La Bella Isabella (4 page)

Harry started, his mind full of what her words conjured up. “Tomorrow?”

“Why yes, my lord. I am sure you were about to ask me to ride with you. Tomorrow. And of course, I would be delighted. Do we take our horses to see who rides the best, or would you like to take me in your phaeton and show me how you handle the reins?”

“I would be more than happy to take you in my phaeton, my dear,” he said. “However, we would certainly set the tongues wagging if I did so. It is a well-known fact I never take a lady behind my grays, in any manner. However, for you? I will make an exception. I would be delighted to ride with you in the most innocent of ways, unfortunately, in my phaeton, tomorrow morning, weather permitting. Shall we say eleven?”

He saw the delight in her eyes as he immediately picked up and continued the double speak. There was so much more to Amanda than he had thought.
Did she realize what was in store for her?
And not just in the immediate future.

“Perfect, my lord. Now if you would excuse me, I must repair to the ladies’ withdrawing room and attend to the flounce on my gown.”

What was she up to? “Your gown is fine.”

“Ah, I know that, and so do you. But I must have some reason for leaving the ballroom for so long. Remember, we ladies can be as devious as any man, often better.” She smiled again and winked briefly, saucily. “Perhaps, you’d better have a drink, Harry; you look in need of one.”

He watched her as she walked away, her sensuous glide jogging his memory…about? He couldn’t think what. And why had she suddenly dropped the “my lord” and called him Harry? Tomorrow looked like it would be an interesting day.

Chapter Six

“When is your birthday?”

“Why?” Amanda looked at the man beside her as he competently drove through the traffic, avoiding the piles of snow at the edge of the road whilst they headed toward the park.

“I wondered,” Harry continued, “where will you be on the auspicious day?” He maneuvered around a stagecoach as it slowed to turn into the courtyard of an inn.

“At Malthore Manor, I would guess. Unless we remain longer in Brighton. Again, my lord, why?”

He chose to ignore her query. Amanda could feel herself becoming annoyed. Aggravating man. Why was she here with him when she could choose not to be?
Because I did not choose not to be.

“Why am I no longer Harry, but back to ‘my lord’?”

How to answer that easily? Amanda decided to play the ingénue. “Did I really call you by your given name? My lord, please forgive my impertinence.”

“No, you called me Harry. My given name, as you well know, is Henry. However, never ever call me that. It was my paternal grandfather’s name, and he was not a man I wish to be associated with. And I hope you will continue to call me Harry, my dear Amanda, whenever possible.”

“Why?”

He waited until he had passed the phaeton through the narrow entrance to the park. It was not too busy yet; he was able to urge the horses on. “I can think of nothing worse, my dear, than hearing you in the throes of passion begging ‘more, my lord’ instead of having my name on your lips. Surely you would prefer me to beg you by name when I want you to touch me?”

“If ever you want me to touch you,
my lord,
there is still no guarantee I will do so,” she responded, trying not to think of how she could or would touch him and not remarking on the fact he talked of her begging him to touch her.
I may have a vivid imagination
,
but not that vivid.
Or at least as a nicely brought up young lady, I should not!
However, her mind began to spin. She risked a glance at him. Damn him, he looked very satisfied, as if he could read her mind.

A barouche was approaching them.

“Saved by the bell?” he asked. “Or should that be saved by the barouche?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” Amanda declared frostily. “Oh, is this Lady Greenford’s barouche approaching?”

“You know fine well it is. So five minutes of inconsequential talk before my horses just have to move on. Be warned, no, you cannot get down and walk with her. So don’t even think it. This is our time.”

“Who decrees so?” she retorted, and then groaned inwardly at the challenge she had unwittingly issued.

“I do, my dear. As do you, consciously or unconsciously. Your demeanor tells me so.”

It was as well the two conveyances had drawn level, as Amanda found herself speechless.

“Godmama, how lovely.” Harry leaned over toward the carriage drawn next to them. “You are an early riser after last night’s activities.”

Lady Greenford laughed. “I am always an early riser, Harry, as you well know. You miss so much otherwise.” Her keen eyes moved shrewdly from one face to the other. She spoke directly to Amanda. “Do you not agree, Lady Amanda?”

“Sometimes, Lady Greenford, but other times one can avoid trouble, by keeping away. If one has that option, of course.”

Mary smiled. She spoke in a low voice. “Keep him on his toes, and keep him guessing, my dear. He’ll appreciate you and all you do for him in the long run.”

She took her leave of them before Harry had recourse to move on.

“So are you an early riser, my lord?” Amanda rushed into speech before he had a chance to ask what Lady Mary had muttered. Amanda knew she was being provocative, and traced the outline of her lips with her tongue. She watched one eyebrow rise as he noted her innuendo.

“When necessary, my dear. But I prefer to take my time. To savor everything. So much more satisfaction in not being rushed. Otherwise, it is possible to miss something important.”

Well, she’d asked for that. And she couldn’t help but go warm at the images his statement brought to mind.

She watched him throw his head back and laugh. “Ah, Amanda, I am going to enjoy the next few months; I can assure you. I am so glad you…are you?”

Amanda had no idea what to make of that cryptic comment, so decided to say nothing. She watched as he turned the phaeton around to make their way back through the park. There was a watery sun trying to break through the clouds, making the snow sparkle and the ice on the pond gleam and shine.

“So, what do you think about La Bella Isabella and her Dancing Girls?” he asked as he urged the horses on.

She hoped he did not see her reaction. “Me? Why would I have any thoughts on them?” Would her answer be enough to satisfy him?

“Ah, so you
have
heard of them “ He sounded satisfied.

Amanda strove to keep only mild interest in her voice. “Oh, yes, my lord, we may be sheltered as young ladies of the Ton, but we do have ears. And gentlemen are not always discreet in our company.” Frequently not. But this was not spoken aloud. “And I, of course, am not just out, but have had several seasons.”

