Her face fell. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.”
At that she tore away from him and walked across the room. He didn’t watch her, didn’t want to see the disgust in her eyes. What kind of person was glad his wife was dead? After a time, her feet appeared before him again, and he looked up and saw she had slipped on a robe—his robe. One he had left draped over a chair the last time he was here. He liked her in the dark blue and gold silk robe. The sleeves hung down past her hands.
“Did you kill her?” Belle asked.
Hew was still admiring her in the robe, and her words penetrated his mind slowly. When they did, he jumped hard enough that a lance of pain slid through his side. “No. I didn’t kill her. She died in childbirth.”
Belle took a step back. “Then you have a child.”
Hew shook his head. “The child died as well, and in any case, it wasn’t my child.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then she moved to sit beside him on the bed. “Oh, Arundel.” She took his hand.
He turned his head to look at her. “You should probably call me Hew. At least in private.”
“Hew,” she said, seeming to test it. “Tell me about your wife.”
He didn’t want to talk about Clara. He didn’t want to think about her, but he owed some sort of explanation to Belle. “Her name was Clara,” he said. “The marriage was arranged by our parents, but I didn’t mind. She was beautiful and charming, very charming, and I think I was half in love with her the first time I met her. She had that effect on men. It should have been a warning.”
Belle squeezed his hand, and Hew closed his eyes, hoping to block out the memory of Clara’s dark curls and pretty green eyes. “At first we were happy.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “I supposed I always thought we were happy. I never knew what was happening until she was telling me good-bye. I was such a fool.”
“I doubt that.”
“I was trained as a spy, and I didn’t even see what was happening in my own house.”
“You shouldn’t have had to be a spy in your own house.”
“I should have paid more attention. She didn’t like being the wife of a diplomat. I think the idea sounded romantic in London, but once we were on the Continent, and she was away from friends and family, the reality was not so exciting. I was away often and the other British women of our circle were older. Clara loved music, balls, the theater. She loved men, especially their admiration. I didn’t care that she had a dozen admirers. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to chaperone her to every event she wanted to attend.”
“And she fell in love with one of those admirers?”
“Love or lust, yes. The Comte du Guitreau became her lover. One night I came home from work early and found her packing her bags. She was leaving me to go to France with him. I was...”
Hew didn’t know how to describe what he’d been. Shocked seemed too mild a word. He’d simply stood there and watched her pack, watched her walk out the door and spring into the waiting coach. He’d stood rooted in place for hours, not knowing what to do or to say or to feel.
“Angry,” Hew finally finished. Because of all the emotions he’d felt, that had been the one he’d clung to. His anger had helped him get out of bed in the morning, had forced him to work, had fueled the rage-filled letters he’d written to her family.
“She betrayed you,” Belle said. “Of course, you were angry.” She still held his hand, but she didn’t try to embrace him. And when he looked at her, he didn’t see the pity he’d seen in the eyes of so many others during that time.
“You don’t understand,” he said, wanting to see the pity in her eyes, so he could find a reason to distance himself from her. “Even after she left me—even after I found out she was carrying his child—I would have taken her back. Her parents wrote to her, urging her to return to me.”
Belle only nodded, her gaze concerned but not patronizing. “You loved her.”
“Christ.” Hew lowered his head and ran his hands through his hair. “I did love her. But I hated her too. She made me look like a fool. I was the same age you are now, five and twenty, and I couldn’t walk into a room without people whispering and looking at me as though they were attending my funeral. When she died, I was glad of it.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Hew’s head jerked up. “I threw a dinner party and drank until I passed out. I toasted her descent to hell.”
“You didn’t mean it. You were hurt. You were humiliated.”
“I was done,” he said. “Done with marriage and women and my career as a diplomat. I returned to London and began working for the Foreign Office. When I heard of the Royal Saboteurs, I made it my mission to become a member.
“Don’t say it.” Hew held up a finger. “My mother has told me enough times that I worked so hard to forget the pain.”
“I wasn’t about to say that.”
“Then you were about to say that not all women are like her. That may be, but I would have sworn on my grandfather’s grave that Clara would be honest and true. But her head, and heart, were easily turned. I’ll never trust another woman again.”
He saw her rear back as though slapped and reached to take her in his arms again. She thrust a hand between them. “Don’t.”
“Let me explain. Belle—”
“You mean, you would like to add milk and sugar to your words and make them taste sweeter. I have a secret for you, Arundel.” He didn’t miss the fact that she called him by his surname, not his given name, as he’d asked. “No amount of milk or sugar will sweeten your words, but I’m not sorry you said them because now I understand.”
Hew didn’t want to ask, but he felt compelled. “What do you understand?”
“That no matter how many times I tell you I’m not trying to trap you into marriage, it won’t make a difference. You’ll never trust me. You’ll never trust any woman.”
“I do trust you, Belle. I’ve never told anyone the things I just told you.”
“And I’ve never allowed a man to touch me the way you have, but I can’t let it happen again. I can’t allow myself to fall deeper in love with you.”
Hew felt his throat tighten and close. He tried to take a breath and couldn’t. His chest wouldn’t expand. She didn’t love him. She simply thought she loved him. And it was his fault—all of it. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt Belle or her father, and he’d done exactly that.
“Belle—” Hew somehow managed to croak her name.
“Get out,” she said, pointing to the door. “I’m exhausted and want to rest. Alone.”
“Let me explain.”
“And tell me more about how women will lie and cheat and trick men? About how we can’t be trusted? I’ve heard enough, thank you.”
Hew stood, his ears ringing as though he’d had them boxed. And now she was evicting him from his own bed chamber. He supposed he deserved it—the harsh words and the exile. He’d crossed a line with her he hadn’t wanted to cross, had known it would come to this, and now he would have to walk away from her.