Belle's Beau (10 page)

"I hope so, Aunt," said Belle, and turned to the next guest coming up the stairs.

As Lord Ashdon escorted his mother into the ballroom, Lady Ashdon said, "You first met the Weatherstones in Bath. How interesting, to be sure."

Instantly, Lord Ashdon realized what had happened. He pretended an indifference he did not actually feel. "Is it?" It was unfortunate that his previous acquaintance with Miss Weatherstone had come out so soon. He could see that his mother had made the obvious connection to his announced intention to seek his bride in Bath. If there was one thing he did not need, it was Lady Ashdon making his tentative attempt at a courtship very much her business.

"I am completely reconciled to coming this evening. Suddenly I find myself very much interested in furthering my own acquaintance with Miss Weatherstone and her delightful guardians," said Lady Ashdon.

Lord Ashdon acknowledged an acquaintance who hailed him with a wave, but he did not pause in his leisurely escort of his mother around the periphery of the colonnaded ballroom. "Pray do not leap to conclusions, ma'am. Unsupported assumptions often fail to live up to expectation," he said quietly.

"Quite true, Adam. One must never pin one's hopes on imaginations. Miss Weatherstone is, however, obviously quite important to you," said Lady Ashdon.

They stopped in their progress to speak for a moment or two to others who were known to them both. Lord Ashdon accepted the welcoming words of those who recalled him from years past and who now pronounced themselves very well satisfied to see him once again in England.

"As am I," said Lady Ashdon to one of these. "I am confident that Ashdon will perform his duty at last and settle down with some worthy young lady,"

"Oh, to be sure, to be sure," said their acquaintance, sliding a curious glance toward the viscount's amiable countenance. "Is the fortunate young lady someone with whom we might be acquainted?"

"As to that, I really could not say," said Lady Ashdon, bestowing her cool smile along with a significant nod.

Lord Ashdon could only smile over gritted teeth, as the obvious connection was made, based on his presence at a debutante's come-out ball. "The Weatherstones kindly included me in their invitation to my mother when they realized I was residing with her ladyship," he said hastily.

"Of course, dear boy. Nothing could be more natural," said their acquaintance. The conversation politely moved on to other topics, to Lord Ashdon's relief.

By the time Lord Ashdon resumed their promenade about the ballroom, he had had a few moments in which to formulate a strategy that might serve to throw a bit of dust into his parent's eyes, so that her ladyship would not be further tempted to imply a possible connection between himself and Miss Weatherstone. He had no desire to make of himself and Miss Weatherstone an object of public interest.

"Miss Weatherstone is not the only young lady whom I have honored with my attentions, my lady," he remarked.

As Lord Ashdon had hoped, Lady Ashdon's attention was firmly attached. Her gaze fixed upon his face. "What are you saying, Adam?"

"Only that I have done as you bade me, ma'am," he responded lightly. "I am widening my circle of acquaintances. For instance, earlier this week I attended a soiree hosted by Peter Crocker and his wife. Do you know them?"

"Crocker... no, I can't say that I do," said Lady Ashdon. She had stopped in her tracks and was plying her fan in a leisurely fashion that did not fool her son for a moment. Lord Ashdon knew that she was intensely curious. "Just what are you hinting at, Adam?"

"Why, you must certainly make their acquaintance, too, Mother," said Lord Ashdon. He paused a moment as he slanted a tantalizing smile at his astonished parent. "You see, I met Mrs. Crocker's younger sister at Almack's. Mrs. Crocker is sponsoring Miss Fairchilde this Season. Miss Fairchilde is not a great beauty, nor has she an immense portion, but she is gently bred."

Lady Ashdon was fairly gaping up at him. "Well! I must say that you have surprised me not a little, Adam. You have been industrious since our talk, have you not?"

"I am nothing if not a good soldier, ma'am," said Lord Ashdon. At his mother's questioning expression, he smiled. "I am reconnoitering the ground."

"Really, Adam!" Lady Ashdon snapped her fan shut. "What an absurd comparison. Reconnoitering, indeed!" She took his arm again. "But I shall not scold you, for I am very well satisfied with what you have imparted to me. I am glad that you have finally come to your senses and are taking your duty to heart at last."

