The Romance by M. C. Beaton, Marion Chesney Page B

way.’
    A piercing stab of happiness entered Belinda’s heart at those words, and her face became almost translucent. He rose and leaned over her, and her heart hammered against her ribs.
    Then the door of the morning-room opened and Lizzie came in. The marquess sat down suddenly and Belinda said crossly, ‘What are you doing up and about this early, Lizzie?’
    ‘Looking for you,’ said Lizzie, her green eyes darting suspiciously from one to the other.
    ‘Excuse me, ladies,’ said the marquess. He bowed and left the room.
    ‘What was going on?’ demanded Lizzie. ‘I thought he was going to kiss you!’
    ‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Belinda. ‘Lord Gyre was merely leaning forward to take up anewspaper.’
    ‘I think you are going to be like the others,’ said Lizzie, meaning their elder sisters. ‘I think you are going to throw away a chance at getting Mannerling back.’
    ‘Not I!’ said Belinda with a lightness she did not feel. Had he been going to kiss her? What would that have been like?’
    Gurney Burke opened the door of the morning-room a little, saw the girls and was about to retreat when Lizzie’s next words froze him.
    ‘Of course,’ Lizzie said eagerly, ‘Gyre is very rich indeed. There is always the possibility that you could get him to buy Mannerling for you as a wedding gift.’
    And Belinda, who had been badly shaken by the tumult of feelings caused in her breast by Lord Gyre and was anxious to return to her old image of being strong and confident, said with a laugh, ‘Perhaps I might consider Gyre if my wiles fail to work on Saint Clair. It is always as well to have one in reserve, don’t you think?’
    Lizzie gave a trill of laughter. ‘Now that is more like the dear sister I know.’
    Gurney retreated, his face dark with anger.
    ‘Was that someone at the door?’ Belinda asked sharply. ‘And it is open a little way. I am sure Lord Gyre closed it behind him.’
    Lizzie darted to the door, opened it wide and looked outside. ‘There is no one there at all,’ she said.
    *      *      *
    Lord Gyre was adjusting his cravat when Gurney strolled into his room. ‘Morning, Gurney,’ said the marquess. ‘You look like the devil.’
    ‘I have just overheard a most interesting conversation,’ said Gurney. He repeated almost what he had overheard but made it seem much worse by adding the embellishment that Belinda had said, ‘I can have Gyre any time I want.’
    The marquess did not feel angry. He only felt a great weariness of spirit. Since he had come of age, he had been ruthlessly pursued. Débutantes had pretended to faint in his arms, matchmaking mamas and their eager daughters had even pursued him to his home in the country, and he had been naïve enough to think that Belinda was beginning to be attracted to him, that she had brains and character.
    ‘I am sorry to disillusion you,’ said Gurney, beginning to feel guilty that he had lied, if only a little. ‘There are ladies a-plenty who would love you for yourself alone.’
    ‘Take away my title and my fortune and I doubt if any of them would give me a second glance,’ said Lord Gyre. ‘Shall we go for a gallop? And then we will perhaps decide to leave. This place wearies me. There is, however, someone in the neighborhood I thinkyou should meet.’
    ‘And who is that?’
    ‘A Miss Trumble.’
    ‘And who is Miss Trumble?’
    ‘The Beverley girls’ governess.’
    ‘I do not think that is a good idea, nor do I wish to meet a governess who has no doubt instilled—or at best failed to curb—such unmaidenly ambitions in her charges.’
    ‘I think you will find she has done everything she could to quench them. Trust me. She is not in the common way.’
    *      *      *
    Gurney uneasily felt, when they arrived at Brookfield House, that his friend was still besotted with Belinda, else why would he wish to visit this old creature who had answered the door herself, dressed in an old gown and a baize