Belle of the Ball

by Pam McCutcheon

  If so, he was uncommonly good at it. . . .

  She loved the way he touched her, kissed her, used his mouth on her. The only problem was, he always broke off before he got to the really interesting parts. What else might he have to teach her?

  Her resolve firmed. No matter what anyone else said, she was going to enjoy every minute of their association . . . right up until the moment she made him pay.

  Belle felt a little low as she dressed for her evening with George Winthrop. She wished it could be Kit instead . . . and yet she didn’t. In some ways, she wanted to be with him as much as possible, to soak up his presence and commit his every movement to memory so she could cherish it forever.

  But . . . she was also afraid that he would see her love in her face. And, perhaps, pity her. She didn’t think she could bear that.

  “What’s the matter?” Grace asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Belle said with a sigh, and voiced the only concern she felt she could share with her sisters. “I’m just not sure the method I used with Harold will work with George.”

  “What do you mean?” Charisma asked.

  “Well, I know I said I wanted to make all three men fall in love with me . . .”

  “Yes, we know,” Charisma said. “So you could spurn them in revenge. Have you changed your mind?”

  Charisma looked disappointed, and Belle remembered how much George had hurt her sister with his insults. “Oh, I still intend to make him pay for what he did,” Belle assured her sisters. “But I don’t want him to offer for me. I . . . don’t want to be alone with him.”

  Grace nodded wisely. “He might attack you like Harold did.”

  “Exactly,” Belle said, relieved that she didn’t have to explain. “I don’t want to go through that again.” And Kit might not be so handy to the rescue this time, either.

  “So you’re not going to make him fall in love with you?” Charisma asked.

  “No—I don’t want to take that chance.” Besides, she couldn’t wear a low neckline to this entertainment, and she wasn’t sure of her ability to make him fall for her without those twin inducements.

  Grace squirmed in excitement. “Then what are you going to do?”

  Yes, that was the question. “I’m not sure,” Belle admitted. “But I do have a few ideas. We’ll just have to see how they pan out.”

  Her escort arrived then, and Belle went down to meet him, pleased that George had chosen to join Miss Mattingly’s party to attend the concert. With eight people in the party, she didn’t have to worry overmuch about George becoming too familiar.

  When they arrived at the park, they found that the concert area had been covered with a large tent in the event of rain. It was a good thing she hadn’t planned on pulling George aside—there just wasn’t any place to do it.

  George was very solicitous as he insisted on finding a choice spot for her to sit, asked her anxiously if she required refreshment, and generally acted the perfect escort.

  His kindness made her wonder if she should really go through with her plan. Then she remembered what he had said about Charisma and the subsequent wounded expression on her sister’s face. Belle steeled herself. She had promised her sisters she would do this, and she would. She just had to find the best opportunity to do so.

  As various members of the town played musical instruments or regaled the crowd with song, Belle tried to formulate a plan. She knew the music should have elevated her, should have sent her into transports of rapture or some such thing, if the other female members of the party were any indication. But Belle found it all rather boring. She was not musically inclined, and listening to amateurs wasn’t her idea of fun.

  She glanced around to determine who else was present, and was surprised to see many of the town’s social elite. No doubt she was alone in thinking this a rather boring entertainment. Even Madame Aglaia was there.

  Then Belle’s heart skipped a beat as she saw Kit’s fair head in the audience, bent toward the woman next to him. A stab of jealousy assailed her. Who had he brought tonight? And did the woman know she was his second choice?

  When the woman turned her head to answer him, Belle recognized his companion as Alvina Keithley. Belle’s jealousy eased. That was all right—she knew they were merely friends.

  Not that Belle had any right to approve or disapprove Kit’s choice of companion when she herself had declined his invitation, she reminded herself. In Kit’s eyes, she was only a pupil, a short-term dalliance, if that.

  Eventually, a murmur rose in the audience when one particular performer rose to sing and Belle roused herself from her lethargy to ask, “Who’s that?”

