Dancing at Midnight

by Julia Quinn

  “Am I to assume that only men can gamble?”

  “Nobody makes such a fool’s bet, Belle,” John said. “You’ve just made a wager with the man who controls the outcome. You can only lose.”

  “Don’t underestimate the power of love, my dear. Although in Dunford’s case, perhaps only lust is necessary.”

  “You wound me,” Dunford replied, placing his hand dramatically over his heart for emphasis. “Assuming I am incapable of the higher emotions.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  John, Alex, and Emma watched the interchange with considerable interest and amusement. “I had no idea you were such a formidable adversary, my dear,” John said.

  “You don’t know a lot of things about me,” Belle scoffed. She sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “Just wait until the evening is through.”

  A queer feeling settled in John’s stomach. “I’m dreading every moment of it.”

  Chapter 23

  “Merciful heavens!” came the hideous shriek. “What happened to you?”

  Belle cringed. She’d forgotten about Lady Tumbley’s distinctive voice, which was permanently lodged in the soprano register.

  “A carriage accident,” Alex said smoothly. “But we were so anxious to come tonight, we decided against turning back and changing. We’re just a bit rumpled. I hope you’ll forgive us.”

  Back in the carriage, it had been decided that Alex, as the highest ranking member of their group, should act as their spokesperson. His speech, which was accompanied by his most debonair smile, did the trick, and Lady Tumbley was soon preening most unattractively.

  “Well, of course Idon’t mind, your grace,” she gushed. “I’m so honored that you accepted my invitation. It has been many years since we’ve seen you here.”

  Belle noticed that Alex’s smile had grown tight. “A mistake I must rectify,” he said.

  Lady Tumbley started to bat her eyelashes, a gesture which did not suit a lady of her years and girth. When she finally stilled her eyelids, she looked straight at John and said, “And who have we here?”

  Belle stepped forward. “My husband, my lady.”

  “Your what?”

  Belle stepped back. The screech had returned.

  John took Lady Tumbley’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “John Blackwood at your service, my lady.”

  “But Lady Arabella, my dear, I mean, Lady Blackwood, I just, well, I hadn’t heard you’d been married. When did this occur? And, er, was it a large wedding?”

  In other words—why hadn’t she been invited?

  “It was quite small, Lady Tumbley,” Belle said. “Two weeks ago.”

  “Two weeks ago? An entire fortnight? And I hadn’t heard?”

  “It was in the Times,” John put in.

  “Perhaps, but I...”

  “Perhaps you ought to read the newspaper more often,” Belle said sweetly.

  “Perhaps I should. If you’ll excuse me.” Lady Tumbley smiled awkwardly, bobbed a curtsy, and darted into the crowds.

  “Our first objective has been fulfilled,” Belle announced. “Within five minutes everyone will know that, one, our crumpled appearance is due to a carriage mishap, and two, I have married a most mysterious man about whom no one knows anything.”

  “In other words, everyone will know we’re here,” John said. “Including Spencer.”

  “If he comes,” Emma said thoughtfully. “I doubt he’s been invited.”

  “It’s easy enough to sneak into such a large party,” Dunford said. “I’ve done it a few times myself.”

  Emma looked at him oddly before asking, “What do we do now?”

  “I suppose we mingle,” Belle replied. “But we ought to try to stay in close proximity of each other. One of us might need help.”

  Belle looked around. Lady Tumbley had outdone herself this year, and the party glittered with candles, jewels, and smiles. The ballroom was one of the most distinctive in London, with a second floor gallery ringing the room. Belle had always thought that the Tumbley children must have spent countless nights up there peeping down at the elegant lords and ladies below. Belle sighed to herself, praying that she and John would get through this evening without harm, so that their children might someday be able to behave similarly.

