Damn the woman—she seemed totally at ease and not at all worried she might have offended one of the leaders of the ton. Did she not realise he could make or break her?
Be warned, a voice in his head said. Heed her words. She is made and could you break her? Really? Would you? Phillip acknowledged that no, he wouldn’t. He might try to bed her, not wed her, and add her to his… He stopped that train of thought. Madame Belle might intrigue him, but he made a point of never bedding any lady who didn’t know the score, and was not of his class, however much she made his cock stiff and his body taut. He might be a rake but he had his own rules and stuck to them rigidly.
‘It is somewhat delicate,’ Phillip said slowly. ‘The lady in question is…is…’
‘Married? Your mistress? Your soon to be mistress?’ Madame Belle said matter-of-factly.
‘My soon to be ex-mistress,’ he said. ‘I have decided we do not suit. This is, in a way, in recompense for my…’ he hesitated ‘…my hasty discarding of her.’
Belle put her cup down in the saucer and tapped her quill on her teeth. ‘How hasty?’
‘Does it matter?’ Phillip selected another scone and spread jam over the crumbly surface to cover his discomfiture. Why did she make him feel he was acting in an ungentlemanly manner? On the contrary, he was behaving exactly the opposite. ‘Suffice to say I have decided we will not suit.’ Not now, not now I have met you, and will do my utmost to make you my mistress and my previous edicts be hanged. He’d changed his mind faster than he changed his waistcoats and realised it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He who was renowned throughout the ton for intransigency.
‘It matters.’ She was adamant, and Phillip sensed if he didn’t answer her openly and honestly he’d be handed his hat and cane and shown the door.
He sighed. ‘We have not yet…consummated the relationship. However, the lady knew sex was on the cards and agreed to the liaison.’
‘And now you’ve decided your pego doesn’t want to play and you are willing to pay my prices to buy the lady off.’ It was not a question.
Phillip winced. Put like that it sounded so very bad, but in essence it was true. He stirred uneasily in his seat. She made him sound a perfect coxcomb. ‘I suppose that is one way to put it.’
‘Well what other way could you put it? Hardly for services rendered, is it?’ She cocked her head and smiled at him.
‘You have a very forward way of talking.’ He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. It worried him that perhaps she did think him lacking somehow.
Madame Belle shrugged. ‘I have discovered it is me, and plus, nothing comes of holding back. So, on that note I must say once more. Who is the lady?’
He hesitated and she made a noise akin to a kettle about to boil. ‘For goodness’ sake Phi…phht.’
Phtt? I swear she was about to call me by my given name. Strange, very strange.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Away from here?’
She shook her head, but he saw a cloud cross her expression, before she was once more her calm composed self.
‘No, my lord, you do not. And please do not change the subject. Do you think I can not be discreet? Heavens above, the secrets imparted to me would sink and kill the ton as we know it if I let them out. Your little affair will be safe with me.’
‘Very well.’ He nodded, reluctantly. Little affair indeed! She made him sound like a callow youth. However, he bit back his scathing retort. If he wanted her to help him, and if he wanted to further his acquaintance, he needed a way of doing so. ‘The lady in question is Lady Rosemary Rattenberry.’
Belle muttered something under her breath.
‘Did you really say, no lady, and rat by name, rat by nature?’ he asked in amazement.
She gave him a wide-eyed innocent look that reminded him of his sister. He didn’t trust it for one second. He was convinced the lady was up to something. To his amazement her attitude encouraged rather than repelled him, and it didn’t appear to be the automatic response of a lady who played hard to get or teased him. With each exchange his attraction to her grew and, Phillip admitted to himself, it was a unique feeling. One he wished to explore.
‘No, of course not,’ Madame Belle said swiftly. ‘I…er…muttered something immaterial. You do mean the former Lady Rosemary Minchin?’
‘I do.’
‘Then no.’
* * *
Belinda wanted to crawl under the table. Now she’d done it. Why on earth couldn’t she keep her mouth shut and her feet out of it? Phillip looked at her in amazement. Then his eyes narrowed and fixed on her like she was a specimen of some obscure insect pegged out for inspection. It made her want to wriggle. She fought against the instinct. It was imperative she didn’t show Phillip how he affected her.
