by Ava Stone
As the marquess made his way through the crowd, a smile lit Gillingham’s face. “Do you want any ratafia, Bella?”
“No, thank you,” she replied to her brother.
“I’ll just help myself, then.” A moment later, the soused baron was off too.
And then Greg finally had Bella all to himself…well, all to himself with a crush of people crowded around them. But it might be the only moment they had with each other before nothing was the same any more. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice loud enough for only her to hear him.
Bella blinked up at him, her grey eyes so deep he could lose himself in them and never know how it happened. “Nervous. You?”
More than a little, not that he wanted to admit as much to her. “Are you sure you want to do this? You didn’t quite seem yourself at dinner.” Not that he knew her well enough to know how she was most of the time, but she didn’t seem like the girl he’d met that afternoon, in any event.
“Do you want to back out?” she looked more than panicked all of a sudden.
“No, no, no,” he rushed to assure her, taking her hands in his. “I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
She breathed what seemed like a sigh of relief. “I’m just a very poor actress, I think.”
Perhaps, but that didn’t answer her skittishness during dinner. “Come now,” he teased, hoping to put her a bit more at ease. “When you stare up at me like you do, I’m almost convinced you’re in love with me, and I know better.”
A blush stained her cheeks, and she would have tugged her hands from his if he hadn’t tightened his hold.
“I didn’t say that to embarrass you,” he whispered. “You just have the sweetest expression, like I’m a hero of mythical proportions.”
She smiled then. “Aren’t you?”
Greg couldn’t help but smile back. “Not even on my best day. But as long as you look at me as though I am, no one will doubt your undying love for me.”
A tiny giggle escaped Bella and her eyes crinkled at the edges. “You are—”
“Greg?”
The sound of Tristan’s voice from behind him made Greg wince slightly. Their lie was about to get bigger and there would be no coming back from it as soon as Tristan and Phoebe learned his news. He squeezed Bella’s fingers in a silent vow of support, then he glanced over his shoulder to find his brother and Phoebe standing there, both of them sporting quizzical expressions.
“Tris, Phoebe.” He feigned a smile for the pair.
Tristan cleared his throat and glanced in Bella’s direction. A not so subtle hint.
“Tristan, you remember Lady Arabella?” Greg began.
Phoebe’s brow scrunched up at that as she cast her husband a sidelong glance.
“Yes, of course.” His brother’s gaze retuned to Bella. “How are you this evening, my lady?”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Lieutenant. So nice to see you again.”
Phoebe looked as though she was going to throttle someone if they didn’t clue her into what was going on. Greg bit back a smile. He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed her frustration so much, but he wasn’t a hero of mythical proportions, and Phoebe had annoyed the devil out of him over the last few weeks. Turn about was fair play. But he couldn’t hold his sister-in-law off forever. “Mrs. Avery, this is Lady Arabella Winslett.”
“A pleasure,” Bella said softly.
“Yes, so nice to meet you.” Phoebe flashed another questioning expression at Greg, then her brow furrowed further. “Arabella Winslett? Why does that sound so familiar?”
“We have a friend in common,” Bella replied. “Felicity Pierce.”
Light dawned in Phoebe’s eyes and then a genuine smile spread across her face. “Yes! Lissy. That is where I know you from. A shame she’s been called to Derbyshire, isn’t it?”
“She’s been called to Derbyshire?” Bella frowned slightly.
“Safer for her there than here,” Tristan muttered under his breath, but they all heard him.
Bella trained her gaze on Greg’s brother. “Safer?”
A look of chagrin settled on Tristan’s face. “Apologies. I shouldn’t have said that.”
But his words didn’t seem to put Bella at ease in the least and her frown deepened. “What did you mean? Is Lissy unsafe?”
“Pay him no mind.” Phoebe heaved a sigh. “He means she’ll be safer from Lord Haversham at Prestwick Chase than she would be here in Town.”
