by Wilde, Tanya
His thoughts were interrupted by the announcement of the doctor and he rose, relinquishing the spot by Belle’s side for the doctor to examine her wound.
“Doctor,” he greeted with a stiff nod.
“My lord, I understand the lady has had an accident.”
He nodded. “It seems shallow enough, but I suspect she’s lost a lot of blood.” The reprimand was back in his tone.
The doctor began to inspect the wound, murmuring under his breath.
Her stubborn eyes locked with his equally stubborn ones.
“The wound is superficial, as you said, and would probably have closed if it had not been opened it during the night.”
Her eyes narrowed suddenly and her face swiveled to the doctor, her brows drawing together as if he seemed familiar to her. Now that Simon thought of it, his rough voice sounded unlike any cultured doctor he’d ever crossed paths with.
“You are no doctor,” she murmured, taken aback. “You are my brother’s right-hand man, the same man that saved my life.”
This was news to Simon. “I sent the footman for a real doctor,” he growled.
“I am a doctor and your footman came to me, as instructed by his employer.”
Simon cursed.
Of course.
He would not be surprised if all the servants reported directly to Quinn. Or Bradford. And now that he gave the doctor a second look, the man appeared more a sailor than anything else. Too rough around the edges for a refined doctor.
“Will she be okay?”
The man nodded. “I don’t see why not. Just keep the wound clean and don’t move much for a day or so. It’ll heal in no time.”
“Does my brother know?” Belle whispered.
Simon harrumphed. “If he does, I hope he reddens your behind for being so reckless.”
“Aye lass, he knows and sends his regards. Told me to tell you he’s going to whip your derrière when he returns home.”
Simon’s temper sparked at that. “You tell her brother that the only one whose ass is going to be whipped is his. Are they not supposed to dispatch the bastard? I’m no longer confident in the effectiveness of their strategy.”
“Who the bloody hell are you?” the other man snapped.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” Simon mocked.
“I’m—”
“Boys, please,” Belle interrupted. “We cannot fight amongst ourselves when there is a greater fight we must save our strength for.”
Simon studied the other man, not much older than himself before he held out his hand and grudgingly replied. “Simon Tremaine, no offense meant.”
“John Cameron. None taken,” he said, shaking Simon’s hand in a vice grip. “She’s always been a stubborn one.”
“I’m right here, you brutes.”
The doctor-sailor chuckled and bid his goodbye, leaving Simon alone once again with Belle. They stared at each other, both at a loss for words. Her inability to confide in him caused a rift between them and Simon did not know how to cross it.
“Are there any other secrets I should know?”
“Whatever secrets I may have are still mine to keep.”
“The world is so much simpler without secrets,” he muttered.
“And you have none, I take it?”
“I probably have one or two, but not any that I keep so tightly tucked away,” he paused, wanting to say so much more but instead replied, “I will leave you to rest.”
Shoulders heavy, he turned leave, but her words stopped him just as he reached the door.
“I hired a mercenary to kill De Roux, the night before our first meeting.”
Simon whirled, unable to keep the shock from his expression. “You did what?”
Her lips twitched. “I paid him all my savings.”
Simon blinked. “All of your savings?”
“Do not give me that tone. I was not in my right mind.”
Simon spared her a look that said he clearly agreed. “So he was a fraud.”
Her small shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It turned out he was one of Edgar’s men. He was toying with me, the bastard.”
Simon crossed the distance and sat down on the bed beside Belle. God, but he loved this woman. Even now, after she’d been shot, lied to him and risked dying of blood loss, all so that she did not have to tell him the truth. Yes, he loved her, even though she did not recall his confession.
Still, she’d shared this secret. It was a start. A small start, but a start nonetheless.
“Thank you for sharing that. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been to do so. But if you ever do anything like that again, I will take you over my knee and blister your behind.”
Her smile widened. “I did not know what else to do.”
His lips thinned. “You could have come to me. I truly do not know how you have survived this long on you own.”
“I’ve never been alone. I’ve always had Evelyn and Jo and now my brothers have returned.”
And me.
But he did not voice it. For now, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. “De Roux has proven a strong adversary, but he’s grown restless and as a result, became reckless. The stunt in the park proved that much.”
“He’s grown bold,” Belle agreed. “I believe he will not wait for me to leave the house next time. But I shall be ready.”
Simon did not like the sound of that. In fact, his heart leaped in fierce denial. Perhaps the time had come to change the playing field.
A rather crazy idea began to form in his mind and neither his sense of honor nor his conscience spoke up against it, which meant he was likely about to embark on something ridiculously rash. But then, rash and foolish fit in rather nicely with her rash and foolish actions. Perhaps to win her, he had to pattern himself after her.
“I see that you will remain stubborn to the bitter end.”
“I believe I have my brothers to thank for that.”
Simon gave a loud snort.
After learning her brothers were spies, he’d come to suspect that the sudden death of her parents and the abrupt departure of her siblings had little to do with grief, but had been more along the ways of spy versus spy. It had never sat right with him that her brothers would abandon their sister, who was barely of age.
