Dancing at Midnight

John pushed down the guilt that bubbled within him. She didn't know his biggest secret, and he'd have to tell her eventually. But not now. He didn't have to tell her now. "Your hair is mussed," he said instead. "You might want to do something about that. I'll go back to the party first. I'm sure my brother is looking for me."

Belle nodded, and together they walked into the darkened hall. Before they parted ways, however, she took his hand. "John," she said softly. "What happens now? I have to know."

"What happens now?" he repeated with a jaunty grin. "Why, I court you. Isn't that what's supposed to happen next?"

She answered him with a smile and ran off.

When John reentered the drawing room he was not surprised to find his brother regarding him with a curious expression.

"Where did you disappear to?" Damien inquired.

"Just wanted to get some fresh air." If Damien had noted that Lady Arabella had left the room at the same time, he didn't mention it. "Why don't you introduce me to a few of your friends?" John suggested.

Damien nodded politely. Sometime while he was busy introducing John, Belle reappeared and made a beeline for Dunford.

"That was some exit," he said with a grin.

Belle flushed. "Nobody noticed, did they?"

Dunford shook his head. "I don't think so. I was just keeping an eye on you in case you needed any sort of rescuing. In the future, however, I'd keep my trysts to under five minutes were I you."

"Oh dear. How long was I, er, were we gone?"

"Longer than you'd intended, I'm sure. I set it about that you'd gotten something on your dress. All the ladies were properly sympathetic."

"You're priceless, Dunford." Belle grinned.

"Ah, there you are, Lady Arabella."

Belle turned to see Lord Westborough walking toward her. John was at his side, a knowing smile on his face.

"How nice to see you again, my lord," she murmured politely.

"And I believe you have already met my brother," Damien added. "Lord Blackwood."

"Yes, of course. We are well acquainted." Belle winced inwardly at her double-entendre and refused to look up at John, certain that she would be rewarded with a devilish grin. She was saved, however, from any potentially embarrassing conversation by the arrival of their hostess, Lady Forthright.

"Ah, Westborough," she shrilled. "I did not see you come in. And Lady Arabella, it is always a pleasure."

Belle smiled and bobbed a polite curtsy.

"And this must be your brother," Lady Forthright continued.

Damien nodded and introduced them. He then saw another friend and excused himself, leaving John and Belle in the clutches of their none too gentle hostess.

"Lord Blackwood? A baron, are you?" she queried. "Hmmm. I'm not familiar with the title."

Belle's insides clenched in anger. Lady Forthright had always been a meddlesome woman who tried to cover her lack of self-confidence by insulting others.

"It's a relatively new title, my lady," John said, his expression deliberately even.

"Just how new is 'relatively'?" She smiled coyly at her little joke and then looked to Belle to see if she also disdained this newcomer to their ranks. Belle answered her with a scowl that intensified when she realized that the room had grown a bit quieter in the last few moments. Dear Lord, didn't anyone have anything better to do than listen to Lady Forthright's inane babblings? And where had Damien gone? Shouldn't he defend his brother?

"A few years," John replied quietly. "I was honored for military service."

"I see." Lady Forthright drew herself up and squared her shoulders, preening for her audience. "Well, I'm sure you're very brave, but I cannot approve of this reckless handing out of titles. It wouldn't do for the peerage to get too-shall we say-undiscriminating."

"Lord Blackwood is the son of an earl," Belle said quietly.

"Oh, I do not fault his bloodlines," their hostess replied. "But we mustn't get like those Russians who give out titles to just about everybody. Did you know that if one is a Russian duke, all of one's sons get to be dukes as well? Before long the entire country is going to be overrun with dukes. It will be anarchy. Mark my words-that country is going to collapse, and it will be because of all those dukes."

"An interesting supposition," Belle said, her tone frosty.

Lady Forthright didn't seem to notice Belle's irritation. "I find all these new titles somewhat gauche, don't you?"

Belle heard indrawn breaths all around her as all her eavesdroppers waited for her reply. Damien wandered back to her side, and she gave him a tight smile. "I'm sorry, Lady Forthright," she said sweetly. "I am afraid I do not follow your meaning. Your husband is the fifth Viscount Forthright?"

"The sixth," she replied sharply. "And my father was the eighth Earl of Windemere."

"I see," Belle said slowly. "So then neither of them did anything to earn their titles other than simply being born?"

"I am certain that I misunderstand your implications, Lady Arabella. And may I remind you that your family's earldom goes back for several centuries?"

"Oh no, I assure you that I am well aware of that fact, Lady Forthright. And we regard the earldom as an important family honor. But my father is a good man precisely because he is a good man, not because he possesses an ancient title. And as for Lord Blackwood, I find his title all the more appealing because it represents the nobility of the man standing before you, not of some long-dead ancestor."