by Wilde, Tanya
Tears burned in the back of Belle’s eyes at their display of loyalty. They would not abandon her then. She blinked the wetness away. Now was not the time to break apart.
James was the first to act, taking a step closer, his eyes ever watchful as he narrowed them on the women. As a result, St. Aldwyn and Grey tensed, positioning themselves in line with their wives, while Westfield moved in front of them all, in an easy position to protect Belle.
Derek, calm as ever, broke the sudden tension that cloaked the room in thick waves of unease. “There is no need for this cavemen behavior—it’s giving me an ache in my skull. Perhaps, Lady Belle, you should elaborate on your statement.”
“I agree,” James seconded. “It is imperative that we catch this man and no harm will befall you, that is assuming you did not help a foreign spy steal valuable information that could have caused the death of countless of men.”
Belle pushed past Westfield, halting when he grabbed her wrist in a vise grip and pulled her next to him.
“I did not know Edgar was a spy until the evening I foolishly assisted him in his escape,” Belle snapped, her eyes not wavering from James’s. “I arranged everything, believing that Edgar was in grave danger from his family. It was only on our way to the docks that he transformed into a stranger, boasting about how he stole information that would change everything.”
She spared a glance at Derek. “I did not understand what he was going on about and probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it if his accent had not slipped, revealing him to be a liar.”
Painful memories assaulted Belle. The clatter of hooves as they reached the docks and the stench of that vile place were still fresh in her mind. His evil laughter and his mocking of everyone he’d fooled, including her, still haunted her.
“It’s all right Belle, you do not have to speak of it if you don’t want to,” Jo murmured in a soft tone, touching her shoulder.
Belle shook her head. They deserved the truth, did they not? And she so desperately wished to crack open the rotten shell of the burden that she’d bore alone these past four years.
Her voice trembled as she continued, “Suspicion arose, but I pretended not to notice his slip. I even smiled when he waved the white parchment in my face and then I devised a plan which worked, for the most part, though he still got away. At least, I lived to keep the tale a secret.”
“You were afraid for your life, that’s understandable,” Evelyn comforted.
From across the room, James shifted on his feet. “How did you meet?” he asked.
Belle looked away. “Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
“And the parchment?” Derek asked.
Belle’s smile held no humor. “Picked it from his pocket. I may have been blind to his true character, but I would not allow him to leave with whatever information he stole.”
“Where is it now?” Grey asked.
Someone else stole it from me again.
Yet, another failure of hers, one she did not feel inclined to share. What would be the point? The information had never been used—Derek had said as much. It would be counterproductive to shift their attention away from Edgar to information that had been lost for years. Better for them, and her, to keep their focus on finding that french serpent.
“I destroyed it,” she lied.
They seemed to believe her, even though her voice had been a broken croak. And luckily, everyone seemed to forget about the blood and the scream. Some memories were too painful to relive. She preferred to leave that one behind her, if possible.
“So Edgar has returned for the information he believes may still be in your possession, maybe even for revenge,” Derek stated as a matter of fact.
Blast. She was going to have to tell them after all.
“Like hell he did,” Westfield muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on her wrist even more. Belle shot Westfield a look and twisted out of his hold, her heart hammering in her chest. “He is not here for me, or at least I am not the reason he returned.”
That earned her more confused stares.
“Edgar believes me to be dead,” Belle explained, her voice barely audible.
Jo spoke first, her sharp mind ever quick. “He discovered you stole from him. You fought. That is why blood stained the docks. He did not use the information he stole, so you must have been the one to shoot him. But why would he believe you dead?”
Belle remained silent, her face pale and her hands trembling. After a moment she whispered, “That’s not exactly what happened.” Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought down the memories. “I did shoot him yes, but only after he managed to stab me. I lost consciousness and when I came to, he was gone. Believing me dead, or dying, he managed to retrieve the envelope, but took the wrong one.”
“What did he take?” Evelyn asked.
Belle shrugged. “Some of the sketches I drew.”
“That still doesn’t explain why he returned. It doesn’t make sense. He would have no use for whatever he stole back then, except if he planned on selling it to foreign governments,” James muttered.
“Even then, the information is old,” Derek muttered.
Belle shifted uncomfortably, drawing James’s attention.
“You took a peak?”
Indignation rose. “Yes, I decided to take a look at the information I almost died for because I thought that plunging myself into even more danger was a marvelous idea.”
“Fair enough,” James muttered.
“However,” Belle continued, “I have reason to believe that the information was not a list at all, but sketches.”
“Why do you suppose that?” Derek asked, his voice filled with mistrust.
“Because the sketches he took off me were my drawings of residences and their imagined interior. Why else would he confuse them rather than look for another envelope?”
The implication of her assumption was clear and stunned everyone. Edgar had been plotting an assassination attempt. Why else would one require sketches of constructions? Or residences?
“And you told no one of this?” Derek’s question whipped through the room, his voice steel.
