Dancing at Midnight (24 page)

Belle rolled her eyes. "Really, Mary, You needn't speak of them as if

they're a separate species. They're just like you and me." She blushed.

"Well, almost."

She had just lifted her hand up again to grab the knocker when the

butler answered the door. She gave him her calling card

and told him that she was there to see Lord Blackwood. Mary was so

embarrassed she couldn't lift her gaze above the level

of Belle's knees.

The butler ushered the two ladies into a small salon just off the main

hallway.

"Persephone's going to throw me into the street," Mary whispered,

shaking her head.

"She will not, and you work for me, anyway, so she can't fire you."

"She won't be happy about it, though."

"I don't see any reason she needs to know about it," Belle said

resolutely. But inside she was quaking. This was highly

irregular, and if there was one thing her mother hadn't raised her to

be, it was irregular. Oh, she had called on John alone

in the country, but etiquette was looser there.

Just when she thought her nerves had quite reached their limit, the

butler returned.

"Lord Blackwood is not receiving, my lady."

Belle gasped at the insult. John had refused to see her. She swept to

her feet and strode out of the room, her carriage held

erect by the dignity that had been instilled in her since birth. She

didn't stop until she was halfway down the street, and then,

unable to help herself, she looked back.

John was standing in a third-story window, staring down at her.

As soon as he saw her turn, he stepped away and let the curtains fall

back into place.

"Hmmm," Belle said, still looking at the window.

"What?" Mary followed her gaze but didn't find anything of interest.

"That's a nice tree in front of the building."

Mary raised her brows, convinced that her employer had gone daft.

Belle stroked her chin. "It's uncommonly close to the outer wall." She

smiled. "Come along, Mary, we've got work to do."

"We do?" But Mary's words went unheard, for Belle was already several

steps ahead of her.

When she got dome, Belle marched straight up to her room, pulled out

some stationery from her desk and penned a note to

Emma, who had been much more of a tomboy while growing up than Belle.

Dearest Emma,

      How do you climb trees?

Fondly,

Belle

After Belle sent the note off to her cousin, she dealt with her grief

and her anger the best way she knew how. She went shopping.

For this outing she took Persephone with her. The older lady never tired

of browsing through the elegant London shops.

Much more of a selection than anywhere in Yorkshire, she explained. And

besides, it was great fun spending Alex's money.

Neither woman really needed new clothing after their last outing, but

the holiday season was approaching, so they browsed through trinket

shops, looking for gifts. Belle found an odd little telescope for her

brother and a lovely music box for her mother, but she couldn't stop her

heart from wishing that it were John for whom she was shopping. She

sighed. She would just have to believe that all would work out in the

end. She couldn't let herself believe anything else. It would simply be

too painful.

It was probably because she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't

notice the two rather unsavory looking characters lurking

in an alleyway as she passed by. Before she realized what was happening,

one of them had grabbed her arm and started pulling her deeper into the

alley.

Belle yelled out and fought with all her might. The thug had pulled her

far enough into the alley so that the passersby on the main street did

not see her. And London had grown so loud, it was understandable that no

one paid her cries any mind. "Let go of me, you cur," she cried out. Her

arm felt as if it were being torn from the socket, but she blocked out

the pain, intent only on escape.

"She's the one, I tell ya," she heard one of the villains say. "She's

the one the fancy cove wanted."

"Shut up and get 'er over here." The other man stepped forward and

Belle's terror increased tenfold. There was no way she'd

be able to hold out against the strength of both of these men.

But just when it seemed that all was lost, salvation came in the

unlikely form of Persephone. She had been distracted by a particularly

attractive window display when Belle had disappeared into the alleyway

and was quite baffled when she looked

back up and her charge was gone. When she called out Belle's name and

got no response, she grew worried and began to

look about frantically.

"Belle?" she called out again, this time loudly. She scurried forward,

her head turning in all directions. Then, as she was passing

the alleyway, she saw a blur of movement and Belle's familiar blond hair.

"Good God!" she screamed, loud enough to make most of the people on the

sidewalk stop and stare. "Let go of her, you beasts!" She rushed

forward, raising her parasol above her head. "Let go, I tell you!" With

a furious whack, she slammed her weapon down on the head of one of the

assailants.

"Shut up, you old bitch!" he yelled, howling in pain.

Persephone's response was a horizontal swing which clipped him neatly in

the middle. The breath knocked out of him, he fell

to the ground.

The other thug was caught between utter panic and sheer greed, lusting

after the money he'd been promised if he captured the yellow-haired

lady. He gave it one last desperate try, barely aware that a number of

people had rushed into the alleyway upon hearing Persephone's cries of

distress.

"I said let go of her!" Persephone boomed. She changed her attack

tactics and started viciously poking him with the end of her parasol.

When she stabbed him neatly in the groin, he finally let go of Belle and

ran away, painfully hunched over the entire way.

"Persephone, thank you so much," Belle said, tears of terror belatedly

forming in her eyes.

But Persephone wasn't listening. All of her attention was focused on the

man still lying on the ground. He made a motion as if to get up, but she

jabbed him in the belly. "Not so fast, mister." she said.

Belle's eyes widened. Who would have dreamed that dear old Persephone

would have such a tough streak?

The villain saw the growing crowd of people forming around him and

closed his eyes, surmising that escape was impossible.

