Royal Regard (49 page)

John looked grim as Nick reached for the bell
pull. “Someone will bring Charlotte in just a moment, sweetheart.
Lie back. Stay still.” She followed his instruction, and all three
remained silent, waiting for someone to respond to the call.

When no servant was forthcoming, John tipped
his head toward Nick, motioning for the duke to go find one, but
Nick stayed firmly in his seat, no intention of leaving for even
one moment, kissing the back of Bella’s hand for good measure. She
tried to set aside her confusion about the open display of his
affections—it was unthinkable to take such chances when she was now
in mourning. And in front of her brother! Nick would be lucky not
to be called out, if a duke would even deign to meet a baronet on
the field of honor.

Flinching, Bella laid her head back on the
pillow again. “You look older, Johnny. A bit like Papa.” Enough
like Papa to be a vague threat, but of the three men in her family,
John had been the kindest. If one could call any of them kind.

“You look just like you did when you set
sail. Prettiest girl in England.”

“Liar,” she intoned. “How have you come to be
here? I looked for you when we came back. Everyone said you must
have died in the war.”

“No such luck for England, I’m afraid. Alive
and well and living in London with my family. And now taking care
of the baby sister I neglected for too long.” He brushed the hair
off her forehead. “Any more explanations can wait until you are
stronger.”

“But I want—you have a family? Children? I
heard about Jeremy, of course. And Papa. It was all so—Heavens, my
head hurts.”

Charlotte bustled in on the heels of a maid,
saying, “All right, now shoo, John. You, too, Wellbridge. Ladies
only until I give you leave.”

Charlotte’s efficiency shut both men out of a
small circle of space around the bed, and when she started to close
the bed curtains, John stood up, stretching his back. “I’ll return
as soon as I can, Bella. I have some business to attend. You take
care of the megrim.”

“Megrim?” Charlotte queried. “Does your head
hurt?” Bella winced as she nodded. “Well, I suppose that isn’t a
surprise.”

Eyeing John and Nick, Bella whispered, “But I
need the…
the necessary
.”

Charlotte waved the men out. “Alexander will
be finished at The Lords soon, so it would be an excellent idea to
collect him at Westminster and impose on Wellbridge’s sister for
dinner, since Lady Allison has been asking how she can help.”

Nick objected, “You know I can’t—”

Charlotte would hear no argument. “A romantic
hero may be seen on the streets when a common criminal cannot, and
I insist you hie yourself elsewhere for the nonce. You’ll not be
needed here for some time.”

Bella’s forehead wrinkled. “Criminal?”

Charlotte patted Bella’s shoulder while the
gentlemen made noises toward a departure, whispering out the side
of her mouth, “Once they have gone, I will tell you everything.”
Returning her attention to the men, she added, “Wellbridge,
Blakeley has been waiting in your guest room with new clothes for
days, and no doubt he has something for evening. I just sent up hot
water for the bath you sorely need.”

“The lady of the house has noticed you smell
bad, Wellbridge,” John laughed, “and you look fagged to death. You
could do with a good meal, but I won’t sit at your table until you
bathe and put on clean smalls.”

John clapped Nick on the shoulder and guided
him through the door. Nick struggled against him every step but
moved too slowly to put up a real challenge against John’s years of
experience steering fighting men against their will.

Nick growled at John’s mockery and his
coxswaining, but didn’t have the stamina to curse him; once Bella
had opened her eyes, ten days of sitting vigil had descended like
the lid of a coffin. He would be lucky to make it all the way to
the guest room, much less his sister’s house for dinner. He
stumbled on the hall carpet, and John grabbed his elbow to keep him
on his feet.

“Do you never tire, Smythe?”

“Not since my first battlefield. One eye open
and all that.”

Before they stepped out of hearing range,
Charlotte poked her head out the door and called, “Tell my abigail
she’s needed, please, and ask Corbel to send for the doctor.”

Before either man could respond, she shut the
door again. A footman down the hall indicated he had heard the
order and would see it carried out.

“So, why am I leaving Bella for the evening?”
Nick grumbled.

“So she can change her nightrail and scrub
her teeth before she is faced with your undying devotion.”

“She needn’t—”

John held out his hand to stop the objection.
“Never concern yourself, Wellbridge. We have mapped out the
strategy among us. You must simply do as you are told.”

“I resent the—”

John raised one brow and stopped the
grievance before it gained ground. “An innocent man, you must
agree, does not hide in the dark with his light o’ love. An
innocent man might, instead, be seen in an open carriage outside
Westminster on the way to share supper with the countess’ family,
to show there is nothing improper in the association.”

“I don’t see what—”

“Why don’t you go find your valet,” John
suggested, guiding Nick toward the stairs. “I’ll send up coffee and
make all the arrangements, then drink a good measure of Firthley’s
excellent whisky while I wait. I’ll meet you in the front hall at
half past the hour.”

“No, my sweet,” Bella chided, “We
will play in the garden, but I am too tired to carry you.” Jewel
had been hanging onto Bella’s skirts from the first moment her aunt
changed out of her dressing gown and moved from bedchamber to
sitting room. Bella had since been allowed to sit in the drawing
room and at the dining table, and had thrice visited the
nursery.

After almost a month at the Firthley’s
townhouse, Bella was finally spending a promised afternoon alone
with her niece. Though still too weak for excursions, Jewel was
just as happy to stay at home. At Bella’s behest, Charlotte had
gone shopping, and the nursemaid had taken Alex for an outing to
the park, Alexander was out on Parliamentary business, and Nick had
finally—at long last—been sent home. After Malbourne, Bella
cherished Nick beyond price, but had never considered how tiring an
overzealous suitor might be.

