A Hint of Scandal

by Rhonda Woodward

  Lady Bolton did not seem satisfied with Bella’s answer. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She flipped her ornate fan open with a snap and began using it in a rapid motion to cool her flushed cheeks.

  Bella decided the best course to take was to outwait Lady Bolton and remain silent. If the duke’s friend wanted more information about their marriage, she could just ask Westlake, Bella thought with some exasperation.

  At that moment Bella saw Lady Jersey coming toward her through the glittering throng of people. Bella was quite aware that Lady Jersey was one of the formidable patronesses of Almack’s. Triss had explained this to her earlier. Along with the other patronesses, the lady ruled its hallowed ground with an iron fist cloaked in the proverbial velvet glove.

  With an inward groan, Bella recalled what Triss had said earlier during their ride to Almack’s: “If the patronesses find that someone is not up to snuff then they are banned forever from Almack’s. No young lady could feel that her Season had been a success without a voucher.”

  Bella’s nervousness grew as Lady Jersey bore down upon her.

  “Is it the Duchess of Westlake? How terribly exciting!” the very grand-looking woman said to Bella without waiting for an introduction. “Your most unexpected union is the only topic upon everyone’s lips this Season,” Lady Jersey gushed. “How romantic, your grace. We shall take a turn around the room and you can tell me all about it. I cannot believe that sly boots, Westlake, did not tell me a thing about you!”

  With a panicked look thrown over her shoulder to her aunt and the dowager, Bella saw no way out of going with the vivacious Lady Jersey.

  They had not moved very far when, to Bella’s great relief, she saw Westlake enter the assembly room from a side door. Over the heads of the other guests, she saw him scan the room and was immediately aware when he located her. She watched as he made his way through the crowd to intercept her path with Lady Jersey.

  “Hello, Sally. I see you have met Arabella.” The duke greeted Lady Jersey with the familiarity of long acquaintance.

  “Yes, Westlake, and we are just about to have a nice coze,” she told the duke with a smile. “I wish to get to know our new duchess.”

  “You will have to forgive me, Sally. But this is the first waltz of the evening, and it is my right as a groom to claim my bride before anyone else does,” he said, flashing her an irresistible smile.

  “Of course, of course,” Lady Jersey responded with delight. “Who would have guessed that you would be so romantical? Well, they say reformed rakes make the best husbands!” she trilled before leaving the duke and Bella to take the dance floor.

  Laying her fingers on the duke’s arm, Bella looked up at him with an expression of unconcealed relief.

  “Thank you, Westlake. I confess I do not know what to say when people start asking questions about our marriage. It is difficult to avoid it when everyone seems so curious about you,” she finished with a sigh.

  Looking down at her, the duke met her gaze with a smile. “You must just turn your nose in the air and stare them out of countenance. You are the Duchess of Westlake. You need not answer questions if you do not desire to do so.”

  Giving a little laugh, Bella shook her head. “It is all right for you to be so toplofty. But I find it difficult to behave with such condescension.”

  The duke quirked his brow at her.

  “Then just pretend you are speaking to me. You have no such difficulty putting me in my place; why should you with lesser mortals?”

  Bella could not help the laugh that came so easily at his remark, but made no response as the orchestra played the evening’s first waltz.

  Without another word, the duke placed his hand upon her waist and swung her onto the floor to the opening strains of a Viennese waltz.

  The duke proved an excellent partner as they gracefully waltzed among the ton. Feeling very aware of the duke’s nearness, Bella kept her gaze firmly fixed over his right shoulder as they made another half turn in front of her smiling Aunt Elizabeth. She also noticed the approving looks given them by the dowager duchess and Lady Louisa. There were a number of other people watching them also, Bella noted—most of them being ladies, with less approving expressions.

  As they danced, Bella was surprised at how well they moved together. It was as if they had been dancing with each other all of their lives.

  “My compliments to your dancing instructor,” the duke said with a smile in his eyes.