‘Why not?’ He was persistent, she’d admit that. Annoyingly so.
Should she be honest? Why not? After all she needed neither the detestable Rosemary, nor Lord Phillip around to complicate her life. ‘My clothes are for good people, or,’ she amended quickly, ‘people who try to have some goodness in them. Otherwise they do not show them off to advantage. The lady you speak of has none and as far as I can tell never attempts to. She is unpleasant through and through. I thought you had more about you than to consort with her.’ There. She’d answered him honestly and would have to bear the consequences. To Belinda’s surprise Phillip’s eyes widened and she saw a flash of appreciation within their dark depths.
‘So did I, but…when you are thrown a fish so often and it puts up no resistance, in the end, you give in, tug on the line, get reeled in and accept the gift.’
‘And eat it?’ She went red when she realised how her words could be construed. Phillip took pity upon her. He grinned, and in that expression she once more saw the young man she’d fallen headlong in love with all those years ago. Belinda wasn’t sure whether the lurch of her heart was in pleasure or pain.
‘Just so,’ he said. ‘This could be one way of extracting myself, without too much angst, or getting indigestion. If you agree.’
Belinda made her mind up. There would be no way Rosemary would connect Madame Belle to plain Lady Belinda Howells, especially if Phillip didn’t. And in truth she was nosy enough to see how the woman had fared. ‘It will cost you.’
‘Anything will be worth it, to extract me from this with my body in one piece,’ Phillip said. ‘The lady doesn’t like to be thwarted.’
‘Then why on earth did you get involved with her?’ The Phillip she remembered was too wily to get caught, surely?
He shrugged. ‘Stupidity and an itch to be scratched. Oh I beg your pardon, that was crass.’
‘Very, but if it’s true?’ Belinda spoke with an insouciance she didn’t feel. After all what did she really know about gentlemen’s itches? ‘But I assume you now wish you hadn’t thought she might be the one best served to help?’
‘Oh yes. So therefore I’m throwing myself on your mercy.’
Belinda moved to the desk to add ink to her quill. ‘What were you thinking would suffice?’
Half an hour later her head was reeling, and her coffers considerably heavier. Phillip didn’t stint.
‘If Lady Rattenberry doesn’t realise how lucky she is, then really she deserves nibbling to death by her namesakes,’ Belinda said to Tippen as they drank chocolate later that evening. ‘Seriously, Tipp…oh this is ridiculous. All this time and I still don’t know your given name.’
Tippen reddened. ‘You do.’
‘I do not; you’ve only ever been Tippen.’
‘That’s because it is my name.’ Tippen rolled her eyes and shuddered. ‘Stupid though it sounds, my name really is Tippen. Tippen Smellie.’
Belinda put her chocolate down on the table with a thump that threatened to spill the contents of the mug. She bit her lip and did her best not to laugh. Tippen shrugged and then grinned. ‘Go on, laugh, get it over with.’
Belinda firmed her lips and shook her head.
Tippe
n crossed her eyes, pulled out her mouth wide in an awful leer and stuck her tongue out. Then she waggled her fingers. ‘Shall I tickle you?’
That was enough. Belinda laughed. ‘Oh my. Where did that come from?’
‘My papa’s grandmother was Tippen Smellie. Evidently it is an old family name given to the firstborn girl. I was the only one for two generations so I was saddled with it. Lady L suggested I use Tippen, because…well it sounds better than you calling me Smellie.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, Smellie…’
Belinda snorted. ‘I see what you mean. Tippen it will always be, but at least I won’t feel so infernally offensive when I call you that now. I didn’t like the fact it seemed to show I felt superior to you when I didn’t. And as you well know, I am Belinda, but it’s never to be uttered, therefore Belle will suffice.’
Tippen smiled. ‘You’re still my lady to me.’
Belinda grinned. ‘Better than saying I’m your Madame. People might get the wrong ideas, if you go around saying that.’
Tippen stared at her then put her hand over her mouth as she laughed out loud. ‘Oh my goodness.’ She spluttered as Belinda began to snigger. ‘Best not to, eh? So what exactly are we doing for the rodent?’ She twitched her nose, just like the said rodent did.
