Belle Of The Ball

by Joan Overfield

  "Sulking, more like it," Georgiana said with a sniff. "Since you and Colford had your mysterious falling out, she and Toby have been squabbling like a couple of children. He sent her a note this morning, and she went dashing up to her rooms in tears."

  "What?" Belle cried, leaping to her feet and glaring at her cousin. "When was this? Why wasn't I told?"

  "The note was delivered after breakfast," Georgiana replied with an indifferent shrug. "And you wasn't told because you'd sent word down you was ill. I wasn't about to trouble you over something so trifling as a lovers' quarrel."

  "I'd hardly call it 'trifling' if it had Julia in tears," Belle replied sharply, wincing as a pang of guilt stabbed at her. She knew her estrangement from Marcus had hurt more than the two of them, and the knowledge added to her pain.

  "Nonsense," Georgiana corrected in her blunt manner, "all couples have their little differences. Just leave them alone, and I guarantee they'll soon be billing and cooing like a pair of turtledoves."

  "But what if they aren't?" Belle demanded, pacing the room in mounting agitation. She accepted the painful fact that she'd already destroyed any chance of happiness she might have known with Marcus, and she couldn't bear to think she might have done the same to Julia and Toby.

  "Then they aren't." Georgiana's negligent shrug indicated her apathy. "Really, Belle, I fail to see why you are getting so upset over this. In the event they do decide to break their engagement, there's nothing we can do about it."

  Belle stopped abruptly, some of the fire returning to her eyes. Her fear and blindness had caused enough unhappiness, she decided with determination. She was hanged if she would allow it to cause any more. "Isn't there?" she said, her chin coming up with conviction. "We shall just see about that!" And she turned and stormed out of the room, so furious that she didn't notice the cunning smile curving Georgiana's lips.

  "No. Absolutely not."

  "Blast it, Colford, must you be such a stubborn ass?" Simon's eyes glittered with frustration as he glared at the earl. "This isn't charity I am offering, but a simple business proposition. If you'd put aside that bloody pride of yours for two minutes, you would see that!"

  Marcus returned Simon's angry look, his jaw clenching as he fought to control his temper. He and Dolitan had been locked in his study for the better part of the afternoon, struggling to work out a financial arrangement, and his temper was beginning to fray, along with his patience.

  "You may call it whatever you like, Dolitan," he said, his voice cold with painful control, "but I refuse to allow a woman to settle my debts. I'd rather die a pauper than allow that."

  "I've explained that Belle would not be the one to settle your precious debts," Simon said, leaning forward to rest his hands on the polished surface of Marcus's desk. "I will buy them from her, and then turn them over to you in return for your agreement to act as my partner. There is no charity here, my lord, no special favors. I shall expect you to work damned hard for your money, the same as I would of any man."

  Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, his silver eyes closing as weariness washed over him. In the two days since the bitter confrontation in Belle's drawing room, he doubted he'd slept more than a few hours, and the lack of sleep was catching up with him. He felt tired, harassed from all sides, and almost desperate with unhappiness. The proposition Dolitan was offering him was sweetly tempting, and the logical part of his mind knew he would be a fool to say no. Unfortunately the illogical, emotional part of his mind held temporary sway, and he wanted only to be left alone.

  "Dolitan," he began wearily, "I thank you for your help, but—"

  The door to his study flew open and Belle dashed inside, the white cast to her skin bringing both men to their feet.

  "Belle, what is it?" Marcus reached her first, his hands closing around her chilled fingers. "What has happened?"

  Belle turned to him, seeking the reassuring comfort of his touch. "It is Julia," she said, her voice trembling as she held out a letter to him. "Oh, Marcus, she and Toby have eloped!"

  "What?" He took the letter from her and tore it open, his lips thinning as he read the hastily penned lined.

  "Dearest, dearest Belle," he read aloud,

  "By the time you receive this, Toby and I shall be on our way to Gretna Green. We know it is wrong, but we could not bear the chance that we should be parted. We love both you and Lord Colford, and hope that one day you shall find it in your heart to forgive us.

