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CHAPTER11
From where she sat in her mother’s parlor, Bella heard the door open and Mortimer’s nasal voice. “I shall make sure she gets this message,” he said, closing the door.
Unwilling to follow decorum and wait to have Mortimer seek her out, she laid down her book and sprung from the seat toward the entry hall. “Mortimer, is the message for me?”
The kindly older man’s lips twitched as he seemed to struggle with maintaining his own decorum. “My lady, this arrived for you,” he said, extending the salver with the sealed message on it. “And some flowers arrived. I placed them in the parlor.”
“Thank you, Mortimer,” Bella said, schooling herself to gently lift the message from the silver tray and walk back to the parlor to read it. She would be alone in there, as Mary was upstairs mending a dress.
Turning it over, she studied the deep red seal. It was the duke’s seal, and it had to be from Slade. Her heart hurt as she realized how difficult it must have been for him to use it, knowing it had belonged to both his father and brother. Gently, she lifted the edge where the wax bound it together and read.
Dearest Bella,
I arrived a day ago and while I have had much on my mind, a great deal of it has been you. I wonder if you would do me the honor of a ride in Hyde Park tomorrow morning and an ice at Gunter’s? I hope you enjoy the white roses. Please send word as to your answer. I would pick you up at eleven of the clock tomorrow.
Fondly,
Slade
“Oh yes! I would love to go with you, Slade,” she said out loud to herself. Her hands wrapped around her, and she closed her eyes, imagining his kiss. She could not help herself.
Stepping to the escritoire in the room's corner, she withdrew a sheet of vellum, her quill, and ink. After writing her response, she sanded it, taking her time, so as not to smudge the page. Bella joyfully accepted his invitation and folded her missive. Fumbling around the small cubbies on her mother’s desk, she found her stamp and pink wax and sealed it.
A throat cleared at the door, and she looked up to see Mortimer. “I apologize, my lady, I thought you had called for me.”
“No, but you must have read my mind, Mortimer.” She smiled. “Can you see that this missive gets to the Duke of Newcastle’s townhouse?”
“I will, my lady,” he replied, again with the slight twitch to his lips. “I will take care of it right away.” He gave a bow and left the room.
Bella stared after him for a moment. The man had always seemed one step ahead of her—as if he knew what she needed before she asked. He was nothing but kind, however. She allowed the sense of beckoning exhilaration to take over, and he was forgotten.I am going to Hyde Park with Slade,she thought, hugging herself tightly. Walking to the table between two chairs, she fingered the petal on one of the white roses, before leaning closer and smelling the bouquet.Such beautiful flowers and so heavenly!
Bella glanced out the window of her mother’s parlor. She had come down here to have some alone time, leaving Mary to finish working over her gowns, getting them pressed and mended. She had hoped she and Slade would find time together, but with Mary tagging along, she imagined there could be no steamy kisses. While she understood propriety, she sometimes hated it. Men could come and go as they pleased, but there always had to be a tag-along with a woman—someone that could affirm that she had acted within the bounds of goodTon, while all she wanted to do was spend time with Slade.
Distractedly, she picked up her mother’s favorite gossip rag,The Morning Spectacle. Aside from a few notices of plays and other local happenings, it seemed the gossip had hit a slow point. She discarded it forLa Belle Assemblée. It had become her mother’s fashion bible of late. Bella flipped through the pages, intent to peruse the fashion plates and know what she wanted when the modiste and her assistant arrived, two days hence, as Mama had asked of her.
Now that she had received the note from Slade, her focus on the book she had been reading was lost. Bella glanced through the magazine, noting some of the newer fashions. She needed a new pelisse and wanted something in dark navy wool. She flipped a page and focused on the shoes that matched with some dresses. A pair of mustard yellow shoes struck her fancy. She tried to imagine a dress that might enhance them, other than the green creation that they had been matched within the magazine—which she thought ugly. Bella liked the color for shoes but could not see herself wearing that color near her face. Still, it was unusual. “Mayhap a navy or similar color could work,” she mused out loud, thinking to discuss it with Madame Trousseau when she arrived.
“Oh, there you are!” her mother said, entering her parlor and picking up the stitchery she had discarded in a basket earlier. “I see you are looking throughLa Belle, as I asked. Have you found anything?”
“I thought that a navy pelisse would be helpful. It has been so cold, I would like a heavier one,” she murmured, still staring at the page of shoes.
“Is that all you have determined, Bella? I thought you might have come up with some colors. I wanted to send word to Madame Trousseau and let her know the colors so that she could be more specific with the fabric when she got here. She usually brings some of the favored bolts of fabric.” Her mother’s disappointment washed over her.
“I am sorry, Mama. I have not been thinking overmuch about the dresses,” she said. Putting down the magazine, she looked up. “I just received an invitation from Lord Drake, I mean His Grace, asking me to go on a ride through Hyde Park and for an ice at Gunter’s tomorrow. I accepted.”
“Are the roses from him, as well?” her mother asked.
“Yes, are they not the prettiest flowers you have ever seen?” Bella asked, dreamily.
Her mother laughed. “I can see how picking out fabric and dress designs could fall to the wayside when the handsome duke steps into your thoughts.”
“Mama, do you think Madame will bring some ideas of hats and the latest shoes? The catalog suggested some rather interesting designs.”
“Yes, that is an excellent idea,” her mother said. “I can pen that thought to her, as well.” She laid down the quill after making the shortlist and looked at her daughter with her brow raised in mock outrage. “An ice at Gunter’s? Are you sure when it threatens more snow?” She gave a teasing tone.
Indeed, it had been snowing off and on for the past day, even though it had accumulated little yet. “You are chaffing me, Mama,” Bella laughed. “It is what made me think of the need for a warmer pelisse. And a matching muff,” Bella added, happy to see she had not disappointed her mother as she had thought. “I plan to make a list,” she said, picking up the magazine once more. “I almost forgot. I glanced throughThe Morning Spectacleand saw that Byron’s playA Bride of Abydosis playing at Drury Lane. Would you feel up to taking in the play while we are here? I know you enjoy Byron.”
“I have heard good things about it, and your brother had mentioned it. With limited formal entertainment during Christmastide—outside of the usual holiday plays—it seems we should. Percy would also like us to get to know his betrothed a little better. Lady Emmaline seems very pleasant. I would enjoy the opportunity to know her,” her mother said, threading her needle.
