Belle's Beau (2 page)

Lord Ashdon turned back to his parent, regarding her with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation. Her ladyship had always been a dominating personality in his life, but he was not a small boy any longer. Years under his father's influence had also shaped his character, as had the years at war. He said firmly, "You go too fast, my lady. I have no intention of plunging into a round of entertainments. In fact, I am not staying in London for long — a fortnight at most."

Lady Ashdon stared at him in great astonishment. "Why, whatever can you mean? Did you not say that you were here for the Season?"

Lord Ashdon shook his head. "No, Mother, I did not. I said that I meant to wed this Season. That does not necessarily mean that I shall remain in London."

"But what do you intend to do, then? You can scarcely expect to discover a suitable bride if it is your estates where you mean to ensconce yourself," said Lady Ashdon briskly.

"I am not going to my ancestral house, ma'am," said Lord Ashdon.

"Then where?" demanded Lady Ashdon.

Lord Ashdon gave a wide grin, his blue eyes dancing as he anticipated his mother's certain reaction. "I am going to Bath."

"Bath!" Lady Ashdon sat down abruptly on the sofa, not once taking her eyes from her son's face. "Of all the harebrained, idiotic notions! Adam! What do you possibly hope to find in Bath?"

"Not what, Mother, but whom," corrected Lord Ashdon cheerfully. "I hope to find my future wife in Bath."

"Adam, I realize that you have a fondness for the place since your recuperation there, but pray listen to reason," begged Lady Ashdon. "There is no one of any consequence in Bath during the Season, only tradespeople and old maids! You must remain here, in London, for the Season. You'll be able to meet all of the misses making their come-out in the upcoming weeks. You may have your pick of them, I assure you, dearest."

"Vastly flattering, ma'am," said Lord Ashdon lightly. "I could scarce ask for better inducement, could I?"

"I am perfectly serious, Adam. Pray do not dare to make a jest of it," said Lady Ashdon, frowning at her son.

Lord Ashdon at once sobered. "I apologize, Mother. I recognize that acquiring a suitable bride is no jesting matter. Indeed, I have given much thought to it."

"Then you'll stay," said Lady Ashdon, satisfied that she had carried her argument. Getting up, she moved toward the door. "Now I must run, dearest. I have so little time left to have my hair done and dress before the soiree. You will be all right this evening without me?"

"I think that I can manage," said Lord Ashdon with the slightest of grins. "And I am staying for a fortnight."

Lady Ashdon glanced back at the viscount as she opened the door. "We will talk of this again, Adam," she promised.

Lord Ashdon bowed, a hint of irony in his expression. "No doubt we shall," he murmured.

"Do you know, at this moment you remind me very much of your father," observed Lady Ashdon, her voice leaving little doubt that she was making an unflattering comparison.

Lord Ashdon's defense was impenetrable. He bowed again. "Thank you, ma'am. I shall treasure the compliment."

Lady Ashdon sent a speaking glance in his direction before she stepped out and closed the door.

The viscount grimaced. "I wish I were already in Bath."

Chapter 2

Miss Anabelle Weatherstone left her bedroom and the attentions of her maid and ran swiftly downstairs. She entered the well-appointed drawing room, where she knew that her aunt would be waiting for her.

"Will I do, Aunt Margaret?" asked Belle gaily, twirling around and smiling over her shoulder at the elegant lady seated on the satin-covered settee. Her olive-green velvet bonnet was set at a rakish angle above her sparkling hazel eyes and lively countenance, the pale-brown satin ribbons tied close under one delicate ear. The merino pelisse she wore was also olive green, corded in the popular military style, and was vastly becoming to her slender figure. Small kid half boots peeked out from beneath the hem of her swirling skirt.

Mrs. Weatherstone smiled tolerantly at her niece. The white egret feathers in her own handsome bonnet bowed gently as she nodded her approval. "You will do very well, dear Belle. I am glad that we chose the olive. It complements your complexion and hair." She paused a moment, her considering gaze rising to her niece's headgear. "However, I believe that we might adjust your bonnet just a trifle."

"Oh, is there something wrong with it?" asked Belle, going at once to stand before the fireplace, where a huge gilded mirror hung above the mantel. She peered anxiously into the glass at her lovely reflection.

