Lady Belling's Secret (27 page)

“I am bloody well tired of everyone trying to hit me,” Thomas shouted at the same time.

“Stop, Christian. He didn’t do anything.” Francesca rushed between them. “Everything’s all right. Only nothing is all right.” Her tears returned in earnest.

“Why is she crying?” Christian demanded. “Why is she always crying when you’re around?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas retorted. “I have done nothing to her. Ask her. She’ll tell you.”

Christian still hadn’t backed down. Francesca knew she was going to need to pull herself together and calm the situation down before hot heads let it get completely out of control. “Christian, please, calm down. You’re making this situation out to be much worse than it is.”

“How much worse could it possibly get?” Christian insisted. Thomas simply glared at him, his dark brown eyes narrowed and the brows gathered together in a frown.

Francesca put both hands on her brother’s chest to keep him from advancing any farther. “He told me he loves me.” She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice even through the tears. She didn’t really want to anyway. Even though this new development complicated an already complicated situation, it was still the best three words she’d ever heard.

“Yeah, I know he loves you. Everyone knows he loves you.” Her brother shook his head in frustration. “Why does this make you cry?”

Francesca made an effort to control her feelings and stop crying. Thomas placed a tender hand on her shoulder, offering love and support. “Because we still can’t get married. I don’t know if I’m engaged to Lord Dalton or not. The
ton
is still trying to figure out if there is a scandal here to be uncovered.” She paused and made a hearty, watery sniff. “Oh Lord, we’ve made such a tremendous mess.”

“I already told you.” Thomas turned Francesca towards him. “I think Dalton can be convinced to release you from the contract.”

“Why would he do that?” Christian and Francesca asked in unison.

“Because I can’t resist a good love story,” a voice from behind answered. All three turned to find Dalton sauntering into the already open study door. Thomas smiled in greeting at his new friend. “Dalton?”

“Morewether?” Dalton shook Christian’s hand and then kissed Francesca’s. “Lady Belling? Where are the devil’s spawn?”

Francesca blinked at Dalton’s odd question.

“Out running amok, I’m sure,” Thomas cryptically replied.

A maid hurried in the room with a tea tray followed closely behind by the butler, Anna and the Duchess of Morewether.

“Mama?” Francesca looked to her mother and friend, Dalton and Thomas’s bizarre exchange momentarily forgotten. “What are you doing here?”

“We have come to resolve this entire situation,” the duchess explained. “Thomas, I took the liberty of ordering a tea tray. We’ll all need fortification if we’re going to come up with a solution to this mess.”

“I’ll take my fortification in the form of a whiskey, thank you very much.” Christian eschewed the tea cup Anna offered and headed for the liquor sideboard instead. He raised his eyebrows and the bottle of Scotch whiskey to Dalton in question. Dalton declined both the whiskey and the tea and took a handful of biscuits instead.

“Oh. How did you know to come here?” Francesca asked her mother and Anna. Thomas’s hand found hers and twined his long fingers with her smaller ones.

“Where else would you be?” her mother wondered. “Thomas, can I assume that you took our very good advice and secured my daughter?”

Thomas kissed Francesca’s temple and smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” Francesca told the room in general. “What does that mean exactly?” She swiveled her head from Thomas and back to her mother.

It was Anna who replied, “Your mother and I just nudged both of you in the right direction.”

Why did she suddenly feel so indignant? “Nudged?”

“Yes, nudged.” Anna stood from her seat in front of the tea tray and brought a cup to Francesca who was standing with Thomas in front of the desk. “Don’t get self-righteous. We were running out of time, and neither of you were going to be able to work this out without at least a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

“Of course,” the duchess agreed. “As it is, we have very little time to work this out.”

Thomas squeezed her fingers gently. “She’s right, you know, as far as I can see. I don’t know when I’d have come to my senses and figured it all out on my own. I’m grateful for the nudge.”

Francesca didn’t relax. She wanted to be fine with their interference, but somehow this revelation diminished Thomas’s confession in her mind.

Thomas must have sensed this in her. He pulled her back flush with his front and murmured, “I love you, Francesca. Let that be the only truth in your mind. I love you and I need you.”