  “I will thank you on his behalf,” Bella responded, giving him a wry little smile.

  In silence they continued to glide across the floor in perfect rhythm with each other.

  With a growing feeling of self-consciousness, Bella became keenly aware of a fluttering feeling in her chest that was unconnected to the physical exertion of dancing.

  The duke guided her through a smooth half turn, and Bella turned her gaze on the slight cleft in his square chin. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on trying to calm the quivering of her nerves. This odd feeling had begun earlier in the evening, when the duke had entered her bedchamber with the jewel case.

  “Lady Louisa told me your grandfather had the demi-parure made for your grandmother,” Bella ventured, trying to distract herself from the unfamiliar emotions assailing her senses.

  “Yes. I have fond memories of my grandmother wearing the jewels.”

  “They are lovely,” Bella said shyly.

  “My mother is not overly fond of diamonds. She finds them cold,” the duke continued. “But I think they look particularly well on you, Arabella. The sparkle of the diamonds complements the sparkle in your amazing eyes.”

  Bella’s gaze met the duke’s. The waltz was ending, and their gazes locked for a brief, heart-stopping moment. They stood motionless on the dance floor for a little longer than the other dancers.

  Dragging air into her lungs, Bella forced her eyes from the duke’s compelling gaze. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, still reeling from his unexpected compliment.

  With a brief inclination of his head, the duke offered his arm and they made their way back to where his mother and Aunt Elizabeth were holding court with Triss and Louisa.

  “There you are, Alex,” Lady Louisa called as they approached. “Where have you been all evening? In the card room, no doubt. Aren’t the stakes much too low for you? Oh, well, you are here now. I hope you have not forgotten that you promised to dance a reel with me.” She looked up at her brother with smiling, confident eyes.

  The duke looked down at his youngest sister with amused tolerance. “All right, Prattle. They are starting a reel now.” He gave in with a chuckle. Giving a brief bow to Bella and the other ladies, the duke led his sister to the dance floor.

  “I’ll say this for you, my girl,” the dowager called over to Bella above the din. “You are an accomplished dancer.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Bella smiled at her stately mother-in-law.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Bella?” Triss asked as she stood at her mother’s side.

  “Yes. I believe I am,” Bella admitted, somewhat to her own surprise.

  The dowager stepped forward and began introducing a few “notables,” as she put it, to Bella and her family.

  Bella recalled the duke’s words to her about keeping her chin up and not answering questions. So, when any of those she was introduced to became too inquisitive about her sudden marriage to the duke, she put his advice to use.

  After a little while of this, Bella was given a reprieve from the onslaught of introductions when the dowager became involved in a deep conversation with her friend, Lady Pembrington.

  Bella stood with her family for a few minutes, fanning herself and enjoying the sight of the dancers and spectators alike. She was only half listening to Triss chatter about the number of unattached gentlemen when she turned her attention to the duke dancing with his sister. The reel was lively, and Bella marveled at how well the duke had recovered from his injury. Bella found herself admiring the way he carried h
imself with such self-assurance.

  After being at Autley, and now at Westlake House, Bella had to admit that it was much to the duke’s credit that he was not completely insufferable. She considered the manner in which he lived—with hundreds of servants to see to his every need and whim, and numerous estates across Great Britain—yet one would never have known any of this by the way he behaved during his stay at her home.

  In spite of his questionable morals, the duke certainly had impeccable manners, she mused, continuing to watch his movements.

  The reel ended and Bella turned from watching Westlake to converse with her aunt. A moment later Triss caught her off guard by grabbing her arm.

  “Bella, look over there,” Triss whispered. “No. Don’t look now.”

  “Heavens! What bee has gotten in your bonnet?” Bella gave a mystified smile to her cousin.

  Her cousin’s eyes were wide with concern as she stared at something across the room. Turning her head, Bella tried to follow Triss’s gaze. She saw nothing out of the ordinary in the number of people crowding the assembly room. Triss continued to grip her arm, and Bella continued to scan the crowd for what was amiss.

