By mid-morning, Belle had been informed by Crecy that nearly all of the guests had departed. Thankfully, Violette and her husband were staying; Belle didn’t think she would survive the coming ordeal without her reassuring presence. Lord Falmouth and the Countess would also remain with Lady Russell and Lady Sinclair for the wedding ceremony, which would take place the day after tomorrow, by special licence. Belle’s head was whirling with the speed with which everything had been accomplished.
After Lord Winterbourne’s tight-lipped acceptance of his fate, everything had been something of a blur.
Belle only knew she would owe Violette her everlasting gratitude for steering her away from the crowd and prying eyes and back to her room. There, she was brought a tray with a glass of brandy - for her nerves - and a tea and biscuits - because tea and biscuits makes everything better.
Then Violette had given another of those reassuring smiles that promised everything would be fine, no matter how unlikely, and dashed off to do what she said was ‘damage limitation’. She said that by the end of the evening, she would have everyone believing that Edward had been trying to summon the nerve to ask her to be his wife for days, and Belle could only believe her.
There was something about Violette Russell that made Belle convinced that she wasn’t a woman easily thwarted.
So now she was hiding out in her room, still in bed, with a breakfast tray on her lap and her life as the Marchioness Winterbourne looming ahead of her.
She swallowed a bubble of hysteria which seemed to sit in a hard, little lump, somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
“Are you going to eat that or simply stare at it?”
Belle blinked and looked up in surprise to find Crecy watching her, anxiety in her grey eyes.
“What?”
Crecy sighed and shook her head, her blonde curls dancing. “You’ve been starring at that slice of bread and butter for the best part of twenty minutes, and your tea is stone cold.”
Belle frowned and looked down at her hands, which were indeed holding a slice of bread and butter. She hadn’t realised it was there. Placing it carefully down on the plate, she wiped her hands on her napkin.
“I’m not hungry.”
Crecy leaned over her, removed the tray, and then clambered onto the bed to sit in an ungainly heap of skirts. Really, it was remarkable how such a lovely girl could have so little grace. She grasped Belle’s hands, squeezing them tightly.
“Oh, Belle, dearest, please talk to me. Did you do this for me, love?” Crecy’s beautiful eyes welled with tears. “Oh, what a fool I am, of course you did it for me. But you do like him, don’t you, Belle? At least a little? You’re not truly marrying a man you hate to keep me from having to be some man’s mistress or something, because if you are ...”
“Crecy!” Belle exclaimed, shaken from her befuddlement all at once. “Don’t speak of such things! Firstly, I am doing this for both of us. Aunt Grimble would have thrown me onto the streets and ... and the least said about her plans for you, the better,” she replied, the anger in her voice only too audible.
Crecy frowned, staring at the pretty embroidered coverlet on the bed and tracing the pattern with one elegant finger. “But ... but do you like him?”
“I ...” Belle began, only to stop as she realised she didn’t have the slightest idea how to answer that question. She remembered the searing heat, the passion, the desperate, overwhelming need she had experienced in his arms last night, and bit her lip. That had to mean something, didn’t it? But she didn’t know if she liked him, she didn’t know him at all. She simply couldn’t deny that when the marquess was around, no one else was even visible; they ceased to exist. “I’m sure we’ll deal famously together,” she said in the end, trying her best to sound convincing and not utterly terrified.
“But I thought you meant to have Nibley?” Crecy continued, looking just as bewildered as Belle felt.
Belle nodded. “I did.”
“Then what ...”
Belle held out a hand. She couldn’t answer any more questions now. Possibly not ever. Not about this. The idea of explaining to Crecy just how she had behaved last night was too ghastly to contemplate.
“Do you mind if I go back to sleep, Crecy, dear?” she said, giving her sister a wan smile. “I have the most dreadful headache.”
“Oh, Belle, and here’s me prattling on. Of course not, love. Can I get you anything?”
Belle shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine after a little nap, I’m sure.”
“Very well, then, I’ll leave you be.” Crecy slid off the bed and went to look out of the window. “It’s such a lovely day, I thought I ... I’d go for a ride.” Her sister turned then, looking just a little too innocent perhaps, but Belle was too preoccupied to read anything into it. “Everyone is gone now, so I’m in no risk of being waylaid,” she added with a bright smile.
It was only now that Belle realised that she was wearing her riding habit. She felt glad of that. The outfit had cost a pretty penny that they could ill afford, but as yet her sister had only been out in it once. She supposed she needn’t worry about such things now. How strange, not to have to count every farthing and turn collars and mend.
She looked at Crecy again. The riding habit was a deep velvet brown with green velvet trimmings and a plume of green feathers that curled around Crecy’s lovely face in a charming manner. She looked positively ravishing.
“Oh, yes, do,” Belle replied, feeling that this, at least, she could be certain of, no matter what the future held. Crecy was safe. Crecy would have fine clothes and jewels and a proper come-out, and she would never have to worry or be forced to marry a man she didn’t love. Belle thought she could face the future with far more bravery, knowing that this was true. “Have a lovely time, but take care, won’t you? Don’t go too far or get lost, and take a groom or someone with you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Crecy replied, her tone light, before leaning in to give Belle a kiss on the cheek. “Do stop worrying. I might not be back for lunch, so don’t fret over me.”
Belle nodded, though in truth, for once in her life, she wasn’t the least bit worried about Crecy, but about herself.
“Oh, I almost forgot, here are the scandal sheets for you; don’t worry, they’re last week’s, so we’re not in there yet,” she added, with what Belle thought was unnecessary good humour.