It was hard to maintain an appropriate level of indignation as his arms slid around her waist and embraced her. His whisperings in her ear soothed her one minute and then inflamed her in another. She wanted to be alone with him to celebrate this revelation. But reality came crashing back to the fore. They were not alone; in fact, there may not be anything to celebrate if a suitable solution wasn’t found to dissolve her engagement without causing any humiliation to the blameless.

“Please let me express my apologies, Lord Dalton. I hope you can believe I never intended to embarrass you. Until Thomas returned to London, I was quite content, even happy, about our impending wedding.”

Dalton smiled. He was so awfully handsome with his tousled blond hair and friendly, toothy grin. The marriageable ladies and mamas of the
ton
would rejoice when he was set loose back on the eligible circuit.

“I understand you’ve loved Harrington a very long time,” Dalton said, his voice holding not one ounce of sarcasm or spite. “How could I ever compete with that?”

The warmth of a blush heated her cheeks. “I can’t understand how you can be so good about all of this.”

“Me neither.” Christian expressed some skepticism. “What did Thomas say to convince you?”

“Nothing really,” Dalton told them all. “Getting married this year was my mother’s idea.”

Christian snorted and looked pointedly at his own mother who studiously ignored him.

Dalton continued, “So I chose Lady Belling to be my marchioness.” Shifting his gaze to Francesca, he gently added, “Not that I wouldn’t have been altogether happy to have you as my bride, you understand, but I’m not about to stand in the way of true love. Besides, I’d much rather be slightly embarrassed about a cancelled engagement than embarrassed for a lifetime because my wife is so obviously in love with another.”

“None of that really matters if we can’t find a way to fix this.” Always the voice of doom and gloom, Christian piped up while he refilled his whiskey glass.

“Actually,” Anna announced to the room, “your mother and I have been contemplating the very subject at some length.”

Francesca wanted to know when all this contemplating was going on. Where had she been all that time? She realized she’d been self-absorbed as of late, but still.

“There is much to consider when finding a solution,” Anna continued. “Obviously, a scandal needs to be avoided at all costs.”

“It doesn’t need to be a big one to get the grand dames going either,” Christian pointed out. “If they get their claws on any morsel of a scandal, the smallest little tidbit will blossom into a full-fledged banquet, regardless of the veracity of it.”

“Agreed.” The duchess smiled at Anna. “It was Anna here who came up with the answer, and it’s quite brilliant if I do say so. Tell them, dear.” The Duchess of Morewether sat back against the sofa cushions in triumph.

Anna waved off the suggestion her idea was brilliant, but she forged ahead with the details. “As I said, avoiding scandal was paramount, followed closely by the necessity of Lord Dalton saving face. It would be unconscionable for Lord Dalton to risk any sort of censure after making such a selfless offer.”

Dalton raised a biscuit in a toast. “Here, here.”

Anna smiled and nodded in his direction. “And obviously, it wouldn’t do for Frankie to marry Thomas under a cloud of suspicion either. There needs to be an equitable reason for the original contracts to be determined null and void.”

Suddenly there was a loud crash from the back of the house followed by a squeal and a yelp. Then, as God was her witness, the distinctive sound of thundering footsteps came down the hall at great speed in the direction of the study. She shrank back against Thomas, seeking protection from whatever it was that neared the doorway.

“Get ready for it,” Thomas whispered in her ear.

“Ready for what?” She tried to get behind him, to use him as a shield or something. “What, in the name of all that’s holy is that?” Two enormous, black, fuzzy dervishes erupted into the room, paused only briefly to note all the people in the room then bounced over to their beloved master.

The duchess shrieked, and Anna jumped up on the sofa. There was a groan from Dalton and a loud curse from Christian.

It took Francesca only a second to realize that they weren’t wild animals, but rather just enormous puppies. Newfoundland puppies, she was sure of it.

“Thomas!” She reached down to stroke one pup’s ears. “When did you get Newfoundland puppies?”

“Just the other day. I saw the boys in the park again and went to see their uncle.”

“They are absolutely gorgeous,” she cooed at the dogs. “Why though?”

