by Wilde, Tanya
“Who is this source of yours, Lady Belle?” James asked.
“It would not be a source, Mr. Shaw, if I tell you.”
“Yet you felt you could trust Westfield with the information.”
St. Aldwyn took a step closer to Westfield. “I’d be careful making accusations if I were you.”
Still, Belle did not deny it. What was it about men and their inherent need to want to be aware of everything, even if it was none of their concern?
“I am not purposefully trying to be difficult, Mr. Shaw, but it truly is not my place to tell. Lives are at stake here.”
Hers especially.
Simon shifted to place himself in a proactive stance before her when James Shaw still looked unconvinced. “I was there when her source made an appearance. She speaks the truth.”
Belle groaned inwardly at his declaration. Jo’s gaze whipped to her, a knowing smile playing across her features.
This was exactly what Belle had wished to avoid.
“Oh, and when did this source inform you?” Jo asked curiously.
“Midnight,” Simon answered without hesitation, not realizing he had stepped directly into her friend’s little trap.
“Oh!” Jo exclaimed. “I had not realized that the two of you had become so acquainted with one another.”
Belle groaned.
Simon scowled in Jo’s direction. “I heard a noise and went to investigate or is that not the purpose of it all?”
Belle released her breath slowly.
“It was your brother that visited you,” Derek Shaw stated with such a certainty that everyone stilled.
Belle’s lips parted.
How had he known?
She held his gaze though she refused to reply to his statement, instead only tilting her head to the side. Everyone watched her with growing expectancy. Her friends would never push her for an answer, but St. Aldwyn did study Westfield with narrowed eyes.
Belle sighed. “Why would you believe it was my brother?”
Derek’s lips twitched upward, an uncomfortable sight. “Your brother is the only one you would trust, besides us, with your life. And your life is at stake here, Lady Belle. Make no mistake.”
His deduction seemed simple enough, but something warned Belle it was anything but.
Hands clapped from somewhere in the garden and two tall figures emerged from behind a large tree, their faces grim.
Oh no.
“Well done, Shaw. It appears your power of deduction is as sharp as ever.”
Derek clenched his jaw.
Belle’s gaze flickered from one Shaw to the other and then to Quinn before settling on Bradford, who watched her with such an intense gaze, she flushed. She wanted to run and fling herself into his embrace, but refrained from acting on the impulse, instead keeping a cool, indifferent, albeit red-faced, exterior.
“Belle,” he murmured softly, a slight hitch in his voice.
She searched his face, but for that slight hitch, there was no indication of any emotion reflected there. Lines had formed in the corner of his eyes, lines that hadn’t been there when she last saw him. She glanced away without a word, but only after she’d committed every one of those new lines on his angular face to memory, for she did not know when he disappeared this time, when or if she would see him again.
To the group, it was clear they were siblings, what with their matching blond hair and stormy blue eyes.
“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” St. Aldwyn drawled, appearing bored.
“And here you are attending a tea party hosted by my sister, how the mighty hath fallen,” Bradford shot back.
“I, at least, was invited.”
Belle sighed. It was not her tea party. “I’m hardly allowed to leave my own home. A compromise had to be made.”
“Good,” both her brothers echoed simultaneously.
“So you would have us stand back and stop attempting to capture the notoriously foul-breathed De Roux?” Derek’s voice cracked through the air.
Belle’s eyes swung to him in astonishment. Had there been a touch humor in his voice? And when had he heard her many references to the man’s breath? But more shockingly, had he actually resorted to name calling?
“We have the situation well in hand,” Bradford stated, “You are, however, welcome to join us on our terms, but I would prefer that from here on out my sister and her,” he glanced at Jo, “lady friends not be included.”
The women gasped in outrage and St. Aldwyn clamped a hand over his wife’s mouth when she would have replied.
Quinn held up a placating hand. “De Roux is a cunning bastard, not to mention dangerous. We cannot in good conscience include ladies on this mission. Besides, you already have your hands full protecting yourselves.”
Belle had no problem staying out of the line of fire. Jo, on the other hand, always preferred the front line.
Bradford’s eyes found hers and her shoulders tightened. “You nearly died when that bastard gutted you and you almost drowned not even a week ago. I refuse to take any more chances with your life.” He glanced around at the others and announced, “If any of you oppose to this, you will find yourselves arrested and detained until this bastard is taken care off, reputations be damned.”
Oh.
Her heart fluttered happily, pleased by her brother’s protectiveness. How she’d missed it.
Expectedly, Jo stomped on her husband’s foot and he released her with a yelp. She eluded his grasp and stalked over to Bradford, poking him in the chest. “Fine, but do not think for one moment I trust in your capabilities, which I take we’ve suffered with now for four years in the running.” Bradford’s jaw hardened, but Jo continued uncaring, “And do not for one moment believe I trust you.”
“She’s a feisty one,” Quinn quipped with a lavish smile, “Too bad you did not wait for me, sweetheart.”
“Quinn!” Belle admonished.
St. Aldwyn growled in the back of his throat.
Bradford ignored them.
“You believe we cannot take care of it?”
