“Your sister needs to curb her tongue if she wishes to marry well,” he observed, his green eyes cool and apparently unamused.
Belle felt her temper prickle a little at that, but rather less than she might have if anyone else but the marquess had said it. After all, she’d been saying the exact same thing for months now.
“I know,” she said with a heavy sigh, surprised at herself for admitting such a thing. “The trouble is, I don’t think she wants to marry well, or at all,” she added, hearing a thread of anxiety behind the words that she hadn’t meant to be so obvious. She wondered a bare second later what on earth had possessed her to confide such a thing to him.
The marquess snorted, clearly not believing her anyway. “Isn’t that what all young ladies want?”
Belle craned her neck back to glare at him.
“No.”
Her reply was curt and quite clearly displayed her contempt for his words. For a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but then his expression hardened. The laughter that followed was cold and derisive.
“I’d find that easier to believe if you hadn’t so obviously set your cap at Nibley.”
Belle gasped, her cheeks flaming with combined fury and shame. How dare he? For a moment, she just stared at him in mute shock. After all, she could hardly just call him a liar, as he was spot on, no matter how ungentlemanly of him to observe it. But to be so damn callous!
“I never said that I did not wish to marry well, my lord,” she replied, her voice dangerously calm. “My sister is another matter. Just because one of us must concern ourselves with where we will live and how we will clothe ourselves or put food on the table once my Aunt’s generosity has expired, does not mean that it is what we both necessarily desire.” She saw a spark of interest in his eyes at her words but she was so furious now that any hold she might have had on her promise not to do or say anything rash went up in the blaze of her temper. “Yes, I must marry to get poor Crecy away from my appalling Aunt’s influence.” She gave a snort at the surprise in his eyes. “What? You believed I was blissfully unaware of the fact that my nearest relation is a vulgar woman with her sights set on using my sister’s beauty to catch a wealthy sleeve to hang upon?”
The marquess’ eyes widened a little further at this unguarded speech, but Belle was on a roll now, and nothing was going to stop her venting her spleen. “Come now, my lord. It is clear neither one of us can stand the other, so we’ll have the truth with no bark on it, shall we?” Belle folded her arms, finding her fists were clenched tight. Boxing his ears for real was becoming only too tempting and she needed to resist. “Yes, I intend to marry Lord Nibley, if I can bring him up to scratch,” she said, staring at him with defiance. “I have no fortune, it’s true, but I am a sensible woman, well able to organise his lordship’s household. I can ensure his life runs smoothly so that he can spend his time with his rocks unimpeded and eat a decent meal of an evening. I assure you, I have no romantic notions about the union,” she added, ignoring the utter misery the idea gave her. “But if he can get past my appalling aunt, I will forgive his lack of conversation, and never give him a reason to blush for me.”
A ringing silence hung in the air between them, and Belle’s anger began to fizzle away as she realised everything she’d just admitted to. She swallowed hard as nausea began to roil in her belly.
“And is that enough?” he demanded.
She looked up again, shocked that he hadn’t just turned on his heel and walked away in disgust, but was staring at her with a fierce expression that she could not decipher.
“W-what?” she stammered, hearing the anger in his voice, but a little unsure suddenly as to why or what he was angry about.
“Is it enough?” he repeated, sounding impatient now. He waved his hand, his jaw tight as though he didn’t want to say the words out loud. “That kind of life. Housekeeper to a man who barely notices your existence? Would it be enough?”
She gaped at him, wondering how he could be so utterly stupid. “You think I have a choice?” she murmured, astonished that he couldn’t see it. “What choice do you think I have exactly, my lord? Tell me, what did you think when you first saw me, I wonder?” she said the words on a breath of laughter but they were brittle and bitter nonetheless. “No, let me guess,” she added, holding up a hand, though he hadn’t actually volunteered an answer. He was just staring at her, an unreadable expression in those moss green eyes. “A shabby fortune hunter on the catch for a rich husband with nothing to recommend her. No looks, no dowry, no advantageous family connections, oh, and a vulgar aunt to contend with. Does that about cover it?” she demanded, one eyebrow quirked in enquiry. “And you think I have the luxury of wondering if the match will please me, when I have no idea if I can even make it happen at all!” She really did laugh now, but there was a hysterical edge to the sound, and her eyes were prickling and hot. If she didn’t leave now, she would compound this truly horrible evening by doing something as appalling as cry in front of him. “If I can provide a roof over my head and take my sister out into society in the manner she deserves, I will be pleased enough, believe me, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me.”
She turned before she could say another word, and found herself staring at Lord Nibley. She felt quite certain that he had only just walked up to them and had not heard their conversation, but he must at the very least have heard the furious tone of her voice and observed the dangerous glitter in her eyes. No doubt any thoughts he might have had about her being a comfortable wife had all shattered in one fell swoop. Oh, God. Could this evening possibly get any worse?
With a muttered apology, she fled, and found to her horror that Crecy still hadn’t returned to the room. Appalled that she had spent her time rowing with the marquess when poor Crecy might be all alone with some ... some dreadful rake, she hurried off to find her sister.
Chapter 10
“Wherein sparks fly and Belle holds a fuse.”
Violette watched Miss Holbrook hurry from the room after what had quite obviously been an absolutely furious row with her brother. Though her brother didn’t look furious, not exactly. In fact, he looked - intrigued, at least until Lord Nibley stepped up to speak with him and was promptly cut off as her brother stalked away. Good Lord, but he was rude.
“I like Miss Holbrook,” observed Lady Russell from beside her, her voice mild though her sharp grey eyes had quite clearly been watching the scene unfold just as Violette had.
“Yes,” Violette replied, watching as her brother contemplated the fire in the hearth with a rather fierce expression. “I like her, too, very much.”