“You have a different opinion?” she asked sweetly.
“Stubbornness is not all that runs your family, my dear.”
No, he had a sneaky suspicion that Belle’s ancestry possessed a long list of men working for the Crown. She’d not been thrust into the world of spying but been born into it. That may be why De Roux had singled her out from the beginning, why it had been her he engaged and not another unsuspecting miss.
He could not tell her that now, however. By saint’s, she’d most likely try her hand at becoming one. And then she’d truly never marry him.
The rich sound of her laughter reached his ears. “I suppose you are right, stubbornness is but one of our traits. Are you still angry?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He smiled at that. “You should rest, my dear, gain your strength back,” he murmured when her eyes started to drift shut.
“I am a bit exhausted. Perhaps I shall close my eyes for a bit.”
Simon kissed her nose. Already her breathing had become shallow as fatigue drew her off into a peaceful slumber.
Ever so softly that the words barely left his tongue, he whispered, “I love you.”
Chapter 19
The most unusual of circumstances usually came in the form of well-intentioned plans gone awry. Or at least, that was always how Simon had thought of it. He could envision the desired outcome and then plot and plan to manipulate the current situation at hand to develop the required result. Yet, at times—much like the time he’d plotted to bring together Grey and Evelyn—the desired result just refused to be…well, desired and he would find himself in an unusual spot.
An unusual outcome was not, however, what he had in
mind when he angled his head toward his friend later that day and said, quite confidently, “I have a plan.”
“I thought we established long ago that your plans never work,” St. Aldwyn murmured with a raised brow.
They were seated in Bradford’s study, polishing an absurdly expensive bottle cognac that they’d found in the man’s bottom desk drawer. Belle’s brother enjoyed the taste of the expensive stuff.
Belle and Lady Josephine were reading in the library, each sporting a French—French—flintlock pistol, which Belle had dug out from the attic some hours ago. Though, irony aside, it should not have come as a surprise that the Middletons were armed to the teeth with ancient weaponry.
They had Quinn to thank for the discovery, since he’d sent a missive with a map of the attic, practically demanding Simon take better care of his sister.
“Be that as it may, this plan is fool-proof.”
“Then, by all means, let us hear it.”
Simon ignored the sarcasm lacing St. Aldwyn’s words and replied, “I will abscond with Lady Belle and then I will marry her.”
St. Aldwyn choked on his brandy. “Abscond?”
“Grand, is it not?”
“Is that even a plan? Does a plan not contain more…” he tapped his finger to his chin, “what is the word? Oh yes, details?”
“Do not be such a sour puss.”
“I thought you did not want to force the issue.”
“I changed my mind.”
St. Aldwyn shrugged. “It explains the spirits. Perhaps you should have saved it for after your plan succeeded.”
“If my plan does not succeed, it would have been a consolation bottle. I’d rather enjoy it while I’m still optimistic.”
Damien wiped the brandy from his chin, chuckling. “You have completely lost your marbles. Alas, if you abscond with Lady Belle, my wife will serve my balls on her silver china.”
“She will get over it.”
“Forgive me if I don’t share your enthusiasm.”
“It will solve most of our problems and your wife should be ecstatic, since my sister told me she’s been itching for some matchmaking. And if Belle is my wife, then we can divert our attention on catching De Roux, whereas now she continues to remain in harm’s way.”
“Because she is not married to you?” St. Aldwyn murmured.
“Correct.”
“And your almighty title will shield her from De Roux out of its sheer grandness?”
“Not exactly,” Simon bit out with a scowl.
“So you kidnap—my apologies, abscond with the chit and marry her, but what exactly does that solve except that it gives you an eternity of being leg-shackled to a woman that will rant and rave about her lack of choice in the matter?”
“As her husband, there is no need for me to skulk about her home in secret in an attempt to protect her. I can be by her side in a more visible way. Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said?”
“Oh, I heard you spouting all sorts of ridiculous excuses to marry her. There are less theatrical ways, such as a good old courting, but then again, they aren’t nearly as entertaining.”
Simon shot him a glare.
They were still no closer to catching De Roux and that worried him. Not to mention Belle had lied to him about being injured.
He would never forget the utter helplessness that had overcome him at her deception. So she hadn’t lied to him outright, but she’d still neglected to inform him of what transpired. At first, he’d been furious, and then concern had replaced anger and finally, determination had set in. It had become quite clear that to remain in London would be impossible. The public incident in the park proved as much. He refused to let the woman he loved die from her own foolishness.
“She will be safer once she is married.”
“And you will be married, also.”
He cast his friend a droll stare. “Have you forgotten that you are married?”
St. Aldwyn waived his comment aside with the flick of his hand. “I had to get married, you know, love and all that.”
Well, hell.
“I care for her.”
I’m madly in love.
“I care for her a great deal.”
Ridiculously in love.
“And she cares for you?” his friend asked.
