Dancing At Midnight

Chapter 11

John felt as if he'd been hit. The air grew stifling, and Damien's face took on an undeservedly sinister expression. "I am familiar with Lady Arabella," he finally managed to get out. He took bittersweet pleasure in the fact that his voice sounded almost normal.

"How nice," Damien said mildly. "She'll be at the party this evening."

"I shall be pleased to renew her acquaintance."

"Good. I shall let you get settled in. Lightbody here will show you to your room. I'll stop by later to fill you in on this evening's details." Damien smiled blandly and left the room.

The butler entered with quick and silent efficiency and informed John that his belongings had been removed to a guest chamber upstairs. Still in a daze, John followed the butler to his room, where he proceeded to lie on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and let fury take over his entire being.

His brother? His brother?He'd never dreamed that Belle had this kind of malicious streak. He willed himself to clear his mind of her; he was getting far too upset, and she obviously wasn't worth it.

He wasn't successful. Every time he managed to steer his thoughts to food or horses or anything neutral, a familiar blond head and bright smile intervened. Then the smile melted into a sneer as he watched her cavort off with his brother.

Damn that woman!

When it was time to get ready for the party, John dressed with exceptional care in evening clothes of stark black relieved only by the crisp whiteness of his shirt and cravat. He and his brother exchanged polite conversation in the carriage, but John was much too preoccupied by the thought of seeing Belle again to pay very much attention to Damien. He didn't fault his brother for falling for her; he was only too familiar with her charms. But he was furious with Belle for deliberately seeking out such a vicious revenge against him.

When they arrived at the Forthright mansion, John allowed the butler to relieve him of his great coat and immediately scanned the room for Belle. She was over by the corner, animatedly talking to a tall, handsome man with dark hair and eyes. She had certainly been busy in the two weeks since their last meeting, he thought bitterly. Damien's attention was immediately captured by a friend of his, and since their hostess was nowhere to be found, John managed to avoid long, belabored introductions. He made his way over to Belle, willing himself to keep his raging anger in check. When he was just behind her, he said, "Good evening, Lady Arabella," not quite trusting himself to say anything more.

Belle whirled around, so excited to see him that she missed the coldness in his voice. "John!" she said breathlessly, her eyes lighting up with unconcealed happiness. "What a surprise." He had come. He had come. Relief and joy washed over her, then were replaced by irritation. Damn, she hadn't worn that daring blue dress. She'd never dreamed he'd arrive in London so quickly.

"Is it?"

Belle blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Perhaps you should introduce me to your friend." John wanted nothing other than to speak to her alone, but he saw no way to ignore the man at her side.

"Oh, of course," Belle said, stumbling on her words. "Lord Blackwood, this is my good friend Mr. William Dunford."

Dunford smiled at her in a manner that was much too familiar for John's taste. "Didn't know you knew my first name, Belle," he teased.

"Oh, hush, Dunford. Next time I'm going to call you Edward, just to be contrary."

A fresh spurt of jealousy raced through John at Belle and Dunford's familiarity. Nevertheless, he automatically extended his hand. Dunford shook it, murmured a greeting and then politely excused himself. Once Dunford left, however, John allowed his true emotions to come to the surface.

Belle gasped and actually stepped back from the sheer fury she saw radiating from his eyes. "John, what is wrong?"

"How could you, Belle?" he spat out. "How could you?"

She blinked. She had expected jealousy, not this barely leashed rage. "How could I what?"

"Don't play the innocent. It doesn't suit you."

"What are you talking about?" Belle repeated, her voice growing nervous.

He only glared at her.

Then she remembered the lie that Emma had told him in order to get him to come to London. Maybe he thought that she and Dunford… "Is this about Dunford?" she asked quickly. "Because if it is, then there is nothing to worry about. He's quite an old friend of mine, but that is all. He's Alex's best friend, too."

"This isn't about him," John hissed. "It's about my brother."

"Who!"

"You heard me."

"Your brother?"

John nodded curtly.

"I don't even know your brother."

"If you keep up your lies, Belle, they're going to trip you up. And believe me, I'm not going to be around to catch you when you fall."

Belle swallowed. "I think we had better continue this conversation in private." Head held high, she swept out of the room and onto a balcony. By the time she reached her destination, some of her confusion had metamorphosed into anger, and when she turned to face him, her eyes were flashing wildly. "All right then, Lord Blackwood. Now that we are no longer performing before an audience, suppose you tell me just what that little scene was about."

