One Wicked Winter Read online

  “How impressive it is!” Crecy agreed, as the huge, sprawling castle appeared, lit by a weak winter morning sunshine that glittered upon the frost tinged countryside. “I wonder how many ghosts there are?”

  “I wonder how much a man like the marquess is worth?” Aunt Grimble mused, her avaricious little dark eyes glittering.

  Belle started at her aunt’s vulgar words. Oh God, please don’t let her get any foolish notions about Lord Winterbourne, she prayed as she regarded her aunt in disgust. The woman was too lost in whatever covetous daydreams she was indulging to notice the twin expressions of revulsion opposite her, but Belle and Crecy exchanged a horrified glance. Heaven help them.

  They were ushered into the vast building by a daunting butler and more footmen than Belle had ever seen in one place in her life. Glancing over at Crecy, she knew her sister was feeling just as far out of her depth as she was and they stood close together to try and gain a little courage. She found she had never been more relieved to see a familiar face than when Lady Russell appeared with their hostess, the marquess’ sister.

  “Here we are, Violette,” Lady Russell said, smiling on Belle with great warmth. “This is Miss Belinda Holbrook, the young lady I spoke of, and this charming creature must be your sister?”

  “Yes, Lady Russell, this is Lucretia, and my aunt, Mrs Grimble.”

  Lady Russell’s shrewd eyes took in her aunt, and Belle flushed as she felt quite certain Lady Russell knew exactly what kind of woman she was. Stirring herself to draw the elegant older lady’s attention away from her aunt, Belle drew Crecy forward who smiled at Violette, looking a little less daunted under the young woman’s unaffected greeting.

  “We’re so happy you could join us,” Violette said, clasping Belle’s hand. “I do hope you will forgive my brother, the marquess, for not being here. He’s ... he’s most terribly busy, b-but he’ll be at dinner this evening, of course.” She gave a slightly anxious-looking smile and stepped closer. “In truth, I’ve not been much out in society, and I don’t know half of the people here either, but dear Seymour assures me that we shall get along famously, so I have nothing to fear, do I?”

  “Well, not on our account, I hope,” Belle replied, laughing and finding herself charmed by the lovely young woman. Seeing her and Crecy together, two blonde beauties making a perfectly stunning picture, made her realise her chances of finding a husband here were slim indeed. No man in their right mind would even notice her. But nonetheless, she was touched by the genuine warmth of their greeting, and was determined that she would make the most of whatever opportunities came her way.

  ***

  “Oh my word!” Belle exclaimed once they were left alone, as Crecy gave a shriek of delight and bounced onto the massive four poster bed, laying herself out like a stranded starfish.

  “It’s big enough for four!” Crecy cried in astonishment.

  Though a little scandalised, Belle could only laugh and agree. They both shared a poky, dark room at home with narrow single beds. This, by comparison, was luxurious beyond her wildest dreams, and to think, the best rooms had been reserved for the most important guests! It seemed impossible.

  “I feel like I’ve fallen into a fairy story,” she said, trying to take in all of the details so that she wouldn’t ever forget them.

  “Well, let’s hope it’s the one where the handsome prince sweeps you off your feet,” Crecy said, laughing as she cast her bonnet aside.

  “I doubt that somehow,” Belle replied, moving to look out of the window and exclaiming once again at the beautiful grounds that surrounded them. “And I’d settle for a kindly fellow with a comfortable income. But I think you could have every man here at your feet, if you felt so inclined.”

  She glanced around to see her sister turn onto her stomach, her hand resting on her chin, feet kicked up behind her and a scowl on her lovely face. “A handsome prince? No, thank you!” she replied with heat. “I’d rather marry the dragon.”

  “Oh dear,” Belle said with a sigh, and consoled herself with looking out the window again.

  ***

  “Oh Crecy, you do look a picture,” Belle said on a sigh as her sister flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Oh no, don’t you dare!” she scolded, grasping Crecy’s wrists and hauling her upright. “Don’t you dare crease it!”

  Crecy muttered and scowled and Belle shook her head. “Oh, dearest, do please try tonight. You did promise, after all.”

