Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners)(3)
Dante had predicted his initial visit to Bella Aston’s home would not be a pleasant one. Indeed, he had fully expected her hostility.
No doubt she would be happy to ensure he continued not to be disappointed in that expectation.
That Bella was now a fully mature woman with a presence of her own was without a doubt, and expressed in both her haughty bearing and her lack of even an attempt at politeness toward him. Having been a duke these past five years, and treated with all due deference to that title wherever he went, it was an attitude Dante found refreshing rather than the insult she no doubt meant it to be.
“Why, what else would I be doing here but visiting you, my dear Cousin Bella,” he drawled.
“You will address me as Lady Aston.” Her tone was frosty. “Nor have you ever felt the need to pay me such a visit during the past seven years.”
He raised mocking brows. “A single gentleman does not pay visits to a married lady unless he wishes to start the gossips’ tongues wagging.”
“I believe only the word single applies to you in that description.”
He gave an appreciative smile. “Your own tongue has developed a sharpness I find wholly appealing.”
She frowned her irritation. “If you are attempting to flirt with me, Huntley, then do not bother yourself. I am totally immune to such gentlemen as yourself. And despite what you might believe to the contrary, I am, in fact, still recovering from a cold. So if you would kindly—and quickly—state your business and then be on your way?”
And fiery, Dante added appreciatively to haughty and impolite. Not that Bella had ever lacked spirit, a trait she had inherited from her often temperamental Spanish mother. His cousin, Hal, had certainly appeared to enjoy his wife’s fiery nature for the short time the couple had been married.
Nor did Dante find Bella’s appearance any less appealing because of her recent cold. She had always been beautiful, her hair very black against her olive complexion, with dark brown eyes a man might drown in. Her throat was long and slender, and maturity had given her a fuller figure. The swell of her breasts spilled over the low neckline of her pale orange gown, her hips curvaceous.
As to Dante stating his business…
After speaking to Stonewell on the matter, Dante had pondered a reason he would suddenly call upon Bella. As she had already stated, they had not spoken more than a few polite words of greeting these past seven years, and then only if they should happen to meet by chance at a Society event.
The letter delivered to Dante early this morning requesting his immediate presence at Huntley Park had fortuitously provided the answer to his dilemma. “I have received word from Huntingdonshire that my aunt, the dowager duchess, as she now prefers to be called, is seriously ill and unlikely to recover. She has requested she would like to see you again before she dies,” he added bluntly before Bella had opportunity to politely express her regret—insincerely; there had been no love lost between the dowager and Antonia’s daughter—at the dowager’s ill health and repeat her request that he be on his way.
He tried to imagine how Stonewell and the rest of The Sinners would have responded to such a rude dismissal and knew without doubt those gentlemen would all have given Bella a severe set-down.
But none of those gentlemen had the history with Bella that Dante did.
Her eyes had widened in surprise. “The dowager and I have never liked each other.”
Dante’s mouth tilted into a mocking smile. “I believe being upon one’s deathbed tends to give one pause to reflect upon, and regret, one’s past actions.”
“Indeed?” Bella eyed him scornfully. “Then let us hope, for your sake, that your own death does not come too swiftly; otherwise, I fear there would not be time enough for you to regret all of yours.”
Oh yes, Bella was decidedly so much more than she had been seven years ago. Not only a fully mature woman, but one of strong emotions. Moreover, one who did not hesitate to state exactly what she was thinking and feeling.
Strong emotions that might have caused her to become a traitor to her adoptive country?
For her sake, Dante sincerely hoped this was not the case. It would be unpleasant to see a rope encircling and then stretching that slender throat.
He repressed a shudder of revulsion at the thought of it. “You are referring no doubt to our last…conversation?”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. “A gentleman would not have referred to it.”
“But, as you have already remarked, I am not a gentleman,” he reminded her softly.
Bella barely managed to hold her ground as Dante stepped closer to her. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his minted breath caressing her cheeks, his cologne an intoxicating mixture of sandalwood and male musk.
Her resolve broke, and she stepped away, refusing to be drawn into the seduction of that heady combination. “At least we are in agreement on something.”
Green eyes mocked her action. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have no plans to quit this earth for some time yet.” He shrugged. “My aunt is a different matter, however.”
Bella frowned her displeasure at what sounded distinctly like emotional blackmail to her. Who, in all conscience, could refuse the request of an elderly lady who lay dying?
Bella knew that she could, and without remorse, when Agatha St. Just was that elderly lady.
She had become very fond of her stepgrandfather, David St. Just, the previous Duke of Huntley. Agatha St. Just was a different matter entirely. The duchess had never forgiven Antonia Clairmont for marrying her son, and that disapproval had extended to Antonia’s young daughter, Isabella. Indeed, the duchess’s continued disapproval of Bella, once she became ward to the duke and duchess, had been part of the reason Bella had been only too happy to elope when Lord Jeremy Aston had asked her to marry him all those years ago.