The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle (28 page)

‘Right, Benning. I'm as ready as I can be.' She sat in a tall-backed chair, with a many-armed candelabra behind her. It would put her in shadow and the men would have to stare into the glare.

There was the sound of the door slamming and footsteps coming her way. Belinda picked up a piece of tapestry Lacey had left behind and stuck the needle into it. There was a mistake she itched to mend, but dare not. She wasn't there to sew—she needed to concentrate on her unwelcome visitors, not the tapestry.

The door of the room crashed back on its hinges.

She looked up enquiringly and frowned as two men, overweight and overbearing, strode in. ‘Is that any way to enter a lady's sitting room?'

Penfold clenched his hands into fists. ‘Lady? What lady?'

He laughed in such a way it sent shivers of the worst kind down Belinda's spine. She raised one eyebrow. ‘Manners maketh man, you know.'

He ground his teeth, and his fists became white with tension. Behind him her father crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Don't speak to me like that, you harlot.' Penfold was building himself up into a fine rage. ‘Now get off your fat arse and come with me.'

Really his crudity was pathetic. It gave Belinda strength. She ignored him and turned to her father, who still hadn't spoken. ‘To what do I owe this non-pleasure? What brings you here? It's somewhat out of your comfort zone, I would imagine. No idiots to fleece and no other idiots to fleece you. Well. Almost.' She plied her needle once more.

‘You.' Her parent spat the word. ‘To make you do as you're told.'

Penfold's heavy breathing and her father's wheezing annoyance gave her even more strength. How dare they assume such a thing?

‘Really? How foolish. And whom do you suppose is going to tell me what I should and shouldn't do? You? Not a chance. You forfeited all rights to that years ago. Him?' She looked at Penfold with such disdain the man took a step back. ‘I think not.'

‘You little…' Penfold moved forward suddenly, much faster than she would have thought possible for a man of his bulk, grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. ‘You wait, I'll soon thrash that insolence out of you.' He shook her like a rag doll.

It was most unpleasant. Belinda saw red, especially when she realised her father had no intention of intervening. She stamped hand on Penfold's instep, glad now she'd kept her outdoor shoes on, and twisted out of his grasp. He moved nearer again and she took one step back, pulled out her pistol and pointed it at him.

His eyes widened and he laughed, even as he stopped dead in his tracks. ‘You wouldn't dare.'

‘You said that once before, and I'll give you the same answer. Try me,' she invited. ‘Oh and be warned, if my parent makes a move to disarm me, I'll just shoot you.' Belinda was proud of her level tone and the way the pistol never wavered. ‘Of course it won't be in the heart,' she said conversationally. ‘Just in the bollocks. To start with.'

‘Howells, do not move,' Penfold said hoarsely. ‘I don't trust a woman with a pistol.'

‘Good idea,' Belinda said in an affable tone. ‘We can be startled so easily and, oh dear, press the trigger without meaning to. Then of course the thing might waver and I might get two, or should that be three for one? Cock and balls.'

‘Ma belle, are you terrorising men again?'

Phillip had entered without anyone noticing.

* * *

His entrance was all he could have expected and more. Valet-less he'd had to do the best he could, and scramble into a decent pair of pantaloons and shirt, and tie a simple knot in his cravat. One of his least tight waistcoats and jackets and ordinary but shining house shoes had to suffice. At least they made no noise as he descended the stairs, and padded soft-footed across the hall to stand outside the sitting room door.

Benning had nodded and winked. All was well so far.

Phillip put his ear to the door, waited outside and listened in growing admiration to Belinda until he thought it time to intervene.

‘Wait here. If I call, come running with your gun drawn,' he said softly to Benning.

‘Please call, my lord, they are scum,' Benning said fervently. ‘A little maiming would be too good for them, but it would suffice.'

‘I'll do my best,' Phillip had replied with a grin and opened the door wide.

Now as he looked from her pistol to each man, frozen in a tableau that under any other circumstances would have amused him greatly, he sighed, very dramatically.

‘How many times have I told you it's rude to be so antagonistic? Manners, my dear, maketh a lady.'

Belinda shrugged in what to anyone else would be a petulant manner. Only he would understand the action and the glint in her eyes.

