Dancing at Midnight (18 page)

Free of adornment, it let its elegant cut show its style.

Belle fingered the soft velvet, admiring the way the bodice was shot

through with silver thread. "It's lovely," she said.

"But it isn't very different from what I already own."

"From zee front, eet ees just like the rest, but from zee back..."

Madame Lambert turned the dress around, and Belle realized

that most of her back would be revealed. "You will need to wear your

hair up," Madame continued, "so you will not obscure

zee effect."

Belle reluctantly tore her gaze from the gown and looked at the

dressmaker. "I'll take it."

*  *  *

John made excellent time to London, especially considering that he

hadn't given Wheatley much notice. The efficient valet had packed up his

clothing with remarkable speed. John hoped that it would not take long

to win back Belle's favor, for he doubted

that he had enough elegant clothing to last much more than a fortnight.

He had always been a stickler for quality, but quality

was expensive, and as a result he didn't have much of it.

He took a deep breath as he climbed the steps to his older brother's

town house. He hadn't seen Damien for years, although he had received a

brief congratulatory note on his being raised to the peerage. Damien

would probably not be thrilled to see him,

but one couldn't very well turn out one's own brother, could one? And

besides, John didn't have any other options. He certainly didn't have

time to find a suitable residence to rent. For all he knew, Belle could

be engaged already.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the heavy brass knocker and let it

slam down against the door. A butler appeared almost instantly.

"Is the earl available?" John inquired politely.

"Who may I say is calling?"

John handed him a crisp white calling card. The butler took note of his

last name and raised an eyebrow.

"His brother," John said simply.

The butler ushered John into a spacious sitting room off of the main

hallway. A few minutes later Damien entered the room, surprise evident

on his face. As always, John was struck by the family resemblance

between them. Damien was an older and slightly softer version of himself

and did not look his thirty-nine years. He had always been quite

handsome, classically so,

whereas John's face was a bit too lean and angular to fit the guidelines

of aristocratic elegance.

"It's been an age," Damien finally said, holding out his hand. "What

brings you to town?"

John took his brother's hand and shook it in a firm grasp. "I have

urgent business in London, and I fear I did not have time to procure

lodgings ahead of time. I was hoping that I could impose upon your

hospitality while I conduct my affairs."

"Of course."

John had known Damien would agree. He doubted that his brother was

enthusiastic, or even remotely pleased about the request, but Damien had

always placed great stock in good manners and breeding and certainly

would not refuse hospitality to his own brother. As long, of course, as

his brother did not abuse this privilege.

"I thank you," John replied. "I assure you that should it become

apparent that my business cannot be completed in a fortnight,

I shall look elsewhere for lodgings immediately."

Damien graciously inclined his head. "Have you brought anyone with you?"

"Just my valet."

"Excellent, then I may assume that you have brought evening clothes?"

"Yes."

"Good. I have been invited to a small party this evening, and the

hostess sent me a note not an hour ago asking if I might bring

an extra man. Someone has gone ill, it seems, and now she has too many

women."

The thought of going out in society did not appeal to John in the least,

but he agreed because he might ascertain just who Belle was thinking

about marrying.

"Excellent," Damien replied. "I shall send a note round to Lady

Forthright immediately. Oh, and you shall be able to meet the woman I am

thinking of courting. It is high time I got myself a wife, you know. I

really do need an heir."

"Of course," John murmured.

"I think she is an excellent choice, although I do need to interview her

further. Good breeding and quite lovely. Intelligent, but

not ingratiatingly so."

"She sounds a paragon."

Damien turned to him quite suddenly. "Perhaps you know her. She recently

spent a month or so visiting relatives out near your new home. What is

it called? I can't remember."

John felt an evil, sick sensation form in the pit of his stomach and

then spread rapidly to his every extremity. "It's called

Bletchford Manor," he said coldly.

"Terrible name. You really must change it."

"I intend to. You were about to say..."

"Oh yes. Her name is Lady Arabella Blydon."

*

*

*

*

*Chapter 11

*

John felt as if he'd been hit. The air grew stifling, and Damien's face

took on an undeservedly sinister expression. "I am familiar with Lady

Arabella," he finally managed to get out. He took bittersweet pleasure

in the fact that his voice sounded almost normal.

"How nice," Damien said mildly. "She'll be at the party this evening."

"I shall be pleased to renew her acquaintance."

"Good. I shall let you get settled in. Lightbody here will show you to

your room. I'll stop by later to fill you in on this evening's details."

Damien smiled blandly and left the room.

The butler entered with quick and silent efficiency and informed John

that his belongings had been removed to a guest chamber upstairs. Still

in a daze, John followed the butler to his room, where he proceeded to

lie on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and let

fury take over his entire being.

His brother? /His brother? /He'd never dreamed that Belle had this kind

of malicious streak. He willed himself to clear his mind

of her; he was getting far too upset, and she obviously wasn't worth it.

He wasn't successful. Every time he managed to steer his thoughts to

food or horses or anything neutral, a familiar blond head

and bright smile intervened. Then the smile melted into a sneer as he

watched her cavort off with his brother.

Damn that woman!

When it was time to get ready for the party, John dressed with

exceptional care in evening clothes of stark black relieved only by the

crisp whiteness of his shirt and cravat. He and his brother exchanged

polite conversation in the carriage, but John was much too preoccupied

by the thought of seeing Belle again to pay very much attention to

Damien. He didn't fault his brother for falling for her; he was only too

familiar with her charms. But he was furious with Belle for deliberately

seeking out such a vicious revenge against him.

