Dancing at Midnight

"Still kissing," Belle said, interpreting her signal correctly.

"Their behavior is not exactly, er, polite. Especially with a young unmarried lady in the vicinity." She looked over at Belle and smiled. "I've never been a chaperone before. How did I sound?"

"Not nearly stern enough."

"Was I not?"

"No, but I much prefer you this way. And don't worry about them." Belle flicked her head over her shoulder at the passionate couple on the second floor landing. "They are usually much more circumspect. I expect it is just that they missed each other. They've been apart for a week, you know."

"Well, I suppose we will have to excuse them. They certainly do love each other."

"Yes, they do," Belle said softly, and then she knew that she was doing the right thing about John because she really wanted someone in her life who loved and desired her so much that he would kiss her for five minutes straight in front of eight witnesses. And it stood to reason, of course, that the man in question would have to be someone she would also want so desperately that she would return the kiss, onlookers be damned.

Belle sighed. It would have to be John. She suddenly realized, however, that she hadn't yet told Emma about the plan. "Oh dear," she blurted out. She had to find a moment alone with her before Alex dragged her off to Westonbirt, and at the rate they were going, they would be joined at the lips the entire way back.

"Is something wrong?" Persephone inquired.

"Oh dear." Belle darted up the stairs and grabbed Emma's hand out of Alex's hair. "So sorry, Alex, it looked like fun, but I've got to speak with Emma. It's quite important." She gave Emma a rather vigorous tug. Alex had fallen into some kind of passion-induced haze, and it was probably this weakness which allowed Belle to pull Emma out of his embrace. Within seconds, the two women were ensconced in Emma's bedroom. Belle quickly locked the door. "I need you to do something for me," she said.

Emma just stared at her blankly, still quite dazed from Alex's passionate kiss.

Belle snapped her fingers a couple of times in front of her cousin's face. "Hello? Wake up! You're not being kissed anymore."

"What? Oh, sorry. What do you need?"

Belle quickly laid out her plan. Emma wasn't certain that it would work but said that she'd play her part. "Just one thing," she added. "Is he really going to believe that you've gotten over him so quickly?"

"I don't know, but if he does come to London, he'll soon learn that I have not been sitting here like a sad lump. Dunford's been making sure that I've been introduced to any number of eligible bachelors. Three earls last week and one marquess, I think. It's really quite surprising how many people are here in London during the offseason."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Belle confessed with a sigh. "But I don't know what else to do."

***
John threw himself into his work at Bletchford Manor, overseeing renovations on the house, and even helping out on one or two of them. The physical labor was oddly soothing; occasionally he even managed to think about something other than Belle.

The work on his house and the surrounding lands kept him busy during the day, and he tried to devote his evenings to financial matters, eager to rebuild the funds he had used to purchase Bletchford Manor. But as evening melted into night, he found that his thoughts strayed to the blond maiden who was presently residing three hours away in London. She certainly had wasted no time in getting as far away from him as possible.

He couldn't stop himself from recalling every moment he'd spent in her company, and each scene he played out in his head was like a small dagger to his heart. He woke up nearly every night hard and aroused, and he knew that he'd been dreaming about her. He thought briefly about heading to a nearby village to find a woman who could satisfy his ache but gave up the idea, realizing that no woman could make him feel better. No woman besides Belle, at least.

He was surprised when Buxton announced that the Duchess of Ashbourne had arrived. You will not ask her about Belle, he told himself as he went to the blue salon to greet her.

"Hello, your grace," he said politely. Emma looked in fine spirits, and her hair seemed especially bright.

"I thought I told you to call me Emma," she scolded.

"Sorry. Habit, I guess."

"How have you been?"

"Fine. How's Belle?" If he could have kicked himself without the duchess noticing, he would have done so. Hard.

Emma smiled slyly as she realized that Belle's plan was going to be a resounding success. "She's doing quite well, actually."

"Good. I'm happy for her." And he was, he supposed, although it would have been nice if she had pined for him just a little bit.

"She's thinking about getting married, actually."

"What?"

Emma found herself wishing that she had some way of capturing John's expression, for truly it was priceless. "I said she's thinking about getting married."

"I heard you," John snapped.

Emma smiled again.

"And who is the lucky man?"

"She wouldn't tell me, actually. She just said that it was someone she met in London last week. An earl, I think, or maybe it was a marquess. She's been going to quite a number of parties."

"Obviously." John didn't even make an effort to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"She seems to be enjoying herself."

"She certainly wasted no time in finding herself a man," he said peevishly.

"Well, you know how it is."