Dancing at Midnight (28 page)

she awoke the next morning feeling rather refreshed.

John had come by again the day before to tell her that he had found a

priest who would marry them at seven o'clock the

following evening. Belle had smiled, insisted that he keep her footmen

for the rest of the day, and then politely pushed him

out of the house. She had things to do.

Determined not to have a completely untradi-tional wedding, she arranged

to nave dozens of flowers sent to her house and then dragged Persephone

out shopping for a dress. Needless to say, they brought along several

male servants as escorts. Belle did

not like to think of herself as panicky, but then again, she had no wish

to be dragged off into another filthy alleyway.

Madame Lambert shrieked at the idea of producing a wedding dress on such

short notice but nonetheless managed to provide Belle with an extremely

flattering green silk gown which needed only minor alterations. The

dress was simply cut, with the skirt falling gracefully to the floor

from a high empire waistline. The neckline left her shoulders slightly

bared and was adorned by layers of gauzy white material. The dress was

more appropriate for warmer weather, but Belle decided that under the

circumstances she really couldn't complain.

The rest of the day passed with surprising slowness. Belle had always

thought of weddings as requiring mountains of

preparations but quickly found that these mountains melted away when

one's marriage was to be performed in one's home

with less than a half dozen guests.

And now it was the day of her marriage, and she had absolutely nothing

to do except sit around and be nervous. She'd feel

better when Emma arrived, she decided. What she needed was some female

company. Persephone was lovely, but she'd never been married and wasn't

much help. She'd tried to have a "little talk" with Belle the night

before, but it soon became painfully apparent that she had far less to

"talk" about than Belle did. And Belle was quite determined to keep her

mouth shut.

The conversation disintegrated rather quickly.

Unfortunately, Emma seemed to be taking her own sweet time in getting to

London. Belle wandered aimlessly about the house

all day, quite unable to concentrate on anything. She nibbled at

breakfast, picked at her lunch, and then finally settled into a window

seat in her mother's drawing room and stared out at the street.

Persephone came by and poked her head into the room. "Is everything all

right, dear?"

Belle didn't turn around. For some inexplicable reason, her gaze was

completely fixed on a small black dog yapping along the sidewalk. "I'm

fine. Just thinking."

"Are you certain? You look a bit... strange."

Belle tore her eyes off of the cityscape and turned to face Persephone.

"I'm fine, really. I just haven't anything to do, that's all. And if I

did, I doubt I'd be able to concentrate on it."

Persephone smiled and nodded. Wedding jitters. She left the room.

Belle turned back to the window. The dog had departed the scene, so she

decided to watch the leaves on the tree across the

way. How many would fall off in such a strong wind?

Good God, when had she grown so melodramatic? She now knew why people

made such a fuss about weddings. It was to

keep the bride's mind occupied, lest she fall into strange mental chasms.

Strange mental chasms? Where had that come from? Now she knew she was

really in trouble. She went back to her bedroom, laid herself down on

her bed, and by sheer force of will made herself go to sleep.

She only realized that she'd drifted off when Persephone began to shake

her by her shoulders. "My heavens, girl," she was

saying. "I cannot believe you've been napping on your wedding day."

Belle rubbed her eyes, marveling that she had actually been able to

force herself to sleep. "There seemed naught better to do,"

she said groggily.

"Well, Lord Blackwood's downstairs with the Reverend Mr. Dawes, and he's

looking rather anxious to get on with the proceedings."

"What time is it?" Belle asked, coming awake rather quickly.

"Half past six in the evening."

Good Lord, how long had she been asleep? "Have any of my relatives

arrived yet?" All three of them, Belle thought ruefully.

"No, but I hear that the roads out of town have been muddy of late."

Belle sighed. "Well, I suppose we can't wait all night for them. Please

tell Lord Blackwood that I'll be down just as soon as

I can. Oh, and if you don't mind, don't tell him that I was sleeping."

Persephone nodded and left the room.

Belle got to her feet and crossed over to her dressing room where her

slightly too casual wedding dress was hanging. She supposed she ought to

ring for her maid to help her dress. She'd always dreamed that she'd

have her mother and Emma and perhaps a few friends with her to help her

into her wedding gown. They would be laughing and joking and giggling

over every

little thing. It would be a grand affair, and she would feel like a

queen. But there was no one. She was alone.

Alone on her wedding day. What a depressing thought.

Her thoughts strayed to John, who was undoubtedly waiting impatiently

downstairs. She could see him in her mind's eye, pacing

in the drawing room, his gait punctuated by the limp which had become so

dear to her. Her lips tilted up into a smile. She wasn't alone. And she

never would be.

She had just reached for the dress when she heard a commotion in the

hallway. Her head swiveled instinctively toward the door as it burst

open. Emma quite literally flew into the room.

"Good God, cousin!" she burst out, gasping for breath. Belle had no

doubt that she'd taken the steps two at a time coming up

the stairs. "Do you think you might have given me a little notice?"

"It was all somewhat sudden," Belle hedged.

"I suspect that that is something of an understatement."

Their attention was distracted by an even louder commotion in the hall.

"Oh dear," Emma muttered. "That would be Alex."

The man in question nearly kicked the door in.

"It certainly would," Belle returned dryly.

Alex's chest was heaving with exertion. Belle rather thought he'd taken

the steps /three /at a time. He fixed his deadly green

gaze on his wife, who had the grace to look at least a little uncomfortable.

"If I ever see you jump out of a carriage like that again, so help me

God, I'm going to strangle you."

Emma chose the path of least resistance and avoided talking to her

husband altogether. "He's a little overprotective due to my delicate

condition," she said to Belle.