“Because I knew you would love them. I knew it from the minute I saw them. You are everything that is unpredictable, Francesca.”

One dog sat at her feet, looking up at her adoringly, and accepted her attentions with a happy, slobbery tongue. Puppy number two ran off to explore the other people in the room. The duchess, not nearly as accommodating as her daughter, shooed it away with gentle nudges of her foot. Anna simply refused to give up her undignified perch on the back of the sofa.

The minute the dog’s glance included Dalton, the man stood and looked fiercely down at the manic puppy. “Sit, sit, sit,” he repeated. “Sit.” By some stroke of luck the dog did sit and was rewarded with a piece of a biscuit.

“What are their names?” Francesca asked.

“That’s up to you. They’re your wedding gift,” Thomas informed her with an endearing grin.

“Have you never heard of jewelry, Thomas? Good Christ!” Christian grumbled as he wiped furiously at a large smear of drool that stretched from his waist to his knee.

Francesca ignored her brother completely. “Oh, I’ll just have to think of something appropriately sweet for them then.”

“I’d wait,” Thomas said, laughing, “until you spend more time with them before you christen them with something too tender.”

Christian rose from his chair and walked to where Anna stood on the sofa. He offered his hand to her, and after a wary glance in the direction of both dogs, she accepted it and stepped gingerly to the floor.

“I don’t think they’re intentionally wretched,” Christian told Anna. “I’m sure you’ll be safe, but I’ll stand nearby just in case. Please continue with what you were saying before the hounds from hell burst in.”

Anna gave him an appreciative smile.

Francesca stood and gave her attention to Anna. “I’m so sorry. Of course, please continue. What solution have you come up with that assures no one is compromised?”

“It just seemed to me that all the years Thomas spent with your family and the obvious regard the duke and duchess have for him, well, isn’t it logical your father would have arranged for a marriage with Thomas? All we have to tell society is the reason everyone has been so strange the last several days is because Thomas came home to take the mantle of earl and found the contract in all his father’s papers. Of course, this would be a shock to everyone involved, and it would take some time to sort it all out.”

They all blinked at Anna, except the duchess who beamed at everyone.

Thomas cleared his throat. “That’s really quite brilliant, Anna, but there is one problem. My father would never have done something so…considerate for me. You all know his feelings about me. Everyone knows he hated me. No one will believe it.”

Christian interrupted thoughtfully, “Maybe not. But he would have given his eyeteeth for an alliance with Morewether. What if the contract didn’t specify an heir? What if it simply named Earl of Harrington?”

There was a moment of contemplative silence broken only by the playful pants and whines of the puppies vying for attention.

Dalton spoke first. “That could work. It would be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of us to be up in arms.”

“And no one would dare impugn the testimony of your family and ours,” the duchess added, and pushed the encroaching puppy away with her toe.

“Not if both you and my mother say it’s so,” Dalton agreed.

Francesca thought on that for a second. “Why would your mother lie for us? We are obviously putting your family out with this last-minute change. She has no reason to want to help.”

Dalton chuckled, tossed the last bite of biscuit to a drooling puppy, and strode across the room. “I realize you don’t know my family very well. You’ve only developed an acquaintance with my mother, aunt and grandmother, but I assure you they are romantics. The women of my family will only be too happy to aid in the course of true love.”

The duchess stood, pointed her index finger menacingly at the nearest dog, and hugged her daughter. Francesca could feel the rise of tears again and swallowed hard to keep them down.

“Thank you, everyone. Thank you so much.” Francesca embraced her mother and then Anna in a fierce hug. “Thank you for not listening to me at all.”

“I never do when it’s really important.” Anna giggled.

* * * *

It was agreed that Thomas would obtain a special license right away and the original wedding date was kept since all the wedding plans had already been made and St. George’s was reserved.

In the beginning, the
ton
acted suspicious of the clean and tidy wrap-up, but no holes could be found, and once the
ton
came to realize no scandal was forthcoming, they moved on to pry into other people’s lives. It helped that Dalton was Thomas’s best man. Of course, Christian proudly stood in stead of Francesca’s father to give her away.