“The degenerate,” Tristan added.
“Regardless.” Phoebe tipped her nose slightly in the air. “I feel confident Lissy can take care of herself whether she’s in London or in Derbyshire…and is in no need of assistance from any particular politicians in that regard.”
A ghost of a smile lit Tristan’s lips. “Very likely,” he agreed. “However, I do like the way Carraway dealt with that particular problem, so I hope he doesn’t change his tactics.”
Greg grunted in agreement. If the politician decided to blacken Haversham’s other eye, he would find the entire thing rather fitting.
“My favorite moment of the entire season thus far,” Tristan added with a grin.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Interesting, the two of you never seem to say such things whenever Cordie is within earshot. You wait until I’m outnumbered.”
“Poor Phoebe.”
“Where is Cordie?” Greg asked. His sister was the one who had put this little betrothal plot together, after all.
“She was whispering something in Kelfield’s ear a while ago,” Phoebe replied. “The whole thing seemed very mysterious, to be honest.”
“Speaking of degenerates,” Tristan mumbled.
Greg bit back a smile as Phoebe playfully smacked her husband’s chest. “Do not start. Livvie is perfectly happy with him, Tristan Avery.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not a degenerate.”
“You are in the man’s house.”
“Out of my childhood loyalty to his wife.”
As in love as Phoebe and Tristan were, the two of them could argue until they were both blue in the face. Greg suspected their bickering only served to heighten their passion in the bedchambers. But he wasn’t keen to hear another round of their quarreling and was relieved when the first chords of a waltz began. Finally, he and Bella could escape his relations.
“Ah.” He squeezed her hand. “Our dance, I believe.”
Chapter 10
A thrill raced through Bella at the thought of waltzing with Greg. She’d never been one for dancing. In fact, she’d been quite content the previous season, hiding behind the potted palms to watch the revelry on the dance floor, thriving on the energy that filled the ballrooms of London. But now…now she would dance in Greg’s arms and her heart flitted a bit.
There was something about him, the idea of dancing with him. Yes, he’d come to her rescue when no one else was able, but before that, before she’d even known his name, when she’d first noticed him at the Astwicks’, the intensity in his eyes and the strength of his jaw had captured her attention like nothing else ever had.
“Bella?” He squeezed her hand once more.
“Oh, yes, of course.” She smiled up at him, and when his serious expression softened a bit, her heart lifted. “Our dance.”
Greg led her out into the middle of the ballroom, completely unaware that her heart pounded out a rapid beat. He bowed before her, then pulled her into his arms.
Goodness! He was so strong, his shoulders and his hands, and was so close, his sandalwood scent surrounded her and she felt his breath brush against her cheek. A warm shiver raced through her and Bella was certain nothing else had ever felt so right in her life.
She nearly stumbled as Greg led her into their first turn. Though she righted herself before he noticed and she chastised herself for being a ninny. His interest in her was all pretend, and she hated that she needed to keep reminding herself of that fact.
“Sorry about them,” Greg apologized.
“Them?”
She was so caught up in being held in his arms, she’d obviously missed something.
“My brother and his wife,” he clarified.
Oh, Lieutenant and Mrs. Avery? Bella had quite enjoyed meeting them. “They were charming. Besides, after subjecting you to my family this evening, I hardly think you need to apologize for anything.”
His green eyes held hers and his brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t seem terribly comfortable around them. Your own family, I mean.” He led her into another turn.
That was an understatement. Bella’s gaze dropped to his cravat, hoping he couldn’t see through her as easily as she suspected he might be able to. “I don’t know them very well, not most of them.” After Mama had run off, her aunts and uncles had distanced themselves from Papa, Elliott, Bella and Prissa as though the taint to their names was contagious.
