."

"Then I shall certainly wear it. Aunt," said Belle promptly, as the smiling face of a certain gentleman came to her mind.

That afternoon Belle went riding with her friends. It was the party that Lord Ashdon had suggested. Belle was very aware of the viscount. If she was not speaking with him, she was listening to him and watching him. Most particularly, she was interested in the byplay between Lord Ashdon and her friend Clarice Moorehead. Once the notion had been put into her head, Belle could not shake it. She studied Clarice, wondering if her friend actually was smitten with Lord Ashdon, and if Lady Moorehead really was scheming to see her daughter a viscountess. Clarice was riding between Lord Ashdon and Roland White, conversing animatedly with both, and her occasional laughter floated back to Belle.

Belle could not see that Clarice favored Lord Ashdon over Roland White or, indeed, over her own brother. She glanced sideways at the riders who kept her company. Of course, Angus Moorehead had eyes only for Millicent Carruthers.

Belle looked again, blinking in astonishment. She was stunned at the way that Angus and Millicent were staring into one another's eyes as they exchanged pleasantries.

"Why, I never even noticed!" she exclaimed.

"What did you never notice, Miss Weatherstone?"

Belle turned sharply in her saddle. Lord Ashdon had come up on his mount on her other side without its even registering upon her. "What?"

A blush suddenly rose in her face as she realized that he had overheard her. She could hardly explain what she had been thinking that had led to her stunning revelation about Angus and Millicent. "Oh! Wh-why, only see how bright the flowers are today, my lord!" she stammered, gesturing with her whip toward a long bed of late-spring blossoms nodding in the breeze.

Lord Ashdon glanced in the direction she was pointing and then looked back at her. There was a smile on his face, and his blue eyes were warm in expression. "Yes, they are beautiful, as beautiful as those in Bath."

"In Bath?" said Belle, still a little off balance. She stole another glance sideways at the couple, whose horses were beginning to drift a little ways behind. "You are familiar with Bath, then?"

Lord Ashdon laughed, a lift of surprise in his voice. "Of course! I convalesced there for the better part of a year."

Belle recalled that her aunt had mentioned becoming acquainted with the viscount in Bath. His lordship had conversed a few times with her sister, but Cassandra had not been so struck by her passing acquaintance with Lord Ashdon that she had ever written a word about him. Looking at Lord Ashdon now, Belle could not imagine its being so. She flashed a smile. "Oh, yes! Of course. I had forgotten."

A small frown pulled Lord Ashdon's brows close over his well-formed nose. There was a puzzled expression in his eyes. "I see."

Belle felt that something more was expected of her. She wondered why the viscount was looking at her so oddly. "I suppose you have a wide acquaintance in Bath. Do you plan to journey there again?"

"I had thought to go down a few weeks ago, but then I—“ Lord Ashdon shifted in his saddle, making the well-oiled leather creak. His gaze was focused entirely on her face. "I do not understand your meaning. Miss Weatherstone. Have I offended you in some fashion?"

"No, of course not!" said Belle quickly, completely taken aback. She was startled by the intensity and sharpness of his gaze.

Ahead of them, Roland White turned in his saddle, placing one hand on the broad rump of his mount. "Ashdon! I say, Ashdon, Miss Moorehead has expressed her desire to go to Gunther's. What say the rest of you?"

Lord Ashdon straightened and made an appropriate reply. His gaze necessarily left Belle's face, for which she was grateful. She had never felt the least bit uncomfortable in the viscount's presence before, but just for a moment she thought she had seen a flash of inexplicable anger pass over his countenance. It startled her, for she had never seen anything other than an amiable, smiling expression on his lordship's face. She did not know what to make of it or what to attribute it to. For the life of her, Belle could not imagine why the viscount had thought he had offended her. Nor how she had come to offend him to the point of anger.

Angus and Millicent rejoined the rest of the party, and the equestrians set out for Gunther's. The famous sweet shop enjoyed a large patronage, and when the party arrived, they found others of their acquaintance already there.

While it was not patently obvious to everyone, it gradually dawned on Belle that she was not enjoying as much conversation with Lord Ashdon as she usually had. As she began to watch him, she became vaguely disturbed. If she had not known better, it would have seemed to her that he was deliberately avoiding her, by either word or glance. His attentions toward her were markedly absent.

She could not understand it. From the first, Lord Ashdon had been one of her most persistent suitors, and now he had withdrawn as though she had become some mere acquaintance. Surely it was her overactive imagination, she assured herself. It was simply that the viscount was too civil to ignore the claims that others had on his attention.

Despite all of her inner reassurances, however, Belle could not shake the odd feeling that she had somehow lost the viscount's regard. As the party left Gunther's and the ladies were accompanied by their escorts to their various domiciles. Belle felt that, for her, the ride had fallen sadly flat.

Chapter 11

Vauxhall Gardens instantly earned Belle's approval. She delighted in the long avenues of towering trees. There were fountains and cascades along the winding paths and Mr. Roubiliac's fine statue of Handel to admire before the company retired to one of the small supper boxes arranged in the leafy arbors.

The light supper was sumptuous, consisting of roasted game hens, fresh peas, Spanish onions, fruit and cheese, custards, syllabubs laced with wine, and arrack punch. Lady Moorehead confided to Mrs. Weatherstone and Mrs. Carruthers that she had had her own cook prepare the roasted game hens and then had brought them to Vauxhall in a basket. "None of that nasty powdered beef for my guests," she declared. Her ladyship was rewarded with praise from her guests, especially the gentlemen, for her thoughtfulness.

