‘You may. Excuse me one moment.’ Belle walked across to her desk and extracted a ledger and a pen.
Phillip admired the sway of her body and the manner in which her gown tightened over her rear when she bent forward. Seeing it outlined so prettily almost made up for the disappointment of not being able to glimpse how much of her breasts were exposed by the action. Almost. He intended to rectify the latter as soon as he could.
‘We may as well talk whilst we eat. I hesitate to sound unwelcoming, but I am somewhat busy.’
She sat down, arranged her skirts around her and accepted a cup from him. Phillip indicated the scones he’d buttered. She shook her head.
‘No, I thank you. If I ate all of Mrs Lovett’s home cooking, I’d be the size of a house. I have to ration myself.’
Somehow he doubted that, but one thing he did know about women was that they could be touchy with regards to their shape and size, therefore he forbore to comment. Instead he smiled his best ‘fall at my feet’ smile, which to his chagrin appeared to have no effect on Madame Belle. Phillip you’re failing here. The thought that perhaps she could see through his practised charm was something to mull over later.
‘So, let’s get down to business,’ Madame Belle continued briskly. ‘You wish me to dress a lady.’
He nodded as his mouth was full of scone and jam.
‘Who?’
Phillip swallowed. This he judged could well be the spot at which the negotiations ended abruptly. ‘I’m not prepared to say until you agree.’
‘Then, my lord, we have arrived at an impasse,’ Madame Belle said implacably. ‘For unless I know whom it is you wish me to consider, there will be no preliminary appointment. And be warned, even then, I do not guarantee I will dress the lady. I am incredibly selective, and can afford to be.’ She sat back into her chair and sipped her tea.
Damn the woman—she seemed totally at ease and not at all worried she might have offended one of the leaders of the ton. Did she not realise he could make or break her?
Be warned, a voice in his head said. Heed her words. She is made and could you break her? Really? Would you? Phillip acknowledged that no, he wouldn’t. He might try to bed her, not wed her, and add her to his… He stopped that train of thought. Madame Belle might intrigue him, but he made a point of never bedding any lady who didn’t know the score, and was not of his class, however much she made his cock stiff and his body taut. He might be a rake but he had his own rules and stuck to them rigidly.
‘It is somewhat delicate,’ Phillip said slowly. ‘The lady in question is…is…’
‘Married? Your mistress? Your soon to be mistress?’ Madame Belle said matter-of-factly.
‘My soon to be ex-mistress,’ he said. ‘I have decided we do not suit. This is, in a way, in recompense for my…’ he hesitated ‘…my hasty discarding of her.’
Belle put her cup down in the saucer and tapped her quill on her teeth. ‘How hasty?’
‘Does it matter?’ Phillip selected another scone and spread jam over the crumbly surface to cover his discomfiture. Why did she make him feel he was acting in an ungentlemanly manner? On the contrary, he was behaving exactly the opposite. ‘Suffice to say I have decided we will not suit.’ Not now, not now I have met you, and will do my utmost to make you my mistress and my previous edicts be hanged. He’d changed his mind faster than he changed his waistcoats and realised it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He who was renowned throughout the ton for intransigency.
‘It matters.’ She was adamant, and Phillip sensed if he didn’t answer her openly and honestly he’d be handed his hat and cane and shown the door.
He sighed. ‘We have not yet…consummated the relationship. However, the lady knew sex was on the cards and agreed to the liaison.’
‘And now you’ve decided your pego doesn’t want to play and you are willing to pay my prices to buy the lady off.’ It was not a question.
Phillip winced. Put like that it sounded so very bad, but in essence it was true. He stirred uneasily in his seat. She made him sound a perfect coxcomb. ‘I suppose that is one way to put it.’
‘Well what other way could you put it? Hardly for services rendered, is it?’ She cocked her head and smiled at him.
‘You have a very forward way of talking.’ He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. It worried him that perhaps she did think him lacking somehow.
Madame Belle shrugged. ‘I have discovered it is me, and plus, nothing comes of holding back. So, on that note I must say once more. Who is the lady?’
He hesitated and she made a noise akin to a kettle about to boil. ‘For goodness’ sake Phi…phht.’
Phtt? I swear she was about to call me by my given name. Strange, very strange.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Away from here?’
She shook her head, but he saw a cloud cross her expression, before she was once more her calm composed self.
‘No, my lord, you do not. And please do not change the subject. Do you think I can not be discreet? Heavens above, the secrets imparted to me would sink and kill the ton as we know it if I let them out. Your little affair will be safe with me.’
‘Very well.’ He nodded, reluctantly. Little affair indeed! She made him sound like a callow youth. However, he bit back his scathing retort. If he wanted her to help him, and if he wanted to further his acquaintance, he needed a way of doing so. ‘The lady in question is Lady Rosemary Rattenberry.’
Belle muttered something under her breath.
‘Did you really say, no lady, and rat by name, rat by nature?’ he asked in amazement.
She gave him a wide-eyed innocent look that reminded him of his sister. He didn’t trust it for one second. He was convinced the lady was up to something. To his amazement her attitude encouraged rather than repelled him, and it didn’t appear to be the automatic response of a lady who played hard to get or teased him. With each exchange his attraction to her grew and, Phillip admitted to himself, it was a unique feeling. One he wished to explore.
‘No, of course not,’ Madame Belle said swiftly. ‘I…er…muttered something immaterial. You do mean the former Lady Rosemary Minchin?’
‘I do.’
‘Then no.’
* * *
Belinda wanted to crawl under the table. Now she’d done it. Why on earth couldn’t she keep her mouth shut and her feet out of it? Phillip looked at her in amazement. Then his eyes narrowed and fixed on her like she was a specimen of some obscure insect pegged out for inspection. It made her want to wriggle. She fought against the instinct. It was imperative she didn’t show Phillip how he affected her.
‘Why not?’ He was persistent, she’d admit that. Annoyingly so.
Should she be honest? Why not? After all she needed neither the detestable Rosemary, nor Lord Phillip around to complicate her life. ‘My clothes are for good people, or,’ she amended quickly, ‘people who try to have some goodness in them. Otherwise they do not show them off to advantage. The lady you speak of has none and as far as I can tell never attempts to. She is unpleasant through and through. I thought you had more about you than to consort with her.’ There. She’d answered him honestly and would have to bear the consequences. To Belinda’s surprise Phillip’s eyes widened and she saw a flash of appreciation within their dark depths.
‘So did I, but…when you are thrown a fish so often and it puts up no resistance, in the end, you give in, tug on the line, get reeled in and accept the gift.’
‘And eat it?’ She went red when she realised how her words