“No,” Belle responded in affront.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done by keeping your silence?” Derek accused. “He could have assassinated royalty, plunging this entire country into a war. A war that would have been your fault.”
Belle’s temper sparked at his threatening tone.
“Need I remind you that I needn’t have informed you of my part in any of this mess? And how convenient for you to lay the blame on my doorstep.” She paused, her tone indignant when she continued, “I did not attend spy school, and unlike the spies in this room, I was not even aware a French one infiltrated our country at the time. Even then, I still intercepted a criminal, obtained and protected stolen information, put my life in danger and never breathed a word of the entire episode to anyone. That is more than you can say about many.”
If Derek Shaw was shocked at her outburst, he did not show it, but Belle thought she saw a flash of admiration in his eyes.
“This isn’t just a dire matter, Shaw,” Grey growled, “It’s a bloody dangerous mess. My wife and I will not partake in this.”
“I believe it is too late for that, husband,” Evelyn whispered. “If this Edgar discovers Belle has not died as he believed, then none of us will be safe.”
The men glanced at each other as the truth of her words sunk in. Evelyn had only echoed what Belle had known from the beginning. By association, their lives were in peril.
“Well, I for one am looking forward to some adventure!” Jo chirped. She silenced her husband with a look when he started to protest. “Come now Damien, you’ve been sulking about the house in boredom and I’ve been made to watch. Domestic bliss outside the bedchamber does not suit either of us.”
James’s bark of laughter echoed through the room and Belle had to suppress a chuckle. Bless her heart, Jo knew just h
ow to break the tension with her inappropriate statements.
St. Aldwyn sighed in dramatic fashion. “I do not sulk, but alas, you may have a point, my dear.”
“I always do,” Jo murmured with an impish smile. She turned to Belle. “Do not worry, we will catch this villain.”
Evelyn nodded. “You will never carry this burden alone again.”
Belle’s tears did flow this time and she embraced her friends. It occurred to her then she had been entirely wrong. They’d never abandon her. They had accepted her mistake without a moment of doubt or judgment. Even if it was really her burden to bear, she was grateful for their continued friendship all the same.
Derek cleared his throat, his expression grim. “If he knows you are alive, Lady Belle, perhaps we can draw him out with that knowledge.”
“Over my dead body,” Westfield snarled. “He already hurt her once. I will not take the chance with her life or anyone else’s.” His face was pinched with something akin to pain, yet his emerald eyes refused to meet her hers.
One moment he acted like the protective male and the other he was blatantly furious with her. She did not understand it.
Derek did not bat an eye. “That is not your call, but Lady Belle’s.”
Belle’s gaze flicked between the two men, before settling on Westfield. By his clenched jaw, she could tell he wanted to protest Derek’s statement. Her heart lurched a little in her chest then. Did he perhaps care for her beyond his gentlemanly obligation to protect all females? Was his interest perhaps personal?
She shook her head to clear it of the notion and looked away. “He is right, Westfield. If Edgar discovers I’m alive, he will come for me. It will be the best opportunity to catch him.” Her stomach jolted at the words.
“Damnation, Belle! You will put your life in danger again?” Westfield growled.
Belle turned back to him them, her neck craning to catch his regard. “My life is already in danger, lest we catch him.”
His lips curved in distaste, but he said nothing, only continued to clench his jaw. Resolve entered his eyes and the lines of his face. She sensed that he seemed to have come to a decision that he did not see fit to share.
Oh dear.
“We will keep watch on you every moment, Lady Belle. You will never be alone. You have my word,” James said.
Belle nodded, still wary of problems to come.
“What would you have her do?” Westfield asked.
Derek ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a sign that he was a man of many thoughts. “I propose Lady Belle go about her normal routine. If Edgar is about, she will have to do no more than that.”
Evelyn and Jo nodded to that.
“I agree,” Belle murmured distractedly. “He was at the masked ball; I am certain of it. It only stands to reason that he will attend other events, as well.”
“What!” Evelyn and Jo both screeched simultaneously.
Westfield cursed.
The other men scowled down at her.
“Why did you not say anything earlier?” Jo asked, perplexed.
“It must have slipped my mind amidst bearing my deepest, darkest secret,” Belle retorted.
Jo nodded in assent to her point.
“Are you certain it was him?” Westfield asked, his shoulders now bunched and his fists clenched tightly.
Belle nodded. “I am certain of it.”
“So we must assume he may already know you are alive,” James stated.
Derek heaved a heavy sigh. “He knows. He would have studied his surroundings before he entered them.”
Fear threatened to choke her. While she’d been blissfully unaware of his presence in England, he may have already been very much aware of hers? The notion greatly unsettled her.
“He will take action soon then,” Grey observed.
Westfield, Grey and St. Aldwyn shared a glance. Unspoken words passed between them. This matter was nothing like the projects Jo, Evelyn and Belle had gotten into in the past. It would appear the age of indulgence was over.
