Dancing at Midnight

Belle didn't-know whether to thank Dunford or throttle him. At this rate Dawes would be too drunk to perform the ceremony. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her brother, who was looking at her with concern. "Are you certain you want to do this?" he was saying. "Who is this man?"

Alex stepped forward and tapped Ned on the shoulder. "He's a good man," he said softly. Beside him, Emma nodded vigorously.

"Do you love him?" Ned asked.

"Yes," Belle whispered. "With all my heart."

Ned looked her in the eye, trying to gauge the depth of her feelings. "Very well, then. I apologize for the interruption," he said loudly. "But we're going to have to start over from the beginning, because I want to give my sister away."

"See here, young man! We're already more than halfway through," Dawes barked. "I'm a busy man."

"You're a red-faced drunk," Belle muttered to herself.

"Did you say something?" Dawes said, blinking vigorously. He turned to Dunford, whom he now perceived as an ally, and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Did she say something?"

Dunford carefully disengaged himself from the priest's grasp. "Don't worry, good fellow, you'll get paid extra for your troubles. I'll see to it."

Belle and Ned hurried up the stairs and had just reached the top when they heard Dawes say, "Is she going to play the piano again?" A loud whacking sound followed, the origin of which Belle didn't want to know.

Within seconds, Persephone began playing the piano with a vengeance, and Belle began her second procession of the day down the stairs to get married.

"You look beautiful," Ned whispered.

"Thank you." Belle smiled at his words, deeply touched. She and her brother loved one another dearly, but it was a bickering sort of love, not a complimenting one. When Belle reached the drawing room again, John's eyes were still shining at her with love and pride, but this time she also saw a trace of humor. She smiled back at him, a silly little half-smile to tell him that she didn't care that her wedding had fallen into a shambles. She only wanted him.

The ceremony proceeded remarkably smoothly considering the earlier mishaps. Persephone even stopped pounding the piano promptly when Dawes groaned, "Dearly beloved."

In due time John and Belle were man and wife.

There was much cheering when they kissed, although Dunford later remarked that he clapped more for the fact that the ceremony had actually made it through to the end than he had for the couple's happiness.

After the customary congratulations and requisite kissing of the bride by all the male guests (there were only three; it didn't take very long), Ned looked brightly at his sister and asked, "Where is the reception? I'm famished."

Belle's face fell. She'd forgotten all about a reception. And to think that she'd been complaining to herself because she hadn't anything to do. But then again, even though she was aglow with happiness over having finally married the man of her dreams, she felt that a celebration tonight would feel more like a dinner party than a wedding reception.

"Belle decided to put off a reception," John cut in smoothly, "until your parents get home. She felt that your mother would prefer it that way."

Ned thought that his mother would have preferred it if Belle had also held off on the wedding ceremony, but he held his tongue. He smiled blandly at his new brother-in-law and then finally asked the question which had been foremost on his mind all evening. "Just exactly how did you and my sister meet?"

"I've recently bought property near Ashbourne's holdings at Westonbirt," John replied. "We met there."

"And he fought with Alex on the Peninsula," Belle added. "They were good friends."

Ned looked at John with new respect.

"Speaking of the war," Alex suddenly put in, "you'll never guess who I saw from my carriage as we arrived."

John turned to face him. "Who?"

"George Spencer."

Belle felt John's fingers tighten on her arm. He appeared as if he were about to say something, but no sound emerged from his mouth.

"Surely you remember him," Alex said.

"Who is George Spencer?" Belle asked.

"Just an old acquaintance," John said quickly.

Alex leaned down and dropped a fraternal kiss on Belle's cheek. "I believe we were about to leave the newlyweds to their own devices." He smiled at Emma, who immediately made motions as if to leave.

John waylaid him, however, placing a firm hand on his arm. "Actually, Ashbourne," he said in a low voice. "Could I have a word alone with you before you leave?"

Alex nodded, and the two men went off into the library.

John shut the door behind them. "I'm not certain if you ever knew the full story about George Spencer."

Alex cocked his head. "I know you forced him to desert the army."

" After I shot him."

"Excuse me?"

"In the ass."

Alex walked over to a nearby table, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and then downed it in one gulp. "Any particular reason?"

"He was raping a young Spanish girl. A girl I had sworn to protect."

Alex swore softly, and his knuckles grew white around the glass.

"If it really was George Spencer loitering outside," John said caustically, "I don't think it was because he wanted to offer his best wishes to the bride and groom."

Alex raised a brow. "Is there more to this story?"

John weighed out the advantages and disadvantages of telling Alex about his plight. The last thing he wanted to do was drag a man with a wife and a baby on the way into a potentially deadly situation. But then again, he had a wife, and given his plans for the near future, he rather thought a baby might be forthcoming fairly soon. The weight of these new responsibilities bore down on him, and he remembered Belle's words from just a few days earlier.