‘Oh Tippen, don’t or my sides will ache.’ The anguish over being so close to Phillip and not able to chat or get back to the innocent friendly approach they once had towards each other began to subside. It was what it was. ‘And we shouldn’t call her that now, should we?’ But it was oh so fitting.
‘Perhaps not but she is akin to one,’ Tippen said. ‘I saw her on one occasion, when I accompanied Lady Clarissa to the warehouses when you sprained your ankle. She was giving some poor man such a telling-off when he said he didn’t have the silk she wanted. Of course he didn’t; it was that ecru-shot bolt that we ordered, and Lady Clarissa had a ballgown made with. Somehow Lady Rattenberry must have decided she’d like some of it, and we subsequently found out she had interrogated every merchant around to find out who originally brought it in. Well of course she was out of luck. No merchant worth his salt would share what you had ordered or agreed upon.’
‘I remember Clarissa saying Lady Rattenberry had cut her dead at Almack’s. Apparently she was seething and hissed, “I might have guessed,” to Clarissa. She truly is stupid. Lady R, not Clarissa.’
‘And now you have to dress her.’
‘Well, yes, and I will do, and make sure she forever knows what she will never have again. To be “Dressed by Belle”.’
‘Perfect,’ Tippen said in an admiring tone. ‘I love it. Oh so very devious.’
‘Honest,’ Belinda said. ‘I might do it this once, partially for Phillip, but mainly for my own satisfaction of knowing I can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Now enough of the woman. I suspect we’ll see and hear more than we want of her over the next week or so.’
Two weeks later, Belinda began to realise just how prophetic her words were. Lady Rattenberry was on her third visit and still refused to agree to anything Belinda had suggested.
‘These are all rubbish,’ Lady Rattenberry said petulantly, with a spiteful gleam in her eye. ‘I can’t think why so many people admire your work.’ She plucked at the toile she had on. ‘I shall tell his lordship how misinformed he has been and make sure none of my friends ever want to use your services.’
‘They won’t get the chance,’ a new voice said pleasantly. ‘Hello, Rosemary, look who is with me.’ Clarissa strolled in arm in arm with her brother.
Belinda bit her lip. She recognised the militant expression her friend wore and prayed Clarissa wouldn’t let her temper get the better of her. If it did, heaven knows what she would say or do. To her relief, Belinda watched Phillip give his sister a nip on her arm. Clarissa frowned but the expression lightened.
‘Only the best of the best are accepted here. Of course on occasion there is a slip-up.’ Her tone made certain Rosemary knew that this was one of those times. ‘My dear Madame Belle, I’m so sorry that my entreaty for you to help my brother in his hour of need should have come to this.’ The wink that accompanied the outrageous untruth was enough for Belinda to keep her mouth shut, and not put her feet into it.
Rosemary stood slack-jawed. ‘Are you going to let your sister speak to me like this?’ she demanded of Phillip, once she seemed able to talk. ‘Hour of need?’
‘Five minutes then,’ Clarissa said in an ‘oh aren’t I helpful’ tone.
‘Clarissa, hush,’ Phillip said firmly. ‘I’m interested to hear what Lady Rosemary thinks.’
Rosemary smirked. Phillip narrowed his eyes, and then nodded.
Clarissa rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut. How Rosemary didn’t realise Clarissa did it to stop herself laughing Belinda had no idea.
‘She is rude and I won’t have it,’ Rosemary said petulantly. ‘She needs to apologise and leave us to sort this mess out.’
‘That’s a pity because I have no intention of asking her to cease offering her opinions, although this mess as you call it is easily resolved. If you can be rude to Madame Belle, who went against her better judgement to do this for me, why shouldn’t Clarissa be rude to you?’
Rosemary went red, white and then red again. ‘She…’ she waved at Belle ‘…is a servant.’
‘And your point is?’ Phillip asked in such a silky, threatening voice that Belinda shivered.
‘Well, if she can’t deliver…’ Rosemary said sulkily. ‘I mean not once has she brought me anything remotely suitable.’
