Royal Regard

Chapter Eight, Part 1

Bella needed everything. Furnishings and fittings for every inch of the largest house in Russell Square, as well as refurbishment of their shipboard rooms and the royal guests' quarters on the Arabella. Carriages and horses for every occasion. Exotic ingredients for Myron's meals, since he preferred not to eat like an Englishman. Clothing for herself and her husband from the inside out. As frivolous as it seemed, she and Charlotte shopped every day, having, for the most part, successfully stemmed the tide of gossipmongers by having her new butler turn them away at the door.

The results of this avoidance were immediately apparent in more dramatic and flowery talk-behind-the-fan wherever she went, but thus far, no one had given her the cut direct, either because other women's husbands relied on hers for the greater portion of their income, or because she was a favorite of the king. With his implied sponsorship, she received even better service in the shops than she would have inspired as a new countess.

Now that Bella was safely in England to stay, she could buy more pretty things than would fit in a sea chest, her gowns needn't be chosen for sensibility, and for the first time in her adult life, she could spend her husband's money on anything she wanted, with no question of how she would get it home. While she hoped she weren't so shallow as to have her head turned, she had to admit it was exhilarating.

Today, for the first time, Charlotte and their purchases were entirely focused on Bella's appearance. They had been traveling amongst the shops since just after the morning repast. First at the modiste, where Bella had ordered a dozen new gowns with outerwear and accessories to match, Mrs. Harman's for stays, then the bootmaker for walking shoes, the shoemaker for slippers, the milliner for hats and bonnets, and Rundell, Bridge & Rundell for jewelry to match it all.

On their way to Gunter's to meet Charlotte's children and their nurse for ices, Bella had stopped the driver when she saw a flash in the window of an almost-hidden linen draper, the perfect color tulle for the overskirt of one of her new tea gowns. The driver had been sent to announce their delay, and now, she and Charlotte were deep in discussion over a huge table filled with fabric and ribbons and openwork, seated on low chairs, a servile shop girl placing item after item out for their inspection.

Bella was holding up fabric samples from the mantua-maker against the trims in the tiny shop when the deep rumble of Wellbridge's voice sent shivers down her spine.

"The lavender would look lovely with your coloring, Lady Huntleigh, especially against the green watered silk."

She and Charlotte both jumped up from their chairs and curtsied quickly as he signaled the attendant. "Please wrap up the spool of purple ribbon for Lady Huntleigh."

Charlotte argued, "Sir, you cannot—"

He turned a critical eye toward Charlotte's selections. "Perhaps the navy with your dark hair, Lady Firthley. Or do you prefer the coquelicot?" He tilted his head. "No, definitely the red. Just a bit scandalous, and nearly as exquisite as the lavender on Lady Huntleigh." His eyes rested on Bella as he held up the ribbon next to her face, and she was somehow unable to look away.

Seemingly by accident, his thumb ran down her cheek. She gasped, and he halfheartedly apologized, sheepish but not contrite. He motioned to the shop girl, who added the red ribbon to the order. Charlotte's eyes twinkled at him, filled with confirmed knowledge that might or might not make it into the round of gossip, though Bella employed a cold stare to try to freeze out her cousin's opinion before it even left her mouth.

Bella whispered to him, heart pounding in her raspy throat. "You cannot just buy things for married women."

At the same time, Charlotte curtsied again, no longer objecting, and said, "How very kind of you, Sir. I had been hoping for a gentleman's opinion, and of course, Lord Firthley would rather be hanged than set foot in a dress shop." When Bella scowled, Charlotte poked her in the side and hissed, "Have you no manners? The appropriate response is, 'Thank you kindly, Sir.'"