Jewel slid one hand into her aunt’s palm. “I
was thcared you would thleep forever, Auntie Bella.” The other
tugged at her yellow cotton dress, just slightly too small.
Charlotte complained Jewel grew out of her clothes before the
dressmaker could finish sewing them. “Everyone was ever tho
thcared, and Mama was ever tho croth.”

Bella bent down and wrapped Jewel in a tight
hug, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry I scared you so badly,
my sweet, but I am quite recovered now.” She hoped Jewel was too
young to notice the falsehood; the dark circles under her eyes and
more-than-intermittent headaches belied her words.

Opening the door to the garden, she ushered
Jewel out, saying, “We shall just have to make up the lost time.”
The combined scents of mint, dill, and fennel assailed her senses,
the freshness breathtaking after so many days cooped up inside. She
moved carefully, to avoid setting off the pain in her temples, and
took a seat on a bench under an ancient beech tree, letting her
hand drift across a mass of sweet pea blossoms.

“Never fear, my sweet.” Bella ruffled Jewel’s
hair, setting the yellow ribbon askew. “We shall go somewhere
special for your birthday. Just two more weeks, and you will be a
grown-up girl of six, will you not?”

Jewel giggled while Bella tidied her
pigtails. “Theven, Auntie Bella!” The little girl leaned onto
Bella’s legs, grasping her hand, tugging at her skirt.

“Seven?” Bella feigned shock. “My goodness! I
must have been asleep longer than I thought, for you to have grown
so big. Big enough for lions and tigers, do you think?”

“The Lion Tower? Yeth!” The shrill yell
started the throbbing, as Jewel ran off the exhilaration, jumping
up and down among the flowers, assuredly destroying months of the
gardener’s work, and her kid slippers.

If Bella hadn’t been so tired, she would have
stopped Jewel, made a lesson of taking gentle care of plants and
flowers. As it was, though, she just agreed, “All right, then, I
promise. The Lion Tower for your birthday.”

“You may wish not to make promises to the
little girl you will not keep,
Madame
.”

Jewel shrieked, and an instant later,
Michelle grabbed her with a large hand over the little girl’s
mouth.

Leaping up, Bella reached for her niece, but
stopped short. Michelle held a long kitchen knife easily in her
other hand, now directed at Jewel’s throat. Wiggling and squirming,
the child’s muffled screams were hindered by the Frenchwoman’s
implacable hand.

“I do not wish to hurt the little girl. She
has done nothing wrong. But you will do what I say, or she will die
before your eyes.”

Bella spoke more softly and calmly than she
ever had. “That’s right, Michelle. She’s done nothing wrong. Let
her go.”

“If you both do as I say, I will not harm
her. I will not like to kill another child.”

Bella spoke softly to Jewel. “Be still,
little one. Be very quiet and still and do what you are told. Do
you understand?”

Jewel stared at her aunt with wide eyes.
Slowly, she nodded, and Bella smiled as best she could to reassure
her. Jewel’s struggles ceased, her body stretched tight as a
halyard.

Bella returned her focus to Michelle. “What
is it you believe I have done?”

“You pretend you do not know? You have killed
the man I love and pretend you have done nothing wrong?” Michelle’s
voice rose above the volume of Jewel’s muted whimpers. “You
privileged whores believe a title before your name means you may do
anything, destroy anyone, simply because you choose it. But this
time not so,
putain
.”

“I did not kill Lord Malbourne,
Michelle.”

“Were it not for you and your English duke,
right now I would be in bed with
my
duke. My lover since we
were ten, and it makes no matter we will not marry. All he wants
from you is this simple thing, to become
une Duchesse de
France
, but you are too stupid to know what honor he bestowed.
So simple, a marriage contract, a few words, and then you will be
in France and can take a lover to fill your time. I keep your
secrets from your husband and bring you the English duke to dally
with, and I will keep
Monseigneur
happy, as ever.”

Ready to say anything to get Jewel out of the
woman’s hands, she tried, “You are right about
Monsieur le
Duc
. I can understand your love for him.”

“You lie,
Madame
. I have heard you
speak of him in the harshest words. You and all of your
protectors
in that house.” She gestured with her chin toward
the back windows. “For your duplicity, the man you love is gone. He
has finally left to eat at his own table, and it will have a very
special spice.”

Bella almost fainted. Nick had argued for an
hour against leaving, twice, not willing to take even enough time
away to check on his own house and staff. So, once Charlotte was on
the way to the shops, Bella told Nick he was ridiculous for hanging
about, demanding he not return before breakfast tomorrow. John had
finally shamed him into it, saying Nick was hardly the only man in
the house who could hold a firearm, and he could at least let
someone else have a chance to act the knight in shining armor.
Then, of course, her obstinate brother refused absolutely to leave
her in the house alone. Michelle standing here meant she might have
somehow gone through John first.

“It is good torture, I think, to leave you no
man and no children to love, you barren cow.”

Jewel started fighting in earnest, tossing
her shoulders side-to-side, throwing Michelle off-balance while
Bella watched every jerk of the flailing knife in horror. Given the
slightest opportunity, she would risk the blade to yank Jewel away,
but the chance never came. She could only keep the flashing tip of
the dagger in her sight, praying it would not be blood-soaked
before this was done.

When Jewel’s tiny foot came down on
Michelle’s toes, the Frenchwoman hit her on the head with the hilt
of the knife, not rendering Jewel unconscious, but stunning her
into submission. Once the little girl’s mind registered the strike,
her yelling and crying gained volume, stifled underneath Michelle’s
hand, but it took only moments for Michelle to physically restrain
her again.

“You are wrong, Michelle,” Bella tried,
hoping to keep the woman talking about anything at all, rather than
carrying out her plans for Jewel. “I’ve told you many times before.
I do not love Ni—the duke. He is just a friend of my husband.”