Belle's Beau (24 page)

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Miss Weatherstone, shaking her head quickly but with a smile trembling upon her lips. "I couldn't possibly."

The door opened again. Another Miss Weatherstone entered the room. Lord Ashdon took one look and closed his eyes in acute embarrassment.

When Belle saw her sister's hands in Lord Ashdon's clasp, she gave a peal of laugher. "Lord Ashdon, I hope that you do not mean to declare yourself to Cassandra. You will be vastly disappointed in her answer, for she must perforce confess that she is already betrothed. But I would be delighted to wed you, if it is really I that you want!"

Lord Ashdon dropped Cassandra's hands, heat flushing his face. "My pardon! I am sorry, Miss Weatherstone! I did not realize—

Cassandra chuckled. "Yes, so I am aware. I thought you were with my uncle in his study, otherwise I would have waited to come in for my embroidery. I shall just retrieve it and remove myself, and so any lingering confusion. Good-bye, my lord!"

The door closed behind her. Belle waited only to be certain of their privacy before she advanced toward the viscount, a roguish smile on her face. "You were saying, my lord?"

Lord Ashdon loosened his starched white cravat with one finger. "Ah! Yes, I almost forgot in my mortification." With sincere regret on his face, he said contritely, "Forgive me, Belle! I did not realize that she wasn't you. I hope that Raven doesn't call me out for this."

Belle laughed at him. "Really, Ashdon! You are such a nonsensical creature on occasion."

Lord Ashdon swooped down on her and caught her up in his arms. He smiled down into her suddenly very wide eyes. "Am I, indeed! And you, my dearest girl, are a sore trial and temptation!" He lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly.

When he set her back onto her feet, Belle staggered slightly. She held on to his lapel with one hand and his coat sleeve with the other. "My goodness! I am so glad that I came in when I did. Cassandra would have been covered with confusion if you had kissed her."

"I think it is just as well that your sister and Raven are going to Vienna. It would be quite disconcerting to keep mistaking your twin sister for you," said Lord Ashdon.

"Yes; if you made a practice of kissing her, Philip
would
have to call you out," said Belle.

Lord Ashdon laughed and agreed, then kissed her again. Afterward they sat together for several minutes, their hands entwined, and quietly discussed the future. When he was preparing to take his leave, he told Belle that he had persuaded Mr. Weatherstone to put the announcement of their betrothal into the
Gazette
at once. "For I don't wish to take the chance that someone else will turn your head."

"It couldn't be done," whispered Belle, looking up into his face.

Instead of raising her hand to his lips in the conventional manner, as he had intended, he kissed her again.

Belle exited the drawing room in a happy haze, accompanied by her betrothed. Lord Ashdon left the town house with the congratulations of Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone and of Miss Cassandra Weatherstone and Mr. Philip Raven, who had arrived to take his lady for a drive in the park.

After the viscount and the others were gone, Belle turned to her aunt. "I hope that you will help me, Aunt, in making the wedding plans and getting together a trousseau."

"Oh, you need not fret, Belle. There will be ample time to do so," said Mrs. Weatherstone comfortably. "The date has not yet been set, but I anticipate that it will be sometime in June."

Belle shook her head. "I am sorry, Aunt, but the wedding must take place much sooner."

"Why, whatever for, Belle?" asked Mrs. Weatherstone in surprise.

"Belle, is there something that you wish to tell us?" asked Mr. Weatherstone quietly.

Belle smiled at her uncle. "Yes, sir. Lord Ashdon told me in confidence that he is still with the army. I am going with him when he returns to duty."

"Still with the army! But how can this be?" exclaimed Mrs. Weatherstone in dismay. She looked from her spouse's suddenly thoughtful expression back to her niece. "I have heard nothing of this before. You must be mistaken, Belle."

Mr. Weatherstone held up his hand. "Peace, Margaret. Belle, are you certain of this?"

"Quite certain, sir. Lord Ashdon has not informed Lady Ashdon of his plans, which is why it is not generally known," said Belle.

Mr. Weatherstone regarded her for a long moment. "It has to do with Bonaparte, does it not?"

Belle was surprised. "Why, yes. Lord Ashdon told me that he is expecting there to be war again."

"War! What nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Weatherstone sharply.

"It is not so nonsensical as one might think," said Mr. Weatherstone with a deep frown on his face.