Belle felt the men’s resolve strengthen at the prospect of danger.
The women also held an entire conversation with only a look.
“Of all the arrogance!”
“We will not allow them to stuff us in a closet.”
“Thank you for not condemning me.”
“We would never abandon you.”
The men would be impossible. Arrogance was an expected trait from a lord and, as an unspoken rule, women tolerated men’s entitlement. But now, in light of this danger, they would be insufferable to manage. Because as another unspoken rule, at least among these gentlemen, they had learned to allow their women their freedom both as a token of respect and to maintain their sanity—now that was about to end.
Here we go, yet again, Belle’s inner voice echoed in her mind.
Chapter 6
Moonlight glinted through the window in Belle’s bedchambers, illuminating the room in soft but brilliant light. She stretched out on her bed, like a tigress awaking from a long slumber, her chemise exposing much of her naked legs to the moon. Out of habit, she lifted her arm so that she may watch the glow of the light play across her skin.
How magical would it be if she could to catch that light in the palm of her hand? It had always been a favorite past time of hers—bathing in the illumination of the night’s sun. It also happened to be when inspiration most often struck for the designs of her gowns.
Oh, the tales her gowns would tell!
And was it any wonder she preferred the night to the day? The dark lent far more mysteriousness than that of its counterpart, which often revealed the harsh truths of reality. In the shadows of the night, one could transform into something magical, something more exceptional than ordinary.
Though Belle was well aware one could not avoid the truth, the allure to surrender to the embrace of the night and its fantastical tales remained strong for her.
An unexpected movement in the corner of her vision caught her attention. Her senses went on alert.
“Charlemagne?” she called, her eyes roaming the room for her hound.
Her heart plummeted in sudden fear as she turned her head to glance the slightly ajar door. In it stood the outline of a man and her breath caught as she reached beneath the pillow for her letter opener. The man stepped forward and a familiar silhouette came into view under the glowing moon.
Her breath came out in a whoosh. “Dear Mother Mary! Westfield! What in the blazes are you about? You nearly scared me to death!”
He came to a halt when he caught sight of her legs.
Belle’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment as his eyes traveled down the length of her form. Rooted a few feet away from her, his gaze finally locked with hers.
“You should be scared. That could easily have been De Roux.”
So he was concerned about the beast. It still did not explain his presence in her room.
“What are you doing here?” Belle asked, ignoring the reprimand in his voice.
“What are you doing?” he countered. “Have you no concern for your welfare,” he motioned at her with his hand, “dressed like that?”
Her welfare? What did that have to do with how she was dressed?
“I’m—” She shook her head. How had he turned it back around to her? The oaf. “I live here. I can do as I please. You, on the other hand, are intruding on my privacy, not to mention trespassing.”
“On the contrary, my dear.”
“What on earth does that mean?” Belle asked, staring at the hard planes of his face.
She was curious as to his intentions. His usual charming façade was gone, replaced by this, this…character. Not to mention how highly improper it was for him to be here in her chambers, alone. A delicious shiver made its way down to her toes before she could help it.
Simon could hardly breathe when he caught sight of Belle sprawled on her bed, her legs marvelously exposed in the pale moonlight. It took all of his strength to ke
ep his eyes locked with hers and not continually wandering down her enticing body.
“What on earth does that mean?” she’d asked.
Well, she was about to find out. Without a word, he moved closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. When she did not protest or even move, he took a seat on the side of her bed. She scooted over to make more room for him, and Simon thought: To hell with it.
So he lay down beside her, their eyes still riveted on one another. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but a peaceful silence, as though they’d both found mutual solitude in the moment.
“You do not cover your windows.”
Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before he recognized it. “I prefer them uncovered.”
“You seem to enjoy the company of the moon. I’ve never given much thought to it before now.”
His body somehow shifted without seeming to, their faces almost touching as they studied each other.
Her lips twitched. “It’s not something one should give thought to, but rather stop and behold its beauty.”
“Perhaps. But it is still not as beautiful as you.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He did not regret them. Though, he did inwardly curse his lack of control when it seemed to break the spell, causing Belle to look away.
“Why are you here, Westfield? You must be aware how improper it is.”
His mouth settled into a grim line, but he attempted to keep his tone light. “I have decided to take up residence.”
Her head snapped back to him in surprise before anger flashed in her stormy blue eyes. “No.”
“It’s already done.”
“And what does my aunt have to say about that?”
“I did not think to ask her.” He held up his hand when she would have protested. “Your brothers aren’t here to offer their protection and your aunt can hardly stand upright. Until this madman is found, I will arrive in the evenings and leave before the crack of dawn.”
Belle huffed. “That cursed skunk-breathed man will only be found if he wishes to be discovered. We must lure him out.”
“Skunk-breathed?” he chuckled. He was pleased to see he’d tempted a responding smile from her lips.
