“Where the hell is it?” James growled, incredulous.
Belle sighed, standing. “I do not know. When I came to, it was gone.”
James looked as though he wanted to throttle her.
“What else have you not told us, Lady Belle?” Derek’s voice whipped through the room.
I am barren.
I have nightmares.
I can never marry.
I may very well be falling in love.
Oh, and someone saved me, but I do not know who.
“That is all.”
Derek’s gaze was unwavering as he stared at her, his face hard with disapproval. Belle recognized the questions in his gaze. Questions like if she was gutted, how exactly had she survived? But he did not ask any of the queries she glimpsed in his eyes—it wasn’t relevant to them.
“We cannot lure him with the real papers, anyway, you fool,” Westfield snapped in James’s direction, causing his thick neck to blotch with redness. “What if something went wrong and he got his filthy hands on the originals?”
“I agree. We do not need the original information,” St. Aldwyn said chirpily as if she hadn’t committed some horrid crime by lying to them.
“I know that,” James growled back. “I’m not demented. But that was not my point.”
“The age of documents can be copied, can it not?” Jo interrupted.
Derek nodded. “That is simple enough.” He glanced at James, “Can it work, brother?” Everyone knew that Derek was the final say on the plans, so it was clear he had asked mostly to defuse the tension that gripped the occupants of the room.
James’s eyes were still planted on Belle. “Whatever information we copy would have to be copied on old paper, but it could work. Well, Lady Belle?”
Belle swallowed. It was clear what he was asking. Had De Roux taken a good glance at what he stole? How the hell should she know? If he had, it hadn’t been in her presence. And she doubted he’d be able to recall it, in any case. It had been years.
All of her friends stared at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. It could work. The villain may even believe she never destroyed the documents—in fact, that might be why he had returned in the first place.
But then again, it may not. She remained uncertain, but she wasn’t about to voice that out loud.
“I suppose we can add a red stain or two for theatrical effect.” She did not say that in actuality the paper would have been completely covered with her blood.
To her relief, none of her friends questioned her, nor did they comment on her remark. They looked concerned, but respected her request of silence on the matter.
“We must assume that you are being watched,” Derek muttered, pacing behind St Aldwyn’s desk. “It may make our plan easier.”
“And how is that?” Westfield asked.
“Lady Belle will leave her residence cloaked and meet my brother outside of the Black Bull pub, where she will hand him an old, stained envelope. It should become known quickly after that she is not in possession of the plans anymore, but we are. We can proceed from there.”
The Black Bull was on the docks, not far from where…
Belle’s gut clenched. “And what if he learns of our meeting and makes an appearance to intercept the information? With my luck, that would most certainly be the case.”
“If he does make an appearance,” James growled, “I will take him out.”
“Well, that seems simple enough,” Belle muttered.
“I will accompany her,” Westfield said.
