by Wilde, Tanya
Perhaps she was being overly dramatic. If her tormentor had returned, it might not even be for her. He wasn’t meant to know she even lived. But even so, he still had to be dealt with if he had indeed returned—whether it was for her or not. But how could she go about dealing with the man that left her for dead?
Still observing Westfield, Belle realized that the obvious animosity he, St. Aldwyn and Grey were directing at James Shaw had begun to cause some eyes to wander their way.
“Your husbands are going to cause a scandal if they keep glaring this way,” Belle murmured.
“Oh, don’t be silly! Only speculation would arise from their broodiness, not scandal.”
“Speculation, right. And what will others assume to be the cause of their broodiness, I wonder? Certainly not that Mr. Shaw and I are both unattached.”
James choked on air.
Her friends only chuckled merrily.
Belle narrowed her eyes on them. Of course, it would have crossed their minds. They wished for her to be blissfully married, as well. She rolled her eyes heavenward at their obvious attempt at matchmaking. “Well, I for one would like to avoid such speculation, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Shaw?”
“I do, Lady Belle.”
A smile tugged at her lips at the man’s obvious discomfort. To her friends, she only raised a brow.
“Oh bother! You are no fun!” Evelyn groused.
“I am plenty fun, but I also prefer plenty of discretion in any mayhem I cause.”
And Belle did enjoy stirring up the masses, mostly by designing scandalous gowns under the guise of Madam De La Frey.
“So James,” Jo began, “when is our assignation to take place?”
Belle choked back a laugh.
James shook his head. “Please refrain from using that particular word for our meeting in the company of your husband. I will send the details over tomorrow.”
“Then why did you seek us out tonight if you’re not to inform us of those details now?” Evelyn asked.
“To vex your husbands, would be my guess,” Belle offered.
The smile coating James’s face confirmed her guess to be correct.
“You truly are a beast,” Evelyn said, her eyes dancing.
For a brief moment, Belle felt her spirits rise. In the presence of her friends, it was hard not to forget her earlier panic. That was until the smell of spice and sweetness tickled her nose again.
Her heart sank and she involuntarily glanced around. There was no one near her so her gaze darted to the open French doors. Could it be that a slight breeze had carried in the fragrance?
Ill at ease, she returned her attention back to her friends.
Their eyes sparkled as they laughed at something James said. Would the laughter still be in their eyes if they ever learned the truth of her past?
She prayed she’d never have to find out that answer.
Chapter 2
The following day, Belle was seated across from her friends in the drawing room of Jo’s new home, which she shared with her husband, the Marquis of St. Aldwyn, wondering how it came to pass that one night had completely rendered her otherwise fabulous life, less fabulous.
Or perhaps it was all the wrought iron candle holders scattered across the room, equipped with black candles set against deep red velvet drapes. Had the walls not been covered in red as well, even with the intricate gold design, Belle may have thought differently on the matter.
Too much red.
Lavender. Yes, Lavender would do nicely in this room.
Her gaze circled back to her friends. She watched them over the rim of her cup as they whispered in hushed tones, a clue that they were conspiring. It was a pleasant distraction, even if she wasn’t certain she’d like whatever they were up to.
Last night still weighed heavily on her mind. She knew it might just be her imagination—last night marked the fifth anniversary of that fateful night, after all—but a nasty foreboding still plagued her. Even if she had imagined the scent, the shivers and the suspicion, it did not change the fact that the heart-wrenching and dangerous secret she kept hidden always hung over her like a stormy cloud.
Utterly depressing, that.
It was, of course, made worse by the fact she could not share the burden with anyone. She loved her friends to dearly to subject them to a secret that could destroy them.
When Belle first met Evelyn and Josephine, they bonded over their mutual agreement that married life did not suit them, each having their own unique reason for their lack of interest in the institution.
But all that changed when Evelyn’s brother hatched a scheme to introduce the brooding Earl of Grey back into society. The scheme set a sequence of events in motion that no one could have predicted—events that resulted in Evelyn’s and later Jo’s marriage. Of course, Belle was happy for her friends, but she remained disinclined to trot down the aisle. Her aversion, however, did not seem to register with them—or perhaps it simply didn’t bother them. No doubt they already picked out a husband for her and, in their minds, simply needed to nudge her.
Usually, she would indulge her friends their ministrations even if she knew they would lead nowhere, but today her reflections were much too maudlin to allow her to entertain their antics. Perhaps if she had rested, she’d have another perspective, but her sleep had been plagued by nightmares. Eventually, Belle had given up on sleep altogether and spent the remainder of the night sketching a new line of gowns, all the while silently cursing her brothers for abandoning her to her fate.
Her brothers had left England soon after their parents perished on a ship bound for France. They had wished to travel and explore the world, as, apparently, their parent’s demise had prompted life-altering questions for them. Of course, Belle did not begrudge them their adventures, and she supposed everyone dealt with grief their own way, she just never imagined they would leave her behind with her decrepit aunt.
