Read Dancing at Midnight for Free Online

that
    morning, that she had someone with whom to share the fine weather. But
    there was no one. Except—Belle
    shook her head. She couldn't just prance over to Lord Blackwood's house
    and say hello.

    But then again, why couldn't she?

    Well, for one thing, he didn't like her.

    Which, she countered, was precisely the reason she ought to pay him a
    visit. She wasn't going to be able to rectify the
    situation if they never saw each other again.

    Belle raised her eyebrows as she pondered the thought. If she brought
    along a maid as a chaperone, she wouldn't be so far
    outside the bounds of propriety. Well, actually she would, but no one
    was about, and Lord Blackwood didn't strike her as overly high in the
    instep. Making her decision, she wandered over to the kitchen to see if
    Mrs. Goode could spare some scones. They would make a lovely breakfast.
    Perhaps Lord Blackwood hadn't yet eaten.

    She'd be fine. This wasn't London, after all. Forty gossips would not be
    wagging their tongues later that evening at her
    scandalous behavior. And she wasn't going to do anything dreadful. She
    just wanted to greet their new neighbor properly.
    Mostly she just wanted to see what his house looked like, she told
    herself. What was it called? Alex had told her the night
    before. Bletchwood Place? Blumley Manor? Blasphemous Burg? Belle laughed
    to herself. It was something hideous, that's
    all she remembered.

    She wandered down to the kitchen, where Mrs. Goode was only too happy to
    arrange a basket. Belle soon departed, laden
    with fresh jams and homemade scones.

    She strode purposefully to the stables where she mounted Amber, her
    mare. She wasn't quite certain where John's house was located, but she
    knew it was to the east. If she stuck to the roads and kept heading
    toward the sun, she'd be bound to run into it eventually.

    She set off at an easy trot as she headed down the long drive that led
    from Westonbirt to the main road. Emma's lady's maid
    knew how to ride, and she kept pace alongside her. They turned east on
    the main road, and sure enough, after about a quarter
    of an hour, they happened upon a drive that looked as if it led to
    another house. After a few moments Belle found herself in a wide open
    clearing, at the center of which stood an elegant stone house.

    It was small by the standards of aristocracy, but it was stylish and
    obviously well-built. It suited her. Belle smiled and urged her mare
    forward. She didn't see any stables, so she saw to her horse herself,
    tying it to a tree. Emma's maid did the same. "Sorry, Amber," Belle
    murmured and then took a deep breath and marched up the front steps.

    She picked up the giant brass knocker and let it fall with a resounding
    thud. After a few moments, a white-haired, elderly man answered the
    door. Belle took him to be the butler. "Good morning," she said in
    cultured tones. "Is this the home of Lord Blackwood?"

    The butler raised an eyebrow. "It is."

    Belle offered him her brightest smile. "Excellent. Please inform him
    that Lady Arabella Blydon has come to call."

    Buxton didn't doubt for a moment that she was a lady, not with her fine
    clothes and aristocratic accent. With a regal nod
    of his head, he showed her to an airy room decorated in shades of cream
    and blue.

    Belle was silent as she watched the butler disappear up the stairs. Then
    she turned to Emma's maid and said,
    "Perhaps you should, ah, go to the kitchens and see if there are any,
    ah, other servants about."

    The maid's eyes widened slightly at being dismissed, but she nodded and
    left the room.

    John was still in bed when the butler arrived, having decided to treat
    himself to some much-needed rest. Buxton entered
    silently, then put his mouth very, very close to his master's ear. "You
    have a visitor, my lord," he said loudly.

    John swatted the butler with a pillow and reluctantly came awake. "A
    what?" he asked groggily.

    "A visitor."

    "Good Lord, what time is it?"

    "Nine o'clock, my