differently this morning, doing away with the heavy scarf and pinning it about her face. The curls escaped, of course, but rather than detracting from the whole picture she thought that they added to it. For some reason today she felt lighter and happier than she had in months and the sun above was a part of that, too.
She hoped Lady Lucy had read the book she had given her. She hoped she had kept eating, too. If she had, then the change in her from last week to this one should be more than noticeable.
A carriage standing before the Thornton town house had Belle frowning. She did not recognise it and hoped that there were not visitors who would take away time she would have with the Earl’s sister. The horses were most handsome and the liveried driver on the box seat tipped his hat at her.
‘Morning, miss. It’s a fine day outside, to be sure.’
She smiled back at him and made her way up the steps, the door opened by a servant she had not met before.
‘The master is expecting you, miss. He is in the blue salon. I will take you through.’
Dispensing with her coat and hat, she followed him and heard the conversation between a group of people getting louder by the moment.
She stopped and the servant looked around.
‘I think there has been a mistake. I am here to see Miss Staines only. I have been attending to her medical needs.’
‘You are Miss Smith, are you not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then, you are to come right this way.’
Belle straightened down her skirts as she went, a sort of dawning horror rising in her stomach. She did not wish to meet other guests of this house. She would not be accepted by anyone in society and surely the Earl of Thornton would know this.
The door opened. The Earl stood by the mantel with two strangers, a beautiful woman and a tall and handsome man. When the Earl saw her he excused himself and came to her side.
‘I thought before you went upstairs to see my sister you may like to meet Lord and Lady Luxton.’
Belle took in a breath. This was a situation she had not come across before and she was silent as she watched for cues.
‘Miss Smith.’ The woman spoke first. ‘I am Celeste Shayborne and I have heard much about your ministry in Whitechapel. My husband is most interested in hearing about it, too.’
As if to underline this as a truth the man beside her nodded.
‘It seems your fame proceeds you, Miss Smith.’ Lord Luxford spoke now for the first time, though Belle wondered at his tone. He did not sound quite as pleased as his wife. The social conventions worried her.
Should she curtsy before this lord as she spoke or was that unnecessary?
‘Mine is a small clinic but in an area where there are many supplicants. I am quite perplexed that you have even heard of it.’
* * *
She used her voice like a weapon, Lytton thought, the low and husky tone surprising, but not as surprising as the King’s English that she now spoke. Her voice had never held tones of the East End, though, and had always sounded quite refined.
If he had closed his eyes just then, it could have been any one of the titled and well-brought-up ladies of the ton talking. He saw the interest in Celeste’s eyes and the curiosity in Shay’s.
‘Who are your parents, Miss Smith?’ Celeste was never one to refrain from trying to decipher a puzzle and she asked the question baldly.
But Miss Annabelle Smith failed to answer, turning to him instead and finding a query all her own.
‘I do hope your sister has recovered a little in the days since I have seen her, your lordship?
Now this was interesting, Lytton thought. There were secrets here and he could tell that Celeste had determined it exactly the same.
‘Miss Smith gave Lucy a copy of the Mary Wollstonecraft book, Celeste, and my sister has been most taken by the things the author wrote of.’
‘Oh, I, too, have read her books and most heartily agree with the sentiments in them.’
* * *
Belle did not feel quite up to arguing for the rights of all women no matter what their station in life so she stayed quiet. She was feeling her way here and the truth of her being from Whitechapel’s mean streets felt like an enormous stumbling block. She had not recognised this in the company of the Earl or even of his sister. But when society came crashing down upon her in a refined drawing room as it had here there was no getting away from it.
She did not fit.
A headache had begun to form behind her eyes and she prayed to God that the jagged lines of a worse malady did not reappear. Not until she could get home at least. She felt sweat run between her breasts and the fine beading of it on her top lip.
The Earl saved the day by asking her if she wanted a drink, leading her across to a cabinet where an array of bottles stood on top of a polished mahogany counter.
She had never tasted true liquor in all of her life and searched for something non-alcoholic.
‘The white wine is very good.’ The Earl lent down and said this quietly.
‘Only a small glass, please.’
He poured it with the sort of ease people used to heavy drinking must be wont to do. She did not really know, for her aunt was a teetotaller and any alcohol in the house was reserved for medicines. The devil’s brew, her aunt had often said, and there was enough evidence around Whitechapel for them to believe in such a truth.
A cup of tea would have been welcome, but she felt she could not ask. The smile she sported hurt her cheeks and she wondered how much longer she could manage to keep it up. She wished she might excuse herself and go upstairs to see her patient.
‘Celeste and Shay are friends of mine.’
‘I see, your lordship.’
‘Very good friends.’
She looked up and caught his glance. What did he wish her to say? And what was he telling her?
The tumble of the unexpected was confusing, terrifying even, and she measured her breaths with a rigid count. These people knew of her and her clinic, they understood she was from poorer stock and they were still attempting to be friendly. She took a sip of the wine and then another, surprised by the strength of its taste.
Still, it was wet and it gave her something to do. In a moment she had finished the lot.
‘Would you like more?’ A frown dashed into golden eyes as she nodded.
‘Thank you.’
This time she drank more slowly as he led her back into the room. It was relaxing her now, this white wine. For the first time in ten minutes she felt as if she might be coping.
‘Where