“So we wondered whether you’d consider—”
“No,” Belle interrupted before Jo had a chance to finish her sentence. Best to nip this scheming in the bud. “You may be marvelously happy in your marriages, but my reasons for remaining unwed have not changed.”
Evelyn and Jo glanced at each other.
Belle calmly took a sip of her tea even though Jo’s smile was sly. Like a cat. “We would never bully you into something you did not wish to do, Belle. We just thought perhaps you would enjoy some other aspects of entering a relationship with a man.”
Belle choked on her tea then.
Surely they were not suggesting she embark on an affair? But then again, why wouldn’t they? Had she not always acted like an outrageous flirt? Most of the time she only pretended to be so daring, though she supposed that her friends would not know that she was only pretending for a bit of fun, for a distraction. She’d gotten quite good at pretending to be someone she was not. Perhaps even to the extent that she’d actually become the person she feigned to be. So no, she could not blame them the assumption.
“I do not imagine that to be wise.”
“Why ever not?” Jo asked.
“Look at where it got us,” Evelyn added dreamily.
“Exactly,” Belle said with a raise of her brows.
“Well, you do not have to marry the man,” Jo said with a smile. “Every woman should experience the body of a male at least once.”
Belle groaned. They would have her ravaged for nothing but a grand experience.
Evelyn nodded her agreement. “Does the famous Madam De La Frey not deserve some excitement?”
Excitement?
Ruination seemed the most appropriate word. That is why she’d donned the persona of Madam De La Frey in the first place, to avoid the pesky bother of ruination. So what if she designed flimsy gowns that scandalized old dames? Did that mean she must act the part of a scandalized woman, too? No. No, it did not.
“My identity is not widely known, I’d like for it to stay that way. Family name and all.”
She�
�d rather not be the one that sent her aunt to an early grave.
“You can still keep your activities a secret,” Jo put in.
“It would be quite bothersome to keep my secret a secret if I embarked on a wild affair, which in itself would only add to the pile of secrets.”
“I do not see how,” Evelyn replied in a thoughtful manner. “You need only to set aside a few hours for the affair. It needn’t come between you and any of your other activities.”
Belle shook her head. The topic of their conversation burned her ears. Her friends were relentless, and she’d admit that they argued good points. But while they had found a compromise in their marriages, Belle would never be able to.
She took another sip of her tea, wishing it were something stronger. “I will not be swayed from my decision to remain unattached, not even for some tawdry affair.” At their sullen expressions, Belle added, “But I shall consider the merits of your argument, though I make no promises.”
“Your consideration is all we can hope for,” Evelyn appeased.
Hah! Belle narrowed her eyes on her friends. They would not stop their pestering on this front—she was sure of it. But she was equally sure of her abilities to withstand any match-making attempts on their part.
But you do not truly want to withstand their attempts.
Belle cursed her inner voice. It was yet another secret she held close to her heart—closer even than the other. She’d always wanted to marry, to be part of a family. Yet, it was the one thing she knew she’d never do.
“Yes, well, my time is better spent on the exquisite gowns I am designing for us,” Belle finally replied, hoping to end that particularly thread of their conversation. As soon as the words left her lips, however, St. Aldwyn and Westfield sauntered into the room.
Against her will, Belle’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of Westfield.
Drat. Why did he have to be so blasted handsome?
As always, not one hair on his blonde head stood out of place. He was leaner than St. Aldwyn, though they stood at the same height. His broad shoulders were slightly less pronounced, and where St. Aldwyn appeared hard around the edges, Westfield was striking. He wore his standard easy smile, one that brightened at the sight of his sister, Evelyn. A twinge of envy pinched her heart at the obvious display of affection between the siblings.
“What are you ladies up to?” St. Aldwyn asked with a broad smile, his eyes never leaving his wife. “Not plotting my demise, I hope?”
“Now why would we plot your demise, husband?” Jo asked, her voice syrupy sweet.
“Because I’ll pummel any man who dares flirt with my wife and she does not approve of my violence?”
Jo only laughed merrily. “Is this your attempt to discover the reason for James’s presence at the masked ball?”
“Perhaps the giant did not take note that you are spoken for?” There was an edge to his voice even though his smile remained in place.
Belle nearly snorted at the obvious display of male possessiveness. Had it not occurred to the men that perhaps James might be courting her? The idea annoyed Belle.
“I’m not spoken for,” she replied in a soft tone, her smile taking on a wicked edge.
St. Aldwyn’s hard eyes locked onto her.
Belle blinked innocently. It was clear he did not like the idea of Shaw being around his wife often—something that would happen if Shaw were indeed courting her. “You will recall I was in conversation with Mr. Shaw before your wife arrived,” she added in way of further explanation.
Out of the corner of her eye, Westfield stiffened.
“I was not aware you had decided to join the marriage mart,” Westfield muttered after a long pause.
Belle shrugged in response. “I haven’t.”
Her friends cackled at the matching looks of utter confusion that graced the men’s faces before understanding dawned on them. Their eyes widened the moment it did.