Tippen opened her mouth. Belinda glared at her and Tippen shut it again hastily.
‘Then that suggests to me that you are not helping,’ Phillip said evenly. ‘For I know of no one else who has this problem. However, never mind. I will pay her for her time and accept she is of no use to you. You agree?’
‘Phillip.’ Clarissa wailed his name. ‘You can’t.’
Belinda said nothing. The look in Phillip’s eyes showed there was more to his words than there seemed.
‘Well?’ He ignored Clarissa’s entreaty and spoke to Rosemary. ‘What do you say?’
‘She is useless and I shall tell everyone so. Perhaps now you will listen to me and we should go to La Compte as I suggested?’ Rosemary tore the toile off her body and stood naked in front of them all. To Belinda’s amusement, her muff was much lighter than the hairs on her head and oh my, sported several grey strands. Someone must have told her the gossip was that Phillip preferred brunettes.
I wonder how she was going to explain the colour difference to him?
The woman’s sultry gaze seemed not to affect Phillip one jot, as he turned away from Rosemary and looked at Belinda.
‘Send me a bill and it will be paid by return.’
‘But I didn’t buy anything,’ Rosemary said in a voice laden with temper. ‘Why should she be recompensed when I’m still waiting for clothes?’
‘For your rudeness perhaps? Wasting her valuable time, certainly. Madame, don’t forget to charge for the toile,’ he said as he picked up his gloves, looked at and addressed his sister. ‘My dear.’ He turned his back on Rosemary, and ignored her outraged hiss and harrumph as he spoke to Clarissa. ‘Do you come with me?’
‘I’ll wait until Madame Belle can see me,’ Clarissa said slowly. ‘I’ll call for my carriage when I’ve finished.’
He nodded. ‘Then I’ll escort Lady Rattenberry off the premises, and see you at the ball this evening. He now looked directly at Rosemary with such indifference that Belinda was shocked. If a man who you thought was enamoured of you gave you that look, you’d surely never be able to lift your head again.
Not so Lady Rattenberry. ‘And we then go to La Compte?’
Phillip shrugged. ‘You may do so; I have no intention. I offered you a wardrobe, one you demanded I purchase from Madame Belle. You have now turned it down. I’ve kept my part of the bargain; you better keep yours. And that, my dear, includes no lies or indeed anything about your vis
it here. For…’ He took the lady’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes widened but she made no sound.
‘For,’ he continued, ‘if I hear one word, believe me your husband will hear more than one. And none will be conducive to your comfort. That I vow. Have I made myself clear?’
Rosemary blanched until her skin was the colour of the toile she had so recently discarded, and she nodded.
‘Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Do you need any help to dress?’
She shook her head.
‘Then hurry up.’
Chapter Three
‘Good God, he flailed her alive,’ Clarissa said a little later on as she, Belinda and Tippen sat and sipped wine in her sitting room. All three had kicked their footwear off and sat sprawled, most unladylike, in their favourite chairs.
Belinda’s had once adorned the small salon in the house Lady L had given her and was a deep green, overstuffed, velvet-covered, soft armchair. She called it her pondering seat. ‘I’d hate to get on his wrong side.’ I’d love to get on his right side.
‘What was it all about, do you think?’ Tippen asked, wide-eyed. ‘She scared me.’ She tucked her feet under the hem of her gown. ‘It takes a lot to scare me, but she…she sent shivers through me.’
‘There’s no need to be scared. She thought she had my brother wrapped around her little finger and she was wrong. A tumble in the hay as a youthful rake does not equate to being besotted as an older, mature gentleman,’ Clarissa said firmly as she waggled her toes in the air. ‘Rosemary has never really accepted what she is. Plus she found out who made my gown—you know the one of the silk she then coveted and couldn’t get—and was determined to exact revenge. Not a nice lady.’
‘A moll?’ Tippen asked with interest, using a slang word for a lady of ill repute. ‘A doxy?’ There was no love lost between her and the lady, who had chosen to show quite categorically that she thought Tippen was not worthy of her attention. ‘For which,’ Tippen had confided. ‘I’m eternally grateful.’
The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle Page 4