  For the next hour and a half, the quintet played the roles of innocent partygoers. Belle and John had no dearth of well-wishers, most of whom didn’t bother to hide their insatiable curiosity about John and their hasty marriage. Alex and Emma stood nearby, their mere presence signaling their approval of the match. But more importantly, they were able to keep an eye out for Spencer while John and Belle were busy making polite conversation. Dunford acted as a roving spy, darting around the ballroom and monitoring the entrances and exits.

  After nearly two hours, Caroline, Henry, and Persephone finally arrived and made their way immediately to Belle and John. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to us!” Caroline exclaimed.

  “A carriage accident?” John deadpanned.

  “How did you know?”

  “You had a carriage accident?” Belle said, horrified.

  “Well, it was nothing dangerous. The left rear wheel slipped off, and we tipped a bit to the side. A bit uncomfortable, but no one was hurt. We did, of course, have to return home to change, however, and as a result we are extremely late.” Caroline blinked a few times as she took in her daughter’s slightly rumpled gown. “I say, that dress wasn’t meant to be crushed velvet, was it?”

  “We were the unfortunate victims of a carriage accident as well,” John said.

  “You don’t say!” Persephone exclaimed, and then she made her way to a table laden with refreshments.

  “That’s odd,” Lord Worth put in. “Very odd.”

  “Indeed.” John’s expression was grim.

  Dunford appeared at their side. “Good evening, Lady Worth, Lord Worth. I must say, I had expected to see you earlier. Er, Blackwood, if I could have a moment alone with you.”

  John excused himself and met with Dunford a few yards away. “What’s happened?”

  “He’s here. And looking furious. He came in through the side door a few minutes ago. My guess is that he wasn’t invited. Either that or he’s afraid the butler will call out his name. But he’s in full evening dress. No one will look twice at him. He blends right in.”

  John nodded curtly. “He’s going to try something.”

  “We need a plan.”

  “There’s nothing we can do until he makes the first move.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “I will. Oh, and Dunford? Keep an eye on Belle, will you?” John swallowed convulsively and searched his brain for the right words. “It would be very difficult for me should anything happen to her.”

  Dunford’s lips curved into a tiny smile and he nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on you, too. It would be very difficult for her should anything happen to you.”

  John caught his gaze. They didn’t know each other very well, but they were bonded by their feelings for Belle, Dunford as her longtime friend and John as her passionately devoted husband.

  John turned back to Belle and his in-laws, who were busily greeting a heavyset couple who’d come to offer congratulations on the recent wedding, expressing their sorrow that they hadn’t been able to attend the actual ceremony. John caught the tail-end of the conversation, and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as he watched Belle clenching her teeth, obviously trying hard not to point out that they hadn’t been invited. Her eyes lit up when she saw him return.

  “Our friend has arrived,” he said quietly.

  “Oh, who is that?” Caroline inquired.

  “Just an acquaintance of John’s from the army,” Belle improvised, taking some solace in the fact that she wasn’t exactly lying.

  “You must go seek him out, then.”

  “Oh, I think he’ll find us,” John said archly.

  Caroline’s attention was then captured by a friend she hadn’t seen since she�
�d returned from Italy, and Belle quickly turned to John and asked, “What are we going to do now?”

  “Nothing. Just remain vigilant.”

  Belle took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She wasn’t feeling especially patient. “Have you told Alex and Emma?”

  “Dunford did.”

  “So we just stand here like sheep while he plots his nefarious schemes?”

  “Something like that.”

  Belle grimaced and an extremely odd noise emerged from her mouth.

  John looked to her in amazement. “Did you just growl?”

  “I might have done.”

  “Good God, we’d better be rid of Spencer soon, or my wife is going to turn into an animal.”

  “A particularly vicious one, too, if I have any say in the matter.” Belle sighed and looked around the ballroom. “John! Isn’t that him right there?” She pointed discreetly at a blond man sipping a glass of champagne.

  John followed her gaze and then nodded curtly, never taking his eyes off of Spencer. At that moment the cur looked up from his glass, and their eyes met. John felt an icy cold shiver run through his body, and suddenly he was more convinced than ever that coming tonight was a bad idea. He had to get Belle out of here. He’d have to deal with Spencer in his own way.

