Dancing at Midnight

"What-as opposed to a woman?" Belle snapped. "Of course it's a man."

"Well, I could have been completely off the mark. Your favorite spaniel could have died."

"I don't have a spaniel," Belle said peevishly. "It's a man."

"Doesn't he return your affections?"

"No." Her voice was heartbreakingly sad.

"Are you certain?"

"I have reason to believe that he"- Belle chose her words carefully-"cares for me, but he feels that he cannot act on that emotion."

"Sounds like a chap with a little too much honor for his own good."

"Something like that."

"Out of curiosity, Belle, just what is it about this fellow that has you so enamored of him?"

Her face immediately softened. "I don't know, Dunford. I really don't. He has this marvelous sense of honor. And humor, too. He teases me, not in a malicious way, of course, and lets me tease him back. And there is something so good in him. He can't see it, but I can. Oh, Dunford, he needs me."

Dunford was silent for a moment. "I'm sure that all is not lost. We can make him come about."

"We?"

He shot her a roguish smile. "This sounds like the most fun I've had in years."

"I'm not sure it's worth the effort."

"Of course it is."

"I'm not sure I want him back."

"Of course you do. Were you listening to your own words not thirty seconds ago?"

"I wish I were as confident as you are."

"Look, Belle, you've been telling me for the last two years that you want a love match. Are you really going to throw it all away over a little pride?"

"I could find somebody nice to marry," Belle said, rather unconvincingly. "I'm sure I could. Men ask me all the time. I wouldn't be unhappy."

"Maybe not. But you wouldn't be happy either."

Belle slumped. "I know."

"We'll set my plan into motion tonight."

"What exactly does this plan entail?"

"The way I see it, if this man-just what is his name, anyway?"

"John."

Dunford smirked. "Really, Belle, you can do better than that."

"No, really," Belle protested. "His name really is John. You can ask Emma."

"All right then, if this John fellow really does care for you, he's going to be blindingly jealous when he hears that you're planning to get married, even if he is trying to be noble by giving you up."

"An interesting plan, but who am I going to marry?"

"Me."

Belle shot him a look of utter disbelief. "Oh, please. "

"I didn't mean we would really get married," Dunford retorted. And then he added somewhat defensively, "And you don't have to sound quite so disgusted with the idea. I'm considered a reasonably good catch, you know. I simply meant that we could start a rumor that we were planning to wed. If John really wants you, it should do the trick."

"I don't know," Belle hedged. "What if he doesn't really want me? What then?"

"Why, you jilt me, of course."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not. It would do wonders for my social life, actually. I'd have scores of pretty little things coming by to offer me consolation."

"I think I'd rather leave you out of it. Perhaps we could just start a rumor that I'm planning to marry and not mention anyone in particular."

"And how far would that tale get?" Dunford countered. "Everyone in London is planning to marry. Your fellow would never hear of it, especially not if he's buried out in the country."

"No, but then again, he probably wouldn't hear any rumor no matter how juicy. He doesn't keep up with the comings and goings of the ton. The only way he'd find out we were planning to marry is if we put an announcement in the Times ."

Dunford paled at the thought.

"Just so," Belle replied. "The only way a rumor is going to reach him is if it's not really a rumor but rather a piece of information deliberately sent his way." She swallowed nervously, hardly able to believe that she was considering such a scheme. "Perhaps we could let Emma in on our plan. She could casually mention to John that I was planning to marry. I won't have her use your name. I won't have her mention any name at all-just tell him I'm about to announce an engagement."

"It won't look odd her just happening to drop by?"

"They're neighbors. There is nothing suspicious about her stopping by to say hello."

Dunford leaned back and smiled with glee, his even white teeth gleaming. "An excellent strategy, Arabella. And it saves me from having to pretend I'm in love with you."

She shook her head. "You're impossible."

"If your beau doesn't appear on the scene complete with white horse and shiny armor to carry you off into the sunset, well, then I'd have to say he probably wasn't worth his salt in the first place."

Belle wasn't completely sure about that, but she nodded anyway.

"In the meantime, we ought to get you out and about. This John fellow-what did you say his last name was?"

"I didn't."

Dunford raised an eyebrow but didn't press her for details. "What I was going to say is that your little lie isn't going to look very convincing if he finds out that you've been holing yourself up in this mausoleum since you arrived."

"No, I suppose not, but hardly anybody is in town now. There isn't very much to get out and about to."

"As it happens I've been invited to what is sure to be an exceedingly dreadful musicale tonight, and as the host is a distant relation of mine I have no way to get out of it."