“And do you know what happened then?” she continued. “While the rest of you were dancing at balls, punting on the Thames and believing yourselves to be the cleverest, most privileged beings to grace God’s earth there was a war on a peninsula in eastern Europe called the Crimea. Nineteen thousand Englishmen lost their lives, Michael, nineteen thousand – for nothing. And while the rest of you kept waltzing, and toasting yourselves with champagne, Arabella Winston grew up.” She took a step back from him and swept him from head to toe with a hard, contemptuous gaze of her own. “Which is more than I can say for the rest of you.” Belle swirled away from him to gather up her things. “Now you can bloody well leave me alone, my lord.”
Michael caught her by the arm when she would have fled the room, fled him. “Belle,” he whispered. He said nothing else for a moment. She supposed there was little that could be said after her outburst. She tried to shake off his hand, but he held fast.
“Remove your hand, sir. I will not ask you again and I’ve become remarkably good at defending myself. I've had to.” She had to get away from him and this whole beastly situation. His hand slid down her arm, but he didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry.” Michael said, taking hold of her hand. It was shaking and she knew he felt the tremors. So much for a triumphant exit. “You’re right,” he continued. “You grew up and I didn’t want to see it. If I could still blame the girl you were, then I didn’t have to be alone in my guilt for driving Drew away, for him almost getting killed.” She opened her mouth to remind him that Drew’s choices had been his own, but he stopped her. “And clearly, my destroying your engagement to Iredale, secretly or not, had far reaching consequences. Tell me what happened to you, Belle.”
Belle shook her head and gently pulled her hand from his grip. This time he let her go. That was a secret that she kept to herself – herself and the handful of people in her life whom she trusted. “You did nothing, Michael. Not really. I did it to myself.” For the most part, she believed her statement. Most people had taken open delight in Iredale's mysterious defection. She’d been friendless once Katherine and Sarah had been hurried off to Brighton lest their friend's broken engagement tarnish their reputations as well. No one else in the entire city of London had cared what happened to her. That part, she truly had done to herself.
“I’m going back to London because I can’t fight Drew and you at the same time,” she said wearily. “I don’t have the strength. You will always believe the worst of me and spend every minute of your time doubting my intentions, making it impossible for me to do what’s necessary for Drew. And while you do that, he’ll try to slip further away from everyone. I can’t bear to stay here and watch it. Duncan will send someone else,” she finished flatly.
“And if I agree to trust you, will you stay?”
Belle laughed shortly. Michael trust her? There was too much bad blood between them and too much attraction on her part despite everything that had happened. Still, how could she turn her back on Drew. She’d pledged never to do that. She stood there taking Michael’s measure. Perhaps it was time for her to meet him halfway, to trust him a little – at least for Drew's sake.
“I’ll come back to Stowebridge Abbey with you if you agree to a few conditions.”
“I’m listening,” he answered carefully.
“I do not want you to interfere with Drew again, unless I ask you to do so.”
“Agreed.”
“However, I want you to stay at the abbey as much as you can. I know you have your seat in Parliament, but other than what’s necessary for duty, I’d ask that you remain here.” He looked dubiously at her. “Be in his life, Michael. Become part of it. Don't let him push you away. He loves and admires you so, no matter what you think. Drew may be lashing out at us, but he wants us to care enough to make him stop, to make him believe that we not only expect better from him, but that he's capable of meeting our expectations. He's so terrified of trying and failing.”
“I know,” Michael responded hoarsely.
“And keep your mother in London for the rest of the Season at least.”
He snorted, “We're in definite agreement there. If it were up to me I'd never allow her near him again. Some of the bills I support in Parliment are coming up for votes, but other than a trip of a week or two, here and there, I’ll remain at the estate as much as possible,” he assured her.
“Good. We’ve reached an accord then.” Belle extended her hand and the earl clasped it in a firm handshake. His eyes glinted at her and for a moment she half expected him to carry her hand to his lips. She remembered those lips and tried to quash a flash of disappointment when he released her hand. Just then the innkeeper and his other servant arrived carrying trays burden down with what looked to be the entire contents of the inn’s larder. “Perfect timing,” Belle murmured, taking her seat in the chair Michael held out for her.
***
They helped themselves to the feast. In honor of his guest, the landlord added a fine joint of beef and Yorkshire pudding to the fare. Belle picked up her knife and fork with enthusiasm and Michael watched in fascination as a second portion of Yorkshire pudding and gravy disappeared from her plate. He refilled her wine glass as he shook his head. “Heavens, woman, where do you put it?”
She laughed, a genuine laugh, not a chuckle and certainly not a giggle. The girl he remembered was never a giggler. “Afraid I’ll eat you out of house and home, my lord?”
“Not at all,” Michael returned with a grin, “though I intend to purchase another five hundred head of beeves just to be on the safe side.”
“It’s good to have some time to eat a leisurely meal,” Belle said. “Paddy and I have been a little busy.”
Michael had noticed the shadows under her eyes and the fact that she’d obviously lost weight since her arrival at Stowebridge Abbey. If today was any indication, Drew must have been running her ragged. It didn’t sit well with him that she might have been dodging plates and cups since her arrival.