"Stand still a moment, Belle." Mrs. Weatherstone rose, her skirt whispering across the Persian carpet as she approached her niece, who was obediently waiting for her ministrations.

Unfastening the olive satin ribbons, Mrs. Weatherstone shifted the bonnet so that it was centered on Belle's head. "That is much better," she said, retying the ribbons in a competent bow under her niece's chin. "Don't you think so?"

Belle eyed her demure reflection dubiously. She did not think that it looked half as good now, but she felt that something positive was expected of her, so she replied, "I am certain that you know best, Aunt."

Mrs. Weatherstone smiled and picked up her silver-knotted reticule. "Now, let us be off. The park will be quite nice this afternoon, I am persuaded."

"Oh, yes! The weather is just perfect for an outing," said Belle, turning eagerly. "I shall be so glad to get out-of-doors for a bit."

"The air has seemed rather close in the house since the rain that we have had," agreed Mrs. Weatherstone. She ushered her niece out of the drawing room and toward the front door, their kid boots making dainty sounds on the marble tiles. The porter opened the door for them, bowing as they passed.

The ladies emerged from the open door of the town house, and Belle at once exclaimed, tilting her face upward to catch the warmth, "Isn't the sunshine lovely?"

"Yes, dear, but so debilitating to a lady's delicate complexion," said Mrs. Weatherstone in mild reproof.

"Yes, Aunt." Chastened, Belle docilely descended the stone steps to the sidewalk alongside her aunt.

A footman handed them up into Mrs. Weatherstone's carriage and shut the door, then stepped back up on the curb and signaled the driver.

Belle settled back against the comfortable leather seat squabs. Though she would have preferred a good gallop on her gelding, Rolly, rather than this sedate outing, she was not entirely unhappy about going for a drive in the park. First and foremost, it was as she had told her aunt. She was very glad to be able to step outside and breathe the clean spring air.

She had always adored being out-of-doors, and she longed for days past when she would get up at dawn, her breath showing white on the cold air, to set off on her hunter for a full morning's ride. Since coming to London she had had very little exercise of the sort that she was used to. She reminded herself, though, that she should not allow regret to cloud her mood, because she was in London for the Season, which had always been her heart's desire.

The other reason Belle was willing to oblige her aunt and accompany her for a drive was that Mrs. Weatherstone had explained that the fashionable always made an appearance in the park around five o'clock, and quite frankly, Belle was curious to see whom they might meet.

Mrs. Weatherstone had gone on to say that it would be wise for them to do likewise, making an appearance at the accepted hour, since Belle had only just begun to be introduced around. Belle accepted her aunt's explanation, for she was relying on Mrs. Weatherstone's social expertise to launch her into polite society.

Belle and her aunt conversed lightly on a number of topics as the carriage carried them safely through the bustling thoroughfares. Whenever Mrs. Weatherstone let drop some hint of what was expected of a young miss who was making her entrance into society. Belle listened attentively, for she was well aware that her aunt had only her best interests at heart. If that were not so, Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone would never have taken on the obligation of bringing her out.

"I do so hope that you will attract an eligible parti this Season. It will be quite a feather in my cap if I am able to see both you and your sister Cassandra wed this summer," said Mrs. Weatherstone.

"Quite," agreed Belle mildly, covering up a degree of indifference with civility.

Catching what she no doubt interpreted as the polite doubt in her niece's voice, Mrs. Weatherstone laughed. She reached out to pat her niece's arm reassuringly. "You mustn't be too anxious about it, Belle. If you do not receive an acceptable offer this Season, we shall simply return next year."

Belle shot a laughing glance at her companion. "I assure you, Aunt, I am not in the least anxious on that count! Why, my sole ambition is to attend as many functions as I possibly can. I intend to leave the fretting over finding a suitable parti to you and Uncle Phineas!"

Mrs. Weatherstone chuckled, but shook her head at her niece's frivolous words. "I can well understand your thirst for gaiety, Belle. You have lived a very secluded life, after all. However, I believe that we must keep an eye to the future as well."

"Yes, Aunt Margaret," murmured Belle agreeably, though she mentally shrugged. Marriage was a remote concern to her, one that she did not dwell on very often or for very long. She was living for the moment and eagerly looking forward to the evening when she would actually be formally presented to London society.

