Regency Mistletoe & Marriages: A Countess by Christmas / The Earl's Mistletoe Bride. Joanna MaitlandЧитать онлайн книгу.
by the General who, after standing stock still, glaring at them for a few seconds, marched right up to them and demanded, ‘I want to know why you have come here, Bella.’
‘I do not think that is any of your business,’ Aunt Bella retorted.
‘Still as argumentative as ever,’ he growled. ‘And just as prone to stirring up a hornets’ nest with your effrontery!’
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she replied coldly.
‘Don’t you? Don’t you indeed?’ he said. ‘You have shunned your entire family for years, and then you march in here, bold as brass, with some devious scheme in your head involving this baggage, I don’t doubt…’
‘The reason I came here has absolutely nothing to do with Helen—’ Aunt Bella began.
‘Then why is she here? You have no business bringing that charity case to a family gathering.’
‘She is not a charity case. She is family,’ Aunt Bella protested. ‘My family.’
Oh, no! Saying such a thing was playing right into the General’s hands. Anyone who overheard Aunt Bella’s remark would be only too ready to believe she was her natural daughter!
‘Well, at least we have that out in the open. You think more of that chit than you do your own family, and that’s the truth! Years and years you’ve frittered your money away on her, and now, when I—’
His wife was tugging urgently on his sleeve.
‘Please…not here, not now…’ she begged him.
He shook her off as though she were a bothersome fly. ‘Well, let me tell you something, madam. I know my duty to family. And I have made it my business to keep in His Lordship’s good graces over the years. I have let him know what kind of person you are, and if you think you can persuade him otherwise you are very much mistaken.’ A nasty smile spread across his face before he turned and stalked across the room, his little wife trailing behind him.
Helen could hardly believe that he bore so much animosity towards both her and his own sister that he would stoop to such tactics. He was a blustering bully! No wonder Aunt Bella had been so determined to make a bid for independence as soon as she’d had the means to do so.
She could not help herself. She just had to see what impression this little scene had made upon Lord Bridgemere. Her eyes flew to his face. To her relief, he was watching the General stalk across the room, his anxious little wife in tow, with barely concealed distaste. As yet she had no way of knowing whether it was dislike for the creation of a scene or a complete rejection of his version of Aunt Bella’s past that was bringing that look of cold contempt to Lord Bridgemere’s eyes.
But at least he was wise to the kind of man the General was now.
‘Do not worry, Aunt Bella,’ she murmured, patting her aunt’s hand. ‘Lord Bridgemere is no fool. I do not think he will accept anything the General says or implies without checking the facts for himself.’
‘You seem to have formed a very high opinion of His Lordship, Helen. How on earth did you come by it?’
‘I can see it in his face,’ she hedged, unwilling to admit she had been to see him in private. Because then she might have to admit to her other encounters with him. ‘He did not like the way the General attempted to browbeat you like that in public.’
‘You may be right,’ Aunt Bella said, though she did not sound all that convinced.
Fortunately for Helen, at that moment another guest caught her aunt’s eye.
‘My goodness, can that be Sally Stellman? Lady Norton, I should say. I have not seen her since my own come-out. After she married we lost touch, but…’
The lady in question, who was just entering the room, clearly recognised Aunt Bella, too. She tugged upon her husband’s arm, steering him straight towards their sofa.
‘Bella!’ she cried, detaching herself from her husband and plumping herself down beside them. ‘It is you! I thought it was last night, but you retired so early I never had the chance to renew our acquaintance. How lovely to see you again after all these years!’
The chance for the two ladies to say any more than that was abruptly curtailed when the butler announced in sonorous tones that dinner was served.
Sir Mortimer came to escort Helen in to dine, as he had the night before. This time he did not look bored. No, he looked downright reluctant to associate with her. She had no idea whether it was because he might have heard the rumour the General had started about her being somebody’s love-child, or if it was because of the way she had made a fool of herself the night before, or…
Oh, she had never known a Christmas like it. Peace on earth? There was precious little peace here. Let alone goodwill towards men. Why, the whole place was a seething maelstrom of repressed resentments.
She was sorely tempted to remove herself from the field of combat by taking her meals up in her room from now on, if the atmosphere was always going to be as fraught as this in the public rooms. Since she had spent part of the afternoon apologising to the kitchen maid and the cook for her outburst on that first night, she was no longer in their black books. In fact, after they had all matched her apology with an explanation of their own errors, which had echoed what Lord Bridgemere had already told her, they had said she was a rare lady to come and make peace with them, when most of the gentry did not give two hoots for the feelings of those below stairs.
Only it did seem a little cowardly to hide away upstairs. And to desert her aunt in her hour of need. She lifted her chin as her reluctant dinner partner escorted her to table. She was as well born as any of them! Better than some. And if Lord Bridgemere did not object to her presence, then nobody else had a right to make her feel like an interloper.
She darted a glance in his direction.
His gaze swept round the assembled guests, his face closed entirely. Until it came to her. She thought for just an instant that he hesitated. That his features softened very slightly.
Her spirits rose. He believed her! Just that slight thaw in her direction, coupled with the utter contempt with which he had regarded the General, was enough to remove the burden of worry that had so weighed her down.
She smiled at him.
His face closed up. He bowed his head.
For the young clergyman was clearing his throat before saying grace.
A stillness gradually descended over them all as they followed the Earl’s lead in giving thanks for the food they were about to receive.
Helen clasped her hands at her waist and bowed her own head, truly thankful that it looked as though Lord Bridgemere was not going to believe the General’s lies.
She did not notice Lady Thrapston’s beady eyes going from her radiant face to her brother’s bowed head.
And, since she swiftly bowed her own head, in respect to the convention, absolutely nobody saw the speculative expression that came over Lady Thrapston’s face.
Chapter Five
The meal turned out to be every bit as delicious, and the atmosphere quite as poisonous, as it had been the previous night. Only this time when Lady Thrapston got to her feet and the ladies withdrew, Aunt Bella whispered, ‘I’m blowed if I’m going to let my brother make me feel as though we have no right to be here. Especially since I have not seen Lady Norton for such a long time. I am looking forward to catching up with her news. Will you come with me?’
‘Of course,’ Helen replied. She had already decided that nobody was going to make her creep away and hang her head as though she had no right to be here herself. Lifting her chin, she took her aunt’s arm and joined the procession of ladies making their way to the winter drawing room. It was the room, her aunt explained, that guests always used in the evenings when they came for Christmas, since it boasted