A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) (39 page)

She smiled and relaxed into the series of light kisses he placed along the line of her neck. “I really should stop you,” she murmured, nestling against him. “What if someone saw us?”

“What if they did?” Michael countered, switching to the other side of her neck.

“My reputation would be completely lost and it is on shaky ground as it is.” His lips held a magic all their own, she thought as she tipped her head to a more accommodating angle.

“Then I’d simply have to do right by you, wouldn’t I?” Belle stiffened slightly and pulled away from him. She couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“Don’t joke about such things, Michael. My reputation is important to me. It’s keeps me employable. Besides, there is no question of us marrying. It’s impossible.”

He caught her by her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “I’m not making a joke, Belle,” he said quietly. “If I thought there was a better than fair shot that you’d accept me I’d ask you to marry me here and now, but I can tell by your reaction that you’re not ready to even consider a proposal. You’re too busy counting up all the shoulds and shouldn’ts. That’s not leaving you any time to ask yourself the proper questions.”

“And what are those?” Belle whispered a little hoarsely.

Michael gave her a mysterious little smile, a trademark of her own in bygone days and Belle found she didn’t like being on the receiving end of it very much. “You’ll have to uncover them for yourself,” he answered. “That’s what I had to do and once you can answer those questions truthfully nothing else will matter.”

Belle narrowed her eyes suddenly feeling rather cross with him. “When did you start talking like a Brahmin?”

He laughed, “Today, apparently.”

Belle pulled a leaf off a nearby Chinaberry bush. “Well, stop it. It’s most annoying.”

Michael leaned towards her, grinning wickedly. “Then perhaps you should find a better way for me to occupy my mouth.”

She laughed, then swiftly surveyed the house and garden for watching eyes. Satisfied, she gave him a light kiss. “You are an impossible man,” she murmured against his mouth.

He exchanged her kiss for one of his own. “Yes, I am and you, madam, have had ample warning. One day I will ask you to marry me.” He stroked her cheek tenderly and Belle feared her heart might burst as hope and longing warred against her fear and fatalism. She’d long ago given up dreams of marriage and children, never wanting to be under someone else’s control, to be owned, ever again — even by Michael. And what of his dreams, the ones he’d shared with her that day at the inn and again in his bed after they made love? Her stepfather’s actions had made her a social pariah even without the fact she worked for her living. As his wife she would be a liability to him.

As if sensing every chaotic emotion she felt inside her, he pressed his index finger softly to her lips, stopping the flow of words that would deny the possibility of something so wondrous between them. “I will only ask you to marry me once, Belle, and if you choose to refuse me, then I will never ask you again, but you will pick the day I ask you. Every day from now until Christendom I will ask you what day it is. When you look at me and say to me, ‘today, Michael, the day is today,’ then I will know it’s time.” He tipped her head up to meet his eye. “So, I ask you now, Miss Winslow, what day is it?”

Her heart pounded and part of her longed to give him the answer he wanted. “It’s Tuesday, my lord.” She waited for disappointment and anger to kill the warmth in his expression. It didn’t.

He grinned. “You’re a stubborn woman, Belle. Luckily for you I have insidious patience.”

The sound of horse’s hooves trotting briskly along the graveled drive abruptly ended their interlude and they left the seclusion of the side garden to watch the rider’s approach. Belle didn’t recognize him. Judging from the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his torso he was a tall man, but his features were obscured by distance and by the wide-brimmed hat he wore pulled low on his forehead.

“It’s Rafe,” Michael murmured before striding to meet him.

Belle felt as if someone had plunged her into scalding water. Rafe Kingsford. What could he want? Of all the ruthless men she’d had the misfortune to meet in her life, Rafe Kingsford topped the list. He’d ruined Sarah and seen her forever banished from her home without so much as a twinge of conscience. Ambrose’s lapdog – he had almost killed her friend and destroyed Belle, herself. She fought her urge to turn and run into the house. No, she would stay and face him. She had never retreated under fire and she wouldn’t do so now.