  “He’s coming this way!” Belle whispered.

  John’s eyes narrowed. Spencer had plunked his glass down on a nearby table and was making his way across the ballroom. John noticed that he was no longer looking at him; his gaze had shifted to Belle. Fury and fear raced through him, and his hand convulsively tightened around hers.

  “Good evening, Lord Blackwood, Lady Blackwood,” Spencer said mockingly.

  “What the hell do you want?” John snapped. It was taking all of his self-restraint not to jump Spencer right there and then and wrap his hands around his throat.

  “Now, now, Blackwood, why so surly? I’ve just come to say hello to you and your lady wife. That is what one is supposed to do at these events, isn’t it? Of course my memory might be playing tricks on me. It has been so long since I’ve been to a London ball. Been out of the country as you know, for an extended period of time.”

  “Your point being?”

  “It has been a long time since I have danced. I was hoping Lady Blackwood would do me the honor.”

  John yanked Belle closer to him. “Absolutely not.”

  “That’s for the lady to decide, don’t you think?”

  Belle swallowed, trying to work some moisture into her throat, which had suddenly gone quite dry. “Your invitation is most kind, Mr. Spencer,” she managed to say. “But I am afraid I have decided not to dance this evening.”

  “Really? How odd.” Spencer’s eyes glinted silvery-blue with malice.

  “In deference to my husband,” Belle improvised. “He does not dance, you know.”

  “Oh yes, he’s a cripple. I often forget that. But I don’t think that should stop you from enjoying yourself.” He stepped forward and shoved a revolver against John’s stomach, pushing it in and up to knock the wind from his body.

  Belle looked down. Her stomach lurched with terror, and for a moment she thought she would be ill right then and there. The party was crowded, very crowded. No one would notice that one of the guests had just pulled a gun on another. If she screamed, Spencer would surely shoot John before anyone could wrestle the weapon from him. “I— I would love to dance with you, Mr. Spencer,” she whispered.

  “No, Belle,” John said in a low voice.

  “My husband,” she tried to joke. “He gets very jealous. Doesn’t like me to dance with other men.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind this one time.” Spencer pulled the gun back, took Belle’s hand, and led her onto the dance floor. John stood rooted to the spot, just beginning to get his breath back. His hands balled into fists, but he couldn’t feel his fingernails biting into his palms. All of his attention, all of his energy, all of his soul was focused on the two blond heads on the floor. Spencer wouldn’t hurt her, he knew that. Not in the middle of a crowded ballroom, at least. If anything happened to Belle in front of so many witnesses, Spencer would never get the chance to eliminate his true target. And John knew that Spencer wanted him dead.

  “What happened? Why is Belle dancing with him?”

  John turned and saw Emma, her face creased with fear and worry. “He pulled a gun on me, and asked Belle to dance.”

  “Did anybody see?” Alex asked.

  John shook his head.

  “Damn. It would be better if we had a witness outside the family.” Alex grabbed Emma’s hand. “Come on, darling, we’re dancing too.” With great speed and not so great grace, the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne made their way onto the dance floor.

  “What do you want?” Belle whispered, her feet automatically following the steps of the waltz.

  Spencer flashed her a broad smile. “Why, just the pleasure of your company, my lady. Is that so incredible to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps I just wanted to make your acquaintance. After all, our lives have become, shall we say, entwined.”

  Belle felt anger building up within her, faster than fear. “I’d appreciate it if you would unentwine them.”

  “Oh, I plan to do so, have no fear. This evening, if all goes well.”

  Belle trod on his foot, then apologized prettily. She saw Alex and Emma dancing just behind Spencer, and she exhaled slowly, feeling much reassured by their presence.

  “But I must admit,” Spencer continued. “I am enjoying the look on your husband’s face immensely. I don’t think he enjoys the sight of you in my arms.”

