by Wilde, Tanya
“St. Aldwyn,” Simon growled.
“You’re no fun.”
“My life is falling to shambles.”
“Hardly, but I can see why you might think so, being a Tremaine and all.”
Simon raked a shaky hand through his hair. St. Aldwyn could be bloody vexing at times.
“She wants to go home. I told her I would take her.”
“Are you certain that is wise?”
Simon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She is set on returning home and refuses to hide behind her friends. I will remain with her, naturally.”
“Good. Jo wouldn’t want her to be alone, not after what happened.”
“Have you heard anything from Shaw?”
“No, just that De Roux has disappeared into the wind.”
“He’s a sneaky bastard, I’ll give him that, but at least he now knows that Belle’s not alone.”
St. Alwyn nodded. “He will find himself at a disadvantage. If he was wise, he would not return to England.”
“Wisdom does not drive him, but the need for revenge.”
“Not wise, then. Score for us.”
Simon ran a gentle finger over Belle’s flushed cheek. She was so damn beautiful it hurt do look at her. He hated seeing her so fragile and in pain. It made him murderous. Yet he’d carelessly taken her innocence and made a terrible mistake in doing so. It may take time to win her over.
Time he did not possess. But he’d devised a plan to wear her defenses down, to seduce her with light touches and heated stares. She desired him and he’d be damned if he let her hide behind her own denial. And if he failed to tie her to him in every other way possible, well, he was not above plotting her ruination, not if it meant she’d be his.
And if that failed, God save them both, because he’d go mad.
“I do hope I’ll not get kicked out of my wife’s bed as a result of some ill-construed plot to capture the heart of her best friend. I’ll have my own revenge in my mind then.”
“No doubt you will get kicked out of you wife’s bed without any help from me.”
“One day, my friend, you will understand.”
“You should hope that I do. I may very well spend my every waking moment with you if I don’t.”
“Hell’s bells! I shudder to think what my wife would do to you.”
They both chuckled.
“Speaking of which, she still won’t be happy to discover you’ve taken Lady Belle home.”
“If you cannot keep your wife under control, old chap, that’s not my problem.”
One dark brow rose. “You say that now, but wait until you’re sharing a chamber pot with me.”
“Be as it may, I will leave it to you to inform your wife.”
“You are a cruel man, Westfield.”
No, he was a desperate one.
No other woman had ever made him feel such insanity. And desperate men acted in desperate ways. “Whatever I may be, I probably picked it up from you.”
“That makes me feel all happy inside.”
Simon grinned. He thought back on his friend’s pursuit of marital bliss. While Grey had used calculated manipulation methods to secure Evelyn and almost lost her, St. Aldwyn chose to be relentless in his pursuit via the path of consistent annoyance. In Simon’s estimation, Lady Josephine had given in out of sheer exasperation.
However, none of that would work on Lady Belle. She was different. She was haunted by an invisible force that he could not begin to fight without knowing its true form. And she hid that well behind a wall of resistance.
He would need to appeal to her heart…or her sweet tooth. He’d heard she had a particular love of cakes, after all. Perhaps his family lemon cake recipe would do the trick.
Chapter 13
It was almost midnight and Belle was still lost in the creation of her newest designs. At the moment, she was creating an exquisite gown that would drape across the beautiful form of a woman in the family way. Normally when a woman started to show, they were encouraged to stay at home and wear ugly dresses that did not do their bodies any justice. It had always been a particular dream of hers to design a magnificent piece to complement a woman’s figure rather than hide it. And she figured she’d make Evelyn her test subject.
Luckily, her friend was all for scandalizing their peers.
Grey, on the other hand, may have a thing or seven to shout about it. For this gown had to forgo corsets altogether. A baby was already a weight to carry and Belle wished for the gown to feel like a light breeze to an expecting lady.
Evelyn was going to adore these dresses, Belle was certain of it.
She quickly finished the outer lines of the next gown, the scraping of her pencil on paper soothing her. Simon had yet to make an appearance and he did not yet carry the knowledge of her secret activities as Madam De La Frey. Better for it to stay that way. He was such an old goat when it came to propriety. She wondered whether he’d ever stopped to take into account some of his own inappropriate behavior.
Suddenly, without any warning, an arm entered her vision and she was grabbed from behind, a hand covering her mouth, stifling her scream. She struggled against the hard body of the man who attacked her, but he appeared unfazed by her struggles.
“Stop struggling, sis,” a familiar voice murmured in her ear.
Quinn?
She stilled.
After a moment, he continued, “I’m going to let you go. Promise you’ll not scream?”
She gave a single nod.
The hand that covered her mouth lifted and when she remained silent and unmoving he let her go. She whirled on her brother. “Are you out of your mind? Accosting me in our home, Quinn? What is the meaning of this? And where have you been? Has something happened? Where is Bradford?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, sis, but no one can know I’m here and it was hardly an attack. You look beautiful, by the way.”
