Page 33 of A Gentleman's Wager
“Perhaps you might like to sit and read that.”
Bella felt blindly for the chair arm and collapsed awkwardly into its embrace. And since it was only her and Louisa, she read right through the remainder of the evening, including supper, then turned in to read some more in bed. If her heart belonged to Lauwine, then her mind was devoted to books, and reading was her window into all the worlds she’d never experienced, and likely never would.
The prose soon carried her to the city of Naples, and thence to the confines of a convent. Shadowy monks in long cassocks spun large in her mind, until she expected to see them peering around the curtains at the bottom of her bed. Then, somehow, as her eyelids grew heavy, the story blended seamlessly with her memories of the past few days.
The sinister Schedoni stepped into the aisle of their little parish church, his black robe swirling around him in the chill night air. Frozen, Bella watched him approach, knowing he meant to carry her off. Then, when he paused before her and drew back his hood, he revealed himself to be Lord Pennerley; lovely and wicked as a winter’s night. A cruel smile turned up the corner of his mouth. He didn’t speak but drew her attention to a bundle of cloth at the far end of the nave. This, on closer inspection, revealed itself to be her lover, Vivaldi-Lord Marlinscar.
“Monster. What have you done to him? Set him free at once.”
Lucerne was bound at the wrists and ankles, his lovely features covered in black and brown bruises from where the inquisitors had tortured his secrets from him. Bella tore at his bindings determined to free him, but Vaughan-Schedoni held her back, and made the other monks bear Lucerne away.
She struggled and kicked, and eventually threw him off. Though as she ran, she wondered if he hadn’t simply let her go.
Lucerne lay slumped over a pew. Bella touched his pale skin, wakening him, whereupon he drew her into his arms. “Bella, Bella,” he whispered against her hair, as he sought the welcome of her lips. His kisses were sweet like honeyed wine, with the afterburn of Scots whisky. She was ready to embrace him forever, but there was danger all around them.
“We must flee,” she insisted, tilting back her head to look up into his eyes, only to startle when a dark ringlet brushed against her hand. T’was not Lucerne who kissed her but the imposter, Pennerley. He clasped her fast to him once again.
A cold draft blew across her face. Bella turned uneasily in her bed. A lone candle hovered in the air by the footboard, a robed figure holding it. He’d come for her. She felt his hand upon the bedclothes and drew in a sharp gasp.
“Bella?”
The scream froze on her tongue and emerged as a squeak. The images from her dream dissolved into familiar surroundings. She was in her room at Wyndfell, her visitor—Louisa.
“Lou? Heaven help me, you near scared the wits out of me. What is it? Is something wrong?”
Ever one to prevaricate, Louisa chewed on her lower lip.
“It’s a good thing Joshua’s away from home. Goodness knows what he’d think if he saw you wandering about in your nightrail. Probably mistake you for a ghost and run for his life.” Sadly, her attempt at humour merely served to chisel a groove in Louisa’s brow. There was a sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.
“What’s the matter, can’t you sleep?”
“It’s a wonder you manage it so well.” Louisa removed the book from Bella’s pillow, then sat on the edge of the eiderdown, with her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. It didn’t stop the quaking of her shoulders.
“Do you want to get in?” Bella asked, concern deepening. The fire had long since died in the grate, and although the days were still warm, the nights were increasingly chilly. She tugged back the covers and patted the spot beside her. Once Louisa was settled in, she pulled the blankets right up to their chins.
“Now, what’s the problem, dearest thing? You’ve been awfully quiet ever since the ball.”
“Oh, the ball,” Louisa despaired. “I don’t want to talk about that.” Which appeared to mean that she very much did. “You perhaps don’t realise it, but Millicent was very much to blame. If she hadn’t… If she hadn’t presumed in that way. Bella, I’ve spoken to Frederick about it, and truly, she did take horrid advantage of his kindness. He only meant to restore to her the pin money she’d lost betting against Charles, you see, but then she—”
“Saw it as an opportunity.” That was Millicent through and through. Ready to snatch at whatever advantage might present itself. Bella too had managed to piece together an accounting of what had happened to result in Louisa leaving the ballroom with Pennerley from various witnesses, although she hadn’t managed to discern what precisely had led to Wakefield’s demand for satisfaction. There’d been no first-hand witnesses, so all that was flying around was conjecture.
“You don’t think she’s a real threat, do you, Bella? I couldn’t bare it if—”
“What an imagination you have.” Bella smoothed her rag-tied hair. “You know precisely what Millicent is like, she’s ever been so. Any man, any place, anyhow. And do you really credit your beau with so little fidelity that you believe he’d chose her over you? It’s plain for all to see that you’re besotted with one another.” And equally remarked upon that they were most unsuitable as a couple, what with him being so impoverished, though Bella refused to acknowledge such nonsense. True love ought not to be confined by such boundaries. She jogged Louisa’s shoulders to defray the tension. “Forget Millicent. She probably only did it for a bit of fun and has quite forgotten who he even is by now.”
Louisa sniffled. “I guess.”
Bella found her a handkerchief.
“It’s just, I’m so unsure about his intentions, Bella. I adore being with him, but when we’re alone… Well, I always have my aunt’s voice niggling away, telling me that he’ll ruin me.”
“Your aunt’s the sort of woman scold’s bridles were invented for.” The pair of them shuddered, picturing the hideous punishment device. “It’s up to you who you wed. If you say Frederick Wakefield is the one, then everyone else shall just have to respect it.”
Louisa threw her arms around Bella and planted a kiss upon her cheek. “I’m glad I have you as a friend. You’re the only one who ever credits me with any agency. It’s jolly tiresome being thought of as an empty-headed doll.”
“A wealthy empty-headed doll.” Bella grinned at her correction. “I suppose that’s what Pennerley thinks, and why he’s interested in—”
“I don’t think Pennerley cares a jot about that, or me. He only meant to rile Frederick. I was merely a tool he used to do it.”
