Royal Regard

Chapter Five, Part 3

"For Heaven's sake, you needn't pretend to be so silly. He was the one you caught staring over the shoulder of a girl-in-white every time you looked." Charlotte poked Bella in the arm. "Not that you were looking."

Bella conceded, "With the blond hair?"

"Yes, in the green waistcoat to match his eyes."

"I'm afraid I didn't make a study of his eyes," Bella said, tying off a final French knot and trimming the thread.

"A shame. He does have remarkable eyes. He's still as handsome as sin, even at nearly fifty, and finally the duke. Second son until his brother died a few years ago, but the Northopes have always been flush in the pocket. Debutantes have been throwing their handkerchiefs at him for decades."

Bella tugged loose another strand of pink thread the length of her arm, then pulled the red silk from the basket and set it carefully on her knee.

"If he's escaped the matrimonial noose this long, why do they still bother?"

"Well, just look at him! Knee breeches make every man look silly, but you should see him in buckskins... And the way his shoulders fill out his coat... When his hair comes loose and falls across his forehead, I could lose my breath entirely." Charlotte went a bit dreamy-eyed, "He rides every morning, and the way he sits a horse is just—"

Bella poked the back of her cousin's hand with the sewing needle.

"Ouch!" Charlotte exclaimed, snatching up the same scrap of cloth Bella had used to stop the bleeding. "Why did you do that?!"

"To remind you of your husband."

Charlotte glowered, but with no real malice. "Fine, Miss Marplot, spoil my fun. Aside from his more obvious attributes, he might have the largest fortune in England. At least that is what Alexander says."

"What is wrong with this paragon? Why has he not been leg-shackled long since?"

Charlotte whispered like a spy, from the corner of her mouth, her voice lowered as though this particular gossip might earn her a rebuke from her mother. "He's sworn for years he will never marry. Says he has no need, since he can borrow other men's wives."

"Borrow?" Bella's eyebrow seemed to pull her nose up so she could more easily look down it.

Charlotte kept her voice low, looking around for misplaced servants. "He only takes up with married women. Alexander watches him like a hawk, as though a man like Wellbridge would ever want me." She rolled her eyes. "He is older than the Alps, of course. I might not mention him at all, but Lady Allison has sworn to have him married by special license inside the month, before he is too ancient to produce an heir. You'll have to put your oar in right away if you want to snare him."

"It doesn't bear discussing, if only because the idea of 'snaring' anyone is ghastly. I already have a husband and no intention of becoming some man's mistress. Even if I had, no man so handsome as that will look twice at me. He was either struck dumb by my spectacular ugliness or wondered why a kaffir was invited to Almack's."

"You aren't so very ugly," Charlotte observed blithely. Her face indicated Mrs. Jemison returning, so Bella set aside her needlework, as well as any sharp retort.

The housekeeper slid the tea tray onto the table, followed by a maid with a huge platter piled with scones, crumpets, and teacakes of every description, as well as butter, clotted cream, honey, and three types of jam.

Before Bella could dismiss them, Charlotte asked Mrs. Jemison, "Do you not have maids to carry tea trays?" Before the woman answered, Charlotte snatched at the younger girl's hand, holding it closer to the oil lamp. "This looks like she's been scrubbing pots all day and night, and the uniform is much too large. Why are you trying to pass off scullery maids in Her Ladyship's sitting room?"