  Love Always,

  Julia"

  "It is all my fault," Belle mourned, her eyes misting as she studied his strained features. He looked as miserable and unhappy as she felt, and the knowledge added to the burden of guilt weighing her down. Blinking back tears, she laid a trembling hand on his arm. "I am sorry, Marcus," she said softly. "So very sorry."

  Her contrite words and the touch of her hand brought his head snapping up. "Sorry?" he repeated incredulously, meeting her tear-drenched gaze. "My God, Belle, you've done nothing to apologize for! This is Toby's and Julia's folly, not yours!"

  She wanted to believe him, but in her heart she knew the blame was hers. "But if I hadn't quarreled with you, if I hadn't hurt you, they would never have run away," she said, her hand dropping to her side as she glanced uneasily away. "You read what she wrote; she suspects us of attempting to part them. She'd never have felt that if . . . if it hadn't been for me."

  "Nonsense," Marcus began firmly, determined to shoulder his own share of guilt. "I ought to have known something was up this morning when Toby talked to me. I—"

  'This mutual self-abasement is all very interesting," Simon interrupted with a dark scowl, "but it's not doing a bloody thing to get my sister back." He turned to Marcus. "When Flanders talked to you this morning, did he say anything, anything at all, which in hindsight might have indicated he was planning an elopement?"

  Marcus frowned, trying to remember what Toby had said. "I'm not sure," he admitted, thrusting a hand through his hair. "He was prattling on about poetry, as he usually does, and talking about going up to Grasmere to visit Dove Cottage, but I—" He broke off abruptly.

  "What is it? Have you remembered something?" Simon demanded, crowding closer.

  "He made mention of one of our distant cousins, the widow of a country vicar who lives outside of Coventry," he said slowly, recalling the nervous look on his cousin's face as he spoke of the elderly woman. "He asked if I'd heard from her recently, and if she still had the tenancy on the house. I told him that she had, and he let the matter drop. At the time I thought he was hinting he wished to use it for his bridal trip, but now . . ."

  "Coventry is on the road north," Simon interposed, his expression grim. "Perhaps they mean to break their journey there. Would this woman shelter them?"

  "Probably," Marcus admitted, already making plans to travel north and intercept the fleeing couple. "She was always fond of Toby, although I can't imagine her countenancing a runaway match. But at least she would be there to lend an air of respectability to the thing."

  "Give me her direction," Simon ordered decisively, already starting toward the door. "I've several horses and carriages posted at various inns on the Great Road, and I should be able to overtake them within a few hours. Belle, it would probably be best if you came with me. Julia is bound to be in a state, and I'll need you there to comfort her."

  "One moment," Marcus protested, his expression every bit as grim as Simon's. "What about me? If you think I intend letting you hare after my cousin with murder on your mind, you're much mistaken. I'm going with you."

  Simon sent him an impatient look. "I'd hoped you might take one of the other roads in the event they chose a different route, my lord,"' he said, not bothering to deny his lethal intentions. "It makes no sense for all three of us to make the same journey in the same carriage when we could well be wasting our time."

  "Then you and Miss Portham take the alternative route," Marcus insisted stubbornly, although he found the notion of Belle and the handsome Simon sharing t
he intimate confines of a carriage displeasing. "Besides, Mrs. Atherton is most distrusting of strangers, and I doubt she would grant you entrance."

  "Perhaps I could go alone," Belle suggested, vaguely annoyed they should discuss her as if she weren't there. "The two of you could check the other roads for any sign of them, and—"

  "No!" Both men spoke decisively and at once. They glared at each other for a long moment before Simon gave a weary sigh.

  "You and Belle take the Great Road," he said to Marcus, "and I will do some discreet checking here. I've been thinking, and unless they're foolish enough to take the mail coach, they'll have need to hire a private carriage. I'll look into that while the two of you pursue the truants."

  It took several more minutes of haggling, but Marcus and Belle were soon on their way north in Simon's opulent carriage. Belle sat across from him, her posture stiff and wary, and he wondered uneasily if she was worried about the impropriety of the situation. He cleared his throat and gave her an anxious look.