“Then why did your father—”
“Insist upon that dinner?” Bella lifted her gaze once more to meet Greg’s. “I suspect he invited everyone so that our betrothal would be set in stone, so to speak. An attempt to keep Grandfather from doing anything to change the situation. If everyone believes we’re to marry…”
“Ah,” Greg said with a nod. “I wouldn’t have guessed Aylesford was so crafty. Though I suppose, he’s probably developed a number of ways to navigate around your grandfather over the years.”
Papa had never been called crafty by anyone, at least not as far as Bella knew. The suggestion was more than amusing, but she kept herself from giggling. She was too nervous to do so. “After tonight…”
“After tonight?” he prodded.
“Will I see you again?” She supposed she’d see him at some point, she would have to formally end their betrothal, after all. But she hoped, foolishly, that she would have the chance to know him. Despite his protestations otherwise, Bella was quite certain Greg was a hero of mythological proportions.
Greg frowned slightly as he looked past her shoulder. “With your grandfather’s suspicions and Sarsden’s too, I’d imagine, we probably should make plans. Selling our betrothal may take more than just tonight.”
And though her heart shouldn’t flutter at that, Bella couldn’t help that it did. “I was hoping,” she continued, “that you might…” Oh, heavens, if she said that, he’d think her as strange as Grandfather did.
“You don’t have to have any secrets from me,” Greg said. “We are in this together.”
Bella’s cheeks warmed. “Well, I’ve already asked so much of you.”
“Well, now you must tell me. My interest is more than piqued. What do you want of me, Bella?”
“I think I’d like to paint you,” she blurted out.
“Paint me?” His brow lifted in surprise.
“To thank you,” she continued. “For all that you’re doing for me. I could paint your portrait in return.” And perhaps a smaller version to keep for herself too, something to remember him by, her mythological hero.
Greg’s green eyes twinkled beneath the chandelier lights. “Bella Winslett, you are unlike any girl I’ve ever met.”
Oh, goodness! He did think she was odd. She should never have said anything. “I apologize. I only…”
“Why in the world would you apologize for that?” he asked. “You’re delightful, Bella, completely delightful.”
He thought she was delightful? If she focused on that, she’d never make it through the rest of the waltz without floating right up off the floor, which he’d probably notice. “I’m just not sure how else to thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he assured her. “But as it happens, our betrothal will allow me a bit more freedom from social engagements. And so now I find my schedule to be quite clear.”
“Freedom from social engagements?” She blinked at him. Did he not enjoy such things?
“My sister-in-law has decided that I need a wife. I, however, am of a different opinion.” He led her in another turn. “She has been a nuisance ever since I arrived in Town, but now, thanks to you, my dear, she will no longer whine or beg for me to join her for various outings, and her matchmaking attempts will fall by the wayside.”
He didn’t think he needed a wife? Didn’t all gentlemen of means need one eventually? And especially a peer of the realm. Bearing heirs and spares and all that? Bella wasn’t certain why that bit of news would make her feel the slightest bit downcast, but it did.
“And I do find myself curious about your talents,” he continued as though he hadn’t crushed her spirit just a moment before. “So if you truly would like to paint me…”
“Oh, yes, yes,” she said quickly, hoping he didn’t notice that she didn’t quite sound like herself. “We can use the sitting room at Chatham House if—”
“What about your father?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I thought you didn’t like to remind him…”
“I don’t,” she agreed, “but—”
“Avery House is out of the question if you’d like to maintain your reputation after all of this,” he said with a slight frown. “Though we could meet at Clayworth House, if you’d like. You could always visit your future sister-in-law without drawing your father’s notice or society’s wrath, couldn’t you?”
Yes, she could. It was the perfect solution. Bella smiled, though she didn’t quite feel like it. Goodness, why didn’t he think he needed a wife? And why should she feel disheartened because of that fact? His need or lack thereof for a wife was no concern of hers, not really. He was doing her an enormous favor and that was all. “We could start tomorrow,” she said softly.
“I would like that very much,” he said just as the music stopped.
