“If we stayed, we might have known.”
“Then I would not have almost perished in a pool of my own blood! HowwouldI live?”
Her brother shot her a glare. “That is not funny.”
“No?” she asked innocently.
Her brother shook his head. “You have a dark sense of humor, sis.”
“It came back with me from the other side.”
“Belle!”
“Fine, I’ll stop, but be nice to my friends. They are my family.”
He scowled. “I still cannot fathom how you ever became involved with those Shaws.”
“What is it about the Shaws that has every bloody male in England on edge? They’ve done nothing but protect me and help keep me safe, which is more than I can say about you.”
“That’s a low blow, sis. You know everything we do is for your protection.”
“Then why is it that they are here, actively helping me, whereas you are not?”
“I am deeply sorry you feel betrayed and one day we will reveal all to you, but please trust me. We are taking care of De Roux.”
Belle nodded, deciding to let it go for now. The fact that her brothers were spies and left for her safety—supposedly—helped soothe the hard pinch of betrayal. She could accept that more easily than their abandoning of her to travel the world on some adventurous voyage. “Fine.”
His shoulders sagged in relief and with a quick peck on the cheek, he faded into the darkness. “We will see you soon.”
Belle watched until her brother slipped from the room. She was reeling from his visit. They never truly abandoned her, did they? Or was she simply reaching for excuses?
She plopped down on her bed, resisting the urge to call out to Quinn, to beg him to stay or take her with him.
Quinn and Bradford were spies.
The irony was not lost on her. Perhaps she should become one as well, that is, if women were even allowed to do so. Perhaps she’d be the first lady spy. How grand! It would be a good way to channel the deep sadness that oftentimes surfaced within her, the sadness that made it impossible for her to breathe.
Another unmistakable silhouette slipped into her room.
Simon.
She’d always be able to tell him apart from any other man. A subtle tingling at the nape of her neck always signaled his presence. She was used to it by now, it seemed as though it had been like that forever. He emerged from the shadows into the light shed by the single candle on her nightstand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she saw her sitting on the bed, sensing something off.
She attempted to smile. “Why would anything be wrong?”
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
Belle was amazed at his ability to see through her so well. His senses appeared to be aware of her on a level she was not sure she was ready to face yet. It spoke of an intimacy that she dare not mull over now, not with the knowledge of her brothers and De Roux still lingering in the air.
“It’s nothing of importance.” Translation: it had nothing to do with the French bastard. Well, that was not entirely the truth. But Belle still hadn’t decided whether she’d inform her friends of these new revelations. Honestly, how would she explain her brothers’ involvement without revealing their secret? What possible reason could she give these men to back down, these men that had risked their lives to save hers?
Simon, however, was like a hound on the trail of a fox. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Will sharing whatever happened cause you tears?” he asked.
His expression brought to mind an image of him, holding a crying baby at arm’s length and glancing around, horrified.