  “I imagine not.” Belle stamped on his foot, this time hard enough to cause Spencer to grimace.

  “You seem like a nice enough chit,” he said, once again ignoring her misstep. “I am sorry to inconvenience you by killing your husband, but there is nothing to be done about it.”

  Good God, Belle thought, the man was certifiably insane. She could think of nothing to say, so she slammed her foot down on his again, this time with considerable force.

  “I see that the tales of your grace have been grossly exaggerated,” Spencer was finally goaded into saying.

  Belle smiled sweetly. “You shouldn’t believe half of what the ton tells you. Oh my, is that the end of the dance? I must be off.”

  “Not so fast.” He grabbed her arm. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go just yet.”

  “But the dance is over, sir. Propriety dictates that—”

  “Shut up!” Spencer snapped. “I’m going to use you to get your husband off into a side room. It wouldn’t do to kill him in a crowded ballroom. I’d never escape the scene.”

  “If you kill him, you’ll never get away with it,” Belle hissed. “Too many people know you want him dead. You’ll be arrested within minutes. And if you’re not, you’ll never be able to show your face in England again.”

  “Stupid female. Do you really think I think that I can shoot a nobleman and expect to live free and easy? I’ve been living in exile for five years. I’m used to it. Taking my place in society would be nice, but I’d rather have my vengeance. Now come with me.” He yanked viciously at her arm, pulling her toward a set of doors that led to the rest of the house.

  Belle acted out of sheer instinct. He wouldn’t hurt her now. Not before he got John. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and ran back to John, who was already advancing toward her. “Quick, we’ve got to get away from him. He’s mad!”

  John grasped her hand and started to weave through the crowds. Belle looked behind her. Spencer was closing the distance between them. Alex and Emma were behind him, but as a couple they couldn’t move as quickly as he could alone. “This is too slow,” Belle said nervously. “He’ll get us before we reach the door.”

  John didn’t reply. He picked up the pace, his leg screaming at the torture.

  “John, we’re not fast enough. We need to get over there.” Belle pointed to the doors clear
across the ballroom. Between them and their means of escape were a hundred dancing lords and ladies.

  “And how do propose we get there? Dance?”

  Belle blinked. “Why, yes!” With strength born out of fury and terror, she pulled John to a halt, planted her hand on his shoulder, and began waltzing.

  “Are you crazy, Belle?”

  “Just waltz. And lead us across the room. We’ll be there in no time. Even Spencer wouldn’t dare run across the dance floor.”

  John willed his injured leg into action and slowly began dancing, edging his way across the room with every step.

  In her haste, Belle dug her fingers into his shoulder, trying to propel him further.

  “Will you let me lead?” he hissed, followed by, “So sorry,” when they bumped into another couple.

  She craned her neck. “Can you see him?”

  “He’s trying to make his way around the perimeter. He’ll never catch up with us. A superb plan, love, if I do say so myself.”

  They whirled frantically, their movements furiously off-beat, but a few moments later, they reached the other side of the ballroom. “What are we going to do now?” Belle asked.

  “I’m taking you home. Then I’m going to the authorities. I should have done so long ago, but I didn’t think they could do anything about verbal threats. But a gun in the stomach—that ought to put him away for some time, at least.”

  She nodded, following him to the door. “I can be your witness. And I’m sure Alex and Emma and Dunford can testify.” She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that John wasn’t planning to take the law into his own hands. If he killed Spencer, he’d be hanged.

  They had just reached the cold night air when Dunford suddenly burst upon them. “Wait!” he yelled, stopping to catch his breath. “He’s got your mother, Belle.”

  “What?” The blood drained from her face. “How?”

  “I have no idea, but I saw him leave the room with her a few moments ago, and he was holding her very close to his side.”

  “Oh, John, we have to do something. She must be so frightened.”

  “I can’t think of anyone more capable than your mother,” John said, trying to put her mind at ease. “She’ll probably have him tied up and ready for the constable in a matter of minutes.”