Lady Hathaway's House Party by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1980-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Walking past the room next to her own, Belle noticed lights within, and thought with a grimace that Kay had put Mrs. Traveller there. She disliked it, but supposed that with guests there was no other room vacant. She went into her own room and called Marie, who came and helped her get ready for bed. A white lawn nightgown and matching peignoir with rosebuds worked around the yoke. After Marie left, she went to the door of the adjoining room and heard the unmistakable sound of movement in the room. The Traveller making her preparations for the night. She went to her dressing table and began brushing out her hair. There was suddenly a light tap at the door, and she paused, brush in midair.

What could the woman want? It darted into her head that she was about to become involved in a scene, a confrontation with “the other woman.” Every atom of her body recoiled against such vulgar melodrama. She made no reply, hoping the tap wouldn’t be repeated, and even as she sat hoping, it came again, a little more loudly. She’d let on she was asleep—the door was locked, and the woman couldn’t enter.

But Mrs. Traveller had come up before her— she would know she couldn’t be asleep yet, and would take the idea she was afraid of her if she didn’t answer. Again it came, quite loudly now. She might want only to borrow something, Belle equivocated, and went, still holding her brush, to open the door.

I’m not afraid of her, she thought to herself, and undid the bolt, pulling the door wide with a pugnacious set to her jaw, to see Oliver standing there, looking uncertain. “Oliver, what are you doing in there?” she asked, peering over his shoulder to ascertain with whom he was doing the unspecified what.

“Kay has shifted a few rooms around to make space for Mrs. Traveller,” he said.

“I suppose she thought I wouldn’t want her next to me!”

“I don’t know why she should think that,” he answered, seeing it had been an ill-chosen excuse, giving some credence to Belle’s unfounded suspicions.

“What is it you want?” she inquired, pushing the door closed a very little.

“I want to talk to you."

“Can’t it wait till morning?”

“It’s not late. It isn’t even midnight,” he said, pushing the door back open and wedging a foot into the opening.

“We’ve just been talking for an hour. I don’t see why you couldn’t tell me then. Well, what is it?”

He eased his way through the door, meeting no great opposition, and left the door hanging open behind him, as he did not wish to arouse her suspicions to too high a pitch.

“It’s private,” he told her, to explain this nocturnal call, and he advanced into the room itself from the sort of little hallway that separated the two chambers.

She was more curious than suspicious, and waited expectantly to hear what he had to say, but soon discovered that he had no real matter of the least importance to discuss at all, and had come in to urge on her again a reconciliation.

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