  “Queen Palmer,” George whispered back.

  Oh, the wife of the founder. No wonder everyone was so interested. The woman dubbed “Queen” sang a few popular ballads for which she received resounding applause, then an intermission was announced. The members of the audience rose to stretch their legs and obtain refreshment, to gossip and wonder, to see and be seen.

  Once more, George became a solicitous host and went in search of refreshment for her. Madame Aglaia made her way to Belle’s side and said, “You’re in fine looks tonight, dear. How are you doing?” Her words were innocuous, but the questioning look that accompanied them was penetrating, as if she were trying to read Belle’s mind and soul.

  Belle answered her spoken question, unsure how to deal with the unspoken ones. “Thank you, I am doing just fine.”

  Madame nodded, but looked concerned as she placed a hand on Belle’s arm. “You will be careful tonight, won’t you?”

  How odd. “Of course. Is there something in particular I should be careful of?”

  “No, just . . . think before you act, won’t you?”

  “All right,” Belle said, puzzled.

  Apparently satisfied, Madame took her leave when George and the other male members of their party returned with lemonade.

  Now what was that all about ? Belle wondered. But all else fled her mind as she chatted in a circle with the members of her party and pondered how to carry out her promise to Charisma.

  At one point, George leaned down to whisper something in Belle’s ear about Mrs. Palmer, likening her voice to a songbird in springtime, or some such nonsense. Belle stiffened at the familiarity, then realized he had just presented her with the perfect opportunity for revenge.

  “Really, Mr. Winthrop,” she protested. “I wonder you would say such a thing.”

  George looked puzzled, but Belle had garnered the attention of the rest of the party, which was exactly what she wanted. With pretended disgust, she said, “It is most unkind of you to compare Mrs. Palmer’s voice to that of a wounded feline.”

  George was so taken aback, he couldn’t say anything.

  Miss Mattingly, of course, had no such trouble. With a glare at George, she said loudly, “George Winthrop, I am ashamed of you for saying such horrible things about Mrs. Palmer.”

  One of those odd lulls that happen in company fell at that moment throughout the tent, and Miss Mattingly’s penetrating voice effortlessly reached the far corners. Shocked silence reigned as everyone present turned to stare in condemnation at George.

  With a gulp, he opened his mouth, apparently to defend himself, but no words came out Instead, he turned red and, with a strangled sound and clenched fists, strode away.

  Revenge at last, and in a manner fitting the original crime.

  Belle should have felt triumph, but that emotion eluded her as guilt filled her instead. She hadn’t thought about how carrying Miss Mattingly’s voice could be, nor had she intended for all of Colorado Springs to witness George’s humiliation. She’d just wanted to embarrass him in front of the few members of their party. Now he’d never be able to hold his head up in society again.

  Darn it, she hadn’t wanted it to be this bad. How could she set it right?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Across the tent, Kit watched the sordid little scene play out and frowned. Though Belle’s escor
t had been embarrassed and hastily departed, Belle looked exceedingly guilty. What had she done? Murmuring his apologies to Miss Keithley, Kit threaded his way toward Belle and her party.

  When he reached them, Miss Mattingly was still holding forth on Winthrop’s perfidy and was causing so much commotion that apparently no one else had noticed Belle’s guilt-stricken countenance. Or perhaps they just didn’t know her as well as he did.

  Kit schooled his face to politeness and greeted the people clustered around Belle and Millicent Mattingly. Lowering his voice so they would have to be silent to hear him, Kit said, “This has been a most unfortunate occurrence, but perhaps you could return to your seats? It appears the entertainment is about to begin again.” And the sounds of the small orchestra tuning up confirmed it.

  But Miss Mattingly had the bit in her teeth and was not about to let go of it. “Really, I don’t see where this is any concern of yours,” she said in frosty tones.

  But it was. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Belle was behind the current mess, though he didn’t understand quite how yet. Kit smiled at Millicent and said in a deceptively mild tone, “You have made it everyone’s concern, have you not?”