The Duke of Kelfield stepped up onto the dais, in front of the musicians and smiled at the assembled crowd. “Thank you, thank you all for being here this evening. My wife and I are quite happy to have you with us. But if I could have everyone’s attention for a moment.” He cleared his throat and then said a little louder, “I have been asked to make an announcement this evening. Earlier today, Lord Avery—” he gestured toward Greg and Bella, and suddenly the entire ballroom seemed to be staring at them “—a dear friend of the family, asked for Lady Arabella Winslett’s hand in marriage.”
Greg squeezed Bella’s hand. “Smile,” he whispered only loud enough for her to hear.
She did smile at him, but she was so nervous, she was afraid it came out as more of a grimace.
“I am happy to report that Lord Aylesford has given them his blessing,” Kelfield continued, smiling broadly. “Please help me congratulate the charming couple.”
And then the crowd broke out in applause, and Bella’s heart pounded so hard she thought she might faint. In an instant, they were surrounded by a throng of well-wishers and it was quite difficult to breathe, let alone carry on any sort of conversation.
Amidst the crowd swarming around them, Greg cast Bella a sidelong glance. She looked quite flush all of a sudden, so he tightened his grasp on her hand. This would be the worst of it. Once they got through this part, the rest of their betrothal would be easy. She sent him a shy smile and Greg’s heart squeezed just a bit. She did seem like such a sweet girl who was quite uncomfortable being the center of attention. Almost the exact opposite of Marina in every way.
Across the crowd, he spotted his brother and Phoebe whose mouth had fallen quite open. His sister-in-law wore an expression Greg doubted he’d ever seen on her face before. And Tristan looked just as stunned. For just a moment, he felt the tiniest bit guilty for not preparing the two of them for the announcement.
Before Greg could think more on that, however, Sarsden appeared before him and Bella, wearing an expression of amusement and disbelief all rolled into one. “I never thought you were the sort to put more thought into stocking your stables than in the selection of your bride, Avery.”
Greg would like to throttle the man, though he couldn’t do that with the audience assembled. So instead, he feigned a smile for his old schoolmate and said, “On the contrary, I knew Lady Ar
abella was absolutely perfect the first moment I saw her. When you stumble upon perfection, why would you keep looking elsewhere?”
“Indeed?” Sarsden didn’t look convinced in the least, which was bloody frustrating.
“Excuse us, will you?” Greg nodded toward the other side of the room. “My brother is looking for a word, it seems.” Then without waiting for the man to reply, Greg slid Bella’s hand to his arm and started to direct her through the crowd toward Tristan and Phoebe. “Are you all right?” he whispered once they were out of Sarsden’s earshot.
“I’ll be better when tonight’s over,” she said.
And Greg suspected he would be too. “Stay right with me and we’ll get through this together.”
She nodded in agreement.
Greg glanced back over his shoulder to find the infuriating viscount’s gaze quite focused on them. Damn it all. On second thought, dealing with Tristan and Phoebe at the moment may not be the best idea, not with Sarsden watching their every move. The man had seemed rather terrified of Chatham. What if he reported his suspicions to the duke in an attempt to gain His Grace’s favor. That seemed a very real possibility all of a sudden. Sarsden would have to be convinced. One way or another.
With that thought in mind, Greg led Bella right past his brother and Phoebe, and right through the doors that led out onto the Kelfield balustrade. The cool air was like a balm to his flushed skin. He hadn’t even realized how stifling the ballroom had become until they’d stepped out of doors.
“You don’t want to talk to your brother?” Bella blinked up at him. “I thought…”
“Change of plans.” Damn it all. She really was so beautiful, so endearingly sweet and innocent, especially there in the moonlight, looking up at him just like that. Helping her was no hardship at all, and when all of this was over he hoped she would find someone truly worthy of her. “Sarsden is watching us through the door,” he whispered. “I think the man needs a bit more convincing.”
“Convincing?” she frowned slightly.
