A Gentleman's Guide to Save a Lady: Misadventures of the Heart

by Wilde, Tanya

  He shook his head as if to disagree with her. “The idea, Lady Belle, should not have held any promise at all. I am not the sort of man that would have done the right thing by you should we have been caught. I would leave your reputation in shambles.”

  If only Westfield exhibited such charm, Belle mused darkly.

  “I am well aware of your type. But even if you were inclined to do the right thing, I assure you I most definitely would not. Indeed, sir, it is your reputation that would be ruined, not mine.”

  A burst of laughter rumbled deep within his chest, earning him a surprised glance. Craven was not a man that laughed much, if ever, but amusement was ripe in his gaze.

  He leaned closer until only inches separated their faces. “You are interesting as you are exquisite. I believe I like you, Lady Belle.”

  Something fluttered in her chest.

  Aha!

  His gaze dropped to her lips. “And I’m beginning to think that perhaps a kiss might hold some promise after all.”

  At the sharp intake of her breath, his lips twitched and then lightly touched hers, catching her exhale in a soft, feather-light kiss. Belle’s eyes fluttered closed as she waited for the inventible deepening of the kiss and the tightening of her stomach muscles in response, but suddenly his lips disappeared from hers, their absence only followed by a muffled grunt.

  When Simon first saw Belle disappear outside with Craven he’d stood frozen in shock, disbelief playing across his features. His disbelief had quickly transformed into a hot rage that burned inside his chest, and before he could stop himself, he was barrelling down their way, stone-faced and horns sprouting. Admittedly, it was rather out of character for him.

  Earlier, when a footman informed him that she’d decided to attend the Carleton Ball without so much as an escort, he’d nearly taken the poor man’s head off in his fury. His anger was fueled by fear for her. Her avoidance only added to his already barely-contained aggression.

  Dammit, he’d made a mess of things. So she refused to listen to his apologies, to allow him a chance to set it right. Fine. But venturing off on her when a killer was after her?

  Unacceptable.

  And what the hell was she doing with Craven? Simon had not forgotten how St. Aldwyn’s wife had once tried to seduce the bastard. For Belle’s sake, he hoped she wasn’t plotting to get him back with such revenge.

  So with the sole purpose of catching up with them in mind, he pushed through the crowd, ignoring anyone who called out his name or tried to gain his attention. He was in no mood to whip out his usual friendly charm.

  Did the woman foster a death wish?

  He burst through the French doors and out into the night with determined speed but paused on the terrace. There was no sign of Belle or Craven.

  Something rattled in his chest. Fear for her, jealousy, all churned in his stomach as he ran into the garden at full speed. He was just about to shout out her name when laughter filtered through the dense shrubberies somewhere to his right. He stopped dead, his head whipping in the direction of the sound.

  He recognized the low rumble of Craven’s laughter instantly. Then, after a short bitter moment, he heard it—the soft resonance of Belle’s tone as she too began to chuckle. Rage returned, swift and unrelenting, demanding retribution. His legs started to move, following the sound of their laughter until they came into view.

  Craven’s body was propelled forward, leaning into Belle, his face mere inches away from hers.

  Simon had never been one to give into feelings of jealousy. It had just never been his way. Until tonight. Tonight the emotion spurred on his anger. Yes, he’d made a terrible mistake in believing her stripped of her innocence, but that did not mean that he should be punished for it this way.

  When Craven suddenly lowered his head to place a kiss on Belle’s lips, red filled his vision. Before he knew what was happening his feet had taken him forward with purposeful strides. His hands grabbed Craven by his coat and tossed the taller man aside, ready for the fight that would ensue. He wanted to pummel the bastard’s face in.

  “Simon! What are you doing?” Belle’s indignant huff burned into his skin, awakening the deeply buried primal beast in him. He ignored her, his eyes locked on Craven, ready for any retaliation.

