Chapter 17
Rebellion: where one party chose to go against the wishes of another, with or without their knowledge. And perhaps, if Belle had thought it through, she’d have come to a different conclusion that following morning.
Perhaps, if she had not woken up that very day to Simon pressed up tightly against her back, she may have felt differently on the matter. But the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing in her ear and his right arm anchoring her to his chest while the other cradled her in his embrace had, well, suffocated her.
Unaccustomed to such an invasion of her space or a restriction on her freedom, this new necessity of being cloistered inside made her itch for the outdoors. And that itch had boomed into the desire for a simple, enjoyable ride in the park. Alone. With only a footman as an escort.
Perhaps, if Simon had not left a note saying he’d be stepping out for an hour to retrieve more of his belongings, Belle would never have considered it.
Perhaps, she would not have believed it safe.
Because it wasn’t.
If it had been, Belle would not currently be sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, while blood seeped through her fingers from the fresh wound on her arm.
Still.
Ithadbeen such a marvelous day, full of clear skies and people buzzing about with laughter and dainty giggles. Belle had reveled in the brisk breeze caressing her face. For one precious fleeting moment, she had not felt confined or imprisoned by her circumstance, but free.
That was until two shots were fired in quick succession, their ear-shattering thunder echoing through the park. In their wake, pandemonium broke loose. Horses reared, shouts replaced laughter, and the once-boisterous park filled with cries of fear.
Every person in the park was in an uproar. Men scoured after their horses, women wailed on the ground, and others just sat in shock. No one even noticed that Belle had fallen from her horse, one of the shots hitting her arm.
Her footman, bless his heart, fell to his knees beside her, his face draining of all color when he spotted the blood.
“My Lady-y-y, you’ve been shot.”
Had she not been in pain, she would have rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Charles, for pointing that out. Now help me up, quickly,” she gritted her teeth. “We must leave before anyone sees me bleeding all over the ground.”
Because if anyone did, that would certainly mean that Simon and Jo would learn of her short-lived rebellion and be out for blood. And she would probably never see the light of day again as a result.
Charles helped her to her feet, keeping a gentle hand on her back in case she lost her balance.
“You cannot ride my lady, but I shall carry you if you cannot walk.”
A bubble of laughter escaped Belle. The image of her being carried home by her heroic footman, bleeding all over him, seemed quite comical.
Remarkably, her horse had not bolted after she’d been tossed from the saddle.
“Thank you Charles, but I shall ride.” When he only stared at her wide eyed, she pressed, “Come, you must help me mount.”
With a reluctant nod, her footman lifted her onto her colt. She flinched in pain but managed to hold the reigns steady in one hand.
“Thank you, Charles, now hurry, we must return home post haste.” And hope the man behind the gun did not follow to finish the job.
Belle did not voice that particular concern aloud, as her footman already looked ready to expire. Her main concern now was to bandage her wound and get rid of the blood-stained clothes, before word of the shooting made its way to Simon and he came barging through her chamber door.
Black spots dimmed her vision and she shut her eyes tightly before urging her horse forward. The ride home was short and nerve-racking and seemed to take forever. Charles, to her dismay, left her on top of her horse in his rush to get help.
Belle cursed, sliding down from her horse, only to fall flat on her behind. With a giggle she rose to her feet, pausing when she swayed.
Oh, botheration.
As if on cue, her maid came rushing through the front door, Charles by her side. They came down the steps to where Belle stood, rocking on her heels.
“My Lady, come, we must get you inside and see to your wound.”
Together they snuck her into the house, heedful to remain unseen. Once inside, her maid ushered her up the staircase. They barely reached the top when a loud banging on the front door gave them pause.
