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Chapter Three
“My Lady, are you all right?”
Belle couldn’t find the right words to say. She stood staring at herself in the mirror, watching the way the French silk tumbled down around her slender frame. Her hair had been elegantly done this evening, in honor of their guest, and it somehow managed to make the dress even lovelier.
Hannah was right. The color certainly did glow on her, making her caramel-brown eyes shine. When she moved, the silk moved along with her and a gorgeous necklace with a simple blue stone tied the entire thing together.
It wasn’t just the beauty of the dress that shocked her into silence, however. It was the fact that her father had it prepared for her, that he had gone out of his way to have this sent from London and had clearly wanted her to look her best on her birthday.
A slow smile crept over her face. Her cold, distant father…
Perhaps he does have a heart?
“My Lady, you’re scaring me.”
Belle had nearly forgotten Hannah was there. She laughed in surprise, taking Hannah by her hand. “My apologies, Hannah. I was simply shocked beyond words. This dress is utterly wonderful.”
“Yes, I agree, My Lady. And the necklace is lovely with it as well.”
“Perhaps Mother had this dress in mind when she bought it.” She ran her fingers over the stone. She had many like it, but anything from her mother deserved to be cherished. “I should remember to thank her when I get the chance. And Father.”
Hannah was no stranger to the strained relationship between her mother and father and once she had let it slip that she wished it could be mended.
Well, I wish for that as well. And perhaps it can be.
The Duke of Auldwood put his energy into one thing: his textile company. And last year, during the Season, he had managed to give some of that energy into ensuring she secured a husband. But asides from that, his cold and domineering nature made it difficult for her to be close to him. And that was what had reduced her mother to that shivering shell.
“The guest is probably here,” Belle said, shaking away the thoughts. “I should go.”
She gave herself one last look in the mirror before she left her bedchambers, thrumming with excitement. She couldn’t wait to show her parents how wonderful she looked, and she hoped her father would at least pay her a compliment. It had been a long time since she’d let such desires overcome her, but she couldn’t help the thought as she continued on to the dining room.
Her parents were sitting in their usual spot, but there was one additional person. An older gentleman, perhaps around her father’s age, whose eyes fell on her the moment she entered.
Belle opened her mouth to greet him and faltered. There was a glint in his eye, an appreciative look that gave her the sudden urge to turn and flee. But she took her seat and plastered a smile on her face. He must be one of her father’s business associates.
“Good day,” she greeted.
“This is my daughter, My Lord,” the Duke said gruffly. “Lady Belle. And this is Cornelius Pembrooke, the Marquess of Winchfield.”
Lord Winchfield? There is something very familiar about that name.
“It is lovely to meet you, My Lord,” Belle said politely.
“I can say the same, My Lady.” A slow smile crept over his face and Belle tried not to frown. His sandy hair was combed away from his face, his handsome features marred by the look in his eyes. A look she deciphered quite well after spending time around so many gentlemen during the last Season.
“The Marquess has come to discuss some business with me,” the Duke said to Belle. “Business that concerns you.”
Oh, no. No, please no.
Heart sinking, Belle looked at her mother. The Duchess had already begun eating, her eyes on her plate. She knew what was about to happen, Belle realized, and could say nothing about it.
“Oh?” she said, putting on a tight smile. She began to eat, hoping her hand wouldn’t tremble. It held strong. “Are you here to take me on as an apprentice?”
Her bold words clearly shocked the Marquess, so much so that his jaw fell open. But her father remained unfazed by her words, waving dismissively at her the way he had dismissed her all her life. “He has proposed marriage,” her father said, “and I have accepted.”
So many emotions flooded through her that she didn’t know what to do, what to think. She continued eating, not tasting a thing, as if the practiced motion would help keep her together when she suddenly felt so close to falling apart.
“Father, I don’t think—”