  Craven straightened his coat, but made no further move to retaliate. “It took you long enough,” the man drawled, unconcerned that he’d just been tossed aside.

  Belle gasped. “You knew all along he was here?”

  Craven shrugged. “I saw him enter just before I guided you to the gardens. I figured he’d follow.”

  “Why would you take a stroll with me if you knew it would end in a fight?” Belle asked, her hands going to her hips.

  “You were determined to lure me out into the shrubberies. Who am I to resist a beautiful lady?”

  That caught Simon’s attention. He stiffened. “What the devil were you thinking, Belle, seeking out trouble like this?”

  Her gaze narrowed in on him. “I am not speaking to you. Craven can escort me back inside.”

  “The hell he will! You and I are overdue a talk, whether you wish to have one or not.”

  “It seems to me,” Craven interjected, “that you two have much to discuss.” And with that he melted into the shadows, a disturbing smile plastered on his lips as he left them alone in the garden.

  Garden.

  Memories of the previous night flooded back and Simon noted the blush forming on Belle’s cheeks, indicating she remembered, as well. He wanted to demand an explanation, but she was still angry with him—and had every right to be. He, on the other hand, had no right but damnation, she could at least hear him out.

  “I am not discussing what happened between us, you might as well save your breath.”

  Simon stiffened. “I made a mistake.”

  “Ah, so you feel guilty for believing me a whore. Well, rest assured the mistake was all mine.”

  “I never thought you a…that. And us being together wasn’t a mistake. How I handled it was,” he gritted out. “I want to do right by you, Belle.”

  She shook her head. “There is no future with me.”

  Simon studied her, her words sending tiny tremors of ice into his veins. In an attempt to gain control over his emotions, he pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply.

  “What were you doing with Craven?” he asked after a moment, his voice a low murmur.

  She angled her face away before glancing back at him, the unmistakable glint of confusion evident in her stormy eyes. “I wanted to see if I felt anything when he kissed me.”

  His heart hammered at her confession.

  “And did you?”

  “Of course. Craven is a handsome man.”

  Simon’s heart hurt. “I do not believe you. You wanted to kiss Craven to see if he could awaken in you what I do, but he did not, did he?”

  Silence met his statement and she glanced away.

  “I thought as much,” he murmured.

  “It does not matter, there still remains nothing to discuss.”

  “Oh, it matters and there’s still a lot to discuss, but now is not the time. You might have forgotten all about the madman that wants you dead, but I have not.”

  “That is beside the point.”

  Simon raked a hand through his hair and exhaled a shaky breath. “I’ve been nothing but tolerant, but my patience is running thin. You cannot ignore what happened between us. You cannot ignore the fact that there is a man out there who would see you dead.”

  “I will face everything, Simon, when I feel the time is right. Right now I choose to believe that the rat-headed-beast will not pounce on me with an ax, and you and I can discuss what happened another time.”

  Simon wanted to argue, but the stubborn tilt of her chin had him deciding otherwise. It was best to pick his battles with care and even though his anger still ran hot, she looked ready to run him through with a sword.

  “Fine.” He held out his arm. “W
e should return inside.”

  As the re-entered the ballroom, neither noticed a figure stepping out from the shadows, watching them until they vanished from sight.

  Chapter 10

  As far as foolish plans went, theirs was as foolish as it got. What else would you call luring a dangerous and murderous spy out of the shadows with an inexperienced lady as bait? The presence of four men hiding throughout the docks, who were not entirely inexperienced but not spies either (at least not confirmed ones) should have reassured Belle, but her hands still shook. And in the midst of this danger hovered the knowledge of what she was yet to face.

  Edgar De Roux.

  In the flesh.

  At least now she was strong, more brave, more determined. Not at all the young insipid miss he’d tricked years ago. That is what Belle told herself as she stood shivering in the cold.

  As matter of fact, she stood only a few feet away from where the mongrel had left her for dead. It had seemed fitting to set up a meeting here, classical even. On the other hand, she hated this place. The smell brought memories to the surface that she’d rather forget altogether.

