Page 33 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

While she was engaged with her embroidery Lord Shelton had a book in his lap. It took her only a few minutes to discern he was not reading it. Instead, he stared at the other denizens of the room with a brooding expression that made him look like a sulky angel.

A gorgeous sulky angel.

Over and over again her eyes were drawn to him.

It was almost two years since she’d last seen him. The years had robbed Stacia of the only attraction she had ever possessed—the dewiness of youth—while they had, unjustly, served to make Shelton even more desirable.

The lines around his eyes gave him a depth he had lacked the last time Stacia had seen him. Or at least it afforded him the trappings of depth while Stacia merely looked like a spinster rapidly spiraling toward maiden aunthood.

Yet another of the hundreds of ways in which the world was so cruel toward women.

Stacia wasn’t the only one who stared at the brooding lord. Even though he was not paying attention to anyone, the young girls playing Casino, and even the older married women gossiping and working on their cross-stitching, constantly stole glances at the handsome lord.

As much as Stacia hated to agree with her employer on any matter, Lady Addiscombe was correct when she said Lord Shelton was nothing but trouble for any woman—rich or poor, young or old, married or spinster.

She wondered how Sarah Creighton—Shelton’s most notorious, if not most recent, victim—was faring in exile. Stacia had not heard another word about the other woman after she’d married a nameless farmer. Sarah would have given birth to Shelton’s baby long ago. Was it a boy or a girl? Did her husband accept the child? Did Sarah think of Shelton and yearn for him still, even though she knew the truth about his character?

You still do, why shouldn’t she?

Perhaps when the holiday was over, Stacia would write to Sarah. Maybe they could resume their acquaintance now that both of them were essentially outcasts from their former society.

And maybe you can ask her what happened when Sarah disappeared with the handsome lord for one entire night…

Stacia could not deny that she had long felt a burning curiosity to know what had transpired between the pair.

Why don’t you ask Lord Shelton?

Stacia snorted at the thought.

Lord Shelton suddenly turned her way, his eyes landing on her directly rather than skittering dismissively over her.

Almost as if he were privy to her thoughts.

Rather than modestly lower her gaze as a good girl should, she stared at him as she’d done the time she confronted him.

He returned her gaze for a moment and then gave a huff of amusement and turned away.

Stacia bristled. How dare he treat her so dismissively?

And why should he be allowed to feel at home in the drawing room of a family he had shamed with his abhorrent behavior?

You had your chance to get rid of him. Instead, you chose to alienate your employer.

Stacia chewed on her lip, not wanting to think about the confrontation waiting for her when the countess eventually decided to strike.

It had been foolish to oppose her demand earlier in Lord Needham’s library.

But you could not bear the thought of being the cause of Shelton’s banishment.

Stacia hated that the accusation was true. She was so pathetic! Still yearning for him after all these years.

Lord Shelton suddenly stood, shoved the book he’d been holding beneath the seat cushion, and made for the door.

Just where was he off to in such a hurry?

Stacia was still pondering her relentless attraction for the biggest cad in England when Lady Kathryn Bellamy, who’d finished playing chess and was idly observing the raucous Casino game, strolled in a leisurely way toward the door, leaving without saying anything.

Could Lady Kathryn and Lord Shelton be having some sort of assignation?

Stacia hated to think that was the case. Lord Needham had essentially vouched for the man’s character.

It is your duty to make sure the girl is not in danger of being compromised.

Stacia hesitated only a second before setting aside her basket and heading for the door, which opened just as she reached it.

She waited for three maids, all laden with heavy trays, to enter before slipping out of the room and asking the footman. “I don’t suppose you know where Lord Shelton went? Er, I have a message for him.”

“He asked where he could have a cigar and I directed him to the conservatory. It is just down the main staircase and then follow the corridor that leads west. You cannot miss it.”

“Thank you,” Stacia said, her mind whirring as she hurried off. If they were having an assignation, just what would she say or do?