“I should like to go to my room as well,” Bella said.
“Oh, gracious yes, you haven’t even been there yet, have you?” said Lady Malmsby. Gwinnie, could you show Bella to her room? We’ve put her in the green bedroom.”
“Certainly!” said the exuberant Gwinnie. “I’d be delighted to.”
“Thank you!” Bella said, rising from her seat. She grabbed her bonnet and things and hurriedly followed Gwinnie, who fairly bounced as she walked.
“It is a bit of a distance,” Gwinnie told her as she shut the parlor door behind them. “It seems everything in this house is a bit of a distance away from wherever you want to be,” she said ruefully.
“That’s not a worry. Having lived in the country for the past year, I am accustomed to walking,” Bella told her.
“I envy you that. Father is very much a city person. Other than the occasional trip to grandmother’s Versely Park estate, I’ve only been in London.”
“Oh, no! You shall have to visit me at my Lennox Hill estate. I’d wager you would love going out in the hills to play your violin in nature.”
“I’ve never considered playing outside,” Gwinnie said, thoughtfully.
“How could you, being in the city with the smoke and noise?” Bella said. “The countryside is vastly different.”
“That sounds like a fascinating proposition.”
They were walking up the broad, carpeted staircase when the front door opened, and Aidan Nowlton entered.
Bella froze when she saw him. Memories flooded her. She stared at him, feeling strangely lost.
He was more of an arresting figure now than he had been three years ago. Not a handsome man; however, sometimes handsome looked banal without the character to complement the pretty face. Not Aidan Nowlton. Strong-featured, he was a man to be noted. The hint of gray she now saw along his temples gave him an air of sophistication and sharpened his appeal.
The sudden ache in her chest surprised her, for she also remembered the stinging of the words he said to her at their last meeting, accusing her of lifting her skirts to any gentleman who came her way. Even Harry. That she had been a trollop, leading him on. His words had cut her like whip lashes. She should hate him, but hate did not exist in the maelstrom of emotions that churned within her.
She looked away from him and hurried after Gwinnie.
* * *
Aidan Nowlton strippedoff his gloves, then took off his high-crowned beaver hat and handed both to a waiting footman.
He scowled as he watched Lady Isabella Blessingame ascend the stairs in his niece’s wake. What was she doing here?
Three years ago, Aidan had requested permission to court Isabella Melville. That had been the worst mistake of his life.
“Do you know where my mother is?” he asked the footman, his tone harsh.
When he saw the footman’s surprised expression at his tone, he relaxed his face. He should not let anger from years past influence his behavior today. The past was the past. “I have some news about a piece of art she might like to add to her collection,” he said in a neutral tone, shoving the emotions that unexpectedly swamped him back into his mind’s attic, where they belonged, gathering dust.
“She’s in the Lady Margaret Parlor, sir.”
Aidan nodded and walked down the long entrance hall. He’d felt a familiar ache in his gut when he saw Bella. He couldn’t fathom why he still reacted to her after three years. She had lied to him and betrayed him with his best friend. He should have moved on with his life, yet she haunted him. There had not been another woman since her, and he feared there might never be if he couldn’t purge her from his soul.
He knocked lightly on the parlor door, then let himself in. His mother was with Ann, finishing tea. No doubt discussing wedding plans. Maybe it was Ann’s wedding that was plaguing him so. Three years ago, he had hoped to be planning his own wedding. Why wouldn’t the emotions remain in their attic storage? Seeing Bella only made them sharper.
“Mother, what is Lady Blessingame doing here?” he asked, then cursed himself for blurting out that question as soon as he entered the room. That was not a way to purge the woman from his mind.
“She’s staying here for a while,” his mother said calmly. She sipped her tea.
“No!” he fairly roared before he could consider his reaction. His left hand tightened into a fist. Why couldn’t he stop?
Lady Malmsby frowned. She set her cup down. “Aidan, what has gotten into you?”
Even his niece, Ann, looked at him as some unknown creature.