  Miss Mattingly appeared taken aback that anyone would question her, but before she could say anything else, Kit added, “I’m sure Mrs. Palmer would appreciate it if you would spare her farther embarrassment by forgetting this ever happened.”

  Miss Mattingly colored, apparently unaware until that moment how the object of everyone’s gossip might feel about the topic of discussion . . . and Miss Mattingly’s tenacious pursuit of it. “Of course,” she said faintly, or as faintly as she was capable of with that voice of hers.

  Kit nodded, then turned to Belle, who had apparently tried to lose herself in the crowd. “Miss Sullivan? Would you care for an escort home?”

  Miss Mattingly puffed up again. “She is a part of my party, sir, and I shall see her home.”

  Kit censured her with a glance. “Mrs. Palmer is not the only person who has been embarrassed this evening. May I remind you that Winthrop was Miss Sullivan’s escort? I don’t think she would care to sit through the rest of the concert with everyone’s eyes upon her.”

  “I quite agree,” Madame Aglaia said, coming to stand beside him. “Let us take her home and you can get on with your enjoyment of the evening without having to worry about Miss Sullivan.”

  Everyone looked at Belle, who appeared decidedly uncomfortable at all the attention. She colored and looked down at the ground.

  “Well,” Miss Mattingly said bracingly to Belle, “is that what you want?”

  “Yes, please,” Belle murmured.

  “All right, then,” Millicent Mattingly said as if bestowing a great favor. “I’ll allow the two of you to escort her home.”

  The music was about to begin again, so Kit merely nodded and offered his arm to Belle. Followed by Madame Aglaia, they made their way swiftly out of the tent

  Once outside, Belle seemed to relax a bit. “B-but what about Miss Keithley?” she asked.

  “What about her?” Kit asked, puzzled.

  “Didn’t you bring her to the concert?”

  “No, I came alone.” Though musicales weren’t his favorite form of entertainment, he had suspected Belle might be up to something and wanted to know what it was. But rather than sit alone for the evening, he had attached himself to Miss Keithley’s party.

  “Oh,” Belle said, then fell silent.

  Kit allowed that silence to continue until they reached the small buggy he had rented for the evening. “I apologize for the crowded conditions,” he said as he assisted Madame Aglaia inside, “but I had no idea I would be sharing the conveyance with anyone else this evening.”

  “Quite all right,” Madame murmured.

  Kit smiled at her. “But I do want to thank you for coming so swiftly to Belle’s aid.” He took Belle’s arm to assist her in as well. “Between the two of us, we might be able to save her from the folly of her actions.”

  Belle paused, half in and half out, and gave him a disbelieving look. “The folly of my actions?” she repeated. “What have I done?”

  “That is what I’d like to know,” Kit said.

  As Belle settled herself and he joined her in the buggy, he asked, “What have you done, Belle?”

  She turned defensive immediately. “I? Nothing. Why would you assume I did something?”

  Kit steered the vehicle out of the park. “Because disaster seems to follow you,” he said wryly.

  Belle gave a bitter laugh. “You’re thinking of my sister, Grace.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “I’m speaking of emotional, not physical, disasters. What did you do?”

  Belle turned to Madame Aglaia in supplication. “Can you please make him understand?”

  Madame raised an eyebrow. “I did warn you to be careful. I’m afraid Mr. Stanhope is correct—you look quite guilty. What did you do, Belle? You know we shall find out sooner or later.”

  Belle hung her head. “Well, I might have . . . misinterpreted something Mr. Winthrop said. . .

  “Oh?” Kit said in an uncompromising tone.

  “Yes,” Belle said in a rush, “but I didn’t know Miss Mattingly would repeat it quite so loudly.”

  Kit stared at her in disbelief. “You know Miss Mattingly’s voice. How could you think she would repeat it any other way?” Then her phrasing suddenly struck him as odd. “You mean . . . you planned this?”

  “No, of course not,” Belle said hastily.