***

Michael wasted no time on preliminaries. “What’s happened, Rafe. Why are you here?” The other man met his words with a sardonic smile.

“You don’t seem that pleased to see me, Stowebridge.” He glanced across the lawn to where Belle stood. “Am I interrupting your morning stroll with the lovel
y
Miss Winslow?
”
Michael didn’t care for his tone and his own expression must have said as much, because Rafe chuckled.

“No insult intended,” he said, dismounting. “I didn’t come here to stir up a pot of old porridge. I came to warn both of you.”

“Warn us of what?” Michael queried as he led Rafe back across the grass to Belle. There was no denying that Rafe’s presence made a change in Belle’s demeanor. She stood stiffly, her arms wrapped around herself in a protective stance, her features cast in barely contained fury.

“You weren’t attacked by some random thug while you were in London, Stowebridge. It was calculated and you’re lucky to be alive.”

They came to a halt in front of Belle and she caught the last of Rafe’s words. She gasped, and searched Rafe’s face, all thoughts of past wrongs forgotten in her concern.

“What do you mean, it was calculated?” she demanded. “Who attacked him?” Michael heard fear hiding behind the sharpness of her questions.

Rafe recognized it as well. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod and spoke to her with a gentleness Michael never knew the man possessed. “It was Seaton. He’s searching for you. He didn’t know where to look for you though, until recently. Two nights ago he attacked Dr. Gillian in his home.”

Belle’s hand shook as she brought it up to grasp her own throat. “Dear God.” Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders unmindful of who saw him. If his actions surprised Rafe the other man said nothing.

“He’ll recover,” Rafe continued, “but he has some broken ribs and quite a lump on his head.”

“How can you be so certain it was the baron who attacked him?” she asked. This was the question Michael dreaded, because answering it would uncover his and Rafe’s investigation into her past.

Rafe looked to Michael for confirmation before answering her and Michael gave him a single nod. “I’ve been tracking his movements, trying to locate him for months now. He disappeared from his usual haunts. I recently learned he’d returned to England. Unfortunately, Seaton must have been dogging my steps and followed me when I met with Dr. Gillian about you.”

Belle frowned in confusion. “Why would you speak to Duncan about me?”

“Belle,” Michael began gently.

She swiftly turned her angry gaze on him. “You aske
d
hi
m
to spy on me?” She shook her head, a look of pain and disbelief etched itself onto her face. “Why would you do that? Didn’t you believe me?” Her shoulders slumped and she pulled away from him. “No, of course you didn’t. Why would you?”

“I asked Rafe to look into your background when you first arrived,” Michael said taking hold of both her hands. She tried to pull them away, but he held fast. “I may have doubted your word then, Belle, but never after that day in the gallery, not after you told me about the tontine. Please try to understand. I knew you were hiding something and I feared that you would never tell me what, so I had Rafe keep digging.” He turned towards the other man. “Considering what he’s learned about Seaton, it’s a blessing I did.”

“I learned from my mistake with Gillian,” Rafe offered. “I’d also spoken to Miss Pomeroy last week, so before I left London, I sent word to her to find another place to stay for a few days. I received word that she’s gone to ground and is safe. She said you would know where.”

“Thank you,” Belle replied stiffly, “though how you even knew we were friends, I daren’t  guess.”

Rafe flashed a smile that most females found to be devastatingly charming. It set Michael’s teeth on edge, but the fact Belle appeared completely immune to it somewhat mollified him. “I investigate things, Miss Winslow, people and events,” Rafe said, “and I’m very good at what I do.”

There was a moment of silence where Belle glanced between both men as if weighing something. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said abruptly. “I must pack. Duncan needs me and I can’t stay here any longer.”

“No!” Both men exclaimed at once.

“Gillian’s recovering, Belle, and he wants you to stay here where we can protect you,” Rafe added. “He plans to join us here as soon as he’s able.” Michael wasn’t certain whether it was his use of her name, or Rafe’s mention of protecting her that earned him such a glare.