Belle was unreservedly anticipating her first Season. She had never been farther afield from the country home that she shared with her grandfather than an afternoon's horse ride, so everything was novel and of interest to her. Before coming to London, she had attended only one house party in all her life, and that only because for a few months she had traded places with her twin sister, Cassandra, who had lived with their aunt and uncle. This Season was particularly piquant lo Belle because until a few months previous, her grandfather and legal guardian had adamantly refused to consider a come-out for her.

"I am so glad to be here, in London, with you and Uncle Phineas," remarked Belle suddenly, following her train of thought.

"Do you not miss Sir Marcus and the Hall just a little?" asked Mrs. Weatherstone curiously.

"Of course I do. I love Grandpapa dearly and I even miss him on occasion. After all, he raised me and I have lived all my life at the Hall. However, I doubt that a more obstinate, hardheaded old tyrant ever existed," said Belle.

"Yes ... well."

Belle slid a glance toward her aunt. Mrs. Weatherstone obviously wanted to agree with her assessment of the old gentleman, but was torn about the wisdom of doing so. Her niece understood the older woman's dilemma perfectly. Giving a merry laugh, Belle said, "You would not set a very good example if you agreed with me, would you, Aunt Margaret?"

"No, I would not," agreed Mrs. Weatherstone with a smile.

"I am so glad that Cassandra prevailed upon Grandpapa to let me have this Season," said Belle.

"Yes, so am I. We—your uncle and I—had always wanted to have a better relationship with Sir Marcus, especially since our coolness kept you and Cassandra apart. We had always felt that you needed to be with one another occasionally," said Mrs. Weatherstone. She smiled warmly at her niece. "Now it has worked out very well for everyone."

"But you miss Cassandra and wish she was here, too," suggested Belle shrewdly.

Mrs. Weatherstone laughed and nodded. "Oh, I shan't deny it. I had planned every nuance of Cassandra's come-out. It quite took me aback for a moment or two when she and Philip announced that they had become engaged." She sighed at her reflections, a smile still trembling on her lips, before turning once more to her niece. "But I don't repine, Belle, for I know that Cassandra is happy with her choice, and now I have you to lavish all my attention on."

Her aunt's smiling expression warmed Belle. "Do you know, I would not have missed this opportunity for anything," said Belle earnestly. "And not only because it was my dearest wish to see something of the world." She reached out to squeeze her aunt's gloved fingers. "I gained more than I can possibly say when I came to know you and Uncle Phineas."

"Thank you, Belle. You have no notion how glad it makes me that I can mother you a trifle, even after all these years," said Mrs. Weatherstone, returning the pressure of her niece's hand. "Cassandra was like our own daughter, and you have become just as dear to us in the short time that we have known you."

"Thank you, Aunt," said Belle, even as she smiled a trifle wistfully. "I do miss her, though." Dear Cassandra had bearded their grandfather in his own den and had unflinchingly braved his wrath to secure this wonderful opportunity for her to see something of the world. She owed much to her sister, more than she could possibly ever repay.

"Never mind. We shall see Cassandra before the wedding."

"What do you mean?" asked Belle quickly.

At her niece's look of surprise, Mrs. Weatherstone asked with a smile, "You don't think that I have allowed her to order all of her own trousseau, do you? She will have to come up for a few fittings."

"Oh, how lovely! Cassandra is coming up to London, after all," said Belle, instantly excited by the prospect. "When will she arrive?"

"Not for a few months."

"I do wish that she was here now. It would be such fun to be brought out together. I am certain that we would take polite society by storm," said Belle confidently.

Mrs. Weatherstone laughed. "Indeed! Certainly it would cause a mild sensation for two identical and beautiful misses to grace the same functions. But Cassandra has chosen to set aside her own formal introduction to polite society for the much more interesting activity of getting up the trousseau."

"I am happy for my sister. But I must confess, Aunt Margaret, that I still do not understand how Cassandra could have fallen in love with Philip," said Belle with a slight shrug.

"Of course you don't, Belle. You and Philip were childhood friends. Despite every hope that Sir Marcus had harbored otherwise, there was not even the spark of attraction between you," said Mrs. Weatherstone, nodding.