Mrs. Weatherstone stared at her husband, then turned swiftly to her niece. "You will not go, Belle! I'll not have you anywhere near danger."

"It is not our decision, Margaret," said Mr. Weatherstone.

"But Phineas, if there is to be war—! Why can she not remain here safely in England with us?"

"She will abide by her husband's wishes, Margaret. If Bonaparte does indeed break the peace, I trust that Lord Ashdon will choose to send Belle home," said Mr. Weatherstone heavily.

"So I should hope!" said Mrs. Weatherstone, agitatedly searching for her handkerchief.

Belle hugged her aunt. "Pray do not be so concerned, Aunt. You know that I am just like a cat. I always land on my feet."

Mrs. Weatherstone gave a watery chuckle. "Thank you! You have put things quite in perspective, Belle! Like a cat, indeed!" She gave a sniff and put her handkerchief away. "Well! It seems that we shall have two weddings before the Season is out. There is much to be done. Belle, I think that perhaps we shall go to the modiste tomorrow and begin making some decisions on your wedding gown and trousseau."

"Thank you, Aunt," said Belle gratefully, flashing a swift smile. "Now if you will excuse me, I must pen a letter to my grandfather to inform him that I am wedding a soldier!"

"You might mention that he is also a viscount," suggested Mrs. Weatherstone. "I don't wish Sir Marcus to think that I have been behind in my duty toward you and allowed you to contract a colorless marriage!"

"Yes, we would undoubtedly hear the eruption from here," murmured Mr. Weatherstone.

"Oh, but I think that I shall tease Grandfather for a few pages," said Belle mischievously. 'Then, at the very last, I shall make a note of Lord Ashdon's title. He will feel very sheepish over his outburst when he realizes that you have done well by me after all."

Mr. Weatherstone threw back his head and laughed.

"You are a minx. Belle," said Mrs. Weatherstone severely, but with a smile in her eyes.

Chapter 23

The next week Belle went around in a haze of happiness. The viscount had put an announcement of their betrothal into the
Gazette,
and everywhere she went she received the congratulations of the
ton.
Lord Ashdon was solicitous in his escort. Belle never set foot into another ballroom without the viscount beside her. It was a wonderful, fabulous time.

Belle's particular friends expressed their happiness for her and also a little envy. "For you have managed to snap up one of the most eligible
partis
in London this Season," said Clarice Moorehead with a small pout.

Millicent Carruthers agreed. "Indeed! However, we all knew that Belle was nutty on Lord Ashdon, so it works out very well."

"I have heard that we are shortly to hear an interesting announcement about you, too, Millicent," said Belle with a teasing smile.

Her friend blushed and shyly admitted to it. "Yes—that is, I am hopeful that Papa will consent."

"Why should he not? Angus is a very good catch," said Clarice instantly.

"You must say that, since he is your brother," said Belle.

A dimple peeped out at the corner of Miss Moorehead's smiling mouth. "Quite true, Belle."

"Oh, no, no! You mustn't put it just that way, Belle, even in fun. Angus and Clarice are very fond of each other," said Millicent, a little distressed.

"Of course we are," agreed Clarice. "I own, however, that I am surprised that Angus has shown such good sense. I never expected him to offer for anyone whom I should like. Actually, I did not think that there was a lady alive who could put up with his crotchets and his teasing."

"I do not think that Angus is the least crotchety," said Millicent.

"Wait until you have lived with him for a while," advised Clarice.

Millicent blushed furiously and was so consumed by confusion that she was rendered momentarily speechless.

Belle laughed. "For my part, I believe that you must love him very much, Millicent, since you actually like his abominable poetry!"

Recovering her composure somewhat, Millicent smiled and shook her head. "Angus composes some very nice verse."

"Of course he does," said Belle. She threw a laughing glance toward Clarice, who rolled her eyes eloquently. Though she teased Millicent, she knew exactly what her friend was feeling. She was herself still dazed by her own good fortune.

She had already written her grandfather and had received his letter by return post. Sir Marcus had bestowed his blessing upon her choice and expressed his amazement and contentment that she had done so well for herself.

"I know of the Ashdons. They are an old and honorable family. I could not have wished better for you, Belle," he had written.