“That’s out of the question,” she said imperiously. “I can’t remain here.” She turned in the direction of the servants entrance, but only managed to take one step before Michael seized her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving, Belle,” he commanded. “That’s precisely what Seaton wants you to do. You’ll be ripe for the picking if you go off to London.” He’d half expected her to turn on him like an angry cat, but instead she looked up at him with wounded eyes. “Let us protect you, Sweetheart. I’ll never let him hurt you again, I promise you.”

“Don’t you see? That is exactly why I have to go,” she said, her voice filled with resolve. “I can’t let him come here where you, Drew, or your people would be made to suffer because of me. You’re right. I can’t go to London. Duncan must stay away from me as well, but I still have to leave.” Michael shook his head. On this he would remain intractable, lock her up if need be. She saw the intention in his face and swung her gaze between the two men. “And what of Jules, Mari and their children? Will you put them at risk as well?”

“I stopped to see them on my way here from the train station,” Rafe said. “Jules and I have taken precautions. He’s put his people on alert and I brought some reinforcements with me from London.” At her look of uncertainty and explained. “Protecting people is part of my job too, Belle.”

“I don’t want your protection,” she hissed. “I don’t even wish to speak with you.”

Rafe shrugged, unaffected by her words. “Understandable. However, I think you should know that you have at best, a quarter hour before Mari descends on us in all her righteous fury.” He turned to Michael. “I’ve told her about Ambrose and his plots — at least what I know of them. You and I ar
e
personae non grata
e
and I’m afraid that Jules’ standing isn’t much better.”

Belle made a sound of disgust. Anything she would have added to it was halted by the sound of the Strathmore coach and several outriders rumbling up the drive at a rather fast clip. “If this keeps up,” she muttered, “we’ll spend all bloody morning going back and forth between here and the drive.”

“At least it will keep you occupied,” Michael said releasing her arm as they watched the duchess’ approach.

Rafe snorted. “Mari’s likely to wear us all out in her mood.” He spoke to Belle. “Have you ever seen her really in a temper?”

“Once,” Belle answered mildly. “She pulled out a handful of my hair.” Both men winced and she shrugged. “I had it coming.”

The coach had barely reached a stop when the door slammed open. Footmen scrambled to lower the steps as the duchess practically leapt to the ground. Jules followed behind her shaking his head as she charged across gravel.

“I know three men who’ll be sleeping in the stable come nightfall,” Belle said with no small amount of glee.

“She’s none to happy with you either at the moment,” Rafe returned darkly. “Behold, the avenging valkyrie.”

Mari swung an accusing finger between Michael and Rafe, her face reddened with anger. “How dare either one of you act in my name without consulting me!” Wisely, neither man said anything. What excuse could either of them offer? Mari and Drew, had both been outraged by their actions and rightly so. Not only had he acted against Belle, but he’d also turned a blind eye to the fates Ambrose chose for Lady Katherine and the former Miss Melbourne. In that moment he promised himself he would ensure Lady Katherine’s safety and that should the Contessa di Fattore, the former Miss Melbourne, ever need assistance he would give it to her without hesitation.  

“I never asked you to do any of this! Do you think me so shallow and without feeling that I would delight in the sufferings of others?” Rafe opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. “And you,” she said, rounding on Belle, “why didn’t you say something to me, Belle? Are we not friends now?” Tears glistened in Mari’s eyes, “Please, tell me you didn’t think I asked them to ruin your engagement.”

“I’ve never thought that, Mari and we are most assuredly friends,” Belle, said firmly. “Don’t blame Jules. He had nothing to do with any of it, save for trying to spare you distress. That worked well, didn’t it? Never mind. He’s just a man, after all and they don’t often think clearly.” She managed to look down her nose at the three men, though they all exceeded her height by a good six inches. “As for Michael and Rafe, well, they were complete swines at the time, but that shouldn’t surprise you.” Belle tucked Mari’s arm under her own and gave it a comforting pat as she led her friend towards the house. “Let’s go have some tea and I’ll tell you everything. Afterwards we’ll find Drew and then you can help me pack.”