  With an unladylike huff, Crecy gave her one last glare of disgust and then began to float around the room, mimicking the simpering manner that many girls seemed to adopt when eligible bachelors were present.

  “Oh, your grace,” she trilled, curtseying and turning her face away in a coy manner. “How naughty you are to say such things, and me, an innocent maid!”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at Belle and blew her a kiss.

  “Wretch,” Belle replied with amusement, though inwardly she was quaking. Lucretia looked like a dream, but if she said something outrageous, they were sunk. She prayed no one noticed that her own dress had been furbished up with scraps of an ancient gown she’d found mouldering in the attic. Was that mildew she could smell? Oh, surely not?

  And then there was Aunt Grimble.

  Belle raced to apply some perfume and prayed Lily of the Valley outweighed any less savoury odours. She wondered if she could plead a headache? An evening alone with a good book in a room like this sounded perfectly heavenly. But then she would leave Crecy at Aunt Grimble’s mercy and ... Good heavens, no!

  “What on earth are you flapping about now, Belle?” Crecy demanded.

  “Can you smell mildew?” she asked, feeling panicked suddenly.

  Crecy scowled and wrinkled her nose, moving close to sniff at her sister before bursting out laughing. “Of course not, you goose! Whatever are you worrying about? You look ... actually, Belle, you really do look very lovely.”

  “Oh,” Belle replied, rather taken aback by the compliment. It was rare indeed for Crecy to notice such things at all, for if she dismissed her own looks, she certainly had no interest in anyone else’s. “Thank you.”

  Crecy nodded and they moved towards the door as Aunt Grimble came into the room without so much as a knock.

  She was quite a sight.

  A short, stout woman with a square jaw and small, glittering eyes, she certainly made an impression in all her finery. Sadly, it wasn’t an impression either of them wanted to be associated with.

  Iron grey curls bobbed around her rather masculine face in a style that might have been girlish on a woman forty years younger or with a sweeter nature. On her, it simply looked ludicrous.

  “Well, girls,” she said as they gaped at her with open mouths, too astonished to even react. “This is a very important few days for you and you’d best not mess up all of my hard work and planning.”

  Belle tore her eyes away from the stupendously vulgar purple gown her aunt was wearing to blink in astonishment at her words. Hard work and planning? Ha! The indolent creature hadn’t lifted a finger to help them prepare everything they needed; it was Belle who’d secured the invitation and Belle’s meagre savings that had been sparingly used to try and buy the things they most desperately required for the season. Crecy believed her own had been equally touched upon, though in truth, Belle had covered most of the costs herself.

  And it was now perfectly obvious the odious creature had spent a small fortune on her own wardrobe. Was that monstrosity actually trimmed with ermine? Every sense was revolted. However, while the violet gown might be vulgar and in poor taste, it was clearly new and must have cost a pretty penny. Belle seethed with fury and had to clamp her jaw shut to keep her tongue between her teeth.

  Their aunt stepped closer and Belle was assailed by the strong scent of ambergris. Crecy sneezed.

  “Hmmm,” Aunt Grimble mused, casting a disdainful eye over Belle’s attire before turning her attention to Crecy. She inspected Crecy’s gorgeous white crepe gown over a Hiberni
an bodice of holly green and satin underskirt, and gave a tut of annoyance. To Belle’s astonishment and horror, the appalling woman reached for the neckline and gave a sharp tug to expose rather more of Crecy’s creamy white décolletage.

  Crecy gave a cry of fury and slapped the woman’s hand away, and before Belle could gather her wits enough to add her fury, Aunt Grimble drew herself up to her full height, which barely reached Belle’s shoulders and wagged her finger.

  “Now, you listen here, you little fools. You’ll do well to do as I bid you if you seriously want to catch yourselves a husband. There’s more flies caught with honey than vinegar, and no use hiding your light under a bushel. Let them get an eye of the goods, and then we’ll see what we can make of you.”

  This little homily was so shocking to both sisters, even having become used to hearing such indelicate advice offered before, that they were both stunned into silence. Assuming her advice had been taken on board, their aunt sailed to the door like a short purple galleon.

