Dancing at Midnight
Page 40***
The next morning John woke up feeling not quite so sorry for himself, although he did have a headache distinctly worthy of pity, self or otherwise. He wasn't at all certain what he had dreamed about last night, but whatever it was, it had left him with the conviction that he wasn't going to sit around and watch Belle throw her life away on some dissolute earl.
That he did not know for certain that her possible fiance was an earl or that he was dissolute did not enter the picture. What if he beat her? What if he forbade her to read? John knew that he wasn't good enough for her, but he was no longer certain that anyone else was, either. John, at least, would try to make her happy. He would give her everything he had, give her every piece of his soul that was still intact.
Belle belonged with someone who would appreciate her wit and wisdom as well as her grace and beauty. He could just imagine her having to sneak books into the house behind the back of her disapproving aristocratic husband. He probably wouldn't even consult her on any important decisions, feeling that a woman could not be intelligent enough to offer a worthy opinion.
No, Belle needed him. He had to save her from a disastrous marriage. And then, he supposed, he'd simply marry her himself.
John wasn't unaware that he was about to pull one of the greatest about-faces in history. He could only hope that Belle would understand that he had realized she'd had been right all along. People made mistakes, didn't they? After all, he wasn't some infallible storybook hero.
***
"No, Persephone, I think you should stay away from lavender."
Belle and her companion had gone shopping. Persephone was eager to part with some of the ample funds given to her by Alex.
"I've always liked lavender, though. It's one of my favorite colors."
"What would you suggest?"
Belle smiled at the older woman as she fingered a bolt of dark green velvet and held it up under her chin. She was quite enjoying her time with Alex's maiden aunt, although it did at times seem that their roles were reversed. Persephone constantly asked for her opinion on all matters, from food to fashion to literature. She rarely left Yorkshire, she'd explained, and had no idea how to go about in London. Still, Persephone had a quick wit and an understated sense of humor which entertained Belle to no end.
But it wasn't Persephone's companionship which was bringing such a ready smile to Belle's face that afternoon. She had just received an urgent message from Emma instructing her to be ready for John's arrival any day now. Apparently he had not taken the news of her impending marriage well.
Good, Belle thought with not a little smugness. She shuddered to think how she would have reacted had someone brought her similar news of John. She probably would have wanted to scratch the offending woman's eyes out. And she was not normally a violent person.
"Do you really think this green will do the trick?" Persephone asked, frowning at the fabric.
Belle snapped out of her reverie. "Hmmm? Oh, yes. You've got such nice green flecks in your eyes. I think if 11 bring them out."
"Do you think so?" Persephone held up the bolt of velvet and looked in the mirror, tilting her head in a decidedly feminine manner.
"Hmm, maybe you're right. I do adore violets. I've always worn violet scented perfume."
Persephone's interest sufficiently engaged, Belle wandered over to Madame Lambert, the not entirely French proprietress of the shop.
"Ah, Lady Arabella," she gushed. "Eet eez so good to see you again. We have not seen you for many months."
"I've been out in the country," Belle replied congenially. "But if I might ask you a private question?"
Madame Lambert's blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and, undoubtedly, the prospect that Belle's request would somehow make her a mint of money. "Yes?"
"I need a gown. A very special gown. Two very special gowns, actually. Or perhaps three." Belle frowned as she contemplated her forthcoming purchase. She needed to look ravishing when John came to London. Unfortunately, she had no idea when he would arrive, or even-banish the thought-if he would arrive.
"Zat should not be a problem, my lady."
"I see, my lady." Madame Lambert smiled knowingly. "You perhaps wish to attract a particular gentleman. I will make you ravishing. Now when do you need zese gowns?"
"Tonight?" Belle's answer was more of a question than a reply.
"My Gawd!" Madame Lambert shrieked, completely forgetting her accent. "I am good but I cannot perform miracles!"
"Will you be quiet?" Belle whispered urgently, looking nervously around. She liked Persephone, but she didn't think that she needed to know that her charge was planning a seduction. "I only need one of them tonight. The rest can wait. At least until tomorrow. It shouldn't be that difficult. You have all my measurements. I assure you I haven't grown fat since our last meeting."
"You ask a great deal, my lady."
"If I weren't absolutely convinced that you could do it, I wouldn't have asked. After all, I could have gone over to Madame Laroche." Belle smiled and let the words hang in the air.
Madame Lambert sighed dramatically and said, "I have a gown. Eet was for another lady. Well, not a lady exactly." At Belle's horrified expression, she hastened to add, "But she had exquisite taste, I assure you. She, er, lost her source of funds and could not pay for eet. With a few minor alterations, I think eet will fit you."