  It was too dark to see whether there was still a stain imprinted into the ground, but she doubted there was. Time had a way of eroding shallow surfaces, deeming the details insignificant. Meaningless. But then, why should the earth stay scarred from her horror when it was carved forever into her being?

  Which brought to mind the men’s comical expressions when Belle confessed she may have remembered a way to get in touch with a spy that did not wish his whereabouts known. Their shocked faces still managed to make her lips twitch.

  As it were, all she had to do was post an ad in the local paper, written in code, of course—exactly as Edgar had taught her how to do. It had seemed fun, adventurous even, back then. How naïve she’d been!

  There always existed the distinct possibility that he would not react to her ad or even watch out for it, but Belle knew better. He’d be expecting it. Only, they weren’t the only players on the board this time. Somehow, she’d amassed valuable champions. Whether it was for the Crown or for her was irrelevant. She had guardians—something she did not have back then.

  Of course, he may recognize this to be a trap. In fact, Belle had a terrible suspicion that he would. Why else meet him here, in such a secluded place, alone? She only hoped the four men were well hidden in their vantage points.

  The plan, on the other hand, was quite simple. She would lure him out in the open. One of the men would take him out. In fact, there wasn’t much to the plan other than that. Lure him out, take him out. The end. Belle did not much care for that plan. They could just as well miss him and hit her.

  Faith, Belle. Have a little faith.

  She once again glanced at the spot where she’d lain in unspeakable pain. That was about all she recalled from that night—the pain. Not even her cousins knew about what happened. Not even her brothers. And while she remained saddened by their abandonment, she did not hold it against them.

  The soft thud of footsteps hitting the ground alerted her to someone approaching.

  Her spine stiffened. Swiveling her head to the left, Belle’s breath caught as she watched Edgar emerge from the darkness like an avenging angel.

  Fear clogged her throat.

  Did he have to be so beautiful? No murderous spy should look so good while being so bad.

  Where was James?

  Why did he not act?

  Did they wish for the despicable man to throw her over his shoulder before they intervened?

  A low, soft chuckle reached her ears and memories assailed her at the sound. His lips pressing against hers. Promises of love. Anger. Pain. Betrayal.

  He halted a few feet away, his eyes roaming over her with malice and something else. He took in the slight twitch of her hand, her rigid stance and the determined set of her jaw. This was a man she’d thought she loved once. Now, only a scar remained, forever reminding her of him.

  She returned his stare, her eyes noting his calm demeanor, casual stance and the triumphant glint in his eyes. He seemed unconcerned that this might be a trap.

  Their eyes locked.

  “I’m surprised ma belle, that you would choose this particular spot to meet.”

  She cringed at the endearment.

  My beauty.

  “It seemed fitting, do you not agree?”

  And you could never resist coming back to this spot.

  He tilted his head to the side as he regarded her. “Foolish, I would think.”

  Belle managed a shrug. “If you wanted me dead, I would be. So why am I not?”

  His smile was a crooked cruel line. “Oh, ma belle, you have changed since I last saw you, transformed from a duckling to a swan, a surprising challenge. I could not just kill you and be done with it. I will enjoy every moment of your torture.”

  Her mask slipped. “I’m still in possession of you stolen documents.”

  His laugh was a harsh cackle. “They are no good to me. I want you.”

  Panic rose. It should not have come as a surprise, but it did. She had only entertained this idea in her deepest nightmares. Now the truth stared at her. He was here for her and her, alone.

  But why?

  “How did you learn of my survival?”

  “You forget, my dear, I knew you quite well once upon a time. You shared with me your deepest dreams. So when a particular brand of gowns started to emerge across Europe, I recognized your hand in it.”

  Belle was speechless. “But that’s impossible.”

  “Hardly, if you recall the pathetic chatterbox you were back then. I do prefer this new version of you much better, ma belle.”