  The back of a blond male head caught her attention. Bella kept her eyes fixed on the blond as he turned around. She sucked in her breath as the man turned to face her fully. “Why, it is Robert Fortiscue!” Bella gasped in surprise.

  Chapter Twenty

  Standing with Triss in the midst of the crowded assembly room, Bella watched with a growing sense of foreboding as Robert Fortiscue approached them.

  “How did he get a voucher?” Triss asked in a tone of great disgust.

  “He cannot mean to address me, not after how horrible he was that morning,” Bella whispered in astonishment.

  But Robert Fortiscue continued to weave his way through the crowd toward her.

  Bella could not help noticing how different her former beau appeared. His hair was coifed à la Brutus, very stiff and shiny. His shirt collar was so high that Bella thought it gave him the appearance of having a stiff neck.

  “Lud, does he have egg whites in his hair?” Triss whispered behind her fan just as he was almost upon them.

  Stopping a few feet away, Robert stared at Bella for a moment, with a trace of a sneer on his lips, before performing a flamboyant, sweeping bow.

  Bella glanced around in panic, hoping that a way of escape would present itself. She did not know why she found his presence so shocking; she knew that he often came to London. So much had happened since he had found her with the duke that morning—she had never given a thought to meeting Robert by chance in London.

  As he straightened, Bella saw his eyes traveling up her form. She stiffened in offense as she saw his contemptuous gaze lingering on the jewels at her neck.

  “Fancy meeting you here, Miss Tichley,” he said to her in a haughty tone.

  Before she could respond, Bella felt Triss bristle at her side.

  “Are you, mayhap, addressing her grace, the Duchess of Westlake?” Triss said.

  Shifting his weight to one foot and putting a hand on his hip, Robert turned his sneering visage to Triss. “Lady Beatrice Tichley. My! The patronesses are letting the guard down if they are giving hoydens like you vouchers,” was his snapping response.

  Triss gasped in outrage, and Bella put a calming hand on her cousin’s arm.

  “How dare you, sir,” Bella said in a quiet, yet very firm tone. “If your only purpose in approaching us is to be insulting, then we shall take our leave of you.” Bella lifted her chin, took Triss by the arm, and made to move past him.

  Robert Fortiscue stepped smoothly in front of Bella, blocking her path.

  Her progress halted, Bella looked up at him with angry astonishment. Short of shoving him aside, she had no choice but to stop. Glancing around, Bella could not help noticing a number of people looking their way with avid, curious faces. With burning cheeks, Bella wanted nothing more than to get away from Robert Fortiscue immediately.

  “You forget yourself, sir,” Bella said in a low, angry tone.

  “You may be a duchess, Arabella Tichley, but you can be sure that I will make it known exactly how it is that you came to be one,” he said in a slightly raised voice.

  Without bothering to respond, Bella cast him a scathing glance before sweeping past him with Triss in tow. Desperately she looked around the crowded room for a familiar face. Aunt Elizabeth and the dowager had gotten separated from them in the last few moments, and Bella saw no one she knew in the immediate vicinity.

  A little farther away, near the refreshments, Bella saw Lady Edgeton and Lady Louisa. With relief, and with a great effort not to add to her conspicuousness by rushing, Bella and Triss moved through the throng to join the other ladies. As they drew near, Bella saw Lady Edgeton looking at her with an arrogant expression on her otherwise pretty features.

  “Who was that man you were speaking with, Arabella? He certainly is quite the dandy,” she said, looking at Bella keenly.

  “Oh, that was just Robert Fortiscue,” Triss put in before Bella could reply. “He used to be Bella’s beau, until she had to marry the duke,” she finished, her cheeks still flushed with anger from their encounter with Robert.

  Bella’s heart sank to her slippers. Unfortunately a number of people were close enough to have heard this indiscreet remark. Would Triss never learn to curb her wayward tongue? she wondered, trying to stifle the urge to run from the building.