“Indeed. Why so many and no attachments? You are not unattractive.”

Even though she knew he was baiting her, Amanda rushed into heated speech. “Well, thank you, my lord, for those few condescending words. Could it not be that I have refused all offers made for me?”

“Have you, indeed?” he queried with obvious interest. “Why?”

Mm, how to answer without digging a bigger hole for myself?
“My reasons are mine,” she said stiffly.

“Mine also, Amanda, as you well know.”

She tried her best to smile in a coy manner—no easy matter as coyness did not often feature in her repertoire. “I know no such thing, my lord, and if so, why inquire of things you say you know? Pah, I am in the dark here.” Would it work?

He shook his head—it seemed—in reproach. “Now, now, Amanda, do not tell lies. You know as well as I how are our futures are intertwined. Why you refused all those marriage offers made to you. As well you did for to have accepted one would have created considerable problems.”

“Really?” She strove for nonchalance. “As well as you say, I did not. So why, Harry, were you asking me my opinions of La Bella Isabella?”
Oh, you fool.
Why return to that equally explosive topic?
Really, she must learn when to stay silent. She felt him look at her intently, and realized to her relief, they had left the park and were nearly at her parents’ home. Not much longer to hold out as, surely, he would not want to keep his horses standing.

“Because, my dear, I’m sure you must have some opinion of her aims and ideas.”

“Not a one. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m sure you’re not sorry at all.” he retorted as he stilled the horses. “However, I’m sure you’ll let me know the whys and wherefores one day.” He jumped down to assist her. “You may rest assured that I have no desire to keep my horses waiting, but I do so desire to see you tonight.” He tweaked the brim of her bonnet and grinned at her. “And do not sulk. It does not become you.” He kissed her hand lightly.

“I never sulk, my lord.” She leaned toward him. “I get even. Thank you for such an interesting morning’s outing.” Not the best riposte, but the best she could think of as she turned and walked through the open door.

Her mind was racing. What exactly was his game? What did he know, and what was he guessing?

Chapter Seven

It was midafternoon when Harry received a gilt-edged note on familiar peach vellum.

“Tonight, at ten in the evening, a very special show by La Bella Isabella. Minute Theatre. Entrance, strictly limited, on production of this invitation. Evening dress requested.”

He turned the invitation over and over in his hand. Just what was going on? Had La Bella Isabella been made aware of his interest? If so, for what end? So many questions for which he had only half the answers. However, this was one invitation he was not going to turn down. He debated ringing for Timmons, his valet, but knew if the delivery of this invitation followed previous ones, none of his staff would know how it arrived.

Evening dress was handy. He could go from his club to the theater and then on to his evening engagement. It fit perfectly.

Always a perfectionist, he took even more care with his appearance than usual. Timmons, who noticed the bruise on his neck, averted his eyes whilst handing Harry a cravat. Harry realized the man was trying not to gawp and laughed. “It’s all right, Timmons. It is a bruise of passion, I assure you. Something I’d wager you have never seen on me before.”

“Never, my lord”

“Neither have I,” Harry said cheerfully. “And the devil was, I didn’t even know it had happened. I was too involved with the lady to notice. Not at all like me, I assure you.”

“No, indeed, my lord.”

“We’re done, thank you,” he said as Timmons helped him into his coat. “Don’t wait up. I’ll manage.”

“Thank you, my lord.” As Timmons began to tidy up, Harry realized his valet thought he would be finishing the evening at his mistress’s house and would not want to be found smelling of woman. Well, for once, he was wrong. He had no hope of finishing the evening with a woman. Especially the one he wanted.

***

His club was full. Men were enjoying themselves with fine wines or games of cards before escorting their women folk to the various entertainments on offer, or if unattached, getting ready to enjoy the evening in whichever way they chose. As he debated over a game of cards or a quiet read of the daily newspaper, he was accosted by Charlie.

“Ho, what are you up to tonight? Of to see Madame Minogue at the Theatre, or to the Countess of Essex’s ball?”

“To the ball, for sure. As to what else?” Harry shrugged. “I ought to visit my mama. And you?”

It sounded as if Charlie did not have an invitation for La Bella Isabella.

Charlie looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Well, I…er…I’m escorting a young lady and her mama to the theater.”

“You?” Charlie, to Harry’s knowledge, had never shown any interest in undertaking such a duty.

“Well you know, the young lady in the coach? I thought I recognized her in the park today and made my introductions to her and her mama. Sadly t’was not my mystery woman, but then all I have seen of her was her profile and well…” He broke off. “So, I still have no idea of her or her companion, but I am anticipating an interesting evening. My young lady’s mama does not seem too strict a companion. Sorry.”

“No matter, enjoy your evening. I may see you later.” He touched his friend briefly on the shoulder and went to find somewhere quiet to sit until nearer to nine, wondering just what the evening would reveal.

A few minutes before nine, he took his seat in the box he was shown to. To his surprise, all the other seats and boxes were empty.

“Are you sure this is correct?” he asked the usher, who had escorted him to his seat.

“Yes, milord. I did say you might like to be nearer the stage, seeing as it was a private performance, so to speak, but was told no, you sit here. Proper temper she can have on her when she’s determined.”

“Who can?” Harry asked the words idly, but shot a good, hard look at the man from under his brows. He was sure he knew that face from somewhere. Usually all the attendants wore masks, but not tonight.

“M—er, La Bella Isabella, that’s who,” the strange usher corrected himself before putting his hand to his face. “Darn it. Forgot that mask.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Harry said kindly. “Nip and put it on now, and no one will be any the wiser.”

Amused, he watched the man scurry out and sat back in his seat, ready to be entertained.