She studied his face, noting every line, every one of his sandy whiskers. “Then what would you call it then? A surprise greeting?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I’ve forgotten how direct you can be.”
She punched him in the shoulder. Hard.
“Ah! What was that for?”
“I’ve missed you,” Belle said simply.
His gaze softened. “I’ve missed you, too. But first, I have a few questions. Like why the Earl of Westfield has been secretly living in our house? In my chamber, no less. And why the devil did you never send word that our aunt is bedridden?”
Belle flushed at the thought of her brother knowing about Simon. She supposed it could have been worse. Her brother could have arrived while Simon was sleeping in her bedchambers.
“She can leave her bed, and does. Had you been here, Quinn, you’d have known her health is not what it used to be. But no, you and Bradford abandoned me, so I made do with what I had.”
“We did not abandon you, Belle, and we sent letters.”
“Yes, I read your letters, nary one with a return address. So even if I wanted to inform you of our aunt’s health, I was never able to.”
Quinn had the good graces to blush at her words.
“And Westfield?” he asked with narrowed eyes, his arms folding over his broad chest.
Belle lifted her chin. “I’ve been feeling unsafe lately, so Westfield kindly offered to stay here for a while.”
“Why did you not take auntie and depart for the country to our cousins?”
And put her Holly, Willow, and Poppy in danger?
Absolutely not.
But how could she reveal her predicament to Quinn without revealing the truth?
“You had more than enough funds,” he continued.
Funds she’d spent on a fool’s errand. “Yet, all the funds in the world cannot buy brothers now, can it? And that is what I’ve needed these past years.”
“Damn, sis, you still know to make a man feel guilty as hell.” He raked a hand through his blond hair. “Westfield
? Is there something I need to know?” he pressed.
“No, there is nothing you need to know.”
Her brother regarded her for a moment, seemingly deciding if he should press the issue, before finally confessing, “Look I know about Edgar and I suspect Westfield moved in for your protection. I also presume you are protecting your friends by not mentioning recent events.”
Belle jaw dropped open.
The shock was swiftly replaced by betrayal, which twisted in her gut. “You know about him? How?”
He looked away, but not before Belle saw another flash of guilt cross his face. “There are things I cannot discuss now, but you must advise your little band of ragamuffins to let De Roux be. We have everything in hand.”
Ragamuffins?
Wait. We?
We have everything in hand?
An unsettling feeling stole over her.
Could her brother be a spy?
“I do not understand.”
“Bradford and I, we are aware De Roux is hunting you. We know he threw you overboard a ship after you attempted to lure him out,” the last he said with a fierce scowl before he continued in a disapproving tone, “Your little band saved you, yes, but you are all in over your heads.”
“You’ve been spying on us?” Belle accused even though she still reeled from his earlier revelations.
“Ever since—” He looked away.
“Ever since what, Quinn?” she demanded in a stern voice.
His jaw clenched. “Ever since...”
“What…?” Belle’s voice trailed off into silence but then it dawned on her.
Ever since she almost died on the docks.
Her brothers knew, and still, they hadn’t returned for her. Still, they stayed away.
Breathe, Belle.
She clutched her stomach as memories stabbed at her mind, but this time she attempted to grab hold of them. The unsettling feeling only magnified.
“You were there,” she finally managed. It wasn’t a question, but a soft confirmation of the fact.
His face had lost all color. “I was the one that found you.”
A soft cry escaped her lips as horror washed over her. She remembered a ship, vaguely, but beyond that she fought to recall anything of how she survived.
“You’ve known all along. But you never came home, not even when I needed you the most.”
His face awash with grief, he too seemed lost in memories. “There was so much blood. I thought you were dead. I believed I’d been too late. But my first man felt a slight pulse, and we raced you to my ship where the doctor took care of your wounds. I kept tabs on you more closely after that.”
Belle understood his anguish but could not summon any pity. Yes, she’d faced her demons a long time ago and still his betrayal stung deep.
Something else ticked at her mind, too. “It was you. You stole the drawings from me.”
“Yes, that was me,” he whispered, “It was safer in our hands than yours. We did not want you to carry that burden as well.”
Her heart hurt.
“Why were you there, Quinn?”
He sighed. “Years ago, I was tasked to capture a French spy. By the time I realized it was your Edgar, it had already been too late.”
“He’s not my Edgar,” she snapped. “So you are a spy.”
He said nothing.
It made sense—his sudden departure from her life only to never return again.
“Does Bradford know?”
Quinn looked away.
“Does Bradford know?”
“Of course Bradford knows. He’s been hell bent on destroying everyone who had a part in that mission.”
So both her brothers were spies.
“You both knew yet still you stayed away? Why?”
Betrayal had given way to anger. How dare they save her and then abandon her again? It was even worse than she thought.
“You do not understand, sis. We wanted to return home badly after that, but we could not. In our vendetta to destroy the people who hurt you, we needed to remain away until it was finished. Your life would have been in danger.”