"Emma ..." he said warningly.

John chose that moment to appear in the doorway. "What the hell is going

on here?"

Belle shrieked, threw her arms up in the air, and ran into her dressing

room. "You can't see me!" she yelled.

"Oh for God's sake, Belle. This isn't exactly a normal wedding."

"It's going to be as normal as I want it. So get out. I'll see you

downstairs." Her voice was muffled, emerging through several layers of

fabric and a rather thick wooden door.

Alex rolled his eyes and muttered, "Women," which caused his wife to

glare at him most vigorously. "I need a drink." He stalked out of the

room. John followed without a backward glance.

Emma shut the door quickly behind them and scurried over to the dressing

room door. "They're gone," she said quietly, not at

all sure why she was whispering.

"Are you certain?"

"For heaven's sake, Belle. I have eyes, don't I? I tell you, they're gone."

Belle poked her head around the side of the door, and when she was

satisfied that the room was devoid of male creatures, ventured out.

"I /used /to think you were the most sensible person I knew," Emma muttered.

"I lost my sense," Belle said, meaning it.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Belle nodded and a tear welled up in her eye. "I just thought it'd be

different. My mother isn't even here!" She sniffled loudly.

Emma touched her arm, deeply moved by her cousin's tears. "You can wait,

Belle. There is no reason you have to go through

with this today."

Belle shook her head. "I can't wait, Emma. Not another day." And then

she told her the entire story.

*

*

*

*

*Chapter 17

*

Once Emma was convinced that Belle was truly in love with John, she

helped her cousin into her wedding gown and

proclaimed her the most radiant bride she'd ever seen.

"I suppose that means my eyes aren't bloodshot any longer," Belle joked.

She'd let loose quite a torrent of tears.

Emma solemnly shook her head. "Do you want Alex to give you away?"

Belle frowned. "I had hoped that Ned would be here by now. If I cannot

have a father of the bride, I was hoping for at least a brother. As it

is, Father is going to be furious that he didn't get to give me away."

"Well, he got to give me away," Emma said efficiently. "That will have

to do. Did Ned send a reply?"

"There wasn't time."

Emma nibbled at her lower lip. "Why don't I go downstairs and stall the

proceedings? I'll be right back."

She slipped out the door and made her way to the drawing room. John was

pacing back and forth, not so much with

nervousness as with impatience. "What's taking so long?" he snapped.

Emma pursed her lips and looked up at the clock. "It's only ten minutes

past seven. That's perfectly punctual for a wedding

that is supposed to begin at seven."

"Women." This came from her husband, who was sprawled on a sofa which

was much too small for his large frame.

Dunford was sitting across from him, smirking.

Emma shot both of them a rather nasty look before turning back to her

future cousin-in-law. "We only need a bit more time,"

she hedged.

"Emma, darling," her husband said in an unbelievably smooth tone. "Could

you come here for a moment?"

Emma eyed him suspiciously but walked over to the couch.

"Do you see the priest over there?" he whispered.

She nodded.

"Do you see anything, er, shall we say, /odd /about him?"

Emma tilted her head as she surveyed the portly gentleman. "He does seem

to be leaning a little to the left."

"Just so. He's been here thirty minutes, and that's his fourth glass of

brandy. I think we ought to get this ceremony underway

while we are still able."

Wordlessly, Emma exited the room and went back upstairs. When she

reached Belle's bedroom, she said, "I don't think we

can stall very long."

"Not even a few minutes?"

"Not if you want to get married tonight."

Belle had no idea what /that /meant but decided she'd rather not find

out. She picked up a piece of white Spanish lace and

fixed it on her head. "I suppose we cannot wait any longer for Ned. You

had better summon Alex to give me away."

Emma darted back down the stairs, grabbed her husband by the hand, and

asked Persephone to begin at the piano.

She and Alex met Belle at the top of the landing just as Persephone

began thumping away.

"Good God," Alex said as the cacophony assaulted his ears. "Is that

Beethoven?"

"I could have sworn I asked for Bach," Belle said, furrowing her brow.

"I don't think it's Bach, either," Alex said. "I don't think it's anything."

"We can only hope she doesn't start to sing," Emma said. She shot her

cousin one last smile before she headed down the

stairs as matron of honor.

"She could hardly do worse than you," Alex jibed.

Belle looked at her cousin who was already halfway down the stairs. "I

don't think she heard you," she whispered.

"That's probably a blessing. Shall we go?" Alex offered her his arm. "I

believe it's our turn."

As they floated down the stairs, past all of the pink and white roses

Belle had specially ordered, her nervousness and disappointment over the

hastiness of her wedding melted away, and all that was left was a deep

sense of contentment and joy. Each step took her closer to the man she

loved, the man whose life would soon become inextricably linked with her

own.

When she turned into the drawing room and saw him standing next to the

priest, his eyes glowing with pride and desire, it was

all she could do not to run headlong into his arms.

She and Alex finally reached the front of the room, and he placed her

hand on John's arm and stepped away.

"Dearly beloved!" Mr. Dawes barked. Alcoholic fumes swept across Belle's

face. She coughed discreetly and took a tiny

step back.

Persephone missed her cue and kept banging away at the piano, enjoying

herself immensely. Dawes turned to her with

obvious irritation and yelled, "I said, 'Dearly Beloved!' "

Persephone's musical thumps died a slow and painful death.

Belle took advantage of Dawes's momentary distraction to whisper to

John, "Are you sure he's a man of God?"

John bit back a smile. "Quite sure."

Dawes turned back to the couple. "As I was saying—Dearly beloved." He