“I could be kidnapped.”
“I cannot see how that would work.”
“If I kidnapped myself, it may lure out the affection she holds for me.” Perhaps if she believed him in danger she’d realize she could not live without him.
“Christ man,” St. Aldwyn choked out. “That’s ridiculous.”
Fine. Perhaps it was ridiculous wool-gathering on his part, but he was at a loss at how to proceed.
“Besides, the lady would have your heart served to her warm and toasty if she ever learned of the scheme.”
Simon shrugged. “But if she didn’t, perhaps she’d give chase in an attempt to rescue me.”
St. Aldwyn just shook his head with a small smile.
But Simon could just see it: Belle chasing after him to rescue him from his kidnappers, sword in hand, long hair cascading from her back. Naked. Well, perhaps that last detail was a bit impractical.
Very well, he knew he was being ridiculous now, but it was worth the entertaining image in his mind.
“I never imagined, when I finally asked for the hand of the woman I wished to marry, she’d simply say no.”
She allowed him to seduce her, make love to her. But marry him? That she simply wouldn’t do. It was inconceivable and troubling. It made him want to act irrationally.
Quite honestly, Simon felt rather foolish. It was not a feeling he was familiar or comfortable with. No matter how he attempted to understand her line of reasoning, something did not seem right. She was hiding something. The gnawing suspicion grew with each passing moment and only made him more determined to discover her secrets. And if his suspicions proved correct, her secret held all the answers he needed to break through her guard.
“You have a wild imagination, my friend. If I were you I would just point a pistol in her general direction and ask sweetly.”
Simon’s eyes bulged as he sputtered out crumbs ofbread. “And that would not make for a rocky marriage?”
“It seems to me that whichever way you choose in obtaining her hand in marriage, it will be rocky.”
“I do not see how I can change her mind; she is determined to remain unattached.”
“Perhaps once this madman is found and dispatched of she will change her mind,” St. Aldwyn suggested.
Simon shook his head. “I suspect her reservations run deeper than the threat of De Roux.”
“Curious. Have you ever considered that the wound she might have sustained may be the cause for her reservations?”
Simon’s head shot up at that. “Did Jo mention something in the way of it?”
“No,” St. Aldwyn murmured. “My wife would not betray Lady Belle’s confidence, but considering what you know of the lady, it seems to me that any reservation centralizes around what transpired after she met De Roux.”
Simon considered that. It remained a strong possibility yet he failed to see how her wound may have influenced her decision so irrecoverably. But then he remembered the jagged scar that bastard had inflicted. He’d run his finger along the ragged edges, which spanned from the side of her…
He stilled.
Of course.
Horror cloaked over him as understanding dawned.
“Son of a bitch!” Simon growled.
Pain for what she might have felt upon learning such a tragedy pierced his heart. There was still every chance he may be wrong, but the knowledge of it felt right. It explained so much of her behavior and her determination to remain unaffected and unattached. She’d never marry any man because she could not provide her husband with an heir.
“I take it you have come to some sort of clarity?”
Simon’s heart hurt. “Her scar. I suspect she cannot bear children.” Even as Simon said the words he wanted to throttle De Roux with his bare hands.