Jo waved his comment aside. “I believe in results and you’ve shown none.”
Guilt flickered in his eyes before it was gone, replaced by coldness. “You know nothing of it.”
Her friend held her brother’s gaze unblinkingly, before she said, “I know Derek and James and I trust them. We will back off only if they assist you in this endeavor.”
Bradford paused, narrowing his eyes at Jo, before replying. “You are quite the busy bee, Lady Josephine. Do not think I’m not aware of your, how would you put it, activities.”
Jo snorted.
St. Aldwyn stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her away from Bradford. He glared over at Bradford over the top of Jo’s head. “Do not for one moment think I won’t put my fist up your ass if you ever speak to my wife like that again.”
“Settle your feathers,” Belle intervened. “I doubt that Derek and James would allow themselves to be left out at this stage in the game.”
The brothers nodded in agreement.
“And I, for one, would feel much better if Lady Josephine spent more time with Belle,” Quinn said with a wink to Belle, who glanced quickly in Simon’s direction and back to Bradford, who hadn’t noticed the exchange.
Simon, however, had not missed the exchange and his eyes narrowed on Quinn. Of course, he would prefer it if Jo remained holed up with her husband.
“Belle is safe as long as she remains within the house.”
Bradford narrowed his eyes on Westfield.
Shoot.
But Quinn had noticed and stepped in front of his brother, cutting off his narrowed regard before he discerned anything that might set his temper off. “We should be heading out before someone takes note of our presence.”
Belle sobered. This time she did not hold back, she flew into her brother’s arms. “Be safe, Quinn.”
He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “St
ay out of trouble.”
She glanced up at Bradford, who stood staring at her, unmoving. She hesitated, but only for a moment, before launching herself in his arms, too. He held her tight, a slight tremor running through his body. “We will be home soon.”
He let her go and Belle touched his arm gently. “I don’t blame you for what happened to me, Bradford. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have been there,” he whispered.
“And I should not have been there. You cannot be at fault for a decision I made.” Emotion clogged Belle’s throat. “You should leave before you are seen.”
He nodded, and then glanced over at the Shaws. “We will meet soon,” he said and then both her brothers retreated around the edge of the garden.
Belle watched the empty space they occupied only moments before, her heart burdened with fear for them.
“They will be fine,” Simon murmured, coming up beside her.
Belle hoped that he was right. Her brothers were finally back and she did not wish to lose them now.
As the group thinned, each heading out in their own direction, no one saw the figure lurking nearby, chuckling. His evil cackle would have stroked fear into the heart of a lesser man.
Chapter 15
That night Simon stared broodingly into the fire that danced aimlessly in the hearth. It reminded him of Belle and he imagined her in those flames, dancing. He imagined joining her as their bodies scorched one another’s and set their souls aflame. At that exact moment, he rather felt that he could burst into flames, but not in flames of passion. No, this heat was of a more violent—or rather infuriated—nature. She would be the death of him.
“I asked her to marry me.”
St. Aldwyn lifted an arrogant brow. “And what did the enchanting Lady Belle say?” The question was a mere formality since it was obvious from Simon’s dour mood that it hadn’t gone according to his wishes.
“She said no.”
His friend regarded him through hooded eyes. “Lady Belle is a spirited one, but then again, she’s friends with my wife.”
“I do not see how that accounts for anything.”
“You will in time.”
Simon heaved a heavy sighed. “I’ve been living alone with her, it is only right to marry.”
But looking back now, she’d made it clear from the start that she did not want him for a husband. But unfortunately for him, or her, he was drawn to her like a beggar was drawn to a piece of forbidden pie. He did not want to let her go. It was that simple.
Only it wasn’t.
He raked a trembling hand through his hair.
“I doubt Lady Belle is the sort to presume your presence in her home is grounds for marriage,” St. Aldwyn drawled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from courting my once very independent wife, it is that women are bloody good at the art of war. There’s no reasoning with them.”
As usual, his friend had a point. Lady Belle was as independent as they came. He blamed her brothers for that. Their failure to protect her had produced a willful yet unfailingly free-spirited young woman. Not that Simon desired her any other way—it just made the task before him almost insurmountable. Almost.
A footman suddenly entered the parlor, where they sat, with a tray of tea, bread, and cheese. He paused when both men’s steely gazes met his. The tray trembled in his hands. “Lady Belle ordered a tray of snacks, my lords.”
Simon glared at the footman, who scurried away quickly after he deposited the tray carelessly, spilling the tea.
He picked up the pot and gave it a good sniff.
Camomile.
“Bloody hell! Now she sends me herbal tea? Does she believe she’s to calm my nerves?”
“No doubt,” St. Aldwyn said suppressing a smile. He helped himself to some cheese. “Are you going to pour that or sniff at it the whole damn day?”
Simon shot his friend a menacing look before he poured them some tea. His stomach growled as he caught a whiff of the bread. Vexing woman. She knew him better than he thought she did.
“And those damn nightgowns…I would sincerely like to throttle the mysterious Madam De La Frey for allowing her creations to be sold to unmarried ladies of the ton.”
