Chapter 9

A fortnight passed for Bella in a blur. She felt as though she was on horseback in Ireland again, holding on for dear life as her mount surged ahead underneath her, powerful and out of her control.

The only difference was that in Ireland such rides filled her with freedom and exhilaration. Here, the mount beneath her was the ton, and the faster it swept her up the more caged she felt.

It had not taken long for her parents to spread the news of her arrival back in London. They held their tongues at the masked ball, but Bella believed their silence was only to determine that her exile had paid off in creating a proper young lady after all. Once this matter was confirmed, her social calendar began to fill up with activities and she soon found herself fighting for even a few moments to herself.

The mornings were filled with visits and rides around town, the afternoons with picnics and strolls and long hours at the tea shop on the corner, where Lady Collingwood often sipped with her acquaintances. The evenings were a blur as well. When there was a ball of note, Bella was to be in attendance with her parents and Aunt Nellie watching her the entire time.

If such an event was thankfully not on the schedule, Bella could be certain that most nights would find her parents hosting some manner of impromptu dinner party where she found herself seated by some elegant gentleman or other.

The few nights where nothing was planned, Bella saw her parents not at all. They dined separately—Lord Collingwood at the club, and Lady Collingwood in her private chambers. Bella and Aunt Nellie would have a quiet dinner in, and retire to an evening by the fireside in a sweet companionship that reminded Bella of the long winter evenings in Ireland.

Only a few such quiet nights had come to Bella, but they were a respite amid the chaos of her introduction into the center of London society. Another respite was Grace.

Bella sought out Grace whenever possible. She noticed that her mother had some reticence to her spending time at the Lyndon townhouse, but knew that Lady Collingwood must resent anything on Bella's schedule that was not expressly arranged by herself. Bella went riding with Grace in the morning and held every afternoon that she could manage available for her dear friend.

There was a sweetness to Grace's company that was lacking everywhere else in Bella's new world of intrigue, fashion, and high society. Grace had a simple affection for Bella that had been borne back before the girls had reached womanhood.

London seemed to fall over itself in pursuit of the woman Bella had become under Aunt Nellie's tutelage, but Bella knew she had a place in Grace's heart far before she'd mastered the art of etiquette.

Simon, too, found his way into her world on more than one occasion. He tagged along with a few of her and Grace's outings and would appear in the drawing room at the Lyndon townhouse whenever she came to visit, if only for a short time. He never visited her own family home, though Grace came often enough. He gave no explanation for this, but Bella did not need one.

He wishes to keep me at arms' length, she reasoned with herself. He likely regrets how open he was with me in the garden and wishes to restore us to a proper place of friendship. This she was willing to do, or at least she tried to convince herself she was.

One day, nearly two weeks into her return to London, Bella met Grace for a stroll in the park outside the Lyndon house. She had promised her mother that she would make a brief appearance at a picnic hosted there but, upon hearing that there was to be another eligible young gentleman in attendance, had stopped by to enlist Grace as a support.

"Who is this young man?" Grace asked, beaming with interest.

"I have only met him once, at a dinner party my parents held last week," Bella said, unable to hold back a sigh. "He is Lord Bryce, a man my father seems to see as a worthy match for his own title. I did not find him very engaging, but I confess I was not trying very hard."

"Is he terribly plain?" Grace asked, frowning. "Or foppish?"

"No, not at all." Bella paused to retie her bonnet string. She was dressed in pale green muslin and had a thick green ribbon to match. "He was handsome enough, by the standards most girls would admire, but he had no kindness about him. He went on and on about the hunt, and how there is a certain thrill that all gentlemen feel when they kill an animal after a long search."

Grace shrugged. "Gentlemen like hunting. I don't think that is a very distinct quality against poor Lord Bryce. It is the fashionable thing to do."

"Your brother doesn't hunt," Bella pointed out, turning away from Grace before her friend could see her blush. She hoped the other girl wouldn't notice the comparison Bella had inadvertently made between Simon and her suitor. It was a frustrating little thing Bella's mind kept doing, entirely without her agreement. Whenever she met a new man, she couldn't help comparing the poor gentleman to the man who engaged most of her thoughts, even now.

