“Well, I suppose I deserved that,” he remarked with a chuckle, getting to his feet and brushing snow from his clothes.
“Indeed, you did,” Belle replied, relieved that she didn’t have to confront an angry scene, but still extremely indignant on Crecy’s behalf, no matter how ill-advised her behaviour.
“You deserved a punch on the nose, my lord,” Crecy replied, the words tart and angry. “Only I didn’t want to risk damaging the skeleton.”
Skeleton? Oh Lord, well, that would explain a lot.
Lancaster gave a snort of amusement. “Well, dash it all, Miss Lucretia, I never knew a woman so hard on a man’s ego. I feel quite deflated.”
“I’m certain you will recover,” Crecy replied with dignity, folding her arms.
His lordship glanced from Crecy’s indignant face to Belle’s, and cleared his throat, clearly feeling a little discomforted. As well he might.
“I apologise for my appalling behaviour, ladies. I can only say in my defence that the temptation was too much to bear.”
Both women gave a snort of disgust at this comment, and Lancaster’s unease seemed to increase. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well ... err, perhaps you would allow me to make amends by escorting you back to the house. Devilish cold out,” he added, with what he probably imagined was a charming grin. In actual fact, it was very endearing, and Belle could well see how he’d gained such a dreadful reputation, but nonetheless.
“That will not be necessary, my lord,” Belle replied, her tone cool. “I will escort my sister. I beg you will not trouble yourself.”
Lancaster glanced at Crecy, who just turned her back on him with a final look of utter disgust. Belle sighed; as much as she was angry at the man for his impropriety and for taking advantage, he would have been a good match for Crecy, and he didn’t seem a bad sort, really. Not every man would take being pushed into an undignified heap in the snow with good grace, no matter how much he deserved it.
With a final display of good sense, Lord Lancaster repeated his apology, gave a polite bow, and left the two women alone.
“Oh Crecy!” Belle cried once he was out of earshot. “How could you? And after everything I said to you yesterday, too!”
Crecy glared back at her, a mutinous look in her eyes. “He said he’d found the skeleton of a snake, Belle!” she cried, as if this explained everything with perfect clarity. “And Aunt Grimble was supposed to be coming, too. I asked her to come with me, for propriety, just as you said, Belle. She said she was just going to fetch her pelisse and would be along directly.”
Belle rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Oh Crecy, you goose! Why on earth would you believe a word that wretched woman says to you? Not when you know full well she’s been doing all in her power to throw you in every and any wealthy man’s path at every opportunity!”
“Well, I thought she might come, as I’d specifically asked her to!” she retorted.
Belle groaned and Crecy scowled at her before turning away and crouching down in the snow again, the conversation clearly over as far as she was concerned.
“Look, Belle,” she said, smiling now, the argument long forgotten in the face of her treasure. “It’s so delicate, almost like lace. Isn’t it lovely?”
Belle took a reluctant step closer to see what was indeed the skeleton of a snake on top of a tree stump. Grimacing, Belle repressed a shudder. “Lovely,” she repeated, privately thinking the exact opposite.
“Lord Lancaster overheard me speaking about my collection to the Bridgeford twins, so when he saw it yesterday, before the snow, of course, he put it here to show me.”
“How thoughtful,” Belle replied, her tone dry.
“Wasn’t it?” Crecy said, nodding, and then her face fell, her lovely grey eyes showing a hint of dark, bruised lavender storm clouds. “At least I’d thought it was thoughtful. Now, I suppose I must conclude that he arranged the whole thing to get me alone. Oh, Belle, why are men so underhanded? I’d much rather know that a fellow had nefarious intentions for me than have him be charming to my face and then spring it upon me. At least you know where you stand then.”
“Crecy!” Belle exclaimed as her sister looked up with a puzzled expression.
“What?” she demanded, obviously none the wiser as to her sister’s distress.
Belle shook her head with impatience. “Never mind, now. You and I are going to have a talk, dearest, but not until my toes have thawed out. Come along, I’m freezing, and you’re getting a red nose.”
“Pooh,” Crecy exclaimed with impatience. “Much I care for a red nose! The question is,” she added, her expression one of deep concern, “how am I to get such a delicate thing back to the house?”
“No, Crecy!” Belle exclaimed, folding her arms. That was the last straw. “You will not take that nasty skeleton back to the house, I forbid it!”
“You said it was lovely!” Crecy replied, equally annoyed, her tone accusing.
“Y-yes, well ...” Belle stammered, caught out in her lie. “And I know it is, to you, dearest. But to most people it’s ... it’s creepy and ... ugh. No, Crecy, just no!”
“Oh, but Belle!”
“No.”
Belle grabbed her bewildering sister’s hand and towed her forcibly away from her irresistible treasure. For heaven’s sake, why couldn’t the girl have a fancy for bird spotting - live birds, at least - or ... or ... knitting! Anything but dead things!
“I could get a little box,” Crecy continued as Belle tugged her back to the house.
“No, Crecy.”
“I could,” she added, sounding sulky and defiant by this point.
Belle pursed her lips and nodded, and then replied, her tone light-hearted. “You could,” she agreed. “And I could tell every young gentleman who has the vaguest interest in you, that you would simply adore it if they composed a love sonnet to your beautiful eyes.”
Crecy stopped in her tracks and stared at her sister with a combination of horror and clear admiration for her evil genius. “Oh, Belle, you wouldn’t!”
Belle grinned at her. “Bring that wretched snake to the house and try me,” she suggested with a sweet smile.
“Well, of all the low ...” Crecy muttered under her breath, stalking off ahead of her sister. Belle grinned and followed her back to the house.
Crecy had managed to get some distance ahead of her, clearly walking off her annoyance, by the time they returned to the main doors of the castle. Belle looked up to see a towering, dark figure exit the building and stride down the stairs towards a waiting carriage. He was an impressive sight, with the stature and breadth of shoulders of the marquess himself. But where Lord Winterbourne’s hair was a dark brown, this man’s hair was black as a crow’s back, glinting blue in the sun.