The Rake's Unveiling Of Lady Belle. Raven McAllan

you are not helping,’ Phillip said evenly. ‘For I know of no one else who has this problem. However, never mind. I will pay her for her time and accept she is of no use to you. You agree?’

      ‘Phillip.’ Clarissa wailed his name. ‘You can’t.’

      Belinda said nothing. The look in Phillip’s eyes showed there was more to his words than there seemed.

      ‘Well?’ He ignored Clarissa’s entreaty and spoke to Rosemary. ‘What do you say?’

      ‘She is useless and I shall tell everyone so. Perhaps now you will listen to me and we should go to La Compte as I suggested?’ Rosemary tore the toile off her body and stood naked in front of them all. To Belinda’s amusement, her muff was much lighter than the hairs on her head and oh my, sported several grey strands. Someone must have told her the gossip was that Phillip preferred brunettes.

       I wonder how she was going to explain the colour difference to him?

      The woman’s sultry gaze seemed not to affect Phillip one jot, as he turned away from Rosemary and looked at Belinda.

      ‘Send me a bill and it will be paid by return.’

      ‘But I didn’t buy anything,’ Rosemary said in a voice laden with temper. ‘Why should she be recompensed when I’m still waiting for clothes?’

      ‘For your rudeness perhaps? Wasting her valuable time, certainly. Madame, don’t forget to charge for the toile,’ he said as he picked up his gloves, looked at and addressed his sister. ‘My dear.’ He turned his back on Rosemary, and ignored her outraged hiss and harrumph as he spoke to Clarissa. ‘Do you come with me?’

      ‘I’ll wait until Madame Belle can see me,’ Clarissa said slowly. ‘I’ll call for my carriage when I’ve finished.’

      He nodded. ‘Then I’ll escort Lady Rattenberry off the premises, and see you at the ball this evening. He now looked directly at Rosemary with such indifference that Belinda was shocked. If a man who you thought was enamoured of you gave you that look, you’d surely never be able to lift your head again.

      Not so Lady Rattenberry. ‘And we then go to La Compte?’

      Phillip shrugged. ‘You may do so; I have no intention. I offered you a wardrobe, one you demanded I purchase from Madame Belle. You have now turned it down. I’ve kept my part of the bargain; you better keep yours. And that, my dear, includes no lies or indeed anything about your visit here. For…’ He took the lady’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes widened but she made no sound.

      ‘For,’ he continued, ‘if I hear one word, believe me your husband will hear more than one. And none will be conducive to your comfort. That I vow. Have I made myself clear?’

      Rosemary blanched until her skin was the colour of the toile she had so recently discarded, and she nodded.

      ‘Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Do you need any help to dress?’

      She shook her head.

      ‘Then hurry up.’

       Chapter Three

      ‘Good God, he flailed her alive,’ Clarissa said a little later on as she, Belinda and Tippen sat and sipped wine in her sitting room. All three had kicked their footwear off and sat sprawled, most unladylike, in their favourite chairs.

      Belinda’s had once adorned the small salon in the house Lady L had given her and was a deep green, overstuffed, velvet-covered, soft armchair. She called it her pondering seat. ‘I’d hate to get on his wrong side.’ I’d love to get on his right side.

      ‘What was it all about, do you think?’ Tippen asked, wide-eyed. ‘She scared me.’ She tucked her feet under the hem of her gown. ‘It takes a lot to scare me, but she…she sent shivers through me.’

      ‘There’s no need to be scared. She thought she had my brother wrapped around her little finger and she was wrong. A tumble in the hay as a youthful rake does not equate to being besotted as an older, mature gentleman,’ Clarissa said firmly as she waggled her toes in the air. ‘Rosemary has never really accepted what she is. Plus she found out who made my gown—you know the one of the silk she then coveted and couldn’t get—and was determined to exact revenge. Not a nice lady.’

      ‘A moll?’ Tippen asked with interest, using a slang word for a lady of ill repute. ‘A doxy?’ There was no love lost between her and the lady, who had chosen to show quite categorically that she thought Tippen was not worthy of her attention. ‘For which,’ Tippen had confided. ‘I’m eternally grateful.’

      Clarissa spluttered in her wine. ‘Not quite, though she is heading that way. No, she thought she should catch a peer and ended up with a member of the lower aristocracy. To her it was a comedown, and one she’s never quite accepted. Which is a shame because Ambrose Rattenberry is a nice man. Ineffectual but nice.’ Clarissa wriggled her feet into her sandals and tied the laces up her legs. ‘Anyway I must go or I won’t be dressed in time for this darned ball. I hate them.’ Her expression was as bleak as Belinda had ever seen. ‘Couldn’t you work from the country, Belle, and we could all retire there?’ She shook out her pretty day gown and slid her arms into her pelisse. ‘Where’s my dratted hat?’

      Belinda laughed and handed Clarissa her headgear. ‘No hat of my making is dratted. And as for the countryside? I wish we could, for I miss Honeysuckle Cottage, but then we’d have my clients invading our privacy there. Not to be thought of.’

      ‘There is that. Ah well, I’ll be in on Thursday as we arranged.’ Clarissa kissed both Tippen and Belinda. ‘Belle, come and see me out.’

      ‘I hope there won’t be any unpleasantness, from today’s unfortunate…’ She stopped speaking suddenly. ‘No, not unwelcome—welcome events. That woman is too big for her half-boots. However, be sure both Phillip and I will keep our ears open and scotch anything before it starts.’ Clarissa stood by the open door as her carriage drew to a halt. ‘I wondered why he insisted I accompany him. Now I know. A wise man, my brother.’

      Maybe so, but he was also a clever one. Belinda mulled that day’s events over in her mind as she undressed for bed a few evenings later. More than once she’d caught a calculating expression on Phillip’s face. Almost as if he was doing his best to solve a puzzle. She had to hope the puzzle had nothing to do with her. If it did? She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

      Belinda blew the candle out, plumped up her pillows and settled down to sleep.

      To dream of the day she saw him and Rosemary in the gardens. To imagine it was his mouth on her own flesh and to wake up hot and bothered with his name on her lips.

      Drat the man. Didn’t he know it was bad form to invade someone’s dreams without permission? Belinda considered her options. Her body was on fire and usually the way to relax was to touch herself until she was sated. But that activity held no appeal to her at the moment.

      She rolled over onto one side. Then the other, and then onto her stomach and after that, her back. Eventually she gave in, and with her night-rail tangled around her knees, she flung back the covers and kicked her limbs free of the fine cotton lawn she chose to sleep in. Belinda stretched her legs over the side of the bed and fumbled for her dressing gown. Once she’d sorted out the armholes, which were inside out, she lit a candle and made her way to the kitchen. Mrs Lovett only came in during the day, and at night-time the kitchen was Belinda’s domain. At least living as she had whilst growing up had given her more than the usual number of housewifery skills found in a young lady of the ton. If Mrs Lovett were ever sick, she and Tippen wouldn’t starve.

      Belinda heated some milk and sipped it as she stood at the window, which overlooked her garden. Why had the last few days unsettled her quite so much? Phillip hadn’t recognised her, and so far there had been no whispers about her identity or the treatment meted out to Rosemary.