“Belle!” Evelyn exclaimed. “You will give them heart failure with your wicked sense of humor!”
Belle waved Evelyn’s comment aside. “Is it not astounding how men can be so easily shocked by the words of a lady?”
“Ladies should not speak such shocking words,” Westfield snapped, the easy charm of his smile gone.
“And men should not rule the world, yet here we are,” Belle countered.
“Oh? And I suppose you think a woman could take over that mantle?”
Jo cleared her throat before Belle could reply. “I doubt the world is ruled by either man or woman but rather by mankind, although men do have a distinct advantage as they are given certain liberties.”
“Well, since I am a self-proclaimed spinster, I daresay those advantages and liberties befall me, as well,” Belle responded.
Westfield’s agitated tone snapped through the air. “Has this self-proclaimed spinsterhood made you less of a lady, then?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you are not at liberty to have liberties.”
Belle wanted to kick Westfield for his boorish ways. How could a man so cheerful and affable so quickly become austere and stuffy? It defied explanation.
She shot him a heated glare. “Well, as that is your opinion, it is a good thing that my life is no concern of yours.”
“You are Evelyn’s friend and your actions reflect back on her, so it is my concern.”
“That is just ridiculous! Evelyn is not even your concern now, is she? Being Grey’s wife and all,” Belle pointed out. “What a bore you are, Westfield. And ladies do not like bores.”
“By your own account, you are no longer intending to behave as a true lady ought, so I do not care what you think I am.”
Belle gasped.
The rotten beast!
“Simon!” Evelyn chastised. “You forget your manners! That is my friend you are being rude to.”
Westfield’s cheeks warmed under his sister’s stern regard. It was the first time Belle had heard Evelyn take such a stern voice with her brother.
“My apologies, Lady Belle,” he muttered almost too low for her to hear.
Belle snorted.
“Perhaps you should entertain your guest in the study, my dear?” Josephine suggested to her husband who nodded in assent.
Belle felt the singe of Westfield’s dark gaze on her as he departed, but she refused to look his way. Why she had ever thought him a delicious specimen was beyond her. Best to stay away from him altogether.
Hopefully, he’d do the same.
Simon was fuming by the time he stalked into St. Aldwyn’s wood-paneled study. He could not remember a time when a woman so completely vexed him to the point of blind fury.
Boorish? He most certainly was not a bore. And who the hell was she to say otherwise? Granted, he possessed certain views, like that a lady should be sheltered and cared for, for one, but that hardly constituted that he had boorish tendencies.
Never had he been anything but a gentleman.
Lady Belle’s implication that she and James Shaw may not have marriage on their minds in their flirtation was outlandish and preposterous. And it had set his blood to boil.
She was outspoken, often dressed as no lady ought to and a brazen flirt. In fact, she was plain trouble—trouble with a dash of exquisite beauty—which was not the sort of woman he favored at all.
Hell, what insanity was this? He was a grown man and he was moping about his friend’s study all because she had called him a bore. He began listing her myriad of flaws in an attempt to soothe his anger. Impetuous, yes, she was certainly that, reckless, bold, completely disrespectful of a gentleman’s station…and still the most fascinating being he had ever set eyes on. The last was certainly her largest flaw.
Dammit.
“That woman will drive me to madness, yet.”
“I take that to mean that you are not aware you are already being plagued with madness.”
Simon shot his friend a glare. St. Aldwyn only lifted an inquiring brow before continui
ng. “In my experience, a woman does not drive a man to madness unless she has him hooked to an unseen chain. Are you perhaps hooked?”
“Absolutely not,” he declared with a strong voice, but his brows were already creasing at the edges. “Well…I do not know…perhaps.”
St. Aldwyn chuckled, handing Simon a brandy. “It seems to me that Lady Belle has got your knickers in a twist.”
“Did your wife mention if Lady Belle’s interest swung at all in my direction?”
“No, but if she was clearly inclined, I do not think you would be tied up in knots over her barbs, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t know what has possessed me, but it appears more trouble than it’s worth. No matter how beautiful she may be.”
“Men have started wars over a beautiful woman. I would say beauty is reason enough.”
“Is that why you married your wife?” Simon asked skeptically before taking a swallow of brandy, the golden liquid burning his throat.
“I married my wife because she insisted we not live in sin.”
Simon laughed at that. “Does she know that?”
St. Aldwyn’s answering smile resembled that of a predator.
Simon suffered no doubts that his friend was madly in love with his wife, though his public denial of this fact provided an unlimited source of entertainment.
“In any case, Westfield, do not question a beautiful woman with questionable pursuits. They may appear to not be worth the trouble at first, but I guarantee they certainly are.”
Simon managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Shaw has requested a meeting. What do you imagine it is about?”
St. Aldwyn rubbed his jaw, which was already covered in a day’s worth of stubble. “Since they require all of us to be present, I can only assume misfortune.”
“And you will allow this?”
His friend lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m quite fond of my wife’s wild ways. To forbid her to continue her charities would be to extinguish the flickering light that guides my path.”
