There was a look of determined fury on the girl’s face, and Violette held her breath as Lady Scranford seemed to come to a decision.
“Oh, good Lord, no,” Violette said in an undertone. She grasped Aubrey’s hand so hard he gave a muffled yelp, and took back her previous desire to see her brother give the girl a set down.
“This should be interesting,” Aubrey said with a grin, as he followed Violette’s gaze to where Lady Scranford was attempting to engage the marquess in conversation.
They watched with horrified fascination as whatever conversational gambit the young woman had dared approach him with faltered and died. The marquess looked down from his towering position and seemed to stare right through the girl, his expression one of haughty disdain and cold enough to freeze the depths of hell. Without uttering a word, he simply walked away, leaving Lady Scranford red faced with mortification.
“I say he’s terribly good at that, isn’t he?” Aubrey said with obvious admiration. “I dare say Prinny couldn’t have done it better.”
“Oh, good heavens, Aubrey, it isn’t funny,” Violette protested as she scrambled to her feet and went to try and smooth over the young woman’s ruffled feathers.
Chapter 6
“Wherein Belinda makes a decision.”
“He’s dreadfully handsome, isn’t he?”
Belle followed the gaze of the Bridgeford twins as they watched the marquess cut Lady Scranford dead. It was Caro who had spoken, though it was hard to tell, as they were two peas in a pod. But Caro’s blue eyes were rather lighter than Dinah’s, though Belle felt sure she wouldn’t be able to tell unless they were side by side.
“Not very gallant, though,” Dinah said, her pretty face full of disapproval. “Not to say Isabella didn’t deserve it.”
“Oh, she deserved it and more,” Caro insisted, looking positively gleeful. “The marquess has quite made my night. I think he’s wonderful.”
Her twin gave an unladylike snort of amusement that implied she didn’t actually disagree.
Belle watched the glowering figure as he found another solitary spot in the room, obviously hoping everyone would leave him be. She felt a rush of compassion for the man and wondered if he truly wanted to be left alone, or if at heart he believed he wasn’t fit company. Either way, it seemed a horribly lonely way to live.
She looked away as Lord Nibley came to stand beside her. Belle smiled up at the gaunt young man and Violette’s rather dashing husband, Mr Russell.
“How are you enjoying yourself, Miss Holbrook?” Mr Russell asked. “I hope this terrifying house hasn’t put you in a quake? I have to say, it has me, I’ve been lost three times since breakfast.”
Belle laughed, finding herself immediately at ease in the charming young man’s presence. “It is rather daunting, I have to admit,” she said, trying not to notice her appalling aunt edging into a conversation with Lady Russell’s sweet natured sister, Lady Sinclair, and the Countess Falmouth. “But I have memorised the route back to my room and intend to go no further without a guide.”
Mr Russell chuckled. “A fine idea, and one I should have considered myself. I implore you to stick to it, Miss Holbrook, for if not for the fortuitous intervention of a kindly footman, I’d be stumbling around in the dark avoiding ghosts even now.”
“Ghosts?”
Belle sighed as her sister cut Lord Stanthorpe’s conversation off at the knees and walked away from him.
“Are there truly ghosts, Mr Russell? I felt sure there must be.” Crecy’s lovely face was alight with interest, her grey eyes wide and sparkling, and just for a moment Belle was struck with just a tiny, unwelcome prickle of envy. Oh, to command such attention without even trying. Even Mr Russell, who was very obviously in love with his wife, looked just a little dazed.
“Ah ... yes, actually. According to my wife, there are quite a few, some friendlier than others.”
To Belle’s amusement, Mr Russell looked rather troubled by the fact, whereas her sister looked positively enraptured.
“Oh, where? Where may we find the ghosts, Mr Russell?” she demanded, practically bouncing on the spot as her admirers watched her with a mixture of awe and trepidation.
“Erm” Mr Russell cleared his throat and gave a shrug. “You’d have to ask my wife,” he said, quite clearly wondering why anyone in their right mind would want to go out of their way to find a ghost. “I admit, I intended to ask for the information myself, but simply so that I could be sure to avoid them.”
“Oh,” Crecy cried. “How hen-hearted you are!”
“Lucretia!” Belle exclaimed in horror as Crecy flushed.
“I do beg your pardon, Mr Russell,” Crecy said hurriedly, looking mortified.
Thankfully the charming Mr Russell simply laughed. “No, Miss Lucretia has the right of it. I am hen-hearted where ghosts are concerned. I find have no desire whatsoever to see one.”
“Oh,” Crecy said, looking as though she thought this quite incomprehensible. “I think it would be splendid,” she said with a longing sigh.
Quite predictably, there were then a raft of invitations from the gentlemen offering to give Miss Lucretia a moonlit tour of the castle. Sadly, Aunt Grimble had overheard this and bore down on them, implying with a shocking lack of propriety that Lord Stanthorpe would make an admirable guide. The implications of this were only too clear to Belle, who flushed with embarrassment and rage.
The sweet-natured Lord Stanthorpe stuttered acceptance, if perhaps Belle would accompany them? Belle rejected the idea with a firm rejoinder that ghost hunting was not a suitable past time for a young lady. Sending her aunt a look of pure venom, which she would no doubt pay for, Belle disengaged Crecy from her ardent admirers and drew her aside to give her a stern talking to. Crecy accused Belle of being a crashing bore, when one of the only reasons she had wanted to come in the first place was to see the ghosts, and stalked off to find someone more amusing to talk to.
Belle let out a frustrated sigh and then started as a deep voice spoke behind her.
“The ghost of one of the housekeepers is supposed to roam the west wing. She was murdered by a footman a few hundred years ago. You could placate Miss Lucretia by telling her she has every chance of seeing her walk in her very own room, if that would please her.”
Belle turned in alarm, not sure if she was more astonished by the fact that the marquess had voluntarily spoken to her, or horrified at the idea of a ghost visiting either Crecy’s or her room!
“It may indeed make my sister the happiest of young women,” she replied, watching the marquess with a wary eye. “I, however, shall not get a wink of sleep for my entire stay,” she added with asperity.