‘Who says I'm a lady.'

She is enjoying this as much as I am.

‘They seem to think I'm not. “Whore” was one of the titles they bestowed on me. Therefore, in my eyes, they asked for it. Can I shoot them? The fat one first?' She cocked her head to one side. ‘Before he expires from apoplexy or something. I'd be doing him a favour really. Don't you think?'

Phillip chuckled, and shook his head. ‘Ma belle, you really must stop this tendency for violence. How many is it now?'

Penfold blanched, her father gulped and Belinda grinned. ‘I forget.'

‘I say, what the devil is going on. Who the hell are you?' Penfold blustered.

‘That is immaterial. Who are you, and why have you broken into my house?' A slight untruth, but the whys and wherefores weren't important. Phillip didn't take his eyes off the man as he brushed an imaginary speck of lint from his jacket sleeve.

‘Her fiancé. She ran away.'

‘Oh dear.' Phillip looked at Belinda and did his best, world-weary sigh. ‘Ma belle, you never said you were affianced.'

She shrugged once more, the epitome of a weary woman. ‘I didn't know I was. That, my lord, is a figment of his imagination.'

‘Rubbish,' Penfold shouted and as Phillip glanced at him once more, raised his hand in a fist. Phillip stared at it pointedly until Penfold dropped it again.

‘Thank you. You were saying?' He held his hand in the air. ‘Hush, ma belle, let him dig his grave.'

‘Rubbish, her father gave her to me.'

Phillip turned from Penfold to Howells. ‘Did you?'

Howells nodded. ‘I had no option. He made me.'

Penfold snorted. ‘Again rubbish. You offered her to me. Your daughter for me to tear up your vowels.'

He smiled at Phillip, in what Phillip surmised he thought was a man-to-man mode. It sickened Phillip, who wanted any man-to-man mode to be his fist in the other man's face. He said nothing, convinced the denouement was almost upon them.

Penfold cleared his throat. ‘Now stop this posturing, you little whore, and come with me.'

‘Enough.' Phillip raised his hand. It was time, and how he was going to enjoy the next few moments. ‘I won't have you speak about my wife like that.'

The effect of his pronouncement was all he could have wished for.

Her father went red, white and then red again. Penfold's face was a study in choleric rage. His eyes bulged, and his cheeks puffed out like a rodent who had filled his pouch.

Beside him, Belinda never let her aim drop, and she still pointed her pistol at Penfold's bollocks. ‘If he's upset you so much, my lord, then please let me shoot him. After all everyone knows women can't be trusted with a gun, and he shouldn't have given it to me to look at, now should he?' She waved the pistol in a tight circle and Penfold blanched.

‘I say…'

‘So do I.' Phillip decided it was time to put an end to the farce, albeit with very strong and non-farcical sentiments. ‘You asked who I am. I'm Macpherson. Someone I believe neither of you, in your own best interests, would wish to cross.'

‘Mac…' Lord Howells bowed stiffly. ‘My lord…I…'

‘You? You are a worm. As is that scum over there.' Phillip waved a hand at Penfold. ‘Take your hand away from your pocket, my lord. In fact perhaps rest them on your head.' He hardened his voice. ‘Now, both of you.'

Penfold scowled, lifted his hand from where he had attempted to insert it into his jacket pocket, and did as Phillip demanded. Howells had already complied.

‘Now, listen well, both of you. My wife will not be gossiped about, vilified, or used as a pawn in whatever the pair of you are involved in. Her father's debts are not hers. Do you both understand?'

There was silence. Phillip turned to Belinda.

‘Just shoot them both, ma belle.'

Chapter Fourteen

‘I thought they would disgrace themselves and, well.' Belinda rolled her eyes and wafted one hand in the air. ‘Muck themselves. Instead, Penfold fainted and my father rushed to the window and was sick in the flowerbed. If it hadn't been so important, it would have been farcical. Then Phillip arranged for a carriage, the one he said Clarissa had told him was due to become kindling, bundled them into it and warned them not to set foot in London or within ten miles of us until he had forgotten their actions. He added he has a very long memory. The last we heard was Penfold had retired to the wilds of Ireland, and my father to Lancashire. As for my brothers? I have no idea and nor do I care.'

