A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) (26 page)

“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.

“That's what I think about, Belle.” Drew's voice sounded hollow, broken. “Day in, day out, I lie here in this accursed bed and that's all I can think about.”

“Then get out of the damned bed, Drew,” Belle’s voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “You did better than most young officers at Inkerman and whether you believe it or not, your men made out better than most that day. I know plenty of men who are still alive because of you and they would agree with me.” Drew made a disparaging sound, but Belle ignored it. “You can't change what happened, but you can change the fates of soldiers yet to come. Sidney Hebert, Mary Seacole, Miss Nightingale, even Duncan and I, none of us can do it without the assistance of men who've been there. We need your voice, Drew. Help us convince the lords to sponsor reforms on how officer commissions are awarded. You come from the nobility, Drew. Your brother is an earl. Tell him. Let Michael fight this battle with you.”

Michael heard Drew whisper brokenly, “You don't know what you're asking, Belle.

“Yes, I do.” There was an underlying tremor in her voice and Michael wanted to go to her, to help her stay strong as she battled on for Drew's sake. “Every time there's a thunderstorm I know what I'm asking of you. We promised to stand by one another, Drew, but I wrote you and you never wrote back. Not once. And worst yet, you tried to leave me behind.” Her words caught on a sob. “You broke your promise. I kept mine, but you broke yours. How could you do that to me?”

“I didn’t want to,” Drew answered, sounding stricken. “God, Belle, it’s the nightmares. The memories. It’s....”

“I know,” she said softly, “but don’t you think I see their faces when I close my eyes? Don’t you think I don't hear their cries even now, years later? Three months ago Archie Pendergast put a pistol in his mouth. I won’t let you leave me too.” She was crying now and Michael fought the urge to go to her, to go to them both. “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me behind, Drew. You promised me.”

“I’m sorry, Belle,” Drew’s voice broke, “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” Michael heard the sound of rustling skirts. She’d gone to him and Michael tried not to imagine their embrace. She loved Drew. She truly loved him and he loved her. Michael felt an unpleasant tug at the center of his chest. After all this time Drew had what he'd always longed for, her love and though Michael knew he had no business wishing things were different, he couldn't help but want her in his arms tucked close against his chest. God save him from being such a selfish bastard.

“Look, you’ve turned me into a watering pot.” He heard Belle struggle for a light tone. “I shan’t forgive you for making my nose stuffy and you know what I look like when I cry.”

Drew’s voice was raspy. “You look quite ugly. Blotchy cheeks, puffy eyes, big, red nose – a veritable hag.”

“Thank you very much, you horrid man,” she sniffed. “I shall remember your kind words when we start working your legs tomorrow. I’m going to my room and when I return we will get you into your chair. No arguments.”

“Yes, Belle,” Drew answered. He tone was humble, but it didn’t hold the defeated quality Michael had come to fear.

“That’s better,” Belle said. Michael heard her move towards the door. He stepped away from the door and when she opened the door he stood watching her from across the hallway. Her eyes met his and Michael knew his brother had only teased her about the effects of crying on her face. Belle dropped her eyes and hurried down the corridor.

Michael entered Drew's room. His brother looked to be in abject misery, but for the first time in years, he looked relieved to see his older brother.

“Michael,” he began, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to be just another burden to you, to be less than a man – not to you.”

“You were never a burden, Drew. You never could be.” Michael cleared his throat to speak past the emotion he felt. “You were annoying, certainly; that’s what little brothers do best, I suppose, but you were never a burden.”

“Belle’s not who you think, Michael.”

“I’m learning that very quickly and if you wish to marry her, you will both have my blessing.” There, he’d said it, oddly painful as it was.

Drew blinked at him. “No. We don’t wish to marry. Right now though, someone needs to look after her.” When Michael hesitated, Drew continued. “Please, Michael. She’s devastated. There’s still so much about her that you don’t understand. Find her. Take care of her for me.” Michael nodded and left.

He found Belle in the gallery at the end of the wing. He’d heard her before he saw her. She was crying again, or still – great wracking sobs. She was looking into one of the glass display cabinets, her arms folded protectively around her stomach as she vented her terrible distress. He knew what she'd seen, Drew's medals that Michael had proudly placed near the portraits of their ancestors.

Michael called her name. She straightened, but kept her back to him. “He promised me,” she said. It was a phrase she’d repeated today and he wondered what it meant. What promises had they exchanged. “We all promised.” Michael went to her and pulled her into his arms, not stopping to consider the wisdom or the folly of the idea. He just wanted to hold her. Belle curled herself into him, tucking one fist between them. She clutched something in her hand, but he couldn’t see what it was.

“What did he promise you, Sweetheart?” The endearment fell from his lips before he could call it back. He’d called her this before, but at the time it had been a jibe meant to bring her down a peg. This time the word felt different to him. She felt different. “Did he promise you marriage?” No matter how much he’d once wanted Araby Winston to receive her just desserts matters had changed today. This woman clearly had a heart and it was breaking. He rubbed her back as she wept into his shoulder.

“No. Drew and I love each other, but not like that. We’re not in love. Next to Duncan, he’s my best friend in all the world.” She pulled back and gazed up at Michael, her face streaked with tears, her nose running. In spite of her distress, Michael gave her a wry smile. It turned out his brother was right, after all. She was a mess when she cried. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. He kept his arms around her loosely while she dabbed her eyes and gustily blew her nose.

“There were nine of us,” she began. “Duncan, Molly, me and our six special patients – ones who never should have survived, but did. We became more like friends, really. We all promised that no matter how desperate we became, no matter how lost we felt, we would never give up on each other. We would never leave the others behind. I’ve tried to keep that promise, Michael, we all have. That’s why I was at Viscount Isley’s home. I was looking after his younger son, Larkin. He’s one of the six. Archie Pendergast was as well. He...he....” She couldn’t continue.

“I know, Belle, I heard.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled back to look at her, placing every shred of determination he felt into his eyes. He would make her believe him. “Drew is safe now. You and Dr. Gillian brought him back to us and you and I will not let him go.” She shook her head. “We will find a way to make him stay.” She nodded.