Page 34 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Chapter 6

Andrew stared through the conservatory glass at the moon and inhaled until his lungs could hold no more, waiting for the tobacco to surge through his body.

It was a cold clear night. He thought it might actually be too cold to snow, although somebody at dinner had been sure there was a storm on the way.

Lord. The only thing that would be worse than spending Christmas and New Year at Wych House was if he were snowed in and couldn’t take his daily ride.

He reluctantly exhaled, the smoke heavy in the humid air, mingling with the scent of dirt and vegetation.

There was an interesting halo of sorts around the moon and the sight momentarily diverted his thoughts.

Andrew squinted as he tried to recall what the phenomenon was called.

“It is a moondog.”

Andrew bit back a groan at the unwanted voice. “Why are you following me?” he asked, not caring if he was being rude. “We’re here—in the bosom of your family and friends—and yet you still must persecute me. Can’t you find a more interesting target?”

Kathryn laughed, the throaty, sensual sound far older than her tender years. “I think you underestimate your appeal, Shelton.” She waved her hand in front of her face and gave an exaggerated cough. “Must you befoul the air?”

“Yes, I must. Perhaps you should find somewhere else to be if you do not care for it?”

Undaunted by his bad manners, she said, “How are you enjoying your first evening at Wych House?”

Andrew would have liked to ignore her question—and her, as well—but several months of enforced proximity with the youngest Bellamy sister had taught him that ignoring her only invited more persecution. For whatever reason, she delighted in bedeviling his every waking hour.

“I am having a delightful time,” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

“Liar. The only person here who looks more unhappy than you is my mother’s companion.”

Andrew thought about the woman who’d just scowled at him in the drawing room. He’d been too agitated to notice much about her when she’d run into him outside Lady Shaftsbury’s chambers. But seeing her again at dinner, and afterward, he’d felt a strange twinge of memory. Had he met her somewhere before?

He’d never had a head for names, but his ability to recall faces had become even worse after he’d returned home from the War.

“Who is she?” Andrew asked.

“She is my mother’s companion.”

“I know that,” he said, giving her a withering look. “What is her name?”

“Why?”

Andrew lifted an eyebrow at her suspicious tone. “Why what?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Why do you think I’m asking?” he demanded testily, although he could no longer remember why himself.

“Is she your next target for seduction?”

“Very droll.” How did the little witch manage to draw him into these conversations?

Kathryn laughed. “Or abduction, I suppose.”

Andrew knew he deserved her mockery, so he kept his mouth shut and endured it.

But he also took a deep draw on the slender cigar and then exhaled, not being too choosy about which direction he blew his smoke.

She coughed. “Is she, Andrew?”