“Simon,” Belle whispered in horror. “Quick Mary, wrap my arm and get me a clean jacket.”
“But My Lady, surely you can’t mean to—”
Belle held up her hand to silence her maid. “Do this for me, Mary.” She flicked her gaze to Charles. “Ring for some lemon cakes and do not let him upstairs.”
Exactly ten minutes later, Belle sauntered into the receiving room, giddy and on a cloudy haze. She presumed it was from the loss of blood, but she did not much suffer in the way of pain. Lucky for her, the bullet had only grazed her and the ache had now receded into a dull throb.
She stopped, however, at the empty room. Simon was nowhere in sight.
How odd.
Had it not been him banging on the front door? With a small shrug, she continued into the room. He’d receive word of the shooting soon enough. How foolish it had been to believe a short ride in the park would be safe.
Then it occurred to her: she was remarkably calm for someone who’d been shot. How curious. She giggled again. For a spy, one would imagine that Mister Stink Breath would be a better shot!
Wretched man.
She’d just about reached the soft lure of the chase when one of the other maids, Helen, rushed into the room. “Oh, my lady, there you are. We’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
Belle pulled a face. “I took a stroll in the garden, you must have missed me,” the lie slipped from her tongue. “What is so urgent?”
“Lord Westfield, my lady, but he has left.”
Left?
“Did he say whether he’d be back?”
The maid hesitated.
Belle raised a brow, her eyes narrowing on the young girl.
“He didn’t say, ma’am, stormed right out again. Apparently, there was a shooting in the park.”
Blast!
But he would not find her in the park, so he would most certainly return. Lord. She needed something stiff if she was going to playthe part of innocence. Better for her that he did not learn that she’d been shot at because of her own stupidity.
“Thank you, Helen. You can go about your duties.”
She waited until the maid left before she quickly made her way to her brother’s study, where she proceeded to pour a generous amount of brandy for her nerves. She hardly ever overindulged, finding the effects of it abhorrent. But since the return of De Roux, she’d emptied a fair share of brother’s liquor cabinet.
Belle threw the contents down the back of her throat in one big gulp. Her eyes watered as the substance set all her senses aflame. There was no other word it. Almost immediately the effects settled over her, creating a comfortable mask of repose. It occurred to her in an afterthought that this might not have been the brightest idea, considering the loss of blood had already made her woozy.
However, the airy carefree clouds beneath her feet made it worth the while. The baffled urge to dance through a pasture of flowers caught her off guard, more so than the sudden desire to float on her back in a pond.
Mary entered the room at that moment, her eyes widening at the empty glass clutched in her mistress’s hand. Of course, Mary most likely knew what a foolish ninny Belle had been to imbibe after her encounter in the park.
“Oh! I beg your pardon, my lady! But the Earl has returned and is asking for you. He seems quite disturbed.”
Belle blinked, swaying ever so slightly on her heels.
And blinked again.
“Oh dear.”
Simon paced up and down the front hall, a caged tiger ready to pounce. He’d nearly aged ten years when a missive arrived to inform him there’d been reported shots fired in the park. Of course, he’d imagined the worst. And since no one in this bloody residence could tell him where the lady of the house was, he had been certain she’d snuck out for a ride.
No sense of relief came when he hadn’t found her there, only an urgent need to see for himself she was unharmed. Until he verified with his own eyes that she was indeed whole and hearty, he’d be restless and on edge. He’d give the servants three more minutes and if they did not produce her whereabouts, he’d climb up the damn walls.