  "Miss Portham, if you are worried about our traveling without benefit of a chaperon, I assure you I have no intention of revealing a word of this to anyone. Your reputation is quite safe with me."

  Belle stirred uneasily, her eyes lowering to her tightly clenched hands as she fought back a fresh flow of tears. When she thought of the cruel aspersions she'd cast against him, she felt sunk with shame. Even if she hadn't loved him with all her heart, she would have felt the same guilty remorse, for if there was anything she did know, it was that Colford was a man of impeccable honor. She had questioned that honor, and now there was nothing left to do but to apologize.

  "Lord Colford . . . Marcus," she began, raising solemn golden-brown eyes to meet his, "there is something I should like to say to you. Something I should have said days ago . . ."

  Marcus watched her closely, seeing the contrition and the determination on her lovely features. He knew she was about to beg his forgiveness for her actions, and he knew he couldn't bear it. He'd rather have her contempt than her pity, he decided, reaching out to lay a gloved finger against her lips.

  "No, Belle," he said, his voice low as he gently brushed his finger back and forth over her trembling lips. "No words. We only seem to tangle ourselves up in them, so perhaps it would be best if we said nothing at all."

  His tone and the sweet touch of his hand shattered Belle's control. "But, Marcus, I—"

  "Please." He gave her a sad smile, his heart pounding with helpless love as he committed her beautiful face to memory. "I know you have no regard for me, but I beg you, not another word."

  Belle gazed at him, her anguish giving way to hot anger. She'd endured so much this past week, and now he dared sit there and calmly tell her that she had no regard for him. The thought of it filled her with a deep, burning rage, and she slapped his hand away, twenty years of controlling her emotions erupting in an explosive flash.

  "No regard for you?" she repeated incredulously, her eyes narrowing in fury. "How can you say such a thing, you . . . you dolt! I love you!"

  At first Marcus could only stare at her, certain he had finally gone mad. Certainly she didn't look like a lady who had just declared her love, he thought dazedly, studying her features with awe. Her cheeks were flushed with fury, and her full mouth was set in a mulish pout that made him want to shout with laughter. The golden eyes he'd seen filled with cool contempt now sparkled like topaz, and she looked as if she'd like nothing better than to claw out his eyes. He took a deep breath, praying he wasn't about to make a complete ass out of himself.

  "You love me?"

  "Of course I love you!" Belle snapped, her temper flaring free of all constraint. It felt glorious to finally speak her mind, and she did so with relish, not giving a single thought to the possible consequences.

  "Why else do you think I bought up those wretched debts of yours?" she demanded, poking her finger against his chest. "I may be wealthier than you, but I'm hardly so well heeled that I go about squandering twenty thousand pounds on people I don't like! I wanted to help you, curse you, and that was the only thing I could think of to do!"

  "You love me." He repeated the words, disbelief turning to wonder. It was all his dreams come true, and for a moment he was too afraid to believe in the miracle of it. If he was wrong, the pain of it would kill him.

  "Must you sit there repeating everything?" Belle demanded impatiently, crowding closer until they were nose to nose. "I've just told you I love you, blast it, and I demand to know what you intend doing about it! Well?" she added in bellicose terms when he remained silent. "Do you love me or not?"

  Marcus stared at her, his fears and doubts dissolving under a wave of sweet relief. He gave an exultant cry, his arms closing about her as he pulled her onto his lap. She gave a startled gasp, but even as his mouth was descending toward hers, her arms were closing around his neck in a fervent embrace.

  Her lips were soft and sweet beneath his own, and he took them with equal parts desperation and desire. Everything he was or ever would be was in that kiss, and he would accept nothing less in return. He deepened the contact, his tongue teasing hers until he felt her shy response.

  "Belle, Belle, my sweet, I love you," he whispered, his voice ragged with emotion. "I don't give a damn if you are as rich as a nabob or as poor as a pauper, I love you."

  The fervent words brought tears of joy to Belle's eyes, but she wasn't yet ready to discard her anger. "You know you must marry me now," she told him with a fierce scowl. "You have compromised me, and if you refuse to do the honorable thing, I shall tell Simon, and—" She was silenced by another kiss.