  Belle and Crecy could do little more than exchange looks of mute despair, and follow her out.

  Chapter 5

  “Wherein ordeals are faced all round.”

  “Miss Holbrook.”

  Belle looked up and found with relief that Lady Russell was bearing down on them once more. They had already suffered the mortifying experience of seeing their aunt trying to insinuate herself into a conversation between the Duchess of Sindalton and the Countess Falmouth. They could only count themselves blessed that the women were good-natured enough not to give her a sharp set down, but they had certainly moved away as fast as they were able.

  “Lady Russell,” Belle replied with a smile.

  “Well, now,” the old lady looked them over with a critical air, but as the woman was so elegantly attired herself, Belle could only hope she wasn’t found wanting. “Perfectly charming,” she said at length, with a satisfied nod. “You should always wear blue, Miss Holbrook, it brings out the colour of your eyes.” She turned to Crecy and smiled. “Well, I can say no more about this one. She’ll have all the young bucks making cakes of themselves before any of us get very much older, I’m sure.” She tilted her head, regarding Crecy, who glanced at Belle with a slight blush at her cheeks. “Grey eyes, too. Most unusual, never seen a beauty with grey eyes before. Though there is a touch of violet there, as well, I think. Most unusual indeed. My eyes are grey, of course, but I was never a diamond of the first water, though I wasn’t short of admirers, I can tell you,” she said with a smirk. She looked back at Crecy, though, obviously intrigued. “Quite out of the ordinary aren’t you, gel?” she said with an approving nod.

  Belle elbowed Crecy before she could utter whatever remark she had opened her mouth to vent. Her sister cast her a guilty look and clamped her mouth shut once more.

  “Come along, then,” Lady Russell said, waving her walking stick at then. “Not you,” she said to their aunt, who gaped at them in speechless horror and turned an alarming shade of red. The colour clashed violently with her purple gown, and Belle and Crecy had to hurry away, stifling murmurs of shock that threatened to become hysterical laughter. Instead, they contented themselves with sharing wide eyed glances of delight.

  Lady Russell caught their amusement and chuckled. “Well, there’s something to be said for being old and crotchety,” she said, with a thin smile. “I can say what I like and upset whomsoever I please, it’s all the same to me. Now, then ... let me introduce you to some of the people you should know.” With that, she walked off, using her stick to cut a vicious swathe through the guests, and sparing no heed for the safety of anyone’s ankles. “Falmouth!” she called to a tall, severe-looking man with a cruel mouth and cool grey eyes much like Lady Russell’s.

  “Oh, now he’s handsome,” Crecy whispered in her ear as Belle looked at her in astonishment. Handsome he may be, but he also looked wicked as sin and vastly intimidating. Like a highwayman, or ... or a pirate. Scolding herself for letting her imagination run riot, she took a breath and curtsied as Lady Russell introduced them.

  “Falmouth, Celeste, here is Miss Holbrook, as promised, and her sister, Miss Lucretia.” She turned back to them and smiled, her pride perfectly obvious. “This is my nephew and his wife, the Earl and Countess of Falmouth.”

  The earl and his wife were perfectly charming and they stood talking to them for a full ten minutes before Lady Russell swept them on once again. The darkly handsome Duke of Sindalton and his duchess were similarly introduced and Belle was flattered and delighted by the duchess, who was far easier to speak with than Belle would have ever imagined.

  Once more they were taken up, and spoke only briefly to the Duke of Ware and his wife.

  Belle could do little more than stammer in this golden Adonis’ presence, as she thought she had never in her life seen such a handsome man. His diminutive wife, however, was pretty and sweet, rather than beautiful, and made her hold out some hope that her own plight was not so impossible. The way the duke looked upon his duchess left no one in any doubt that it was a love match. The poor duchess was rather pale, though, and they made their excuses as the duke guided her out of the room, the concern on his face only too clear.

  “She’s breeding,” Lady Russell whispered to Belle, who blushed a little at her forthright manner of speaking. “Twins, by all accounts. In fine fettle, for the most part, but I think the journey here has worn her out, poor dear. You’ll like her, though. Lovely gel, no side to her at all. No airs and graces, not like some.”

