Belinda Goes to Bath by M. C. Beaton Read Free Book Online

that young woman. Her arrival on the scene seemed just too opportune. Perhaps she had engineered the accident, thought Penelope pettishly, not stopping to consider that the idea of any young lady causing a coach to crash down in an icy river in the faint hope that the marquess would come riding by was stupid in the extreme.
    Penelope had been told from her earliest days that she was beautiful beyond compare. She had practised a certain elegance of manner but had stopped there at improvement, considering her looks enough to contribute to any company.
    Belinda, on the other hand, had assiduously practised the art of conversation to make up for what she felt was her own lack of attractions. She turned to the marquess and began to speak.

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    Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
    And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;
    Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
    Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike.
    Alexander Pope
    ‘It is most generous of you, my lord,’ said Belinda, ‘to provide us with shelter and accommodation.’
    ‘My pleasure, I assure you, Miss Earle. Do you reside with family in The Bath?’
    ‘I am to stay with Great-Aunt Harriet.’
    ‘And shall you make your come-out there?’
    ‘I have already made my come-out, my lord, at the last Season. I am now going “in” again.’
    He looked at her curiously. ‘And why is that?’ Belinda hesitated while vermicelli soup was served. She was aware of Penelope’s eyes resting on her, and somehow aware that Penelope’s shell-like ears werestraining to catch every syllable. She must not tell this marquess or anyone about the footman. Who would understand, except perhaps someone like the odd Miss Pym? To say one had run away with a footman suggested a world of unladylike passion. ‘I did not take,’ she said calmly. ‘I am lucky to be only travelling as far as The Bath. I could just as well have been sent to India or to some battlefront in hope that my not-too-obvious charms might catch the eye of a homesick member of the East India Company or some war-weary soldier.’
    ‘You are very frank,’ commented the marquess, feeling sure he should disapprove of any lady who openly ran down her own attractions and appearance, and yet finding in himself an odd desire to instil some much-needed vanity into Miss Earle. ‘You should not disparage yourself,’ he pointed out. ‘People will take you at your own valuation. If you go about saying openly, “I am not attractive,” then you will, I may say, find that people think you so. Which would be a pity.’
    ‘How so?’ demanded Belinda, her eyes dancing.
    ‘They might then fail to notice that your figure is good and your eyes very fine.’
    Belinda should have blushed and lowered her eyes. Instead she looked at him in open gratitude. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. Then her face fell. ‘But of course you do not. You are merely flirting with me as a matter of form.’
    ‘I never flirt,’ said the marquess frostily.
    ‘Do you not? I long to be able to flirt with ease, but I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth. Not all  the truth all of the time, don’t you see, for if you asked me if I were enjoying myself at present, I would be obliged to say, “Yes,” for it would be churlish to say else.’
    ‘Obviously then you are not enjoying yourself. What is wrong? You may speak freely. Your honesty amuses me.’
    ‘Well … well, it is just that I sense you have offended your guests by expecting them to dine with passengers from the stage.’
    He stiffened. ‘My guests have too much breeding to betray either like or dislike.’
    ‘Unlike me, you see what you want to see.’ Belinda lowered her voice. ‘Regard how dainty Mrs Judd takes little sips of soup with a hand that trembles with nerves. Miss Jordan is aware of her discomfort and so she stares at her openly – that is, when she is not straining to hear what we are saying – in the hope of making her feel worse. Sir Henry