  Marcus was smiling provocatively when he raised his head again. "There is no reason to threaten me with your ferocious cousin, my love," he said, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the pulse pounding in her slender neck. "I would marry you if it meant going against a hundred Simons. But you are wrong to say I have compromised you; 'tis quite the other way around. You did tell Berwick you paid good money for me, you know, and now my reputation is quite ruined. I am a fallen man."

  His joking reference to the debts made her blush guiltily. "I am sorry, Marcus," she said, her eyes dropping to her hands now resting on his broad chest. "I never meant to insult you; truly I did not. But the debts had you backed into a corner, and I couldn't bear to see you lose everything you had fought so hard to keep. I was only trying to—"

  "—help," he finished, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I know, and I thank you for your kindness."

  "You do?" She tilted back her head to gaze up at him.

  "I do," he assured her, unable to resist the temptation of her parted lips. After another kiss, he drew back to give her a loving smile. "Not that I intend letting you pay my debts, mind. Simon had just made me a rather interesting offer before you came barging into my study, and I believe I shall take him up on it. How do you feel about being married to a country gentleman who raises horses, my love?"

  Belle smiled mistily, happier than she had ever been in her life. For years she had held life and love at arm's length, refusing to believe she would ever know their sweetness. Now all she wanted was sitting beside her, and all she had to do was reach out and take it. For a moment all her old fears and insecurities threatened to overwhelm her, but one look at Marcus's face and they dissolved like morning mist. She reached up and gently tugged his head down to her.

  "So long as that country gentleman is you, I can think of nothing I would like more," she said, and feeling greatly daring, pressed a kiss to his mouth.

  They continued their journey north, alternately kissing and making lazy plans for the future. Belle's cloak and bonnet lay on the opposite bench, joined by Marcus's greatcoat and gloves as they snuggled in congenial contentment But despite her own happiness, Belle could not help but worry about Julia and Toby. She mentioned her fears to Marcus and was surprised when he gave a soft chuckle.

  "I shouldn't worry so much about them, my love," he said, running a hand through her delightf
ully mussed curls. "Toby is such a notorious cloth-head, I much doubt he managed to get them out of London, let alone all the way to Coventry. We'll tarry long enough to question Mrs. Atherton, and then we'd best be making our way back to London before we are forced to spend the night on the road. Our marriage will cause talk enough, but I'll not have a scrap of scandal attached to your good name."

  His determination to protect her warmed Belle's heart, and she was about to say as much when a sudden thought intruded. She tried brushing it aside, but it would not move, and the more she thought of it, the more suspicious she became. She lifted her head from Marcus's shoulder and gave him a thoughtful frown. "Marcus, may I ask you something?"

  "Certainly, my love; what is it?" he asked, his heart filled with peaceful satisfaction.

  "Doesn't it strike you as odd that Simon would allow me to accompany you without so much as a maid to lend us countenance?"

  Marcus's contentment vanished at the question. "There wasn't time," he said, his brows gathering in a frown as he considered the matter. "It is a trifle unconventional, I suppose, but . . ." His voice tapered off and his frown deepened. "No, you're right. It is damned odd he would allow such a thing."

  "Especially if you knew Simon's past," Belle said, hoping her cousin would forgive her for violating his confidence. "There were rumors about his mother shortly after his birth, and he has always been more sensitive than most about such things. I find it difficult to believe he would blithely let us take off across the country without so much as a word of protest. He must have known it would cause talk."

  "And he seemed rather sanguine about his sister's elopement," Marcus added thoughtfully, remembering the other man's response. "Not at all the sort of reaction one would expect from a man of Dolitan's stamp. Yet why would he have wanted to throw us together like this? It doesn't make sense."

  The answer to their question came some twenty minutes later when they reached the small cottage tucked into the woods just outside of Coventry. They found Julia and Toby, all right, but the-younger couple was far from alone. In addition to a smiling Georgiana, the errant lovers were joined by Lord and Lady St. Ives, and a rather smugfaced Simon, who was regarding them with obvious satisfaction.