“If I'd known Drew was abusing any of my staff, yourself included, I would have stopped him immediately. I hope you realize that.” She looked at him, but said nothing. The moment stretched into awkward silence. Michael knew he should address the incident that still lay between them. Perhaps it would always be there just as he'd intended. He was loath to discuss it now since their accord. Suddenly, Belle acknowledged his remarks with a nod, easing some of the tension between them. “What set Drew off this morning?” he asked.
“I did,” she answered quietly. “I told him he would be sitting in his bath chair for a while each day and that Paddy and I would begin working his leg muscles. He didn’t like it.”
“You have a gift for understatement.” His remark drew a smile from her and that pleased him. She had a lovely smile. Michael left the table and prepared dessert plates for each of them from the pastries and puddings on the sideboard. He handed one to her and saw her eyes light up like a child’s at Christmas. It was the closest resemblance he'd seen since her arrival at the abbey to the debutante he'd once known. He made a note of her sweet tooth and stored the knowledge away for future use.
“It’s a painful process,” Belle said, continuing their conversation between bites. “He has to learn to use his muscles again. They never should have been allowed to deteriorate as they have. Regular exercises help a patient in Drew’s condition retain much of the muscle tone while the injury itself heals. Unfortunately, in Drew’s case we have the added complications that he believes he will never walk again and that he also feels guilty for surviving when so many of his men did not.”
“I tried speaking to him about Inkerman when he returned home, but he told me I simply wouldn't understand. I think he'd be surprised how much we have in common on that score.” The portion of trifle he'd placed on his own plate went untouched as he remembered a time in his life when his own human failings had cost the lives of comrades and dear friends. Those had been battles for fortune and power, not queen and country. H
e thought again about his betrayal of Drew five years ago and how, rather than face his own responsibility for his brother joining the cavalry, he'd placed all the blame onto a nineteen-year-old girl and allowed himself to be used as an instrument of revenge. No, not allowed. He'd cheerfully lured her into that parlor and thoroughly enjoyed taking her world apart. He looked up from his plate and watched Belle, her own portion of trifle gone, happily attacking a gooseberry tart. Damn it, he had to know what else he'd cost her that night, how she'd ended up as a nurse, though now he must admit he was damned grateful she had.
“Drew's determined to fight his recovery because that way he won’t be devastated if he fails to walk, or guilty if he succeeds. I’ll say one thing for that former doctor of his,” Belle said, punctuating her statement by jabbing her fork into the remains of her tart, “he did an excellent job of convincing Drew he’d be in that bed for the rest of his life.”
“Campion was more torturer than doctor. He insisted Drew be strapped to boards to restrict his movements,” Michael told her darkly. “He put him in ice baths, wrapped him in cold sheets and then there was that insane diet, not to mention my mother’s noxious brews. If I’d had any idea....”
“Campion?” Belle asked sharply. “Campion was his physician?”
“Yes, didn’t Dr. Gillian tell you?” She shook her head and Michael noted how her jaw had tensed and that a hard look had come back into her eyes.
“Duncan probably didn’t want me hying back to London with a meat cleaver in my hand. Campion’s a quack. He has no business treating a hedgehog, let alone a human being. Duncan and I have seen his handiwork before.” She leaned towards him. “Drew was very fortunate to survive, my lord. Many of Campion’s patients do not.” Her grim expression made Michael wonder what horrors she kept locked away inside herself. She’d been right. While the rest of the ton continued to waltz, she’d grown up very quickly and in a very ugly way. So had Drew.
“That’s one of the reasons that Strathmore and I are supporting the Medical Act before Parliament this year. We have to hold our medical men to a standard of practice. This notion that physicians as gentlemen always act accordingly is not only ridiculous, it’s down right dangerous.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’m glad to hear that you favor it. The Medical Act is only the beginning, though. London needs a better sanitary system to stop the outbreaks of typhus and cholera during the summer months. The public needs safe drinking water. Sanitation and clean water should be the right of every man, woman and child, regardless of social rank and financial standing.”
She spoke with passion and Michael warmed to their conversation, sharing some of the facts and figures he’d learned during his research. Belle matched him fact for fact, adding some of her own to his knowledge. He decided to risk it and ask her if she would consent to being interviewed by Strathmore and himself about her experiences in the Crimea. He was surprised at how easily she agreed to it.
“It might not be at all comfortable,” he cautioned. He still carried an image for Damaris smacking her, but the woman in front of him could probably give as good as she got. “There is, of course the incident with you and your friends attempting to ruin his wife. That’s not the sort of thing a man forgives.”
“Nor his wife either, I’d wager,” Belle replied.
“Exactly. It was unforgivable,” he said flatly.
“Yes, it was,” she replied calmly.
“Damaris has every intention of presenting herself at Stowebridge Abbey for the sole purpose of striking you and I’m not certain her husband would restrain her.” Michael watched for signs of fear, or guilt in Belle. There were none.
“I’m not certain you’d restrain her either, despite your assertion today,” she said softly.
“I told you, I won't allow anyone to abuse my staff and that includes the duchess.”
