The Valet Who Loved Me - Valerie Bowman Page 0,48

Wilhelmina continued with a knowing nod, “and last night at dinner, I heard Lord Clayton mention Lord Bellingham. Someone asked if he’d heard from the marquess.”

Lady Copperpot’s eyes widened and she leaned forward, her face bright-red and full of interest. “And what was Lord Clayton’s response, Wilhelmina?”

Lady Wilhelmina waved a hand in the air as she appeared to contemplate the question for a moment. “Oh, I believe he said something terribly vague such as, ‘You never know when Bell might appear.’”

Marianne gasped, and the leather walking boot she’d been holding dropped from her hand to land on the floor with a solid thunk.

“Well, I’m not holding my breath,” Lady Copperpot replied to Wilhelmina, ignoring Marianne as usual. “Your father and I have some plans in the works for the autumn. We’ll get you betrothed yet. Even before the next Season. Now, I’m going downstairs to see if I can learn anything else about Lord Bellingham’s visit. I’ll see you for tea.”

With that, the formidable lady stood and exited the room.

After the door closed behind her mother, Lady Wilhelmina gave an audible sigh. “I don’t know why things like betrothals must be so difficult,” she said out loud to the room.

Marianne stepped forward, her hands folded primly in front of her. “I’m sorry ye’re having such a difficult time of it, milady.”

“Oh, Marianne, be glad you’re not me,” Lady Wilhelmina said, a pout on her lips. “It’s such a chore to constantly go to parties, trying to find a suitable husband. You cannot possibly know how difficult it is.” The young woman shook her head pitifully.

Marianne wasn’t about to miss her only chance at asking a highly inappropriate question. She cleared her throat. “Milady, if ye don’t mind, do ye happen ta know wot Lord Bellingham’s Christian name is?”

Lady Wilhelmina frowned and blinked. Then blinked and frowned some more. “Funny you should ask, but I do believe it’s Beaumont. ‘Beau’ is what they call him.”

Marianne gulped. She rubbed one finger behind her ear. “Did ye say Beau?” She’d asked again only to keep from crumpling to the floor in a heap. She tried to sound nonchalant, but her insides were quaking.

Lady Wilhelmina sighed again. “Yes. And I only know because Mama drilled his name into my head along with half a dozen others at the start of the Season. He’s one of the most eligible bachelors in London, you know.”

Marianne simply nodded. She didn’t want to raise her mistress’s suspicions, but Lady Wilhelmina seemed to be in a particularly accommodating mood at the moment, so she risked another question. “Do ye…happen ta know anythin’ else about him? Lord Bellingham, I mean.” So much for nonchalance, her voice clearly went up an octave.

Lady Wilhelmina frowned. “Taken a sudden interest into the affairs of the Marquess of Bellingham, have you, Marianne?”

Marianne attempted to keep her voice steady. She knew it must seem terribly strange of her to ask, but she also knew that Lady Wilhelmina was the one person she could ask such things. Marianne couldn’t very well go traipsing about asking the other ladies at the party. Or even the servants, for that matter, without really arousing suspicion.

“I was just curious if I’d seen him before,” Marianne finally offered. “In the servants’ hall, I mean. Ye mentioned he might be playacting at being a servant.”

“Why, yes, that’s an excellent point.” Lady Wilhelmina tapped her cheek. She was obviously warming to the topic now that she saw the benefit to herself. “Let’s see. I do seem to recall some of the other young ladies saying that there’s a rumor he works for the Home Office. Of course, I don’t believe such rubbish. Why in the world would a marquess need to work for the Home Office? It makes little sense if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

Marianne gulped again. “And…” She had to stop for a moment to ensure her voice didn’t shake. “Wot does he…look like, milady?”

“Oh, he may just be the most handsome of the lot, if you ask me,” Lady Wilhelmina said, a wistful look in her eye. “He’s ever so tall, with close-cropped blond hair and the eyes the light blue of an angel’s. He’s ridiculously handsome.”

With nothing more than a flare of her nostrils to betray her emotions, Marianne nodded calmly and made the last press to the gown before hanging it up in the wardrobe again. “I see,” was all she said. “Well, I’ll be certain ta keep an eye out fer him. If there