“Then I am happy, ma'am," said Lord Ashdon, lifting his mother's hand to his lips and brushing a kiss across her gloved knuckles.

Lady Ashdon smiled, rather warmly by her standards. She was quiet for a moment, then her eyebrows rose as she inquired, "Are there any other young ladies, besides Miss Weatherstone and Miss Fairchilde, who have caught your eye?"

"Not at present," said Lord Ashdon quite truthfully. He was relieved, for it appeared that his little stratagem was serving him well, at least for the moment. Lady Ashdon's focus had been successfully deflected from its primary target, which had been Miss Weatherstone, to a broader spectrum, and that suited him perfectly.

"I believe you are correct, Adam. I must certainly make it my object to become acquainted with the Crockers," said Lady Ashdon decisively. "By the by, have you been introduced to the Moorehead girl, Miss Clarice Moorehead? She is the younger daughter and is very well favored, being an heiress as well as something of a beauty. It's a pity that she is a redhead, but one should not be too judgmental, should one?"

"No, I have not had that pleasure," said Lord Ashdon, his satisfaction dimming slightly as he realized that his little subterfuge had also strengthened Lady Ashdon's original determination to bring every respectable marriageable miss to his attention.

“Then I shall do the honors this very moment, for there are Lord Moorehead and his lady now, and that is Miss Moorehead sitting beside them," said Lady Ashdon with satisfaction. "They are not particular acquaintances of mine, of course, but that scarcely matters in this instance."

Lord Ashdon groaned inwardly, but nothing of his annoyance appeared in his face as he reluctantly accompanied his mother over to the Mooreheads.

It was thirty minutes after Lord Ashdon's arrival before Mrs. Weatherstone deemed there to have been sufficient time for receiving all those who intended to come. Belle was relieved to be done with her duty at last and readily acceded to her aunt's suggestion that it was time to leave the stairs. Mr. Weatherstone escorted his spouse and Belle into the ballroom to join their guests.

Belle was at once besieged by gentlemen who wished to sign her dance card. It was a heady feeling to be so sought after, but really there was just one gentleman that she hoped to dance with, and that was Lord Ashdon. She glanced casually about as she conversed with her admirers, at last locating his lordship across the ballroom. He was bowing to her friend Clarice, obviously soliciting her for the set.

Belle felt an unreasonable spurt of jealousy, for which she was instantly repentant. Of course Lord Ashdon would dance with others besides herself, and there was scarcely anyone whom she would consider more worthy of his lordship's attentions than her dear friend Clarice. Nevertheless, Belle, rather guiltily, felt that she would have been glad if Clarice had stumbled and torn the lace at her hem, necessitating a quick withdrawal to the sewing room.

She did not have long to think about it, however, as she was immediately whisked onto the dance floor and had no more than fleeting moments of opportunity to look for Lord Ashdon, since not one set went by that her hand was not bespoken. Then, all at once, it seemed, it was Lord Ashdon who was holding out his hand to her and requesting the honor of a dance. He looked down at her with his easy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed at her with an expression of admiration and good nature. Belle's heart gave a leap of happiness. "I would be most honored, my lord."

As she rose from her chair and took her place beside Lord Ashdon in the set, her whole being steadied, and nothing since her arrival in London seemed quite as gratifying as her come-out ball.

Chapter 9

Through the ensuing days, Belle became increasingly popular, and she was much admired and courted. There were invitations for every hour of each day, it seemed to her. She was actually somewhat dazed by the attention she was garnering, while her aunt appeared extremely gratified.

"It shan't be long, my dear Belle, before we are making plans for a wedding," said Mrs. Weatherstone with immense satisfaction. "I haven't been able to usher Cassandra through a successful Season, but certainly yours is making up for it in every respect."

"I hope so, Aunt," murmured Belle, not certain what she should think about her undoubted success. On the one hand, she was glad to have achieved what she had hoped to in coming to London. She had certainly expanded her circle of acquaintances and her worldly experience beyond what she could ever have thought or imagined. She had truly been blessed in that respect.