  Lady Edgeton straightened her shoulders as if a ramrod were thrust down her spine.

  “Had to marry the duke?” she questioned Bella with angry, narrowed eyes. “I knew something was odd and amiss about this marriage. You will give me all the details of this sordid business at once,” she demanded.

  Bella looked from Lady Edgeton to Louisa, who stood next to her sister with her mouth open in astonishment. For once she seemed to have nothing to say.

  The mere fact that her marriage to the duke had not been by her design was the only thing that saved Bella from a completely mortifying sense of embarrassment.

  “The details of my marriage to the duke are none of your affair,” Bella said, lifting her chin stubbornly in an attempt to stave off more questions.

  Without saying another word, Bella turned on her heel and left the duke’s sisters staring after her with varying degrees of astonishment plainly evident on their faces. She made her way as quickly as she could to the cloakroom. Triss caught up with her there.

  “Bella, what are you going to do?” she questioned breathlessly. “Robert practically threatened to tell everyone about you and the duke!”

  Completely out of patience, Bella rounded on her cousin.

  “He threatened to tell everyone?” she said with anger sparking in her deep blue eyes. “You are the one who just told the duke’s sisters that he had to marry me! Will you never learn to hold your tongue?”

  Taking a step back in shock at Bella’s unusual show of anger, Triss looked at her cousin in genuine confusion. “But I thought his sisters knew why you and the duke had to marry,” Triss cried out after Bella swept past her, leaving Triss to follow with a hurt and baffled expression on her face.

  Bella went to the entryway and told the doorman to have the Westlake coach brought around.

  “But Bella, what about Westlake and Mother? Are we just going to leave them?” Triss asked Bella in a small voice.

  “If you find Aunt Elizabeth within the next few minutes, she can return to Westlake House with us. I will send the coach back once we are home,” she told Triss firmly. Nothing was going to make her stay a second longer than she had to, she thought, her cheeks still burning at the memory of Robert’s insults.

  “What I ever saw in that supercilious, odious fop, I shall never know,” she said aloud, and in such an angry tone that the very well trained footman so forgot himself as to gape at her.

  Triss was looking anxious, clenching and unclenching her fingers. “Bella, have them hold the coach a moment. L
et me find Mama,” she begged Bella before quickly leaving to search for Lady Penninghurst.

  When the butler at Westlake House opened the door to the three dejected ladies, Bella immediately headed for the staircase.

  “Please send the coach back to Almack’s and inform me the moment his grace returns,” she told the expressionless servant as she took the steps.

  “Bella, please let us discuss what has happened.”

  Hearing the concern in her aunt’s voice, Bella looked down at her standing in the foyer below, next to Triss.

  “Please, Aunt Elizabeth, I would rather not,” she said, trying to keep the anger and panic she felt from reaching her voice.

  She gained her room and instantly began to pace the floor. A moment later she stopped to take off the diamond jewelry and place it back in its case.

  What would she do now? she wondered, putting her hands to her cheeks in misery. Taking another turn around the room, she tried to think of somewhere to go. The realization that there were no more places to run caused her to speed her pacing. She had fled Autley to seek refuge with her family in London. Now, after the mortifying scene at Almack’s, London was no longer a solace against the recent, frightening changes in her life.

  How long she fretted and paced she did not know, but when she heard a knock at her door, she ran to it and flung it open. To her relief it was the duke.

  “Oh, please come in,” she said, opening the door wide.

  He strode into the middle of the room, still in his evening attire, and turned to look at her with an unreadable expression. Shutting the door, she moved to stand in front of him.

  “Did you see Robert Fortiscue at Almack’s?” she asked without preamble.

  “No, he departed before I had the chance. But I gather from the gossip buzzing around the room, and from what I could glean from my sisters, that there was a bit of a scene,” he said with a dismissive shrug.

  Bella stared at him for a moment with troubled, beautiful eyes. It was frustrating that she could not discern from his words or expression what he was thinking.