Chapter 20
That night Belle entered her bedchambers exhausted and, quite frankly, miserable. Her eyes flicked to the table where her sketches took up most of the space. It felt like days since she last touched a pencil, and her fingers were itching to draw. Her mind, however, felt burdened and refused to be used for creative means.
Her blue eyes swept her room, sentiment clogging her throat.
I must leave it all behind.
Up till now, Quinn and Bradford had failed to apprehend De Roux and with each passing moment, the threat of danger became more imminent. She could not, in all good conscience, allow her friends continue to live in fear because of her.
It was time to scatter.
Once De Roux got wind of her disappearance, he’d leave in search of her. She’d then send word to her brothers and would join them in the fight together. They had left her in the dark for long enough. The time had come to finally be reunited with her family, even if it meant she must leave her friends behind.
The soft scraping of nails on the floorboard alerted Belle of Charlemagne, who moments later came traipsing into her room, his eyes big in his narrow face as he watched her. “Do not worry Char, Jo will take excellent care of you.”
At his whine, she stroked the soft fur on his neck, tickling his ears. “I’ll miss you, too, but one day we shall be reunited again.”
With the slight flick of her hand, she ran her finger lightly over her sketches. She’d miss refashioningher sketches into beautiful cloth, as well.
With a sigh, her eyes darted to her bed, which had never looked so inviting. What she wouldn’t give to strip from her clothes and fall into the plush pillows. But first, a bath.
Simon would soon settle in for the night, whether in the armchair or beside her and while she wanted nothing more than to surrender to the pull of her exhaustion, this may be the last time she’d see him in a while, perhaps even forever.
Her heart ached at the thought.
The weight of her decision came swift and unwanted, her breath hitching in response. This may be the last chance she’d ever get to run her fingers through his hair, to kiss the arch of his brow. The last night she could stare into his eyes, engage his ire, and entice a smile. Her heart drummed against her chest.
She would bathe until the water did not hold a drop of warmth and hoped he arrived by then. He was going to be furious with her for leaving. But with time he’d come to understand her decision and maybe even forgive her. She’d refused him enough times for him to grasp that she did not envision a future for them together.
“Oh Belle, what are you doing?” she whispered on a sigh.
She did not want to go. She was not ready to leave him or her life here. In the short time since De Roux’s return, Simon had come to truly mean something to her; they’d grown closer than she had ever allowed any man to get to her and she loathed breaking that bond.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into the chill night air. “This was never how I imagined it would end.”
Well, no one could ever claim she had not lived a life of scandal, intrigue and suspense. Granted, not Simon or the return of De Roux had been part of her plan. She’d only dreamed of a bit of wildness and low-cut gowns. Now, a madman nipped at her heels along with a man she suspected she’d fallen hopelessly in love with.
Damn, this situation to Hades.
She’d love nothing more than to bury that that Frenchman fifteen feet beneath the ground.
A knock on her door signaled the arrival of her maids and she stood lost in thought as they scurried around her to prepare her bath. It was only when they left that she Belle spotted a cup of steaming hot milk on the nightstand. Bemused by their consideration, she made her way to the inviting substance. It was her favorite night time drink, as it happened.
Sinking onto the edge of her bed, she decided she might as well enjoy her milk while it was still warm.
What a day of discovery it had been! Who’d have thought her family owned an attic filled with ancient pistols and weaponry. Some of them Belle had recognized, some of them so old one could only wonder at their origin.
Other than that, her day had been normal enough. She’d woken up early, as usual, not to sketch like most mornings, and certainly not to stare at the blank paper with nothing but turmoil stewing in her mind. No, she’s woken to read a copy ofLady Sugar Finds Love, a gift from Evelyn, as it were.
It had been just as well since she’d woken up to an empty room yet again, since Simon had not touched her in an intimate manner after he discovered she’d been shot, but this time the unmistakable imprint of his body beside her had soothed her disappointment.
In any case, though she was not much of a reader, Belle had to admit it was thoroughly entertaining. Lady Sugar, being born in unfortunate circumstances had risen above it in the most bizarre of ways. And she fell in love in quite a spectacular fashion. Belle enjoyed those parts the most.
What would Lady Sugar do in her circumstance? Lure her enemy out into an abandoned meadow and set wild dogs on him, no doubt. She’d not have run away in the midst of a battle. No, she’d have pursued her attacker.
How unlucky that Belle was not a fictional character.
It had been in the chaos in the wake of the shooting in the park that the axis of her world had tilted.
