Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady (Transformation of the Shelley Sisters 2)

‘Exactly.’ Bella clasped her hands tightly. ‘I do not know if you have ever been in love, Elliott?’ Or are now. No, surely he would not have suggested this if he had any ties to another woman?

‘No,’ he admitted to her intense relief. ‘There is no one.’

‘It sweeps away everything. It was the most powerful thing I have ever experienced.’ Of course, it must have been only the illusion of love or she would have clung to Rafe, wanted him even when he hurt her and spurned her. It made it worse, somehow, that even her own emotions had deceived her. ‘And just now I am bereft, tired, frightened, confused and adrift. And shocked. I presume you have never experienced any of those emotions either?’ He did not look like a man who was easily discommoded.

‘I have been shocked, certainly. Very recently.’ The corner of his mouth moved in what was either a grimace of pain or a sardonic smile. ‘You will agree that you have had a little longer to become used to your condition than I have.’

‘I have had even less opportunity to become used to the notion that I am to marry a complete stranger and become a viscountess,’ she began and then caught herself as her voice trembled. Elliott was being quite incredibly forbearing. And honourable. And she had put him in a most difficult position. ‘You are being very kind.’ That provoked a quizzical lift of one eyebrow. ‘I do appreciate what you are doing for me, for the baby, but please, may we talk about this in the morning?’

‘We can talk on the way to Worcester. I will collect you at eight, if you think you will be well enough for an early start.’

Bella swallowed. It was no effort to be up and breakfasted by then; at the vicarage everyone rose at six. But at that time in the morning her uncertain stomach was at its worst and just now she felt as if she could sleep for a week. ‘Perfectly, thank you, I will be ready then.’

Her cloak was almost dry and the rain had stopped. Elliott insisted on carrying her valise to the carriage and then helped her out after the silent ten-minute drive. In the darkness Bella could make out a four-square house sitting in a hollow.

‘The Dower House.’ They waited for several minutes until the door creaked open to reveal an ancient butler who peered out at them as they stood in the wavering light of the lantern he held.

‘My lord? My lady has retired some time since. Miss Dorothy is in the small parlour, my lord.’

‘Thank you, Dawson, we can announce ourselves. Miss Shelley will be staying for two nights if you could organise a room for her, and a maid.’

‘My lord.’ The old man shuffled off m

umbling, ‘Maid, room, fires’, to himself.

‘Dawson is about ninety,’ Elliott explained, ‘but he refuses to be pensioned off. Mind the lap dog, it will yap, but I doubt it will bite.’ As he spoke he opened a door and stepped inside. ‘Cousin Dorothy, forgive this late call.’

The dog did indeed yap. And Miss Dorothy exclaimed and dropped her tatting and it took several minutes to restore order. ‘Your betrothed?’ she enquired, peering myopically at Bella when Elliott began to explain. ‘How wonderful. Had you told me, Elliott dear? I do not recall, and I am sure I would have done.’

‘No, Cousin. Arabella has had to run away as her father does not approve of me.’

‘Of you? Why ever not? If it had been that rascal Rafe, God rest his soul, one could understand. But you, Cousin?’

‘Politics,’ Bella explained, feeling as though she was in an opium-eater’s nightmare now, things were so unreal. ‘Papa is a—’ She realised she had no idea where Elliott’s allegiances might lie.

‘Tory,’ he finished for her, his interruption for once welcome.

Miss Dorothy, who was about fifty, plump and rather vague, nodded. ‘Oh, politics. That would explain it.’

‘We will be married the day after tomorrow,’ Elliott pushed on. ‘So if you could find Arabella a bedchamber for two nights, that would be very helpful. I did mention it to Dawson as we came in and I expect he’s gone to speak to Mrs Dawson.’

‘They will see to all that.’ Miss Dorothy beamed at Bella. ‘I do enjoy being a chaperon. One gets so little opportunity now Mama is frailer and we no longer go to many parties, but I used to look after all my nieces.’

‘It is very kind of you, ma’am.’ Bella dredged up her last reserves of will-power and did her best to behave politely. She felt as though she had been pushing against a locked door and it had suddenly opened, tipping her into space. She was still falling. ‘I am sorry, I am afraid I do not know how I should address you.’

‘Well, I am Miss Abbotsbury, but everyone calls me Miss Dorothy, my dear. Now, have you had your supper?’

‘Yes, Miss Dorothy, thank you.’

‘And have you brought a nightgown and a toothbrush? Elliott, where are you going?’

‘Home, Cousin.’ He paused at the door. ‘I was just about to bid you both goodnight.’

‘Without kissing Miss Shelley?’ Miss Dorothy simpered. ‘Such unromantic behaviour! I am not such a fierce chaperon as all that, Elliott.’

‘Of course not. Arabella.’ He came and took her hands in his and looked down at her face. It was an effort not to cling. She had known him a few hours and now this stranger was all she had. ‘It will be better in the morning, you will see.’ And then he bent and kissed her cheek, his lips and breath warm for the fleeting moment of contact. Bella had an impression of claret and spice before he straightened up and she made herself let go. ‘I will collect Miss Shelley at eight, Cousin, if an early breakfast will not inconvenience you.’

‘Not at all.’ The chaste kiss appeared to have satisfied Miss Dorothy’s romantic expectations. She beamed at him as he left, then turned to Bella. ‘Well, my dear, I expect you would like to go to bed, would you not?’