Chapter 30

Bella woke early the next morning, and dressed in a sprigged muslin without her maid's assistance. She had informed the servant that she only needed to come for important events, of which Bella had none on the calendar at present, and muddled through a few days of confusion with buttons and hairstyle before she settled into a simple rhythm.

Her hair she left down loose around her shoulders. She was not planning on going out until later in the day, and knew that Simon had business that kept him out late the night before. She did not expect him to wake early, or even to be home at all.

It felt good to let her hair hang loose, almost to her waist, and give her scalp a rest from the constant updos that society required of her. When she was a girl, she wore her hair this way more often than not. Except when you were braiding it to tuck up into a cap and pass as a boy. For the first time in a long time, she smiled at the memory.

She tucked a book under one arm and walked confidently out to the drawing room, intending to draw a chair up by the fire and read until Mrs. Smith brought in the morning meal.

She stopped short in the door, however, surprised to see Simon was already there and a breakfast tray had already been laid out between the two sitting chairs. She turned on silent feet to slip away, but he called to her from the chair.

"Good morning! I asked Mrs. Smith to make us up some tea and toast. Is there anything else you require?"

She turned slowly around again, conscious of her hair swinging loose down her back like a cape. A tell-tale blush tinged her cheeks. "Toast is quite alright."

"Then come," he said, smiling cordially. "Sit."

She did so, watching him. She had not been alone with him since her conversation with Grace, and had not had an opportunity to ask him the terrifying things Grace had suggested she ask. Do you think you could ever love me? Do you think this could ever be more than a marriage of necessity?

She let him pour her a cup of tea, reaching up to try to pull back her loose hair with quick fingers. She had only a single pin tucked into her sleeve, but at least she could make the top of her hair presentable—

"Don't," he said quietly. "Leave it down. I like it that way."

She froze, her fingers still twisted in her hair, unsure that she had heard him correctly. It was so unlike him to make any comment at all on her appearance—much less to say something in particular he liked. It made her heart beat faster just to think he had noticed her hair, as though she was a child again with a crush on her brother's best friend.

She dropped her hands to her side. "I did not know you would be awake so early. You had late business."

"Yes, I've been out quite a bit as of late." He handed her the teacup. "I hope that will change soon. I've had rather a breakthrough in my business as of late, and I believe after this next little arrangement I will not be away quite as often."

"I am glad to hear it." Bella met his eyes. Was she imagining the intensity she saw in his gaze?

"How have you been occupying your time in my absence?" he asked, lightening the mood at once. "I heard that Grace came to see you, and I imagine you have been overrun with society friends asking to hear more about your life and your new marriage."

"Grace has been my only visitor." Bella saw the confusion in Simon's eyes and said quickly, "I haven't as many friends as you seem to think. I do not believe any of them would be lining up to see me under the circumstances."

Her words seemed to bring a stab of pain to Simon, although Bella could not see why. She had simply meant to reference the fact that her marriage had occurred under the shadow of a potential scandal with Lord Ramsgate.

Simon explained his expression in the next words he spoke. "I doubt many of your friends thought to see you set up in a small London flat with the second son of a viscount for a husband."

Bella was so shocked that for a moment she was silent. When she found her voice at last, she could not keep the surprise out of her tone. "Simon, you don't think I'm ashamed of my life here, do you?"

"You are kind," he said haltingly.

"No, I'm not kind," she retorted. "I am honest. There is nothing that I lack here besides your company. When your business has eased and we can go out into society, I shall be proud to be seen on your arm." She gave a small, scoffing laugh. "Heavens. You speak as though you had crawled out of a gutter instead of simply drawn the second straw in your family lineage. I don't know who gave you the idea that you were a bad catch in the world of London romantics, so let me set you to rights. I suspect there are more women jealous of me than pitying me."

He did not look like he believed her. "You may get a chance to test that theory sooner rather than later." He held up a small slip of paper with a broken seal. "This came in the post yesterday, but Mrs. Smith accidentally sent it to my study instead of our drawing room. Doubtless you have not seen it."