  It was too dark to see her expression, or Kit would have been able to determine if she was telling the truth or not. It didn’t matter—he suspected she was prevaricating.

  If she was, that meant she had planned it. But why? Why humiliate George Winthrop in public? He narrowed his eyes suddenly as he realized she had also been involved in Harold Latham’s disgrace. Had that been deliberate as well?

  Suddenly suspicious, he said, “I find it odd that two of the three men who insulted your sisters have received their comeuppance at your hands.”

  Madame said nothing, tacitly letting him continue with his questioning.

  Belle stiffened beside him. “Is that what you think?” she asked in an innocent tone.

  “Yes,” he said baldly. “I assume that means I’m next?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said sternly, and once more he wished he could see her expression. “I assure you I had no intention of publicly humiliating George Winthrop.”

  “Just privately, eh?” Kit asked, and was rewarded with a small jerk of startlement from Belle. Apparently, he had hit upon the truth. “So, am I to assume that Latham wasn’t really manhandling you at the opera—that it was all just part of your plan to embarrass him for insulting your sisters?”

  Belle shuddered. “No! He . . . he really did attack me. I hate to think what might have happened if you weren’t there.”

  Kit remembered his own folly that night, how he had taken this innocent into his arms and attempted to take full advantage of her. And again at Miss Keithley’s. He was no better than Latham.

  But. . . wasn’t that Belle’s plan? She had made it very clear from the beginning that her goal was to be beautiful so she could make men fall in love with her.

  The hell of it was, she was achieving that goal all too easily. A sudden thought struck Kit. Was it part of her plan to make him fall in love with her so she could spurn him?

  Suddenly disgusted with her and himself, Kit was glad they had come to Belle’s home. He walked her to her door, promising, “We shall speak of this later.”

  Belle said nothing, but went meekly into the house.

  Madame was not quite so shy. “Don’t you think you were a bit hard on her?” she asked from the darkness.

  “Not if I am correct in what I suspect,” Kit bit out.

  “Even if you are correct,” Madame said mildly, “do you think the two men deserved to be taught a lesson?”

  “Not in that w
ay,” Kit said.

  “Perhaps not,” Madame conceded. “But I wonder . . . would you be so very angry with her if you didn’t suspect you were the third target on her list?”

  Kit scowled. Damn it, she was right. He cared nothing for Winthrop or Latham, but he had developed a great deal of fondness for Belle. In fact, he had begun to think she was someone rather special. Her plucky behavior and loyalty to her family made her stand out from all the silly girls her same age.

  It was lowering to think that all the time he was becoming ensnared by her charms, she had simply been luring him into a trap.

  Well, now that he was aware of the danger, he wouldn’t let himself be lured. And if Belle tried any of her tricks on him, he’d just turn them back on her. Kit Stanhope was not about to let a woman make a fool out of him.

  Grace and Charisma accosted Belle in her bedroom the next morning before she even got out of bed, demanding to know how the concert went. Belle had been so worried about that same subject the night before that she hadn’t gotten much sleep. She sat up in bed and said in groggy accents, “Horrible.”

  Charisma slouched in disappointment. “You mean you didn’t follow through?”

  Belle rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I did.”

  “So what happened?” Grace asked eagerly.

  “It went horribly wrong. I humiliated him in front of the entire town.”

  Charisma looked puzzled. “Wasn’t that your plan?”

  Belle shook her head ruefully. “Not exactly. The embarrassment they afforded us was private, and I intended for his to be not quite so . . . public. Instead, quite by accident, he was disgraced in front of everyone at the concert, and I’m sure word of his faux pas is all over Colorado Springs by now.”

  Especially if Millicent Mattingly had anything to do with it.

  “What did you do?” Grace asked, wide-eyed.

  Belle winced—that was the same question Kit had repeatedly asked her. She explained the situation, finishing with, “I should have known Miss Mattingly would screech it to the entire world, but I wasn’t thinking. I just saw the opportunity and I took it.”