"You are in no position to make demands on me, my lady."

"I assure you, I was not made aware of any such limitations on my behavior."

John seethed. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Shake her and shake her and shake her and then he… Oh Christ, he wanted to kiss her. But John was not in the habit of kissing people in anger so he simply stared her down and said, "I realize that my behavior toward you has not always been impeccable, but setting your cap after my brother is petty and childish. Not to mention disgusting-he's almost twice your age."

Belle still wasn't certain what precisely he was talking about, but she was in no mood to offer him any explanations so she lifted her chin and replied, "It's quite common for women of the ton to marry older men. I believe women mature faster, and thus we find men our age,or sometimes as much as eight to ten years older"-she said that part quite pointedly-"childish and bothersome."

"Are you calling me childish and bothersome?" His voice was low and deadly serious.

"I don't know. Was I? Now, if you'll excuse me, I am finding this conversation exceedingly childish and bothersome, and I have much better ways to spend my time."

John caught her in an iron grip. "I don't excuse you, thank you very much, and I have no better way to spend my time. I have one question for you, and I want it answered." He paused, and his silence forced Belle to look up into his eyes. "Have you always been this deliberately cruel?"

Belle yanked her arm back. "I'd slap you," she hissed. "But I'm afraid your cheek might contaminate my hand."

"I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you hurt me. But, my lady, it was only for a minute. Because then I realized that I want no part of any woman who would stoop to consorting with my brother just to have revenge against me."

Belle finally let her exasperation show. "For the last time, John, I have no idea who your brother is."

"Well, that's interesting, because he knows who you are."

"Lots of people know who I am."

John put his face very close to hers. "He's thinking about marrying you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Belle blinked in surprise as some of her anger dissipated in the confusion of the moment. "Well, I suppose that a number of men have thought about marrying me," she said thoughtfully. "But that doesn't mean that they have all asked me. And it certainly doesn't mean that I have reciprocated their feelings."

For a moment John wanted to believe her but then he remembered Emma's words. She's thinking of getting married… An earl, I think… Actually, she said he reminded her of you. "Don't try to talk your way out of this one, little girl," he warned.

"Little girl? Little girl! Contamination be damned, I think I will slap you!"

Belle raised her hand but John caught it easily. "You haven't my instincts, Belle," he said silkily. "You could never win a battle between us."

His air of condescension was just the spark to set Belle's anger into full-fledged fury. "Let me tell you a thing or two, Lord Blackwood," she raged, pulling her hand back. "First of all, I don't know who your brother is, and second of all, even if I did want to marry him, I fail to see why that would have anything to do with you, since you have made it abundantly clear that you want nothing at all to do with me. Thirdly, I see no reason why I would ever have to explain my actions to you of all people. So, fourthly-"

"Stop at three, Belle," John smirked. "You're losing my interest."

Belle shot him her best attempt at a sneer and raised her hand as if she were going to try to slap him again. His interest sufficiently engaged, she stomped mightily on his foot. John didn't even wince. She hadn't thought he would; her slippers were not made out of especially hard material. Still, her spirits were buoyed by her small victory, and she scoffed, "Your instincts are getting old, John."

"If you want to inflict real damage, get some sturdy shoes, Belle. And they might save you from another blister next time you go for a hike."

Belle swallowed as she remembered how gently John had cared for her foot. It was difficult to reconcile that tender man with the sardonic and insulting one standing in front of her now. With a deliberately impatient sigh, she looked him in the eye and said, "I would like to go back to the party. So if you would kindly step aside…"

John didn't budge. "Who are you thinking about marrying?"

Belle groaned to herself as her lies came back to haunt her. "None of your business," she snapped.

"I said, who are you thinking about marrying?"

"And I said, it's none of your business."

John leaned forward. "Not the Earl of Westborough by any chance?"

Belle's eyes bugged out. "He'syour brother?"

She really didn't know they were related. No one could fake that expression. But John wanted to be absolutely certain, and so he said, "His surname didn't clue you in?"

"I only met him last week. I don't know his surname. He was simply introduced to me as the Earl of Westborough. And before you accuse me of any other heinous crimes, let me tell you that I only knew that your father was an earl because Alex told me. I had no idea which one."

