“I’ll leave you,” he said and padded across the room. He half hoped, half prayed she would call him back. He still wanted her. He could still taste her on his lips, but when he passed through the doorway, it closed behind him.
When he turned back, he heard it lock.
Chapter Eighteen
Belle had heard other women denigrate men as fools. She hadn’t ever shared that opinion. Her father was no fool. He was the most wonderful, caring, loving person in the world. Maggie’s husband, Mr. Dormer, was no fool. He was kind and funny and the way he looked at Maggie made Belle’s heart clench. She’d known other men—tea merchants and importers, warehouse managers and chefs for wealthy peers. Most of those men were no fools. They knew a good tea and a good bargain.
But now she thought she understood what the women she’d half-listened to all these years were talking about. Men like Hew Arundel were clever and brave and canny. Hew was a perfectly intelligent man—even more intelligent than most men she knew. He was a fighter and a tenacious one at that.
And then she’d kissed him—or he’d kissed her.
Belle rolled over on the bed and tried not to think about the kiss. She tried not to remember the feel of his hands on her flesh. Tried not to wish he would touch her again. Because something happened when Arundel’s emotions became involved. He closed up shop and shut her out. She understood it better now. He’d been hurt, badly. He didn’t want to expose himself to that sort of pain again. Belle thought she should probably be honored that he felt enough for her to think she could hurt him like that. If he hadn’t cared for her, he wouldn’t have felt he was at risk.
But if he hadn’t cared for her, she wouldn’t have allowed him to touch her, kiss her, carry her to bed, give her pleasure.
Belle closed her eyes.
It was difficult not to see his rejection of her as personal. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her or didn’t find her pretty enough, or that he thought her pockmarked face made her unworthy of his attentions. It’s not you, she told herself, as though repetition would convince her. Arundel would not trust any woman, ever. It didn’t matter what she did, how she proved herself. He would always look at her and wonder how she would betray him, when she would betray him.
And that did make him a fool. Because if he was hers, she would have done anything for him.
Belle knew the kind of woman Clara Arundel had been, even if Arundel didn’t see it. She’d seen women like her in the shop thousands of times. She’d watched them and studied them, never even drawing their notice because with her scars and her unassuming manner, she was beneath their notice.
A woman like Clara had been spoiled and petted her entire life. She’d relied on her pretty face and had gotten whatever she’d wanted just by batting her eyelashes.
She was overly flirtatious and used to being the center of attention. Arundel had mistaken this for charm, and perhaps Clara Arundel did have charm. But once she was away from London and her circle of admirers, she had begun to doubt herself. No doubt Arundel still admired her, but he was off doing diplomat things all day. He couldn’t give her attention every hour and moment, and Clara had needed that constant validation. She needed to be petted and flattered and to feel beautiful and desired. No doubt Austria or Saxony or wherever Arundel had been stationed possessed plenty of men willing to give a needy young Englishwoman attention.
Belle could have told Arundel the truth of the matter—it wasn’t that women couldn’t be trusted. He’d just trusted the wrong one. She told herself the same thing about men many times. Only she’d never thought she would find a man she could trust.
And maybe she was wrong to think she had because clearly Hew Arundel could never give her the only thing she wanted from him—his heart.
She should cut her losses. It was like the Pan Long Yin Hao. She’d paid an exorbitant amount for it, knowing it was worth every shilling. But only another tea connoisseur, like she, would ever pay that for the blend. She’d never recover her investment in it. And the truth was, she’d never expected to because she’d bought it for herself. So time to own up to her mistake and move on. First chance she had, she would drink her last portion of Pan Long Yin Hao, savor it, and bid it good-bye.
Time to bid Arundel good-bye as well.
As soon as she had her father back.
If she hadn’t thought of her father right then, she might have been able to sleep. But once she thought of him, she began to wonder where he was and if he was in pain or discomfort. There was no sleeping after that. There was only cursing of Arundel because not only had he claimed part of her heart, he’d upended her life and was the reason her beloved father had been taken from her.
A tap on the door made Belle sit up in bed and push her hair back. “Go away, Arundel.”
“I know you’re not sleeping,” he said. “I can hear you tossing and turning and thinking.”
Ridiculous. He couldn’t hear her thinking. She didn’t even think he could hear her tossing and turning through a closed door.
“I’m not thinking about you.” Not only about him, anyway. “Leave me alone.”
“If you’re not sleeping, I thought you might want something to eat. I’ve ordered a tray to be brought up. The maid should bring it within the half hour.”
Belle had half a mind to tell him she didn’t want his food or anything from him. She just wanted her father back and to never see or hear of Hew Arundel again. But her stomach gurgled and growled, and declining food when she was hungry wouldn’t hurt Arundel.
“Fine,” she said, falling back onto the bed and wishing she could sleep. Her eyes stung and her body ached with exhaustion.
“Does that mean you will join me in a meal?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. But of course, she would join him.
Some twenty minutes later, she heard the outer door open and the squeak of wheels as a tray was rolled in. She also heard the soft murmuring of voices and then the door closing again. Belle heard the clink of china and silver, and that was when the scent of freshly baked bread wafted into the bed chamber. Her mouth began to water, and her belly gave a demanding growl.
Belle climbed out of the enormous bed, stomped to the door, flung it open, and stared at Arundel. He was seated at the small table just outside the bed chamber. The tray had been rolled beside the table and the food was set out, covered with silver domes. He had been reading a paper but looked up at her when she tore the door open. Belle wanted to hit him. He looked so impossibly handsome with his cleanly shaven jaw and his bright blue eyes. How did he manage it when he was still recovering from near death? Belle could only imagine what she looked like. She should have brushed her hair when she’d risen from bed.
Arundel stood, as though she were some sort of lady. “I didn’t know what you liked,” he said, going to the other chair and pulling it out for her. “So I ordered a bit of everything.”
Belle had the urge to tell him that wasn’t necessary. She’d be happy with a bit of bread and cheese, but she clamped her mouth shut and nodded. And she took the seat he proffered too. Why not begin to behave as though she deserved this sort of treatment? She’d be back to her real life soon enough.