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Surely the butler had informed him that I left the manor.Or perhaps he had decided not to in order to save me just this once?Belle hoped that was the case.
“Worry not, Hannah,” Belle said as Hannah put the finishing touches on her hairstyle. “If my Father truly is angry, then I will absorb all of it so nothing blows back on you, all right?”
“I know you will, My Lady,” Hannah said. “And that is what worries me so. Must you always stir your Father like this? Do you not think it best to do as he asks?”
“Now, now, Hannah, where is the fun in that?”
Hannah gasped, her eyes wide. The look on her face succeeded in bringing a small, sincere laugh out of Belle. “I see our time apart has not made you any less resistant to my teasing. I will be fine, Hannah. I have dealt with him all these years. I’m sure I will be able to handle another night.”
Will I be able to handle another dinner with the Marquess of Winchfield, however?Simply thinking about him made her chest constrict. To ignore it, she rose and turned to face Hannah with another smile that felt false on her face. “How do I look?”
“Dreadfully tired, My Lady,” Hannah said honestly. “Beautiful, but tired.”
“Good. I would like for my Father to see how this decision is taking a toll on me at least. Even though I’m certain he will only think I am being overdramatic.”
“I reckon he would be the only one, My Lady.”
Belle huffed a laugh as she made her way to the door. Hannah did not come with her and so, on her way to the dining hall, the wisp of light heartedness she’d gained disappeared and, in its place came dread. She did not want to see the Marquess. She did not want to speak with him. She did not want to endure this stuffy role any longer.
She wanted to be with Stephen, curling into his arms. Having him kiss her with such passion, her body felt as if it would go up in flames. She wanted to feel his familiar hands as they roamed her body and have his tongue explore every inch of her.
Belle entered the dining hall to the sound of the Marquess’ booming laughter and bile rose in her throat. Her yearning for Stephen doubled at the sight of him.
“My Lady,” he greeted with a broad smile, bowing deeply. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I must admit that I missed you dearly during my trip.”
Only because she knew she had to be polite, Belle curtsied. She couldn’t formulate words, couldn’t force herself to say the proper lies her father and the Marquess expected her to say. She had not missed him, had not even thought of him without disdain and dread. But she smiled at his words as if she did.
It seemed the Marquess did not notice that something was wrong with her and he eagerly took his seat; Belle did the same. Belle focused her attention on her food, happy to find out that her appetite remained intact. If she was lucky, this dinner would be much like the last she’d shared with the Marquess where most of the conversation was centered around business dealings between him and her father.
As if God heard her prayers, Belle was granted that small mercy. To get through it all, she focused her thoughts on Stephen, and the life she would have been able to live with him had they left instantly for Gretna Green.