Grace, for her part, did not seem to notice. "There are a good many fashionable things that Simon doesn't do," she said. "It doesn't mean that other gentleman can't indulge every now and again."

"And what of you?" Bella changed the subject quickly. "What of your suitors? Are there any that have particularly captured your fancy? A gentleman who seeks you out at every ball?"

She meant it only as a diversion, but Grace's silence and immediate blush let her know that her guess was closer than she'd meant it to be.

"Oh," she said, stopping and smiling at Grace. "There is a gentleman, isn't there?"

Grace shook her head but couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto her pretty face. "It's too early to tell, of course. It has only been a few weeks since we first met at Lady Ellory's ball. He was masked as a hound, which I found terribly dull, but when we danced together, he made me laugh the entire time."

"Who is this gentleman?" Bella pressed.

"Anthony Seville, the Earl of Thistle." Grace said his name as though it was a prayer. "Do you know him?"

Bella had to think hard to recall his face, but knew he was one of the men who had paraded through her parents' dinner parties. In her memory, he was a charming enough gentleman, quite tall and a little gangly, who had spoken to her with kindness but distance in his voice. Now she knew why.

"And you have confirmation of his affections?"

"Oh, nothing like that." Grace waved her hand and giggled nervously. "No, he has not declared himself in any fashion, but I find him quite attentive whenever we meet in public, and he stopped by the house two days past for tea with my mother and I."

Bella beamed at her friend. "That is attentive indeed. I do not know many gentlemen who submit to tea with mothers barring an attachment of some sort."

Grace bit her lip. "I don't want to run into anything too soon," she confessed. "I see all these girls around me choosing the first gentlemen to turn their way, and once the chase is done the man loses interest."

"I doubt that will be the case with you," Bella said, urging her friend on deeper into the park. "You are just the sort of young lady who gets better with time. I should know. I have been your friend since before we were fine ladies, and each year only makes you dearer to me."

"Simon likes him well enough," Grace offered cheerfully. "He says that the young man has a good reputation for avoiding the gambling tables and is never caught gossiping about girls the way some men are. He asked Lord Anthony on a ride just yesterday, and I believe the two had a good time."

"I'm sure that is very reassuring to you," Bella said. She wished Simon's name did not have such an effect on her. She had to work hard to hide the way her heart beat faster, and the warm blush that threatened to creep into her cheeks at the thought of him.

"I could never truly care for a gentleman that my family didn't approve of," Grace said, smiling and pulling Bella's arm a little closer to her, as they made their way towards the picnic spread under a weeping willow in the distance.

Bella had nothing to say to that last comment. She knew Grace's family and understood why their opinion mattered. They had always been loving and supportive and, on more than one occasion, they had encouraged Grace to pursue gentlemen with whom she was well-matched. For Bella, she had no such faith in her parents. She hardly knew them after all these years, and trusted their judgement even less, and yet she found herself entirely reliant upon their decision when it came to her future husband. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, and for a moment, the old rebellious Bella tried to raise her head.

Bella pushed her down—back where she belonged. You always got me in trouble, she thought of her younger self. I've put you behind me forever.

As she neared the group beneath the tree, she recognized Lord Bryce and her parents first. They were seated nearest her, lounging back on elaborate pillows and sipping from crystal glasses.

There were a few others in attendance, young people who were likely friends of Lord Bryce's along for an afternoon of socializing and pleasant company, but Bella did not have time to meet them before Lord Bryce leapt to his feet and loped to her side, bowing and smiling.

"What a joy it is to see you today, Lady Isabella," he gushed. "I knew we would be blessed with your company, but I had not guessed it would be so soon. Your friend, I presume?"

"Miss Lyndon," Bella said by way of introduction.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Lord Bryce said dismissively, his eyes on Bella instead of Grace. He smiled a wide, flat smile that seemed entirely for show. "We were just discussing the climate in Northern England. I would be interested to know how it compares to your weather in Ireland."

What a fascinating subject, Bella thought sarcastically. "I'm glad I arrived in time to weigh in on the matter," she said, trying not to be as stiff as she felt.

