The Rake's Unveiling Of Lady Belle. Raven McAllan

I doubt it was solely to see what confection my housekeeper had concocted.’ Her eyes twinkled but her expression was wary.

      Phillip swallowed the mouthful of food and brushed non-existent crumbs from his waistcoat as he stalled for time. He might have known Belle would go straight to the point.

      ‘And do not say something pathetic, like you wanted to make sure I was all right,’ she said emphatically. ‘Why should I not be? And if you were thinking I might take Lady Rattenberry’s place think again. I will be no man’s mistress.’

      As he thought. Plain-speaking and straight to the point.

      Phillip opened his mouth to answer her and a wayward crumb stuck in his throat. He began to cough, tears streamed down his cheeks, and he shook his head to try and dislodge the tiny morsel. That was all he needed. To be carried off by a crumb.

      ‘I…I…’ He wheezed like an old man as Belle stood up, and moved behind him. Her breasts brushed his back and even in his distressed state his ever eager pego began its ‘notice me’ dance. She pushed him forward and began to thump him on the back. All thoughts of sex, dalliance or anything else arousing disappeared. She had enough strength to hold her own against many a pugilist he’d sparred with.

      ‘Enough, thank you,’ he said once he was able to speak coherently.

      Belle handed him a clean napkin to wipe his face and hands and sat back down.

      ‘You were saying?’

      Phillip couldn’t help it. He laughed, and shook his head. There he was, having almost choked to death, and all she was worried about was the reason he’d called.

      ‘I don’t know why I called to be honest. I was worried about you, and I did want to see you again. I want…’ He hesitated, unsure how truthful he could be and not be shown the door. ‘I want to get to know you better.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Belle narrowed her eyes and he swore she saw into his soul. It was an unnerving experience. ‘Why? I’ve told you I won’t be your mistress.’

      ‘I’ll accept that. And remember I haven’t asked you.’ He had wondered about it, to be honest, but luckily she’d scotched that idea before he was able to embarrass either of them. He forbore to add ‘yet’.

      She went red. Phillip looked down at his teacup and refilled it as he fought not to laugh. Once he had his mirth under control he spoke again. ‘In all seriousness, Madame Belle, I would like to be your friend.’

      ‘Why?’ Belle asked him baldly. ‘Gentlemen of your ilk do not befriend the likes of me. Unless it is for ulterior motives. I’m only a lowly seamstress, and will never be any man’s playing.’

      Phillip was uneasily aware he could have such motives, if he had half a chance. But…

      ‘Belle, my dear, you will never be a lowly anything. Your goodness and integrity would outshine any lady—whether in the ton or not. Oh, I’ll be honest, I think you’re everything I ever want in a woman. Of course I’d like to bed you if you were willing. What hot-blooded rake wouldn’t? But here’s the difference between myself and many others of my ilk: I would never, ever, try to coerce you or force you to do something abhorrent to you. Mind you, that’s not to say I wouldn’t try to change your mind in other ways.’ He winked. ‘But for now, my only goal is to make you comfortable in my presence and warn you I intend to use your services whenever necessary.’

      Belle raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘When you want to pay off a mistress?’

      ‘And to ask your advice on a present for my sister.’

      She inclined her head. ‘The latter is fine; the former worries me a little. I don’t want it to be thought that to be “Dressed by Belle” is the death knell to a relationship.’

      He hadn’t thought of that.

      ‘However,’ Belle continued, ‘we can cross that bridge when we come to it.’

      ‘You could marry me and there would be no bridge.’ Where on earth had that come from?

      Belle seemed as surprised at his words as he did. Her whisky glass slipped from her hands and rolled across the carpet, spilling liquid as it went. It was her turn to choke.

      Phillip put his arms around her and patted her shoulders and back. Her perfume surrounded him, and as she gasped for breath her body sagged against him and his pego pressed into the soft globes of her rear. How sad was he to respond to her presence so definitely at a time like that?

      However, perhaps it was that unintentional declaration of intent—something he realised with a shock he definitely meant wholeheartedly—which helped her to recover. With one last cough, she shook her head and took in a great shuddering breath.

      ‘Water please.’ Belle croaked the words. ‘Any water.’

      Phillip looked around and saw a carafe on a side table, near enough for him to reach and not loosen his hold on Belle.

      He didn’t bother with a glass, but put the jug to her lips with one hand and kept his arm around her waist. It was agony not to let his fingers drift upward to stroke the underside of her breast. Even through her gown, he was certain it would feel like perfection. The nape of her neck with those entrancing curls surrounding it called out to be kissed and nipped, and the tiny row of buttons that danced over her spine were a siren call demanding attention.

      Belle took a deep long swallow of water and coughed once more. ‘Much better. Thank you.’

      She twisted in his hold and Phillip put the carafe down carefully as she looked up at him. With the vessel safety out of harm’s way, he held her within the circle of his arms. Belle tried to move back and away, and he shook his head and tightened his grip.

      ‘No, stay there and answer me.’ Why was he so persistent? A flash of insight showed him that perhaps a complaisant wife wouldn’t be too bad an idea. That the said wife was in trade bothered him not a jot. Her warmth—and yes, that intriguing scent—was all around him, and Phillip savoured it.

      ‘My lord, whatever you do, for the love of God do not come out with such absurdities when I’m drinking. I nigh on choked. In fact, don’t come out with them at all. Of course I’m not going to marry you.’

      ‘Why not?’

      Belle made a noise like a pot about to boil over. ‘You know why not.’