  Belle moved closer as Lady Russell beckoned her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Watch those ones,” she said, nodding towards a plain-looking girl and an ice blonde of perhaps twenty years. The blonde had a pert, turned up nose and a bored expression that suggested this event was perfectly normal and she rubbed shoulders with dukes and duchesses as a matter of course. “The blonde with a bad smell under her pretty nose is Lady Isabella Scranford. A spiteful cat full of gossip and claws, and her mousy friend is Miss Alice Cranton. She’s harmless enough on her own, but watch what you say in front of her, she’ll tattle everything to Isabella.”

  Belle watched, fascinated as Lady Scranford caught sight of Crecy and almost choked on the drink she was sipping. Oh dear, there was one nose put firmly out of joint. Belle glanced back at Lady Russell, who gave her a tight smile. “Oh, she’s not going to be pleased by Miss Lucretia stealing her thunder, I can tell you. You watch yourselves. Poor Violette didn’t want to ask them, but the Scranfords are an old and distinguished family in the area, and it would have been a dreadful slight.”

  “You’ve been so very kind, Lady Russell,” Belle said with real sincerity. “I don’t know how we will ever thank you for guiding us and ... and introducing us to so many grand people. I’m ... I’m truly speechless.”

  “Nonsense,” the old lady said with a snort. “Now my grandson is well established, I can please myself by helping those few who deserve it. I think you and your sister do, and with that dreadful aunt of yours, frankly my dear, you need all the help you can get. You don’t mind me saying so, I hope?”

  “Oh no,” Belle replied, feeling dreadfully wicked and enjoying herself enormously. “Though it’s horrid of me, I know, but I don’t mind in the slightest.”

  ***

  Dinner was a lavish affair. Belle and Crecy stared at each other from across the table that was positively aflame with the blinding glitter of silverware and crystal. The meal itself was sumptuous and rather bewildering. Belle felt so overwhelmed that she ate little of the vast array of dishes presented her, though every one of them made her mouth water.

  “Rather daunting, isn’t it?” said a soft voice from beside her.

  Belle turned to see a rather gaunt, bespectacled, serious-looking young man at her side. Lady Russell had pointed him out as Lord Percy Nibley and informed her in an undertone that he was very wealthy, on the look-out for a wife, and a rather kindly and shy young man. She also informed her to, under no circumstances, get onto the su
bject of geology if she didn’t want to be talked into a stupor.

  “It is rather,” Belle admitted, giving the man a warm smile. She thought perhaps he was in his early thirties, with brown hair and eyes that were indeed kind and a little anxious behind his spectacles. “I’m afraid this is the grandest dinner I have ever attended,” she said wondering if she admitted to her own discomfort she would put him at ease.

  “Oh, well,” his lordship said, and Belle was gratified to see that he did seem a little more sure of himself. “There’s no one too terrifying here,” he said, though he cast a doubtful glance at Lady Scranford. “Well, at least Sindalton and Ware are great fellows, nothing high in the instep about either of them.”

  “You know both the dukes?” she replied, impressed.

  “Oh yes,” he said, with quiet pride. “I was at Eton with them both. They’re still the best of friends and really very good fellows.”

  Belle nodded, intrigued that someone so obviously shy and academic should keep such glamorous company. “What about our host?” she asked, glancing up the huge table at the silent and glowering figure of the marquess. She hadn’t seen him utter a word all night and wondered how his lovely, vivacious sister could have such a taciturn man for a brother.

  “Ah,” Nibley said, his eyes becoming rather sorrowful. “Man had a bad war,” he said, his voice quiet. “Never been the same.” He shook his head and followed her glance back to the marquess. “Such a shame. You’d never believe it was the same chap. He was always such a jolly fellow, full of fun and grig. Don’t think he remembers how to smile nowadays.”

  “How dreadful. The poor man,” Belle said, looking at the towering and devastatingly handsome figure at the head of the table, and feeling her heart squeeze with compassion.

  Lord Nibley nodded. “At least he came home,” he said, his face so sad that she knew he must have lost someone. “My cousin,” he replied to her unspoken question. “Wonderful chap, one of my closest friends, too.”