teasingly.
Angus looked round at her quickly. Dismay colored his expression. "Oh, I say! Belle, I meant nothing by it. I like you rather a lot. For a female, you're a right 'un, a good fellow."
"You've dealt a severe blow to my ego, sir, but I think that I shall survive it," said Belle, laughing up at him.
"Go away, Angus," said Clarice in disgust, having no compunction in being uncivil to her brother.
"Has Angus disgraced himself again? I hardly need to ask, however."
Another young gentleman sauntered up in time to hear Clarice's command. He was attired in the latest fashion for an aspiring dandy. His coat was of ridiculous cut, the shoulders padded with buckram, the waist nipped in tight. His waistcoat was a stunning pink and yellow stripe. Several fobs and seals hung from ribbons at his waist. His breeches and hose showed to advantage a pair of shapely legs. He made an elegant bow to each of the ladies. "I am enchanted to see you both this evening, Miss Moorehead, Miss Weatherstone."
"Hullo, Roland," said Angus amiably, leaning over the top of his sister's chair, his arms folded.
"Roland, Angus has just insulted Belle," said Clarice. "He called her 'a good fellow'!"
"Shall I call him out for you, Miss Weatherstone?"
"Oh, not tonight, if you please, Mr. White. It would be far more excitement than is ever supposed to be found at Almack's," said Belle with a smile.
"I'd just as soon you didn't, Roland," said Angus candidly, straightening up from his negligent pose. He twitched one of his cuffs. "I am at outs with m'father just now. He knows about the donkey, you see."
"Ah," said Roland comprehensively.
"Donkey?" Belle looked from one to the other of the youthful gentlemen. Angus turned his eyes skyward, while Roland lifted a fob to wipe it carefully with his monogrammed handkerchief. She gave a warm laugh. "I perceive that it is too good a story for a mere female."
"I know what Angus and Roland did," said Clarice, tossing her head. "It had to do with a race. But I promised not to tell. Papa found out anyway, of course. He always does."
"I don't know how the devil he does it, either," muttered Angus with a rueful expression.
"It is my experience that one's parents are generally omniscient," observed Roland with a shake of his head and a resigned sigh. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "But I have not come over to discuss past glories, Angus. No! I have come over in hopes of adding my name to the dance cards of these two lovely ladies."
"You may do so, and with my goodwill," said Belle, proffering the card with its attached pencil.
Roland took it from her with an elegant bow and signed on one of the lines with a flourish. "Here you are, 'Belle of London.'"
Belle looked up at him swiftly. "It is true, then? I am really being called that?" she asked.
"I informed Belle just a moment ago what you had heard, Angus," said Clarice helpfully.
"Why are you so surprised, Miss Weatherstone? There is not a lady in all of London who can hold a candle to you," said Roland gallantly.
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Clarice with a pretty pout, flipping open her painted fan and plying it rapidly.
Roland pretended not to notice Clarice's exaggerated displeasure. "Everywhere one hears of your beauty, your refreshing frankness, your friendliness—shall I go on, Miss Weatherstone?" he asked with a wide grin.
"Pray spare my blushes, Mr. White," said Belle, laughing.
Roland bowed in grinning acknowledgment. "As you wish, of course."
"Well, I think it fits you, Belle," said Clarice loyally, laying aside her fan. "You truly are an original."
"Do you know, Clarice, I have yet to discover a mean bone in your body," said Roland, finally glancing at her, with approval in his expression.
"You haven't had her for a sister," said Angus, flashing a quick grin.
Clarice had blushed prettily at Roland's compliment. At her brother's declaration, red flags suddenly flew into her cheeks. She looked up over her shoulder at her
Angus looked round at her quickly. Dismay colored his expression. "Oh, I say! Belle, I meant nothing by it. I like you rather a lot. For a female, you're a right 'un, a good fellow."
"You've dealt a severe blow to my ego, sir, but I think that I shall survive it," said Belle, laughing up at him.
"Go away, Angus," said Clarice in disgust, having no compunction in being uncivil to her brother.
"Has Angus disgraced himself again? I hardly need to ask, however."
Another young gentleman sauntered up in time to hear Clarice's command. He was attired in the latest fashion for an aspiring dandy. His coat was of ridiculous cut, the shoulders padded with buckram, the waist nipped in tight. His waistcoat was a stunning pink and yellow stripe. Several fobs and seals hung from ribbons at his waist. His breeches and hose showed to advantage a pair of shapely legs. He made an elegant bow to each of the ladies. "I am enchanted to see you both this evening, Miss Moorehead, Miss Weatherstone."
"Hullo, Roland," said Angus amiably, leaning over the top of his sister's chair, his arms folded.
"Roland, Angus has just insulted Belle," said Clarice. "He called her 'a good fellow'!"
"Shall I call him out for you, Miss Weatherstone?"
"Oh, not tonight, if you please, Mr. White. It would be far more excitement than is ever supposed to be found at Almack's," said Belle with a smile.
"I'd just as soon you didn't, Roland," said Angus candidly, straightening up from his negligent pose. He twitched one of his cuffs. "I am at outs with m'father just now. He knows about the donkey, you see."
"Ah," said Roland comprehensively.
"Donkey?" Belle looked from one to the other of the youthful gentlemen. Angus turned his eyes skyward, while Roland lifted a fob to wipe it carefully with his monogrammed handkerchief. She gave a warm laugh. "I perceive that it is too good a story for a mere female."
"I know what Angus and Roland did," said Clarice, tossing her head. "It had to do with a race. But I promised not to tell. Papa found out anyway, of course. He always does."
"I don't know how the devil he does it, either," muttered Angus with a rueful expression.
"It is my experience that one's parents are generally omniscient," observed Roland with a shake of his head and a resigned sigh. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "But I have not come over to discuss past glories, Angus. No! I have come over in hopes of adding my name to the dance cards of these two lovely ladies."
"You may do so, and with my goodwill," said Belle, proffering the card with its attached pencil.
Roland took it from her with an elegant bow and signed on one of the lines with a flourish. "Here you are, 'Belle of London.'"
Belle looked up at him swiftly. "It is true, then? I am really being called that?" she asked.
"I informed Belle just a moment ago what you had heard, Angus," said Clarice helpfully.
"Why are you so surprised, Miss Weatherstone? There is not a lady in all of London who can hold a candle to you," said Roland gallantly.
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Clarice with a pretty pout, flipping open her painted fan and plying it rapidly.
Roland pretended not to notice Clarice's exaggerated displeasure. "Everywhere one hears of your beauty, your refreshing frankness, your friendliness—shall I go on, Miss Weatherstone?" he asked with a wide grin.
"Pray spare my blushes, Mr. White," said Belle, laughing.
Roland bowed in grinning acknowledgment. "As you wish, of course."
"Well, I think it fits you, Belle," said Clarice loyally, laying aside her fan. "You truly are an original."
"Do you know, Clarice, I have yet to discover a mean bone in your body," said Roland, finally glancing at her, with approval in his expression.
"You haven't had her for a sister," said Angus, flashing a quick grin.
Clarice had blushed prettily at Roland's compliment. At her brother's declaration, red flags suddenly flew into her cheeks. She looked up over her shoulder at her
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