St. Aldwyn nodded. “Jo also has a penchant for the infamous madam’s gowns. I do believe the madam is promoting independence with her lavish designs.”
Simon agreed. “It makes me wonder who the madam is. It is obvious she wishes to remain in the shadows, she may even be one of us.”
St. Aldwyn took a sip of his tea. “Or she’s an old crone who prefers to remain unnamed.”
“Or she is a he.”
“Now that is a disturbing thought,” St. Aldwyn choked.
They ate their bread and cheese in relative silence, Simon deep in thought as he stared into the flames. He hated to admit it, but the chamomile had been just the thing to improve his mood.
“I could kidnap her,” he murmured into the fire.
St. Aldwyn said nothing for a moment. “You could, but that may make for a rocky marriage.”
“I could be kidnapped.”
“I cannot see how that would work.”
“If I kidnapped myself, it may lure out the affection she holds for me.” Perhaps if she believed him in danger she’d realize she could not live without him.
“Christ man,” St. Aldwyn choked out. “That’s ridiculous.”
Fine. Perhaps it was ridiculous wool-gathering on his part, but he was at a loss at how to proceed.
“Besides, the lady would have your heart served to her warm and toasty if she ever learned of the scheme.”
Simon shrugged. “But if she didn’t, perhaps she’d give chase in an attempt to rescue me.”
St. Aldwyn just shook his head with a small smile.
But Simon could just see it: Belle chasing after him to rescue him from his kidnappers, sword in hand, long hair cascading from her back. Naked. Well, perhaps that last detail was a bit impractical.
Very well, he knew he was being ridiculous now, but it was worth the entertaining image in his mind.
“I never imagined, when I finally asked for the hand of the woman I wished to marry, she’d simply say no.”
She allowed him to seduce her, make love to her. But marry him? That she simply wouldn’t do. It was inconceivable and troubling. It made him want to act irrationally.
Quite honestly, Simon felt rather foolish. It was not a feeling he was familiar or comfortable with. No matter how he attempted to understand her line of reasoning, something did not seem right. She was hiding something. The gnawing suspicion grew with each passing moment and only made him more determined to discover her secrets. And if his suspicions proved correct, her secret held all the answers he needed to break through her guard.
“You have a wild imagination, my friend. If I were you I would just point a pistol in her general direction and ask sweetly.”
Simon’s eyes bulged as he sputtered out crumbs of bread. “And that would not make for a rocky marriage?”
“It seems to me that whichever way you choose in obtaining her hand in marriage, it will be rocky.”
“I do not see how I can change her mind; she is determined to remain unattached.”
“Perhaps once this madman is found and dispatched of she will change her mind,” St. Aldwyn suggested.
Simon shook his head. “I suspect her reservations run deeper than the threat of De Roux.”
“Curious. Have you ever considered that the wound she might have sustained may be the cause for her reservations?”
Simon’s head shot up at that. “Did Jo mention something in the way of it?”
“No,” St. Aldwyn murmured. “My wife would not betray Lady Belle’s confidence, but considering what you know of the lady, it seems to me that any reservation centralizes around what transpired after she met De Roux.”
Simon considered that. It remained a strong possibility yet he failed to see how her wound may have influenced her decision so i
rrecoverably. But then he remembered the jagged scar that bastard had inflicted. He’d run his finger along the ragged edges, which spanned from the side of her…
He stilled.
Of course.
Horror cloaked over him as understanding dawned.
“Son of a bitch!” Simon growled.
Pain for what she might have felt upon learning such a tragedy pierced his heart. There was still every chance he may be wrong, but the knowledge of it felt right. It explained so much of her behavior and her determination to remain unaffected and unattached. She’d never marry any man because she could not provide her husband with an heir.
“I take it you have come to some sort of clarity?”
Simon’s heart hurt. “Her scar. I suspect she cannot bear children.” Even as Simon said the words he wanted to throttle De Roux with his bare hands.
“He’s a dead man,” St. Aldwyn growled, rage in the edge of his voice. “Will you confront her with your suspicions?”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “She will shut me out and I will have no chance to pierce her reservations.”
She may even disappear, scatter into the wind, just as her brothers had years before. He’d never see her again. So fine, he might be a tad overly dramatic in the direction of thoughts, but when it came to her, he’d rather overthink than overlook something of importance.
“Should I have a word with my wife? She may shed some light on your suspicion.”
“Not necessary, I will manage on my own. I’d rather not take the chance of losing her.”
“Well, no matter what you do, at least you’ll not make more of a mess than Grey did with your sister.”
Laughter rumbled in Simon’s chest. “Perhaps it cannot hurt to receive advice from an expert.”
“Expert, my ass.”
Be as it may, Simon now had some notion to what his friend must have felt when Evelyn declined his offer of marriage and resisted his relentless pursuit.
“When did women become so damn independent?” he muttered under his breath.
“Around the same time we allowed them to wrap us around their dainty little fingers, would be my guess.”
“So I should continue to grovel and beg?” Simon muttered, not at all appalled at the prospect.
