Tippen looked flustered.
‘Belle, it’s him again. Lord Phillip. He wants to see you and says he will wait as long as necessary.’
‘Good grief not another mistress discarded already? If he keeps it up, we will be able to retire very soon, and give Clarissa her sanctuary.’
Tippen grinned. ‘Then shall we hope?’
Belinda remembered the searching glances he’d given her. ‘Not necessarily. Show him into the sitting room, and wait with him. Not that I don’t trust him exactly, but he is a man.’
‘And men snoop without realising they do it?’
Belinda nodded. ‘Exactly. I’ll just tidy myself and join you.’
She took the stairs to her bedchamber two at a time.
It had become annoying and ominous, and she mistrusted it all.
* * *
‘I tell you, Ben, it’s a rummy thing. I mean the woman is obviously well brought up, has perfect and to be honest, cock-stretching diction and tone, and intrigues me more than any woman has these last ten years.’ Apart from one unattainable young lady who has now vanished from the ton. Phillip sipped the fine brandy Watier’s club provided.
Lord Theodore Bennett raised one sculpted eyebrow. ‘Really? Then how have you persuaded a myriad of women your…no.’ He held one hand in the air as Phillip spluttered into his glass. ‘That is one snippet of information too far. Let it be your secret.’
‘Thank you,’ Phillip said gratefully as heat flooded his body and he knew his cheeks reddened. After all it wouldn’t do to say he superimposed another woman’s features on each woman he bedded. He had a fine regard for everyone he shared his body with, but none were the one he truly desired. ‘I appreciate that. However, it doesn’t solve my problem. I lust after a seamstress and it cannot be.’
‘Snobbery?’ Ben asked in a hard tone that surprised Phillip. ‘I thought things like that never bothered a true rake.’
‘Not snobbery,’ Phillip said vehemently. ‘A need not to open her to the wrong sort of attraction. You know as well as I how unforgiving the ton can be. I would not subject someone I cared about to that. I tell you, Ben, she intrigues me more than a little. Ah well.’ He sighed, somewhat surprised by his determined intentions to protect the lady from anyone who wished to do her a disservice. ‘What will be will be.’ And if I can think of any way to make her mine that will be what will be. ‘If nothing else this business with Lady Rattenberry has taught me to beware of gift horses.’
‘Or rodents?’
Phillip grinned. ‘Or them.’ He made his farewells to his friend, left his club and called a hackney. He’d wondered, pondered and now decided to act. He had to discover more about the lady. Was it possible to fall so deeply for someone after such a brief encounter? In the past he would have scoffed at the idea. Now he wasn’t so sure.
‘Bruton Street,’ he directed the jarvey. ‘Madame Belle’s.’
The journey took less than half an hour, even in London traffic, and before long, Tippen showed him into an elegant chamber he hadn’t seen before. She seemed flustered and uncomfortable as she curtsied to him.
‘I’ll…er…just go and find Madame,’ she said in a squeaky voice. ‘May I inform her of the purpose of your visit?’
‘No.’ Phillip sat down in a comfortable chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. ‘Sorry, Tippen, but this is not your war.’
Tippen muttered something he rather thought was French and wholly uncomplimentary to him and his intransigence. ‘Quite, Miss Tippen, I wholeheartedly agree. But my business is for that lady’s ears only.’ He smiled but made sure Tippen understood him. She reddened, half nodded and rushed out. Phillip wondered how long she would leave him there alone, waiting.
Not long it seemed. Within minutes the door opened. Phillip glanced up, stood up and smiled as Madame Belle entered the room. Her green velvet house shoes made no noise on the carpet as she walked towards Phillip and curtsied. He stood up, took her hand, and turned it over to kiss her palm and then curl her fingers over the spot he’d touched.
‘What have you done to Tippen?’ she demanded, her face a delicate pink, and her expression suspicious. ‘She gave me your message, muttered words I have never heard her use before and dashed upstairs. There to slam the workroom door hard. How have you upset her?’ She tapped her foot. ‘I won’t have my friend upset.’ By the likes of you, her tone inferred.
He raised one eyebrow. ‘Done? Why nothing. I never even did this.’ He copied his actions on her other hand. ‘You are the only lady who in my mind warrants that salutation. Would the fact I refrained have caused her attitude?’
‘I doubt it.’ Belle’s eyes darkened, and she removed her hands from his. ‘Tippen doesn’t suffer insincerity, my lord. Somewhat extravagant a gesture, don’t you think?’ Her voice with its hint of an accent was enticement itself. ‘And this is your third visit in two weeks. People will begin to talk.’
He hadn’t thought of that. Just that he wanted to see her, talk with her and learn all about her. He would need to be careful, to have her brought into the eyes of the ton in such a manner was the last thing he wanted. ‘Not at all,’ Phillip replied urbanely. ‘They will think I have more women to dress.’ He chose not to explain further. He’d rather keep her off balance and wondering about him and his intentions. Somehow he understood it would be an uphill struggle to convince her he wanted to get to know her better. Women had always thrown themselves at his feet ever since he’d left Eton, and never before had he needed to fight for one. It was a strange position to be in, but he judged in this case his reputation would work against him not for him. An expression his papa had used seemed appropriate in the circumstances. ‘Take it slowly, and get there faster. Don’t rush your fences.’ He intended to follow that adage to the letter.
Belle shook her head, but it was hard to know whether in denial of his words or in amused acceptance he had no idea. Adorned in a dark green gown whose severity was tempered by tiny embroidered flowers around the hem and the low neckline, which exposed the soft swell of her breasts, she was everything a man could and surely did want. His body certainly thought so. Why oh why did other women try to entice him with shrill voices, which grated, or gowns adorned with frills and furbelows, often so diaphanous he could count the hairs on their mounds? This was a simple dress, but suited her so perfectly, was so alluring and only hinted at what it hid, but in it she put any other woman of his acquaintance to shame. Every inch of her called to his masculinity and begged him to put his mark on her. To hang a sign around her neck that declared, ‘keep away’.
I have it bad. The thought didn’t worry him—after all it was a well-understood fact that love could strike at any time. That thought brought him up short. Who said anything about love? Phillip mentally groaned. She had addled his brain, and he had no intention of doing anything to alleviate the condition.
‘My lord, help me here. Are you sure you did nothing to annoy Tippen? I’m worried about her.’
Phillip wrenched his mind away from his feelings for the lady in front of him and shook his head to clear it. ‘I promise you, it is not down to me.’
‘It is not normal to see her as a gibbering wreck, and muttering under her breath.’ Belle regarded him steadily. ‘I have never seen her so incensed, not even when a certain lady vomited into the Ming vase.’
Why, he wondered, would someone need to do that? The annoyed expression on Madame Belle’s face made him decide not to ask the question.
‘Cursing in French and doubting my ancestry, my ability to procreate and other such things?’ he said in an amused tone. ‘Or so I thought.’
‘Exactly.’ Belle nodded.
‘She