“News flash, Quinn, the person who hurt me is still very much alive and still continues to hurt me.” She threw her hands in the air. “How is it that I have two brothers who are spies yet they cannot protect me from one madman?”
Quinn flinched. “Yes, I know. The bastard is as sneaky as a rat. He’s always three steps ahead of us.”
“And now you want my friends just to let it go? Hell, Quinn, did it ever occur to you that you might have succeeded a long time ago if you’d just remained here?”
“Of course it did. But we have it under control now.”
That brought Belle up short. “We? Bradford is here?”
He nodded. “Look, don’t be mad at Brad. He wants to be here and he will, once that French bastard is taken care off. What he’s not aware of, however, it that you are secretly housing Westfield. Let us just keep that little bit of information to ourselves.”
It occurred to Belle that her brother still did not understand what saddened her. They were not the ones who had been abandoned by their family. They weren’t the ones who had to face the darkest moments of their lives alone because they’d had each other.
She, on the other hand, had been left with her aunt. And while she loved her aunt dearly, her aunt was a bit batty—a fact that mostly allowed Belle to do as she pleased. But it did not keep her from feeling alone.
“I’ve no care for what Bradford might think. Westfield and every one of my friends have been here for me when it was clear I’ve been abandoned by you. They don’t leave when danger lurks, they band together. If not for them, I would be dead right now, Quinn. They saved me this time—not you.”
Quinn looked away. “I hope that one day you may come to understand, Belle. But for now, I must ask you to back down or risk not only your lives but ours as well.”
His grave tone gave her pause. She sensed the shame he carried in his heart. She had to admit that beyond her anger and her betrayal, the prospect of them becoming a family again warmed her heart. She would focus on that. “I will see what I can do, but I cannot promise anything.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time. That is twice now.”
Belle sighed. “I do not blame you, not really. You were not the one who fell in love with a French spy.”
“If we stayed, we might have known.”
“Then I would not have almost perished in a pool of my own blood! How would I live?”
Her brother shot her a glare. “That is not funny.”
“No?” she asked innocently.
Her brother shook his head. “You have a dark sense of humor, sis.”
“It came back with me from the other side.”
“Belle!”
“Fine, I’ll stop, but be nice to my friends. They are my family.”
He scowled. “I still cannot fathom how you ever became involved with those Shaws.”
“What is it about the Shaws that has every bloody male in England on edge? They’ve done nothing but protect me and help keep me safe, which is more than I can say about you.”
“That’s a low blow, sis. You know everything we do is for your protection.”
“Then why is it that they are here, actively helping me, whereas you are not?”
“I am deeply sorry you feel betrayed and one day we will reveal all to you, but please trust me. We are taking care of De Roux.”
Belle nodded, deciding to let it go for now. The fact that her brothers were spies and left for her safety—supposedly—helped soothe the hard pinch of betrayal. She could accept that more easily than their abandoning of her to travel the world on some adventurous voyage. “Fine.”
His shoulders sagged in relief and with a quick peck on the cheek, he faded into the darkness. “We will see you soon.”
Belle watched until her brother slipped from the room. She was reeling from his visit. They never truly abandoned h
er, did they? Or was she simply reaching for excuses?
She plopped down on her bed, resisting the urge to call out to Quinn, to beg him to stay or take her with him.
Quinn and Bradford were spies.
The irony was not lost on her. Perhaps she should become one as well, that is, if women were even allowed to do so. Perhaps she’d be the first lady spy. How grand! It would be a good way to channel the deep sadness that oftentimes surfaced within her, the sadness that made it impossible for her to breathe.
Another unmistakable silhouette slipped into her room.
Simon.
She’d always be able to tell him apart from any other man. A subtle tingling at the nape of her neck always signaled his presence. She was used to it by now, it seemed as though it had been like that forever. He emerged from the shadows into the light shed by the single candle on her nightstand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she saw her sitting on the bed, sensing something off.
She attempted to smile. “Why would anything be wrong?”
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
Belle was amazed at his ability to see through her so well. His senses appeared to be aware of her on a level she was not sure she was ready to face yet. It spoke of an intimacy that she dare not mull over now, not with the knowledge of her brothers and De Roux still lingering in the air.
“It’s nothing of importance.” Translation: it had nothing to do with the French bastard. Well, that was not entirely the truth. But Belle still hadn’t decided whether she’d inform her friends of these new revelations. Honestly, how would she explain her brothers’ involvement without revealing their secret? What possible reason could she give these men to back down, these men that had risked their lives to save hers?
Simon, however, was like a hound on the trail of a fox. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Will sharing whatever happened cause you tears?” he asked.
His expression brought to mind an image of him, holding a crying baby at arm’s length and glancing around, horrified.
How utterly male.
Her eyes narrowed on him. “No.”
His face relaxed. “Then I see no reason that you shouldn’t tell me. Someone was here.”
Belle’s eyes flew to him. “You cannot possibly know that.”