When they arrived at the Forthright mansion, John allowed the butler to

relieve him of his great coat and immediately scanned the room for

Belle. She was over by the corner, animatedly talking to a tall,

handsome man with dark hair and eyes. She had certainly been busy in the

two weeks since their last meeting, he thought bitterly. Damien's

attention was immediately captured by a friend of his, and since their

hostess was nowhere to be found, John managed to avoid long, belabored

introductions. He made his way over to Belle, willing himself to keep

his raging anger in check. When he was just behind her, he said, "Good

evening, Lady

Arabella." not quite trusting himself to say anything more.

Belle whirled around, so excited to see him that she missed the coldness

in his voice. "John!" she said breathlessly, her eyes lighting up with

unconcealed happiness. "What a surprise." He had come. He had come.

Relief and joy washed over her, then were replaced by irritation. Damn,

she hadn't worn that daring blue dress. She'd never dreamed he'd arrive

in London so quickly.

"Is it?"

Belle blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Perhaps you should introduce me to your friend." John wanted nothing

other than to speak to her alone, but he saw no way to ignore the man at

her side.

"Oh, of course," Belle said, stumbling on her words. "Lord Blackwood,

this is my good friend Mr. William Dunford."

Dunford smiled at her in a manner that was much too familiar for John's

taste. "Didn't know you knew my first name, Belle,"

he teased.

"Oh, hush, Dunford. Next time I'm going to call you Edward, just to be

contrary."

A fresh spurt of jealousy raced through John at Belle and Dunford's

familiarity. Nevertheless, he automatically extended his hand. Dunford

shook it, murmured a greeting and then politely excused himself. Once

Dunford left, however, John allowed his true emotions to come to the

surface.

Belle gasped and actually stepped back from the sheer fury she saw

radiating from his eyes. "John, what is wrong?"

"How could you, Belle?" he spat out. "How could you?"

She blinked. She had expected jealousy, not this barely leashed rage.

"How could I what?"

"Don't play the innocent. It doesn't suit you."

"What are you talking about?" Belle repeated, her voice growing nervous.

He only glared at her.

Then she remembered the lie that Emma had told him in order to get him

to come~to London. Maybe he thought that she and Dunford ... "Is this

about Dunford?" she asked quickly. "Because if it is, then there is

nothing to worry about. He's quite an old friend of mine, but that is

all. He's Alex's best friend, too."

"This isn't about him," John hissed. "It's about my brother."

/"Who?"/

"You heard me."

"Your brother?"

John nodded curtly.

"I don't even know your brother."

"If you keep up your lies, Belle, they're going to trip you up. And

believe me, I'm not going to be around to catch you when

you fall."

Belle swallowed. "I think we had better continue this conversation in

private." Head held high, she swept out of the room and

onto a balcony. By the time she reached her destination, some of her

confusion had metamorphosed into anger, and when she turned to face him,

her eyes were flashing wildly. "All right then, Lord Blackwood. Now that

we are no longer performing

before an audience, suppose you tell me just what that little scene was

about."

"You are in no position to make demands on me, my lady."

"I assure you, I was not made aware of any such limitations on my behavior."

John seethed. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

Shake her and shake her and shake her and then he...

Oh Christ, he wanted to kiss her. But John was not in the habit of

kissing people in anger so he simply stared her down and said,

"I realize that my behavior toward you has not always been impeccable,

but setting your cap after my brother is petty and

childish. Not to mention disgusting—he's almost twice your age."

Belle still wasn't certain what precisely he was talking about, but she

was in no mood to offer him any explanations so she lifted her chin and

replied, "It's quite common for women of the /ton /to marry older men. I

believe women mature faster, and thus we find men our age, /or sometimes

as much as eight to ten years older"/—she said that part quite

pointedly—"childish and bothersome."

"Are you calling me childish and bothersome?" His voice was low and

deadly serious.

"I don't know. Was I? Now, if you'll excuse me, I am finding this

/conversation /exceedingly childish and bothersome, and I have much

better ways to spend my time."

John caught her in an iron grip. "I don't excuse you, thank you very

much, and I have no better way to spend my time. I have

one question for you, and I want it answered." He paused, and his

silence forced Belle to look up into his eyes. "Have you

always been this deliberately cruel?"

Belle yanked her arm back. "I'd slap you," she hissed. "But I'm afraid

your cheek might contaminate my hand."

"I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you hurt me. But, my lady, it was

only for a minute. Because then I realized that I want

no part of any woman who would stoop to consorting with my brother just

to have revenge against me."

Belle finally let her exasperation show. "For the last time, John, I

have no idea who your brother is."

"Well, thaf s interesting, because he knows who you are."

"Lots of people know who I am."

John put his face very close to hers. "He's thinking about marrying you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Belle blinked in surprise as some of her anger dissipated in the

confusion of the moment. "Well, I suppose that a number of

men have thought about marrying me," she said thoughtfully. "But that

doesn't mean that they have all asked me. And it

certainly doesn't mean that I have reciprocated their feelings."

For a moment John wanted to believe her but then he remembered Emma's

words. /She's thinking //of getting married... An earl, I think...

Actually, she said he reminded her of you. /"Don't try to talk your way