John didn't say anything, just stood there silently judging her. Belle found his behavior extremely irritating and said, "Although now that you mention it, he does look a bit like you. Slightly more handsome, perhaps, and he doesn't limp."

John ignored her insult, recognizing it for what it was: a mindless jibe from one wounded animal to another. "You really didn't know he was my brother?"

"No! I swear to you!" And then Belle felt as if she were acting like she was begging his forgiveness when she hadn't done anything wrong, so she said, "But that doesn't change any of my plans."

"Plans? To marry him?"

"I'll inform you of my plans when I see fit." I hope I inform myself of my plans when I see fit, Belle thought wildly, because I haven't any idea what I'm saying.

John's hands clamped down on her shoulders. "Who are you planning to marry?"

"I'm not telling."

"You sound like a three-year-old."

"You're treating me like one."

"I'm only going to ask you one more time," John warned softly, his face approaching hers.

"You have no right to talk to me like this," Belle whispered. "Not after you-"

"For God's sake, Belle, don't throw that in my face again. I've already admitted that I've treated you badly. But I have to know. Don't you understand that? I have to know!" John's eyes blazed with passion. "Who are you planning to marry?"

Belle saw the desperation in his face and her resolve shattered. "No one!" she burst out. "No one! It was a lie! Just a lie to get you to come to London because I missed you." John's grip slackened with surprise, and she quickly jumped away and turned her back to him. "Now I'm completely humiliated. I hope you're satisfied."

John stared openmouthed at her back as her words sunk in. She still cared for him. The knowledge was a balm on his aching heart. But he did not for one moment appreciate the torture she'd put him through, and he fully intended to tell her that. "I do not like being manipulated," he said in a low voice.

Belle spun around, completely infuriated. "You don't like being manipulated? That's all you can say? You don't like being manipulated. Well, let me tell you something. I don't like being insulted. And I have found your behavior extremely insulting." She swept past him, her back ramrod straight, and her head held with a dignity she did not feel.

John was still so stunned by her unbelievable confession that her movement caught him by surprise, and he just barely caught hold of her fingertips when he tried to stop her. "Belle," he said, his voice ragged with emotion. "Please don't go."

Belle could have easily left the balcony; his grip on her was tenuous at best. But something in his hoarse voice compelled her to turn around, and once she did, she was spellbound by the fierce longing in his eyes. Her mouth went dry, and she forgot how to breathe. She had no idea how long she stood there, her gaze captured by this man who had come to mean so much to her. "John," she whispered. "I don't know what you want."

"I want you."

His words hung heavily in the air as Belle's heart begged her head to let herself believe him. What did he mean-he wanted her. Did he just want to touch her, to kiss her? She already knew that he was strongly attracted to her; he'd never been able to hide that, just as it had been quite obvious that she felt the same way.

Or did he want her in his life? As his friend, companion, or even his wife. Belle was terrified to ask the question. He'd already broken her heart once; she was not especially eager to let him do so again.

John saw the hesitation in her clear blue eyes and hated himself for having made her so wary. It was time to tell her how much he cared for her, he knew that. But his own fears held him back, and instead he said softly, "May I kiss you?"

Belle slowly nodded and stepped forward as John reached out and took her other hand in his. An overwhelming shyness washed over her, and she dropped her gaze.

"Don't look away," he whispered, moving his hand to her chin. He gently tilted her face up as he closed the distance between them. "You're so, so beautiful. And so kind and good and smart and funny and-"

"Stop!"

His nose was now resting on hers. "Why?"

"It's too much," she replied tremulously.

"No. No, it's not. It will never be too much."

He tilted his face so that his lips could gently brush over hers, and Belle felt a shiver of excitement rush through her. They continued in that way for a long minute, their lips just barely touching, until John could bear it no longer, and he crushed her to him.

"Oh God, Belle, I've been so, so stupid," he groaned. He didn't kiss her, just held her next to him as if he could somehow imprint her body on his. He clutched her tightly, hoping that some of her gentle goodness and courage would infuse into him. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you," he whispered raggedly. "It was the one thing I'd never meant to do."

"Shhh," Belle broke in. She couldn't bear to listen to him torture himself. "Just kiss me. Please. You see, I've been thinking about it for days, and I-"

John needed no further urging, and this kiss was as fierce as the first had been gentle. He devoured her hungrily, drinking her in as he murmured nonsensical words of love and desire. His hands were everywhere, and Belle wanted them everywhere, wanted him more than she'd ever imagined, more than she could ever understand. She sank her hands into his thick hair, marveling at the texture of it even as his lips slid down her neck to the base of her throat.