Much to Belle's relief, a constable quickly arrived on the scene, and

she relayed her story to him. He started to question her attacker, but

the man remained closemouthed. That is, until the constable reminded him

of the possible punishments for

attacking a lady of Belle's position.

The man sang like a canary.

He'd been hired to grab her. Yes, just her. No, not any pretty blond

lady, this one in particular. The gentleman who had hired

him spoke with uppity accents—definitely highborn. No, he didn't know

his name, and he hadn't seen him before, but he had straight blond hair

and blue eyes, if that helped any, and his arm was in a sling.

After finishing the interrogation, the constable hauled him away and

told Belle to be extra careful. Maybe she ought to hire

one of those Bow Street Runners for added protection.

Belle shivered with fear. She had an enemy. One who probably wanted her

dead.

As the crowd began to disperse, Persephone turned to her and asked

solicitously, "Are you all right, dear?"

"Yes, yes," Belle replied. "I'm fine." Her eyes strayed down to her arm

where that awful man had grabbed her. There had

been a dress and a coat between her skin and his, but still she felt

dirty. "I think, however, I'd like a bath."

Persephone nodded. "I couldn't agree with you more."

Late the next morning a footman brought Belle a reply from Emma.

Dearest Belle,

I cannot imagine why you suddenly want to learn how to climb trees since

you never professed any love for it

when we were small.

The first step is to find a tree with some reasonably low branches. If

you cannot reach the first branch,

you'll never get anywhere ...

The letter continued for two pages. Emma was nothing if not detailed.

She was also a little suspicious, as the end of the letter showed.

     I hope you find this helpful, although I must say I wonder where

you are going to climb trees in London. I profess

     that I think this has something to do with John Blackwood. Love

does strange things to women, as I well know.

     Be careful, whatever you do, and I can only breathe a sigh of

relief that I am no longer your chaperone.

     God save Persephone.

Fondly,

Emma

Belle scoffed. If Emma were still her chaperone, she'd probably insist

upon going along with her. Emma had never been known for prudent behavior.

Belle reread the letter, carefully going over the part about how to

climb trees. Was she really going to do this? When she'd

stopped outside of Damien's house and assessed that tree, she hadn't

really thought that she would do anything about it. She wasn't the sort

of daring female who would climb a tree and break into an earl's house

through a third-story window. For one thing, she had no head for heights.

But, as Emma so wisely pointed out, love did strange things to a woman.

That, and danger. Her nasty experience with those

two thugs in the alleyway had convinced her that it was time to act

decisively.

Or perhaps rashly was a better word for it.

Belle shook her head. No matter. She'd made up her mind. She was scared,

and she needed John.

But those thugs did complicate her plans a bit. She couldn't very well

go over to Damien's house in the middle of the night by herself when

someone was out to kidnap her. And Mary, of course, would not be

sufficient protection. Persephone and her perilous parasol were another

story, but Belle doubted that Persephone would agree to go with her. She

might be rather

lenient as far as chaperones went, but she would certainly put her foot

down at Belle breaking into a man's room.

What to do, what to do?

Belle smiled mischievously.

She picked up a quill and wrote a note to Dunford.

*  *  *

"Absolutely not!"

"Don't be stodgy, Dunford," Belle said. "I need your help."

"You don't need help, you need a harness. And I'm not being stodgy, I'm

being a sensible. A word of which you appear to

have forgotten the meaning."

Belle stubbornly crossed her arms and sank back into her chair. Dunford

was up and pacing, his arms flying as he spoke.

She'd never seen him so out of sorts.

"This is a damn fool thing you're thinking of, Belle. If you don't break

your neck—and thaf s a pretty big If, considering that

all of your tree-climbing experience can be located in a letter from

your cousin—you'll probably be arrested for trespassing."

"I won't be arrested."

"Oh, really? And how do you know that you'll just happen to tumble into

the correct room? With your luck you'll end up in the earl's bedroom.

And I've been watching him watching you. I think he'd appreciate his

good fortune."

"He would not. He knows I'm interested in his brother. And I'm not going

to 'tumble into his bedroom' as you so delicately put it.

I know which room is John's."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

It was on the tip of Belle's tongue to defend her reputation, but she

kept silent instead. If Dunford thought that she'd already

been in John's bedroom he might be less reluctant to help her get there

again.

"Look, Belle, my answer is still no. Absolutely not! With three

exclamation points," he added.

"If you were my friend ..." Belle muttered.

"Exactly. I am your friend for not letting you do this. An amazingly

good friend. There is nothing you could say that will make

me help you."

Belle rose. "Well, thank you, then, Dunford. I had hoped for your

assistance, but I see that I'm just going to have to go about

this alone."

Dunford groaned. "Except that. Belle, you really wouldn't go over there

by yourself."

"I don't have any choice. My need to see him is most urgent, and he

won't receive me. I suppose I'll hire a hack to take me

the short distance from here to there so I won't have to walk alone so

late at night, but—"

"All right, all right," Dunford conceded with an exasperated expression.

"I'll help you, but I want you to know that I completely disapprove."

"Don't worry, you've made that quite clear."

Dunford sank into a chair and his eyes closed in mental agony. "God help

us," he groaned. "God help us all."

Belle smiled. "Oh, I think He will."

*

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*

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*Chapter 15

*

"Where on  earth did you come up with a crazy idea like this, anyway?"

"No matter." Belle glanced over at her reluctant partner in crime.

Dunford was not at all pleased to be standing next to her