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The plan was perfect. Belle and Lord Winchfield would be married and he would be able to merge the Marquess’ company with his. His business would grow, and he’d become even richer, even more successful.
The darn girl was only good for one thing and she managed to botch things already.
He relaxed in his seat. Well, she was foolish if she thought he wouldn’t come after her.
I’ll find her, if it is the last thing I do.
* * *
Belle focused most of her attention on the amicable Mr. Stanton and even then, she couldn’t stop herself from noticing everything Stephen did. Every move he made, every word he spoke had her body responding to him. Wanting to turn to face him, to smile at him, to ask questions just so she could continue hearing his voice.
The strength of the feeling scared her so much that she made sure to put as much distance between them as possible, refusing to look at him when it wasn’t necessary.
Thankfully, Mr. Stanton filled the carriage with conversation, even as he was the one steering it. He didn’t ask her any questions but answered all the ones she asked him—about the war, about his family, about his practice. He was quite forthcoming while Stephen was quite silent.
“We’re here,” Mr. Stanton announced finally. For the past few minutes, as they rode into the heart of London, there was silence. Belle was watching the streets, looking out for anyone who might recognize her. After a while, she realized that this was a part of London that the people she knew wouldn’t frequent and she breathed a sigh of a relief.
The carriage came to a stop in front of a sizeable brick walled lodging that was attached to a few other homes which stretched down the length of the street. Before each home was something that marked it as special, and Belle took note of a few of the medicinal plants she recognized from Auldwood Manor in pots outside.
“You have a wonderful home, Mr. Stanton,” Belle told him.
He laughed heartily. “Wait until you see inside then. My wife’s been spending a lot of time making it the sort of place that would make anyone comfortable.”
Belle was eager to see. Stephen had hopped out of the carriage and came around to her side, holding out his arms.
Seeing no way out of it, she allowed him to help her out, keeping her secure in his hold. Belle hoped he wouldn’t notice how red her face had become, but it seemed he was taking care to walk properly.
“Don’t worry,” he said as they followed behind Mr. Stanton. “I won’t drop you.”
“If I was worried that you’ll drop me, I wouldn’t have gotten into your arms in the first place.”
She said the words matter-of-factly and blinked in surprise at Stephen’s broad smile. “What did I say?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Nothing at all.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but then Mr. Stanton bellowed through the open door of his home, “I’m back!”
Belle squinted her eyes as she was brought into a sizeable kitchen area, which seemed to also serve as their dining room. The room was filled with flowers and the woman on the other side of the room, who turned upon their entrance, was the loveliest flower of them all.
“Oh?” her voice was high, a musical whisper, “who is this?”
“Anne, this is Hannah Brown,” Mr. Stanton introduced. “She had an accident and sprained her ankle. I told her it would be all right for her to stay here with us while she recovers, seeing that we have that spare room.”
“Oh, heavens, that’s terrible!” Mrs. Stanton rushed forward, gesturing for them to sit down. Her blond hair was in a single braid, a scarf tied over it. She had warm blue eyes. “You must be in so much pain, my dear. Quick, Robert, fetch me some ice.”’
“I’ve only been in through the door for two minutes and she’s already ordering me around,” Mr. Stanton grumbled to Belle.
“Robert, quickly.” Mrs. Stanton pulled out a chair from the dining table and gestured for Stephen to set Belle down. He did so gently, moving slowly. When he was no longer holding her, his touch lingered.
Moving with much urgency, Mrs. Stanton pulled out another chair and gently lifted Belle’s leg, settling it on a cluster of kitchen towels she brought forth. “You must be in so much pain,” she cooed.
“It’s not that bad anymore,” Belle told her, feeling at odds. She’d never had someone fuss over her like this before. “It’s more like a dull ache.”
“Maybe you’re in shock,” Mrs. Stanton suggested worriedly. “I hear that happens when you get a sudden injury.”
“Isn’t every injury sudden?” Mr. Stanton asked, bringing a rag of ice over.
Miss Stanton took it from his hands, giving him a look that Belle guessed was meant to be scathing but fell very short. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Robert!” Then, she returned her attention to Belle. “You don’t have to worry, dear. You’ll be fine here.”