Surrounded by goodwill and approval, Belle felt that everything was right in her world. She seemed to have entered a new dimension where everyone she met and everything she did was pleasant.

* * * *

A few days later, Lady Ashdon was driving down a main thoroughfare, wrapped in pleasant thoughts of her son's soon-to-be marriage. Though Miss Weatherstone was not her first choice for the viscount, the young lady would do quite well. Lady Ashdon had been satisfied with the outcome of her little tea with Miss Weatherstone and her aunt. Quite a respectable family, and from what she had been given to understand through discreet questionings of her friends and acquaintances, Miss Weatherstone had a very decent portion.

Lady Ashdon was well pleased. The viscount would soon be safely settled into married life, and his unfathomable thirst for adventure would be quenched forever. An increasing nursery had a tendency to do that to a man.

When the viscount had returned to England, Lady Ashdon had detected that same familiar restlessness in her son. It seemed that nothing had changed except that he had finally agreed with her that it was time to take a wife. She had been thoroughly invigorated by that reluctant admission and had redoubled her persuasions that he remain in London for the Season. When the viscount had given up his announced intention to go to Bath—for what reason he wished to go there had never been made perfectly clear to her—and announced that he was staying in town, she had been made hopeful that some young miss had indeed caught his eye. And so it had proven, she thought with satisfaction. Naturally she had not discussed the matter with her son. The viscount was peculiarly jealous of the conduct of his affairs, as Lady Ashdon well knew. She did not wish to set up the viscount's back and possibly set a stumbling block in the way of his impending betrothal.

Lady Ashdon chanced to glance out of her paned window and caught sight of Miss Weatherstone entering a prominent bookstore, with her maid following behind. On impulse, Lady Ashdon called out to her coachman to stop. The carriage drew over to the curb and the groom let down the iron step.

Her ladyship descended, crossed the walk, and entered the bookstore, intending to inquire of Miss Weatherstone if she could give her a place in her carriage. It would be a good way to converse a little further with her future daughter-in-law, she thought.

Lady Ashdon looked around. There were others in the aisles, and she did not immediately perceive her quarry. When her ladyship's gaze finally fell on Miss Weatherstone, she stood rooted to the spot. Disbelieving, Lady Ashdon watched as Miss Weatherstone received a wrapped package of what was obviously books from a gentleman who was completely unknown to her ladyship. Before her ladyship's affronted eyes, Miss Weatherstone blushed prettily. The gentleman raised Miss Weatherstone's fingertips to his lips and gazed ardently into her eyes. The maid, who discreetly stood some feet away, covered her smile with one hand.

Lady Ashdon had seen enough. She sailed forward, utterly outraged. "Well, miss! Explain this if you can!" she said challengingly in an imperious tone.

Miss Weatherstone and the gentleman looked around at her ladyship with startled expressions. "Pardon me?" asked Miss Weatherstone.

Lady Ashdon snorted. She skewered Miss Weatherstone and the tall gentleman with a contemptuous look. "Such a wanton display is beyond pardon!" She turned on her heel and swept out of the bookstore, straight back to her carriage, where she curtly commanded her coachman to take her home. As she settled back against the velvet squabs, Lady Ashdon ground her teeth over what she had just discovered. Miss Weatherstone was meeting some unknown on the sly, with the full knowledge and cooperation of her maid. What affronted her ladyship most was that neither Miss Weatherstone nor the gentleman had looked the least bit guilty at being caught in their clandestine rendezvous.

"Well! I shall know what to do about it! Adam shall not wed that—that brazen, wicked deceiver!" exclaimed Lady Ashdon, already determined in her heart that she would do everything in her power to rescue the viscount from the clutches of such a shameless hussy.

* * * *

Cassandra showed Belle the present that her betrothed had given to her. "I know that you will not quite appreciate it, Belle, but I am so very happy with it," said Cassandra with a smile. She held out two books with tooled-leather covers. "They are journals! One for me and one for Philip. We will be able to record all of our thoughts and observations during our diplomatic tours. Isn't that a marvelous notion? Philip thought of it, of course."

Belle took the journals and opened one, flipping through the gilt-edged blank pages. She wondered that her sister could be so enthusiastic over something so mundane. She knew it wouldn't do to say so, however. "Oh! There is so much white space! How shall you ever fill it up, Cassandra?" she asked with a flashing grin.