  Ignoring the insult, she snapped, “Not that. I’m only surprised my gowns are so widely spread. I only cater to clients in England.”

  He blinked, as though he could not phantom her line of thought. “Did you believe no one would copy your designs?”

  “I never gave it much thought, honestly.”

  Edgar blinked and then shook his head. “This is not a fucking tea party where we exchange pleasantries. You ruined me and I have come for my revenge.”

  To Belle’s horror, laughter echoed through the night. Her laughter. But truly—I have come for my revenge? Surely an almighty spy could do better.

  “What is so damn funny?”

  “My apologies,” Belle shook her head, “Nothing, only you have not changed one bit. You’re still the deplorable, wretched and cruel bastard you were back then. Pitiful, I must admit.”

  “Careful, ma belle,” he snarled. “I do not suffer insults gladly.”

  She started to retreat, one small step at a time. A signal to the others she wanted out. Edgar advanced on her, noting her retreat.

  James! Take him out, drat it!

  They had the perfect shot. Why weren’t any of them shooting?

  His lips turned upward in a snarl. “Did you believe I would not know this was a trap? That I am not one step ahead of you?”

  Her heart accelerated.

  Satisfaction glittered in his eyes.

  What had he done to the others? Evelyn was out there too, defiant as always. If any harm befell her…

  He seemed to read her mind. “I must commend you, Lady Belle. You have quite the friends, but they still won’t be able to save you, my men are keeping them occupied. Oh, and I would cover my ears if I were you.”

  His warning came too late. Blasts sounded all around them as deafening explosions filled the air. A scream tore from her throat as Edgar tackled her to the ground, rolling with her off the side of the dock, slamming her into a hard surface.

  A boat?

  No.

  She tried to shout for help, but his hand clamped over her mouth. She bit his hand, hard. A string of vile curses sputtered over her head and the next moment he slammed his fist into her jaw. Black spots dotted over her vision and Belle succumbed almost instantly to the darkness, not fighting its pull. Darkness was , better than terror
after all.

  Awareness returned slowly, reluctantly, and Belle had no clue how long she’d been out. Hours? Days? It was hard to tell. She lay on a cold, hard surface, her jaw throbbing and her muscles an aching mess. She sensed rather than saw she was not alone. Someone was in the room with her. De Roux? One of his minions?

  Her lids fluttered open.

  It was too much to hope for a knight in shining armor, she supposed. Instead, Mr. Foul Breath stood leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, lost in thought. He stirred when he noticed she had awakened, regarding her with an easy smile.

  Belle wasn’t fooled.

  “I had hoped to have more time with you, to truly enjoy your suffering, but you made that impossible when you forced me to knock you out.”

  Belle did not move, her gaze watchful and alert. A quick glance at her surroundings confirmed they were on a ship. Well, at least that explained her sudden nausea.

  She also noticed she’d been stripped down to her chemise and stockings. Her dress was nowhere to be seen. For once she was grateful she’d worn a thicker, more conservative chemise and not one of her own seductive creations.

  A flicker of true unease shuddered through her. What need would he have to remove her clothing? But she’d be damned if she called attention to it.

  “Where are you taking me?” A hoarse croak revealed itself as her voice, foreign even to her own ears.

  He hunched down, a mocking smile playing across his sinfully handsome face. “Not far. The deep blue ocean, if you will.”

  “Why?”

  “I cannot ruin the surprise now, can I? Better for you to see my grand plan for yourself.”

  Bile rose, but Belled did her best to remain calm. It would do her no good to panic. Not if she wished to survive. How long ago had they set sail? How far away were the others?

  “Why would you do this to me?”

  “You ruined me, now I will destroy you.”

  “I shot you and yet you live, that hardly constitutes ruin.”

  “But it’s never that simple, is it?” He glanced at his pocket watch before his gaze flicked back to her. “Time is up, princess. Your friends will be upon us soon and I cannot risk them catching this vessel.”