Tippen nodded. They were ensconced in the sitting room above the salon, sipping whisky, whilst they waited for Phillip to arrive from his forays for gossip in the clubs, Jackson's Salon and Tatts.

It was a full week since Phillip and Belinda had returned to town, and they were in the process of turning the salon and all it's worth over to an astonished Tippen, and the Lovetts. Even the three young girls who worked for them had been given shares. Belinda had offered to help with the transition. It was, after all, her baby. That thought made her hold her tummy. It was too soon, but deep down she knew by this time the following year, their two would be three.

‘I can't say I blame you,' Tippen said. ‘But what about Rotten Rosemary?'

‘That will no doubt be next,' Belinda said. ‘I've heard, or rather Phillip has, that she's out of town at a house party at Goffring, the Earl of Felixstowe's country seat. Maybe she has her talons in him now. The white-haired groom had a visit from Phillip and decided the new world might suit him.'

‘Do rodents have talons then?' Tippen sniggered. ‘Or have we mutated her into something else?'

‘Either or. She's poison in any guise.' Belinda stood up from the deep button-backed chair she'd occupied. ‘Phillip says, and I agree, we need to all be aware of her. You know wrongly or not, I feel sorry for her. It must be so depressing to be so negative and vindictive. And for so many years.'

‘Some people know nothing else,' Tippen said shrewdly. ‘She gets her positives from being negative. Someone must have upset her in a previous life and she's getting her own back now.'

‘Yes, well I wish she hadn't chosen us to do it through,' Belinda said. Then she laughed. ‘Ah well, at least we can cope with Rotten Rosemary the repellent rodent. Others might not be able to do so.' She held up the whisky bottle. ‘I must bring another bottle around for you. Even if you do only drink it when I'm here.'

‘I'm getting a taste for it.'

‘For what?' Phillip entered the room. ‘Darke let me in.' He'd insisted that his men continued to monitor the door of the salon for the foreseeable future. In fact, he'd confided to Belinda he thought they might as well stay there and show Lord and Lady Macpherson endorsed the salon.

‘Whisky.' Belinda poured the last drops into a glass for her husband, and handed it to him. ‘Tippen now has the taste for it.'

‘Sensible. You might need it over the next few weeks. I hear Rosemary has just returned today from Goffring in a terrible rage. Someone tipped the wink to Felixstowe about her antics. He was not impressed, and gave her short shrift.'

Tippen choked on her whisky. ‘You…she…'

Belinda crowed. ‘Oh yes… Hell hath no fury like a lord who is scorned.'

‘Hell hath no fury like a lord whose lady is scorned,' Phillip said. ‘Although I fear you will be in the first line of her attack, so we need to work out our strategy.'

‘The best form of defence is offence sort of thing?' Tippen asked. ‘I like it.'

‘So do I,' Belinda said. ‘What will we need to do?'

‘Nothing today, but from tomorrow, beware.'

Two hours later as Darke closed the door behind them, and Belinda elected to walk home through the park with her husband, Phillip looked down on her and pinched her bottom. ‘No pointing a pistol at Rosemary or any of her minions, mind,' he said emphatically. ‘This will be done in a manner befitting your station.'

‘Spoilsport,' Belinda said. ‘Are you trying to deny me all the joys in my life?' She giggled. ‘All right not
all…'

‘Thank goodness for that, ma belle. ‘I was desolate at the thought my body is not one of your joys.'

‘Your body, and what you do to me with it, is my foremost joy,' Belinda said frankly. ‘But aiming a gun at Rosemary and seeing her quake would definitely be another.'

‘I do love that bloodthirsty side of you, ma belle. However, in this instance you must curb it. Cool, calm, collected and…'

‘Vindictive, but subtly so?'

‘Exactly. And aha, here, I think is round one.' They had entered the park and a grey horse with a veiled lady rider approached them at a pace much too fast for their surroundings. ‘That is, if my eyesight doesn't deceive me, the lady herself.'

‘Who cannot ride well to save herself,' Belinda said. ‘She'll have us under the hooves if she's not careful.'

Phillip pulled her out of the way of the horse, which was immediately made to change direction. ‘I think that is her intention. Do exactly as I say.'