The orchestra played continuously in the pavilion, and there was dancing in the adjoining area that was bordered by the several wooden dinner boxes. The wind rustled the leaves in the tops of the trees overhead, while torchlight rivaled the gleam of stars in a darkening sky.

Belle thought the box that the Mooreheads had hired for the evening was very comfortable. The chairs were well upholstered, and the table furnishings were tastefully done. Of course, Lady Moorehead had left nothing to chance, and had in fact imported her own servants and tableware.

Belle felt that she had nothing to complain of cither in her surroundings or in the company. Everyone appeared to be in the best of spirits. Indeed, she was amazed by how much at ease her uncle and aunt were in this particular company. Of course, Lord and Lady Moorehead were excellent hosts, making certain that no one was without refreshment or a partner for conversation.

When Belle observed the occupants in some of the other dinner boxes, she could well understand why her aunt might question the wisdom of a party at Vauxhall Gardens. Some appeared a trifle overbold in their loud conversation and indulged in raucous laughter. Probably an excessive flow of wine could be blamed, she thought.

She simply shrugged it off. She was not one who easily took offense or allowed something that had nothing to do with her to spoil her evening.

The only thing that really marred the enjoyment of the evening for her was Clarice's whispered confidence: "It is the strangest thing, Belle! Roland told me that Lord Ashdon had expressed a wish that he had not committed himself to our party."

Belle glanced quickly in Lord Ashdon's direction, to assure herself that he was still in conversation with Lord and Lady Moorehead and could not possibly overhear himself being talked about.

"Did-did Lord Ashdon tell Roland why?" asked Belle, her heart beginning to beat rather fast. Surely the viscount's about-face had nothing to do with her. He had not called at the town house that week, but that meant nothing, of course. Lord Ashdon naturally had many commitments. She couldn't expect him to continue to dance attendance on her as he had all of the Season so far.

Clarice frowned, tapping her chin with the point of her gilt-edged fan. "Roland was not certain, but he says he suspects it has something to do with Lady Ashdon."

"Lady Ashdon?" asked Belle, looking at her friend in perplexity. "Why, how could it?"

Clarice shrugged, then a dimpled smile appeared on her face. "Well, Roland hinted that Lady Ashdon considers each of us—you, me, and Millicent—eminently suitable as a match for Lord Ashdon. Roland thinks that his lordly cousin is wanting to put distance between himself and all of us. So he would have preferred not coming tonight, but naturally, since he had already committed himself to my mother, he couldn't very well not come!"

Belle felt a sense of relief flood through her. Was that it? Was that why Lord Ashdon had behaved so strangely the other day during the riding outing and had not been to call on her that week? He was distant this evening, too, she reflected, exchanging pleasantries but not actually joining in with their funning as he had done. She missed his smile, the one that began in his eyes before it came full-blown to his face. That was not to say that Lord Ashdon had not smiled all evening, but it was not accompanied by that same degree of warmth that Belle was used to seeing in his gaze.

Only once, when she had taken off her cloak and glanced up to meet Lord Ashdon's eyes as he looked at her, had she seen a flare of heat in his expression.

"You look lovely this evening," he had said, bowing over her gloved hand as he greeted her.

Belle's pulse had jumped in her throat. She knew that it was her gown, the shimmering gold gown she wore, that had elicited that scorching glance. She had murmured something, hoping that the viscount would remain beside her to talk. But he had not. After a short moment of exchanging pleasantries with her aunt and uncle, Lord Ashdon had excused himself to converse with others, and he had not really addressed a personal word to Belle since.

"I suppose that must explain it, then," she remarked.

"What?" asked Clarice.

Belle glanced at her friend, and then for no accountable reason felt herself blushing. "Oh, I was just thinking that Lord Ashdon does not seem quite his usual amiable self."

Clarice frowned slightly. "Why, yes, I quite take your meaning. He has hardly spoken to you or me or Millicent all evening. He has been talking forever to everyone else. How very rude of his lordship, to be sure! I shall see to it that we are no longer so ignominiously ignored."

"Clarice!" Belle hissed, but her friend was already walking away, with a backward glance full of mischief.

Whatever Clarice said to Lord Ashdon in her laughing way made the difference. Afterward, Belle was gratified when the viscount actually came over to address a few pleasantries to her. Of course, she couldn't very well believe that he had fallen back into his former easy way with her, when he excused himself after only a few minutes and moved away to speak with Millicent and Angus.

Her aunt, on the other hand, was eminently satisfied by his lordship's attentions. "I do believe that Lord Ashdon is quite taken with you. Belle," remarked Mrs. Weatherstone quietly.

"Oh, Aunt! I hardly think so. He is equally attentive to Clarice and Millicent," said Belle.

"Yes, well, his lordship is nothing if not civil," said Mrs. Weatherstone.

"Lord Ashdon is much like what I should wish for you, Belle," said Mr. Weatherstone in a low voice, his gaze having followed the viscount.

Belle's face flamed. "Really, Uncle, I don't think that—

"Phineas, this is not the time nor the place," said Mrs. Weatherstone quickly.

"You are right, of course, my dear," said Mr. Weatherstone, with an apologetic cough.

Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone decided to take a leisurely stroll through the gardens after their supper. Belle waved them off gaily, relieved to have them gone, since it had become obvious that they wished to discuss her possible matrimonial prospects. Besides, it was like a breath of fresh air to be able to relax and be more herself without her aunt's eagle eye always on her.

"Belle! You'll never guess the treat that is in store for us!" exclaimed Millicent, her brown eyes sparkling as she turned toward Belle. She was attired in a leaf-green gown that showed her glowing complexion to advantage, as Angus's admiring glances all evening had proved.

“Tell me, Millicent," urged Belle, smiling at her friend's infectious enthusiasm.