Bella recognized her mother's handwriting at once and read the missive. "A soiree?" she asked. "On our behalf?" She could not hold back a wry smile of surprise. It would certainly be the first time her parents had ever hosted an event of this sort in her honor. Before she went to Ireland, they seemed eager enough to keep the ton away from any interaction with their only daughter.

"It seems they are coming around to the idea of our rather hasty marriage." Simon buttered himself a piece of toast. "Grace told me about the invitation yesterday when I saw her at luncheon, so the letter was not a surprise. You should expect to see her today—she told me she plans to take you away for a day of shopping and preparation."

"I do not need any new dresses," Bella said quietly, sipping at her tea.

"A new bride usually has a host of new dresses," Simon answered. "I am not demanding you fill your wardrobe, only offering you one special thing for this singular event."

Bella looked at him for a long moment. I don't want a dress, Simon. I want you. "Perhaps you will join us in the shopping?" she asked, hating how wistful she sounded.

"I have some arrangements of my own to make for the evening's events," Simon said quietly. "I am afraid I cannot join you."

"Of course, how silly of me." She felt a hot blush of embarrassment suffuse her cheeks.

"Not silly." He stood and took his coat from the nearby hook, shrugging into it and donning a hat. "It is kind of you to invite me. Another time, perhaps?"

She forced a smile and watched him go, feeling the sudden urge to cry. She did not understand how it was possible to love someone so desperately, so completely, when they clearly felt nothing in return. Why won't I learn?

***

In the end, Grace arrived as predicted and convinced Bella to honor Simon's wishes and invest in a few new items for the soiree. Bella made an effort to be invested in the days' activities, if only to hide her personal disappointment from her friend. Grace saw through the ruse, however, and asked Bella outright if she had spoken to Simon yet about the future. Bella could only look away, blinking back tears, and pretend she hadn't had a good chance.

The night of the soiree, Bella dressed, with the help of her lady's maid, in the silvery blue gown Grace had convinced her to buy.

It was the prettiest thing Bella had ever owned—simple yet elegant, draped around her slender form to show her shoulders and neck to best advantage. She wore her hair up, with a few soft curls free around her face and a sapphire pin nestled within the dark blond waves.

"You look lovely," her maid said with a curtsy. "It is some of my finest work."

Bella smiled at her, then checked the smile in the mirror. Good. It looks genuine. She needed to look the part of the happy bride tonight, if only to put Simon at ease.

He deserved a good debut with the ton, to have everyone whispering about how beautiful the couple seemed and how pretty the match was. She would have to hide her own longing far, far out of sight.

She could not even meet Simon's gaze when they met in the drawing room of the flat to ride over to the event together. He was very quiet, and helped fashion her cloak around her shoulders without a word. For a moment, his fingers lingered on her shoulders after assisting her… but is that in my imagination? When he handed her into the carriage, she could feel him studying her face. She blushed again, and kept her eyes down.

"You look lovely tonight," he said at last, moments before they climbed out of the carriage at her parents' home. "I would have said it sooner, but your beauty quite took my breath away."

She raised her eyes to his, studying him. Very gallantly said. I almost believe him. "Your sister chose the dress."

"I was not talking about the dress."

Her heart caught in her throat at his words, pounding like a wild colt set free upon the moor. He climbed out ahead of her and handed her down, his fingers tightening around hers as he did so. "Simon?" she began, looking up at him. His words had given her some strange confidence, and she feared that if she wasn't honest with him now, she would never have the courage to be. "Simon, I need to tell you something. I need to ask you something—"

"Lady Isabella, you are a vision!"

The words died in Bella's throat as she turned to see the last person she wished to see standing only a few feet away from her at the base of the marble stairs. It was Amelia Lafleche, arrayed in a stark navy gown trimmed with gold. She looked like a queen, as she always did, head held high, staring down her nose at Bella.

For a moment, Bella thought about confronting her there and then about the kidnapping—but they were surrounded by people attending her parents' gala. If she did so, Amelia would deny everything and all that would result would be a scandal at Lord and Lady Collingwood's expense.

Bella forced herself to curtsy in response. Simon's hand on her elbow tightened, but he said nothing.

"Lady O'Mara," Bella said stiffly.

