No one was able to hide his smile that time.
"Excellent," Dunford replied. "I shall come for you at two." He nodded to the earl and countess, saying that he would see himself out.
"I'll take my leave now as well," John said. "I've much to do this morning." He dropped a kiss on the top of his wife's head and followed Dunford through the door.
Belle and Henry excused themselves and retired to the drawing room, where they planned to go over titles and rules of precedence until the midday meal. Henry was not in the least excited about the prospect.
"How did you like my husband?" Belle asked once they were seated.
"He was lovely, Belle. He is obviously a man of great kindness and integrity. I could see it in his eyes. You are very lucky to have him."
Belle smiled and even blushed just a little. "I know."
Henry tossed her a sideways smile. "And he is quite handsome, too. The limp is very dashing."
"I have always thought so. He used to be frightfully self-conscious about it, but now I think he barely notices it."
"Was he injured in the war?"
Belle nodded, her expression growing dark. "Yes. He's very lucky to have the leg at all."
They were both silent for a moment, and then Henry suddenly said, "He reminds me a bit of Dunford."
"Dunford?" Belle blinked in surprise. "Really? Do you think so?"
"Absolutely. Same brown hair and eyes, although perhaps Dunford's hair is a bit thicker. And I think his shoulders might be a trifle broader."
"Really?" Belle leaned forward interestedly.
"Mmmm. And he's very handsome, of course."
"Dunford? Or my husband?"
"Both," Henry said quickly. "But..." Her words trailed off, as she realized it would be unforgivably rude to point out that Dunford was obviously the more handsome of the two.
Belle, of course, knew her husband was obviously better looking, but nothing in the world would have pleased her more than to hear that Henry disagreed. She smiled and made a soft murmuring sound, subtly encouraging Henry to continue speaking.
"And," Henry added, obliging Belle fully, "it was just lovely of your husband to kiss you good-bye. Even I know enough of the ton to know that is not considered de rigueur."
Belle didn't even have to look at Henry to know she was wishing that Dunford would do the same to her.
When the clock struck two, Henry had to be dissuaded from waiting on the doorstep. Belle managed to get her to sit in the drawing room and tried to explain that most ladies chose to remain upstairs and keep their callers waiting for several minutes. Henry didn't listen.
Part of the reason she was so excited to see Dunford was that she had discovered a newfound appreciation for herself and her qualities as a woman. Belle and her family seemed to like her tremendously, and it was her understanding that they were very well respected among the ton. And although Caroline's constant fussing with her hair and wardrobe could be most vexing, it was beginning to give Henry hope that she just might be pretty after all. Not ravishingly beautiful like Belle, whose wavy, blond hair and bright blue eyes had inspired sonnets among the more poetically minded of the ton, but she was certainly not wholly unattractive.
As Henry's self-esteem inched upward, she began to think that she just might have a tiny chance of inducing Dunford to love her. He already liked her; surely that was half the battle. Maybe she could compete with the sophisticated ladies of the ton, after all. She wasn't really certain how to make this miracle occur, but she did know that she was going to have to spend as much time as possible in his presence if she was going to make any progress.
And that was why, when she looked up at the clock and noticed it was two o'clock, her heart began to race.
Dunford arrived at two minutes past the hour and discovered Belle and Henry studying a copy of Debrett's Peerage. Or rather, Belle was trying very hard to force Henry to study it, and Henry was trying very hard to toss the book out the window.
"I see you're enjoying your time together," Dunford drawled.
"Oh, very much," Belle returned, snatching the book before Henry managed to drop it into an antique spittoon.
"Very much, my lord," Henry echoed. "I'm supposed to call you 'my lord,' I've discovered."
"I would that you meant it," he muttered under his breath. Such obedience from Henry would be a boon, indeed.
"Not Baron or Baron Stannage," she continued. "Apparently no one uses the word 'baron' except when talking about someone. Bloody useless title, I think, if no one knows you've got it."
"Er, Henry, you might want to curb your use of the word 'bloody,'" Belle felt obliged to point out. "And everyone does know he's got the title. That's what this is all about." She motioned to the book in her hand.
"I know." Henry made a face. "And do not worry, I won't say 'bloody' in public unless someone has severed one of my arteries and I'm in danger of bleeding to death."
"Er, and that's another thing," Belle said.
"I know, I know, no mention of anatomy in public, either. I'm afraid I was raised on a farm, and we are not quite so squeamish."
Dunford took her arm and said to Belle, "I'd better get her out of the house before she burns it down from boredom."
Belle bid them both a good time, and they were on their way, a housemaid trailing a respectable few feet behind them.
"This is most odd," Henry whispered after they had reached the edge of Grosvenor Square. "I feel as if I am being stalked."
"You'll get used to it." He paused. "Are you truly enjoying yourself here in London?"