Increasingly, Belle heard herself referred to as the Belle of London. Everywhere she went, she received accolades from admirers. It seemed that she could do no wrong. Her uncle received two offers for her hand that month, but turned them both down on Belle's behalf. In Mr. Weatherstone's opinion, the gentlemen were not worthy of his niece.

Belle was relieved that she had her uncle to take care of her interests. Her ambitions had become strangely hazy. She had always known exactly what she wanted, but now she could not have told her friends or her aunt and uncle what hopes she harbored in her heart.

She had always aspired to be presented to Society, to see something more of the world than her own small corner, and her longing had been fulfilled beyond her wildest dreams. Now that that goal had been achieved, Belle questioned her own heart. Since she had no notion what else she could possibly desire, the future now seemed rather flat. In fact, a feeling that she was being squeezed and closed in was becoming increasingly familiar. Only when she was off for a ride on her gelding did the cobwebs seem to blow away from her mind so that she felt completely alive again. Belle was intelligent enough to realize that the rigidly structured life that her aunt had engineered for her was almost too confining for someone with her restless energy.

Once the Season was over, Belle supposed, she would return to her childhood home, the Hall, but that did not seem to be a particularly inviting outcome. She did not think that she could be content for the remainder of her life living quietly in the country with her grandfather after having tasted the broader society of London and its treats, but she did not know what else she wanted to do.

Her aunt obviously wished to find her a good match and establish her credibly. Perhaps that was as good an outcome as any, Belle thought. She certainly had enough admirers to choose from. Yet none of them had ignited the least bit of interest in her. She paused in her reflections, smiling a little as she acknowledged the truth. That is, she had had no interest in anyone until Lord Ashdon had appeared on the scene.

Upon their first meeting, Belle had felt her heart give a small bump. His handsome, scarred face, the warmth in his sunlit blue eyes, and his easy smile had all made an unforgettable impression. Later, when she had opportunity to observe the viscount on the social scene, she thought privately that there was not another gentleman in London who could compare to him. His lordship's wide shoulders and large, solid chest were set off admirably by his military-cut coats; his muscular legs were well defined, and there was no need of padding for his calves. His boot size was somewhat small for a man, and Belle had noticed how very quick he was on his feet. His stocky build gave an overall impression of manly vigor and strength.

Belle found that she was not the only lady who bestowed her approval on the viscount. One evening when she made some passing remark, Clarice Moorehead and Millicent Carruthers both agreed that his lordship was very handsome.

"Though I do wonder about his temper," said Clarice, cocking her head as she studied the gentleman in question. "He has a very firm mouth. One might say it even has an obstinate appearance."

"Oh, I don't know," said Belle, defending him. "I rather like the way that he smiles. It begins in his eyes and then springs forth."

"I do believe that you are smitten," said Millicent teasingly.

Belle gave her friend a speaking glance but did not answer. It would have been an untruth to say that she was indifferent to the viscount, but she was not prepared to announce that she had warmer feelings toward him, either. She actually did not know what she felt. She had never before felt anything near the turmoil of emotions that Lord Ashdon seemed to inspire in her.

While Clarice and Millicent conversed, Belle puzzled over her relationship with Lord Ashdon. She naturally saw him frequently at various social functions, and he had been particularly friendly with her since her come-out ball, which she was glad of. He always made a point of coming up to her to exchange a few polite words.

Belle regretted that there was rarely time at the crowded gatherings for her to converse at any great length with him.

In any event, she thought, even if there had been time, it wouldn't do. She was very aware that she could not show partiality to any of her admirers. Her aunt had drummed into her head the dangers of appearing fast or of gaining a coquettish reputation. Her social success could be extinguished with a single thoughtless act. She had to be a pattern-card of respectability, just like her twin sister, Cassandra, if she was to attain the pinnacle of success that Mrs. Weatherstone had mapped out for her.

Lord Ashdon and his cousin Mr. Roland White approached the trio of ladies. After the initial civilities, Roland said, "I say, Ashdon has had the most inspired thought. He has suggested a riding party at the park, to finish up at Gunther's for ices. How does that sound?"