"I can't believe this," she moaned.

"What?" he managed to ask between nips.

"This. Everything. The way you make me feel. The-Oh!" Belle let out a whispered shriek as his mouth traveled to the sensitive skin just behind her ear.

"What else can't you believe?" he asked devilishly.

"That I want you to keep on kissing me," she answered in a feverish voice. "And that there is a party still going on in the next room."

Belle's words had an unintended effect, and with great effort John pulled away from her and let out a low curse. "I'd almost forgotten," he muttered. "Someone could discover us any minute."

Belle felt unbelievably cold without his arms around her, and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out to him. "Please," she whispered. "I've missed you so."

She was a mighty temptation, but John held firm.

"I didn't come all the way to London just to ruin your reputation."

"I wish you would," she muttered under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing."

"We'll have to go back in separately."

Belle smiled at John's concern. "Don't worry. I'm certain Dunford is covering for us splendidly." At John's raised eyebrow, she added, "I told him a little about you."

He shot her such a look that she was compelled to further explain, "Just a little, though, so don't worry that I've spilled all your secrets."

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 thefifth 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."

"A pretty speech, Lady Arabella, especially for one who obviously enjoys all the perks of her position. But not entirely appropriate for a gently-reared lady. You have become something of a bluestocking."

"At last! A compliment. I never thought to hear one from your lips. Now if you will excuse me, I am growing weary of this party." Belle purposefully turned her back on her hostess, well aware of the scandal such bad manners would create. "John, it was lovely seeing you again. I hope you call on me soon, but I must find Dunford and have him escort me back home. Good evening."

And while John was still reeling from her passionate defense, she honored him with her most radiant smile and swept past him. He was left facing a furious Lady Forthright who simply "harumphed" at him and bustled away.

John couldn't help himself. He started to laugh.

Later that evening, while the Blackwood brothers were on their way home, Damien brought up the subject of Belle's now obvious friendship with John. "I did not realize that you and Lady Arabella knew each other so well," he said with a frown.

One side of John's mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "She said we were well acquainted, didn't she?"

"Her passionate defense of your position would indicate that you are quite well acquainted."

"Well, we are quite."

Damien let the matter drop for a few minutes, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him. "Do you intend to court her?"

"I have already said as much to the lady in question."

"I see."

John sighed. He was behaving rather sharply with his brother, and Damien really didn't deserve it. "I apologize if this puts a crimp in your plans. I assure you I did not know that you had tender feelings for Belle before I arrived. If you must know, she was the reason I came to town in the first place."

Damien pondered that slowly. "I wouldn't say I have tenderfeelings for her. I merely thought she would make me a good wife."

John looked at him oddly. He wondered if his brother's emotions ever ventured beyond appreciation or mild dislike.

"It is obvious, however," Damien continued, "that we would not suit at all. She is a great beauty, to be sure, but I cannot have a wife who spouts out such radical notions in public."

John's lips twitched. "Surely you, too, don't begrudge me my title."

"Of course not." Damien appeared affronted by the accusation. "You earned that title. And our father was, of course, an earl. But you must admit, too many cits are making their way into the aristocracy, whether by purchase or marriage. Lord only knows what's to become of us."

"Belle likes to read," John blurted out, just to make absolutely sure that his brother's interest in her would not resurface. "She's read the complete works of Shakespeare."

Damien shook his head. "I cannot imagine what I was thinking. Bluestockings can be such a nuisance, no matter how beautiful. They're so demanding."

John smiled.

"She wouldn't do, at all," Damien continued. "But you should try for her if you want. She'd be a great catch for a man of your position. Although I must warn you, her parents probably wouldn't approve of the match. I should think she could get a duke if she wanted."

"I imagine she could," John murmured. "If, of course, that was what she wanted."

The carriage came to a halt in front of Damien's town house. When they entered the main hall, Lightbody greeted them with a note which he said had been left expressly for Lord Blackwood. Curious, John unfolded the paper.

I am in London.

John frowned as he remembered the two similar messages he'd received a few weeks earlier. He'd thought that they had been meant for Bletchford Manor's previous owners, but now he realized that he was mistaken.

"Someone you know?" Damien inquired.

"I'm not sure," John replied slowly. "I'm not sure at all."