“Hopelessly in love with me. I just must convince her of it.”
“Ah, I recall my wife saying Lady Belle believed you a bore.”
Simon flushed. “I am not a bore,” he growled.
St. Aldwyn lifted his hand in a placating manner. “I did not say you were. A bit eccentric at times, yes, but not a bore.”
“She will learn soon enough I’m anything but a bore. But, for now, she requires the protection of a husband. Her brothers cannot be present and De Roux is lurking about London. As her husband, I can protect her better. As a countess, her death will attract more attention, more eyes.”
“And why not just inform the lady of your plan?”
Simon snorted. “She’d shackle herself to a rock beneath the ocean before she ties the noose around her freedom.”
“If I recall correctly, Evelyn and Jo felt the same way. Look at them now, all happy with their nooses. There is a compromise to be found.”
Compromise.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as that. Simon was sure Belle’s reservations ran too deep to just accept something she’d spent years fighting and suppressing. “They managed to fall in love with the two of you.”
“And I still gawk in wonder at my wife every day, waiting for her to realize what she’s done.”
Simon chuckled.
“What about De Roux? He may follow you if you abscond with the lady.”
“My plan is not without risk or danger. However, as I said, dispatching an earl’s wife brings more complications than a lady ‘disappearing’ on a whim, which is what I’m sure De Roux would try to make it look like. Especially since her damn brothers are notorious wanderers in the eyes of the ton.”
“I wonder what those two hellions will say when you carry their sister off into the sunset,” St. Aldwyn chuckled, sounding pleased at the prospect of irking them.
“Those hellions are to be my brothers-in-law.”
What will they say about his plan? They’d most likely attempt to stop him if they learned of it. Luckily for him, they were off doing Christ knows what Christ knows where.
Was this what it meant to love? Would he forever feel this madness within him, this concern where she was concerned? Would she understand that once she became his wife, she’d never have to face anything alone again?
“Bloody hell man, you’ve got the fever bad.”
“I beg your pardon? Fever?” Simon asked surprised.
“I’d know that look anywhere. It’s on Grey’s face every time he looks at his wife. Good god, do I have that look?” St. Aldwyn asked appalled.
“Do you love your wife?”
“Of course.”
“Then you have the look,” Simon shot back.
“Marvelous. The rocks just keep piling on my long-fought-for reputation,” St. Aldwyn complained.
“I am certain you will survive your tattered repute.”
“Doubtful. So, you love the chit. Have you confessed your adoration to the lady?” St. Aldwyn drawled.
“It’s not something you blurt over a cup of tea.”
Lemon cakes, though, certainly.
“Perhaps, but it’s not something you blurt over a good old absconding either. If I have any splendid advice left to give, it would be to vomit out the words now and not at another unsuspecting, ill-opportune time.”
Hell.
“Sound advice my friend, but now is not the most opportune time.”
St. Aldwyn pressed his lips together. “If you haven’t told her, how can you know it’s not the perfect time?”
“Stop being such a wise clod.”
But as Simon mulled over St. Aldwyn’s words, he rather thought his fri
end had a point. The fact remained, he had already blurted a confession of love, but she’d misinterpreted the entire context.
Ill-timed, indeed.
“So let us hear this plan of yours to secure the lovely lady as your wife, once again,” St. Aldwyn drawled, crossing one leg over the other. “And though I love the idea of infuriating the hellions, what will you do about those brothers of hers who are lurking about in the shadows? I take it they are not party to your plan?”
“They would flog me if they knew—a damn nuisance that—which is why I won’t be mentioning it to them.”
In truth, Simon still did not quite understand where in his and Belle’s world they would fit in. But considering they were soon to become his family, he supposed he’d have to tolerate them however they came.
“And what of the Shaws?”
“Don’t rightly care what they think about it.”
“Yes, I agree. I would have cut all ties if it weren’t that my wife has taken a fancy to their friendship.”
Simon snorted.
He’d never admit it, but every time Belle spoke to one of the brothers, he had to tamp down a jealousy that set his nerves on edge. They were mountains and ladies swooned whenever they found themselves in their presence. Gentlemen seemed to give them a wide margin as if the wrath of hell would come down on anyone who spoke their names. He did owe a debt to James, though, for saving Belle from drowning. For that, he’d tolerate them within reason.
“It happens tonight.”
St. Aldwyn raised an infuriating dark brow. “Not one for patience, I see.”
Simon scowled at that. “The sooner the better. I’ll have a few days to do some courting—I’m not a complete brute.”
“I suppose there is not much one can do but talk for three days in a carriage. Are you ready to lay bare your heart?”
Simon ignored his sarcasm. He’d have plenty of time to convince her that they’d be an excellent match. He’d convince her that not only did he love her but he was determined to devote all of his days to making her happy.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Keep your wife from charging to her friend’s rescue for a few days.”
St. Aldwyn chuckled. “You do not know my wife very well. Come to think of it, my wife may even be delighted at the news.”