She cut him out with a wave of her hand. “It’s of no consequence. Damaris Wentworth can do her worst. It changes nothing. I’ll still speak with you and His Grace about the Crimea. I should warn you though, I’ll speak plainly and it may offend your sensibilities.”
Michael gave her a half smile. “I lost most of my sensibilities in India. I’ll risk it.”
She looked at him steadily. “Not like this, you didn’t,” she said grimly. Michael was struck again by her composure and maturity. Who was this woman? He wondered if there was anything left of the debutante he’d known.
The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. Michael handed her into the coach and for a moment, he considered tethering his horse behind the carriage and riding with her. Some last minute vestige of sanity stopped him. She was a lovely woman with her glossy, dark hair and cognac eyes. All afternoon memories of her perfume, the feel of her skin and her panting whispers during the throes of arousal had returned to tease him. She’d been an innocent girl whose natural passion had almost made him forget his plans that night.
He rode ahead of the carriage, letting the air cool his growing restlessness. No matter how swiftly he urged Orion, though, he couldn’t outdistance his thoughts. She’d spoken the truth today. She’d changed. Her manner was more genuine. Laughter meant humor, not artifice. Where she’d once had a sharp tongue, she now only displayed a quick wit. And kindness. He thought of the little girl with her mysterious fliver, of Belle’s kindness to both the child and her parents. Maybe Lady Arabella Winston had always been two people – one, cool with calculation, the other, open and warmhearted.
The carriage stopped in front of the house and Michael watched her descent through the music room window. He didn’t want to consider his reasons for watching her arrival too closely. His time with her today had unsettled him, made his thoughts go to places he rather they didn’t. Hodges came to greet her himself, the staid butler unbending enough to smile broadly at her. She’d won the loyalty of his staff in a matter of weeks. The young woman he’d known five years ago would never have bothered herself to make any sort of lasting impression on servants.Who are you and what am I to believe about you?
In spite of his concerns about her motives for being here, and he still had some, she continued to weave her spell around him. His memories of her kisses, her response to his touch haunted him more than ever before. Poetic justice he supposed. He was the one who’d so arrogantly told her she’d never forget him and here he was caught securely in the web of her fascination, wanting her more now than ever. She was still an unprotected female in his employ and no matter the complexity of their history he could not act on his desire for her.
As much as he tried to resist the urge to watch his brother’s reaction to Belle’s return, Michael found himself heading for the family wing. It felt more important than ever to discover whether or not Drew still loved her. He glanced down the corridor to his brother’s rooms and saw a footman and maid heading into Belle's room. He smiled ruefully. Mrs. Babcock had already seen to reinstating her. Paddy came out of Drew’s rooms and dipped his head respectfully as Michael approached. He held a finger to his lips as he pulled the door to, without closing it and after giving Michael an approving nod, walked away down the hall.
“Belle...God Belle, I’m so sorry,” he heard Drew begin. “I’ve apologized to Paddy and to Gussie, of course. Please say you forgive me. I don’t know what maggot got into my brain. Was Michael awful to you?” Michael stiffened at the question, fearing that he'd hear Belle trying to play them off against one another.
“Leave your brother out of this, Drew. This is between you and me.” Her tone was soft and even, but it sounded as though her words still had a profound effect on his brother.
“Please don’t be angry with me, Belle. I should never have thrown anything at you. You know I would never intentionally hurt you. I’m sorry I took my beastly temper out on you and Gussie.” Drew sounded panicked. “Please say we’re still friends.”
“I’m still very angry at you, Drew.” Michael heard the coolness in her tone, shades of the old Araby. He almost reached out to
push the door open and announce his presence, but something held him back. He thought of the pregnant woman and the little girl today. He would give Belle this chance. He’d promised not to interfere.
Belle continued speaking. “If I’d known Campion was your physician, if Duncan had known, we both would have been here months ago. You know that. We never would have left you to his mercies. The bastard has none.” Her use of profanity still surprised Michael, but in this case he found it oddly reassuring.
“I couldn’t....” Drew began, but she cut him off.
“Stop making excuses for yourself,” she said harshly. “You could have told us, but you stayed silent. You could have written Michael. He’d have come home right away. You know how much your brother loves you. He’d have driven that jackal from his door the moment he arrived. Michael didn’t leave you, Drew, you drove him away, because you didn’t want him here to stop you.”
Drew said nothing in response. Michael stood in the hallway, shocked to the core by what he’d heard. Was Belle right? Had Drew pushed his brother away because he planned to die?
“You knew that sooner or later someone would be careless enough to leave laudanum within your reach, or that one of Campion’s infernal treatments would do the job for you. Worst of all, perhaps he’d manage to convince your mother to let him amputate your legs and you’d die from infection.” Michael felt as if someone were tightening a metal band around his chest.
“You don’t understand. I couldn’t...I can’t live like this. Not with the guilt, the shame. Those men trusted me and damn it, damn it! I didn't know what to do! They died because I had money and I could buy a rank and a fancy uniform. I didn't know what the hell I was doing and I had no bloody business being in command of them! It was my arrogance that got them killed!” Drew’s voice wrenched Michael’s heart.
A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) Page 25