"If you had arrived any sooner, I would not have wished it on you," Lord Bryce added in a low, conspiratorial voice. "There was a dreadful preponderance of squirrels in the tree overhead, and I had to throw stones at them to dispatch them. It was not an environment suited to a young lady."

He turned and walked back to the blanket, giving Bella a moment to raise her eyebrows at Grace as if to say, "Oh look—more animal cruelty."

Grace rolled her eyes and patted Bella's hand gently to calm her.

When they came up to the blanket, however, all thoughts of the squirrels, Irish weather, and Lord Bryce were driven from Bella's mind. Sitting enthroned on a scarlet cushion, dressed in deep navy, was the last person Bella had expected to see this day. She had never met the woman in person, but had seen her at Lady Ellory's and, even without the masked attire, would have recognized her regal form anywhere.

"Lady O'Mara," she said, the words bursting forth from her mouth without her thinking.

Amelia Lafleche raised her eyes slowly, as though bored with the new introduction, glancing up from beneath dark eyelashes to fix her gaze on Bella. She was even more beautiful up close, her black hair coming to a widow's peak in the center of her forehead and then pulled back into a cascade of curls from the crown of her head to her shoulder.

Her navy dress was heavily trimmed with gold cord, and cut low to show off a stunning neck and more bosom than most women in London would feel comfortable revealing. Bella had heard that she was a woman of the world, but she had not expected her to be so exotic and confident. Even before she spoke, there was something enchanting about her, as though she was pulling the people around her into a carefully spun web.

She raised a dark eyebrow, as though confused. "You know me," she said in a low voice, "but I'm afraid I don't have the pleasure. Have we met?"

"No," Bella said, feeling foolish. "Not officially."

"This is my daughter," Lady Collingwood intoned, "Lady Isabella."

"Ah." Amelia's dark eyes flit to Grace, and then back to Bella. "You are acquainted with the Lyndon family, I believe?"

"Yes," Bella said, thinking that the presence of Grace at her side would have communicated as much. "We are long-time friends."

"These friendships are fashioned in childhood," Lord Collingwood hastened to say, as though he considered his connection with the viscount to be something embarrassing. "You know how it is, Lady O'Mara."

"I'm afraid I don't," Amelia answered, rosebud lips curling into a sardonic smile. "I did not have many friends in childhood. My parents were fastidious about my education from an early age, and I had little time for anything else." She tilted her head to one side, examining Bella as though she was an insect impaled on a display case of felt. "You are the daughter who has been adrift in Ireland for years, are you not?"

Bella hated how small and childish she felt beside this woman. "I have been gone these past five years," she acknowledged.

"Ah, that is regrettable." Amelia sat back, as though bored with the conversation. "You have missed much in London during your absence. It will take some time to catch you up on all of it, I'm sure. Do you think Miss Lyndon here is up to the task?"

Grace, who had remained silent during the entirety of this conversation, tensed at Bella's side. For whatever reason, Grace did not like Amelia—that much was clear. Bella made a mental note to ask her friend later what she disliked about the woman.

For Bella's own part, she could not see how a woman like this—who was beautiful, fashionable, and mysterious—could have failed to win Simon's heart. There must be more to the story than he shares, she thought numbly, as she took a seat on the picnic blanket between Grace and the amorous Lord Bryce. I cannot believe Simon was as immune to Amelia's charms as he claims.

She could not think of a single man who could be in the presence of such a creature and not lose at least a little part of his heart. Even Lord Bryce, who was at the picnic in pursuit of Bella's attentions, kept sneaking glances at the other woman's stunning profile. Bella did not mind losing Lord Bryce's attention, but the thought of Simon staring at the lovely Lady O'Mara put a sour taste in her mouth.

As if reading her thoughts, Grace shifted at her side and said in a low voice, "Simon?"

Blushing, Bella looked quickly at her friend. "I beg your pardon?"

Grace wasn't looking at her or Amelia, however. Instead, she was looking beyond them to an approaching figure. "I do believe…" she said slowly, "that my brother is approaching."