"Oh, don't let me keep you," Amelia purred, her eyes settling on Simon as though she owned him. "I'm going to be just inside, you know. If either of you wishes to seek me out for a little chat, you know where to find me." She stepped forward and let her lily-white hand rest for a brief moment on Simon's sleeve. "I imagine at least one of you has missed me as of late."

She turned and climbed the stairs, her skirts brushing the marble behind her in a train of elegant navy and gold.

Bella let out her breath all at once when they were alone again. "I did not know she would be here."

"You did not tell your parents of her involvement yet." It was a statement from Simon, not a question.

"I did not. I need proof." She bit her lip. "But I am still surprised to see her." She turned and looked up at him, hearing the weakness in her voice as she asked nervously, "Are you… surprised?"

"Not as surprised as you might think," he said grimly. "I am never surprised by that woman." He paused halfway up the stairs and looked at Bella curiously. "What were you going to say—before we were interrupted, that is?"

Bella swallowed hard. "It can wait." The moment, and her courage, had passed.

Once inside, Lord and Lady Collingwood came to greet the happy couple and led them into the room with something like pride—or at least as close to pride as Bella ever expected to get from her parents. She lost sight of Simon almost at once, watching her father drag him over to a group of noblemen Lord Collingwood clearly hoped would better Simon's prospects.

Lady Collingwood took Bella on a tour of the room as well, showing her off to all the people deemed important in the ton. Bella smiled and curtsied and blushed on cue, playing the part of the lovely bride at every turn.

She was relieved when there was a pause in the socializing for the dancing to begin, and slipped away from the crowd to find a cup of punch and a quiet corner to collect her thoughts. She was only alone for a moment, however, tucked into an alcove off the main dance floor, when Amelia found her.

"I thought I saw you slip away from the party," the other woman said, her voice cold despite the smile playing on her scarlet lips. "Isn't it your wedding we are celebrating, after all? The bride should not be hiding off behind curtains like a wallflower."

Bella set down her cup of punch slowly and turned to Amelia. "I do not think you want to have this conversation with me right now, Lady O'Mara."

"What conversation?" Amelia's faux innocence was nauseating. "The one where I congratulate you on the man you've managed to land? Mr. Lyndon is a prize indeed. I think him one of the most admirable men in London. And you? Well… you're… rich." She dragged out the words as though they were all she could think of as a compliment to Bella.

"No," Bella said quietly. "The conversation where I accuse you of being a despicable criminal and assure you that you will pay for what you did to me." She took a step forward, clenching her fists at her side. "Tell me, my lady, does it infuriate you to know that all your scheming came to nothing in the end? That must be very frustrating, after all the trouble you went to ensure that I married the worst cad in all of London."

For a long moment, Amelia said nothing at all. Her face was very still, and the only sign that Bella's words had any effect on her at all was the slow draining of color from her already pale skin.

"I have no idea what you are speaking about," she said at last, punctuating each word as though speaking to a child. "But these are dangerous accusations. I would be very careful, if I were you, about voicing them outside the safety of this room. People might get the wrong idea. They might think you married your handsome Mr. Lyndon to hide an indiscretion of some sort."

"You have the nerve to threaten me?" Bella felt the heat flood her cheeks. "After everything you've already done to me? What else could you possibly do?"

Bella saw at once that her words were a mistake. The questions handed the power back over to Amelia, and Amelia smiled slowly in response. "Oh, my dear. I have not even begun to make your life miserable. You may have tricked our dear Simon into marrying you, but he'll come back to my bed like he always has before. You see, that's the thing about men—they always say they want the chaste little English girl, but when it comes down to a dark evening in a gentleman's club, they remember that they burn for adventure and danger."

Bella could hardly breathe. Like he always has. Was she lying?

Amelia reached out and traced Bella's face with a gloved hand. "Don't fret, love. I'll take good care of him."

She turned and was gone, out the curtains and back into the whirling magic of the dance outside. Bella wanted to rush to the washroom and scrub every vestige of the woman's touch from her cheek, but she could not. Instead she sank down onto the bench behind her, wrapped her arms around her, and wept quietly.