“But you know how I feel about these gatherings. They suffocate me. I cannot tolerate crowds. I panic and cannot function.”
“Pish! You have been saying that for years, but you have not perished for doing your duty to your family. I dare say you will see more of these activities as a duchess—and will be expected to attend. You might keep that in mind. I’ll not have people saying I have not done my duty by you and trained you properly.”
Belle started to react, but quietly took a cleansing breath. Michael knew how these functions affected her and had promised they could be creative in their approach, as needed. He didn’t have to do any of that for her. That he did—and had already taken steps to minimize their engagement party to the size of a small dinner party—spoke volumes.
No one, except her brother, Garrett, had taken her fears seriously. Even her parents were dismissive of them. But Michael had listened. Suggesting they go fishing today was a further example of his keenness to help her, citing the calming effect of being around water and the tranquility of the activity. Her fondness for him had grown deeper than she had imagined. “I am sorry, Mama, but I simply cannot attend with you today.”
“Fine. But see that you make it to Madame Tapiere’s for your fitting. The dresses will be for functions during the Season. I have also made an appointment for your trousseau, which we will attend together later this week. And I invited the duchess, who said she will be delighted to join us,” her mother said, pushing back from the table and standing. “I shall see you when I return.”
She watched her mother leave and realized she couldn’t stay irritated with her mother. Belle understood her mother’s concerns, and Mama saw things from her own perspective. Her ailment was something others found difficult to understand. Belle had long ago learned to agree to as many of the functions as possible, but she would rip her gown or pull off buttons and escape to the lady’s retiring room—often unmissed. Mama rarely even realized her absence. When she became a duchess, that could be more difficult, making her wish fervently that she enjoyed these functions.
“My lady, I hate to interrupt your meal, but you asked me to remind you of our early departure for the town so we can be back at the appointed time with His Grace,” Beatrice said, entering with the footman.
“Thank you for reminding me, Bea. I shall be ready soon. Please have the coach brought around,” Belle said, standing.
Less than an hour later, she and Beatrice sat across from one another in her family’s smaller coach. Lady Mortimer had departed twenty minutes earlier in the larger family coach to attend Lady Everly’s function, leaving the unmarked, black-lacquered coach for Belle’s foray into town. This was the coach Garrett usually used, but with his being out of town, it was seldom used.
When the door to the coach closed, the mustiness erased the clean and crisp scent she had enjoyed walking to the conveyance. But the surrounding sunshine only increased her enthusiasm for the day ahead. Despite the chilly temperature, the sun had shown up and was drying the muddy and wet evidence of the earlier heavy rain.If it rained this heavily, no wonder I slept so soundly.Belle pulled her bonnet lower to shield her green eyes from the glare. She tried the window, finally opening it to allow the unspoiled outside air to cleanse the coach’s musty smell.
As they pulled away from the front of the house, she heard the driver and footman arguing.
“Ye don’t look good, Danson. Let me drive fer you? Perhaps ye shouldn’t have attended Wilson’s wake last night,” said a voice she didn’t recognize, and she assumed it was James, the new footman that had assisted them into the coach.
“If yer accusing me of drink’n, I didn’t have more than a slosh or two. I was there fer my respects, and that be all,” she heard Danson reply.
They said a few more things, but the horses had picked up speed, and she could not make out anything past the sound of their voices. A quick shudder passed down her spine, and she dismissed the knot that had formed in the pit of her stomach. Deciding she had had enough fresh air, she drew the curtains, but not before noting they were rounding the bend, near the ruins she and Michael had visited the other day. A warm feeling flooded her, and she realized her feelings had deepened where he was concerned. The discussion with her mother earlier had made her realize the sense of dread she had once felt over marrying Michael had disappeared.
Her maid had fallen asleep across from her, probably lulled by the fresh air and the rocking of the coach. It wasn’t unusual for Bea to drift off on their coach rides to town. As they rode into a turn, the horses picked up speed. Belle gripped the black leather cushion, pushing back against the force of the turn that threatened to toss her against the door.
As the carriage straightened from the turn, she heard the din of arguing coming from the front of the carriage.
“It’s a big hole ahead. The horses are going too fast. Slow them down!” It was James’s voice.
Panicking, she saw her pale blue umbrella on the floor near Beatrice’s feet. The maid startled awake with her eyes opened as wide as saucers and a greenish tint to her face. Belle needed to stop the coach to demand they switch drivers immediately. She reached for the umbrella, but missed it, as the back wheels of the coach hit what must have been a monster pothole, tossing the coach sharply to the left. She heard the grinding of metal, the breaking of wood, and the screaming of the horses and her maid, as the coach tilted onto two wheels.
Her skirts, purse, and umbrella sailed up from her body, only to be tossed about in the cab. Belle felt herself thrown upward before falling against the door with the opened window, as the conveyance continued to jerk as if trying to right itself. Hearing a gut-piercing scream from someone outside, she felt wet debris and rocks rush in against her body as she landed on top of Beatrice, who was on the floor. Lifting herself on all fours, she tried to scream, but the sound stubbornly refused to leave her mouth. As if in slow motion, she cradled Beatrice’s head and limp torso close to her, as the carriage flipped onto its top and slammed against a tree along the edge of the road, before sliding upside-down into a ravine with the loud grinding of wood and metal until it finally came to a stop. What had been a sunny day had turned black.
ChapterEleven
They rode without speaking for a few minutes, each man lost in thought. Michael saw the road up ahead that lead to the ruins he and Belle had visited the other day. He planned to turn off on to a small dirt road that would take them through the woods and maintain the element of surprise. He was pretty sure his suspicions were right.
“I know you must think I’m a crazy man, but someone is occupying my gamekeeper’s empty cottage, and I need you to come with me to catch him before he leaves to do whatever it is he is doing during the day.”
“And you couldn’t get your footmen to do it, or the magistrate?” Garrett asked sardonically.
“Perhaps. However, if someone needs to be arrested, you are my equal in ability to detain the man. The two of us can handle it. But I suspect it is different . . .” He stopped talking as they rounded the curve and saw the wreckage of an overturned black carriage up ahead in a ravine. A tall blond man sat with his back to them, checking the man that lay across the road. The horses’ harnesses were in total disarray. Polished leather traces trailed behind the still-nervous steeds on the muddy road. Both horses had abrasions and scrapes, and one was limping.Whatever had happened had only just occurred.
“My God!” Michael said, sliding from his horse. Vaguely acknowledging the man in the road, he ran to the carriage. He climbed up on the overturned conveyance and leaned down, looking in the window. What he saw ripped a heart-curdling scream from his chest. “Belle,” he roared. “Garrett, it’s your sister. Help me. We’ve no time to lose. They are unconscious.”
“Garrett, Belle?”the man in the road stood and turned.
For a split second, Michael’s attention veered to the man, and both he and Garrett stared.
“Belle?My sister, Belle?” The man looked confused, but rushed to the overturned vehicle.
“Marcus?” Garrett said. He looked cautiously from Michael to the stranger claiming Belle to be his sister.
Michael looked at the two brothers. “As I suspected,” he murmured. “We don’t have time to lose. Belle is laying beneath her maid and they both look badly injured,” he managed. His heart hammered in his chest, and the anxiety flowing through him made his breathing ragged. His focus was on Belle, and it had been since he had met her over dinner that night. This woman had taken his heart by storm, and he would do everything in his power to keep her with him.
