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

‘Yes. The Bayntons, the Fanshawes, Daniel, my great-aunt, Dorothy.’ He waited until they set off and the noise of the wheels masked their voices from the footmen up behind, then bent and murmured, ‘And I believe Anne Baynton is increasing again, which is convenient, should you two become friends.’

‘Oh, yes.’ It would be a huge relief to have a female friend who had already carried a child to talk to. But she would have to deduce what to tell Mrs Baynton, who would surely work out that her new friend had not conceived on her wedding night but was already three months gone. If she confided that a baby was on its way, then Anne Baynton would conclude that Elliott was the father, and that they had had a liaison. Could she let the wife of one of his friends think he had behaved in such a way?

‘May I tell her?’ she whispered. ‘She will guess, I am sure. Bu—’

‘But not the full truth?’ he murmured back. ‘Yes, let her think I am impulsively passionate. It will amuse John.’

‘I do not want anyone amused at your expense!’ she retorted in an agitated whisper, surprising herself at how defensive she felt on his behalf.

‘What man would object to being thought capable of seducing such a virtuous beauty?’

That was hardly reassuring. Bella slanted a wary look at his face and then faced forwards hastily. He was smiling, but there was a gleam in his eyes that sent a warning shiver down her spine. She had seen that expression on Rafe’s face. Elliott was thinking about seduction in rather more than the abstract.

And she was not a beauty, or virtuous, so he was being sarcastic, she supposed, which was disappointing—she had thought him kinder than that. She tried to ignore the hurtful sting of his words and focus on the good news—she would have a female friend who could support her through this pregnancy.

They drove the short distance to Hadleigh Old Hall in silence. By the time they arrived Bella had a composed smile on her face and two firm resolutions—not to expect anything from Elliott and to think only of the here and now.

Elliott helped her down. ‘Well, Lady Hadleigh?’

‘Very well, my lord.’ Her dignified composure was shattered as Elliott swung her up in his arms. ‘Elliott!’ The other carriages were drawing up around them. There was a burst of applause and a cheer as she buried her face in his shoulder and was carried through the front door.

Chapter Nine

The hall was full of staff, laughing and smiling. For one appalled moment Bella thought Elliott was not going to stop and she would be swept up the stairs and into his bedchamber. Her heart thudded with fear and excitement, then he set her on her feet, his long fingers laced into hers.

‘Three cheers for our new ladyship.’ Henlow stepped forwards. ‘Hip, hip, hoorah!’ The staff needed no urging from the butler and the hall rang with their enthusiasm.

Bella felt her eyes beginning to swim with emotion—they genuinely sounded happy that she was there. Everyone was being so kind to her. She untied the wide satin ribbons on her bonnet and one of the maids came forwards to take it and her gloves.

‘Bella! I insist on being the first to kiss the bride in her new home.’ Daniel took her by the shoulders and dropped a smacking kiss on her lips. ‘You’re a lucky fellow, Elliott.’

‘I am indeed.’ Elliott turned, bringing Bella with him, and walked towards the dining room. ‘Bella?’ he enquired, low-voiced.

‘I thought…as he is your cousin, family, that it was unexceptional. He asked me to call him Daniel. Was I wrong?’ Had she erred already, committed some breach of etiquette?

‘Why does he not call you Arabella?’ The guests were behind them, but not crowding too close. There were a few steps still to the table.

‘Bella is my pet name. Rafe…I mean, everyone uses it. My family…’ she started to explain.

‘I see. One you do not expect me to use.’ Elliott brought her to the foot of the table where a footman was holding her chair. ‘Your place, Arabella, my dear.’

‘Thank you.’ Somehow she kept the smile on her lips as Elliott went to the head of the board and their guests found their places. She must never have told him that to everyone who mattered to her she was simply Bella. And now he was hurt that she had gi

ven his brother and his cousin the right to use her pet name, but not him, her husband.

Part of her, the part that was still smarting from his sarcasm in the carriage, was glad. But that was petty; she must make this marriage work as well as possible.

John Baynton took the seat on her right hand, the rector on her left. Elliott was flanked by Lady Abbotsbury and Anne Baynton. In the middle of the table Daniel was already teasing Dorothy about something while Mrs Fanshawe shook her head indulgently at him.

Bella swallowed. She had never been to a formal dinner party before. She knew that as a guest she should make conversation to her right for the first course, then to her left. But now she was the hostess with a duty to promote conversation generally.

‘Are you both from this part of the world?’ she asked. ‘It is very beautiful. So many fruit trees,’ she added a little wildly, recalling yesterday’s drive.

‘Yes, I was born not six miles away,’ John Baynton began when the sound of a knife blade against crystal had them all looking towards Elliott.

He was on his feet, a champagne flute in his hand as the footmen finished filling the glasses down the length of the table. ‘Great-Aunt, Cousins, friends. I give you Arabella, Viscountess Hadleigh.’

The men rose and everyone lifted their glasses. ‘Arabella!’