Dancing At Midnight

'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 taleget?' 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 theton. 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.'

Belle's eyes narrowed. 'This isn't one of your Smythe-Smith cousins again, is it?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'I thought I told you that I would never attend another one of their recitals. After the last one, I am convinced that I know exactly how Mozart would sound if performed by a herd of sheep.'

'What can you expect when you've been cursed with a name like Smythe-Smith? At any rate, you haven't much choice. We've already decided that you've got to get out and about, and I don't see any other invitations coming your way.' 'How kind of you to point that out.' 'I'll take that as a yes and come by to escort you tonight. And don't look so glum. I suspect this beau of yours will come sailing into town any day now, and then you'll be saved from all future butcheries of music.'

'He won't show up for at least two weeks, actually, because Emma is acting as my chaperone until my parents return from Italy. She can't very well be in two places at once, and anyway, I doubt he'd believe I've fallen in love with someone else so quickly. I'm afraid you're stuck with my company for a fortnight. Provided, of course, that I don't have to attend any more musicales.'

'I would never be so cruel. Until tonight, then, Belle.' With a rakish smile, Dunford rose, bowed smartly, and left the room. Belle sat on the sofa for several minutes after his departure, wondering why she couldn't have fallen in love with him instead of John. It would make matters ever so much simpler. Well, maybe not that much simpler, as Dunford wasn't the least bit in love with her, at least not above the love of one friend to another.

Belle rose and headed up the stairs, wondering if she had set herself on the right course of action. Failure would be exquisitely painful, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't at least try to carve out a life with John. She'd just have to wait a couple of weeks.

Chapter 10

As it happened, Belle did not have to wait two weeks to set Dunford's plan into motion. Precisely one week after she and Emma arrived in London, Alex strode purposefully through the front door with a slightly plump, middle-aged lady scurrying at his heels.

Belle happened to be walking through the hall when he burst into the house. 'Oh my,' she breathed, observing the commotion with an amused eye.

'Where is my wife?' Alex demanded.

'Upstairs, I think,' Belle replied.

'Emma!' he called loudly. 'Emma, get down here.'

Within seconds Emma appeared at the top of the stairs. 'Alex?' she said disbelievingly. 'What on earth are you doing here? And who might your, er, guest be?'

'Your one week is up,' he stated flatly. 'I'm fetching you home.'

'But-'

'And this,' Alex cut her off forcefully and motioned to the lady at his side, 'is my great-aunt Persephone who has kindly agreed to act as Belle's chaperone.'

Belle surveyed Persephone's disheveled appearance and decidedly harried expression and wondered if the lady had had any choice in the matter. After shifting her gaze to Alex's determined visage, she decided that Persephone most assuredly hadn't.

'Persephone?' Emma echoed weakly.