If she married.
Almost three weeks after calling the banns, Belle still hadn’t seen or heard from Hew. She put on a brave face but was beginning to think he might have been a figment of her imagination. That was until his mother stepped into the tea shop.
Belle dropped her dusting rag. “Lady Eleanor!”
“Ah,” she said looking around, the feather in her stylish cap swaying with her movements. “You remember me.”
“Of course.”
Her father emerged from the back room just then, and she introduced him to Hew’s mother. He gave her a courtly bow then said, “And where is your errant son? He seems to have disappeared.”
Lady Eleanor’s brows went up. “He said he wrote to you. He will be in Town tomorrow for the wedding.” Her gaze swept over Belle’s work dress. “Is that what you plan to wear?”
“I...” She was at a loss for words. “I didn’t receive a letter.” She looked at her father. “Did you?”
“No. Come to think of it, we’ve not received any mail for the last few days.” His eyes met Belle’s. “Mrs. Price!” they said in unison.
“I’ll go find her,” her father said.
“She won’t remember where she’s put it. She’ll say somewhere safe.” But he was already out the door and heading for Mrs. Price’s house just down the street.
“I take it you haven’t purchased a wedding dress?” Lady Eleanor asked.
“I have a blue dress upstairs.”
“No!” Hew’s mother shook her head firmly. “You need a new dress—a white dress. That’s all the fashion now. We’ll see my modiste. She will probably faint from the late notice, but I pay her a fortune, so she’ll do it. Let’s go. My carriage is waiting.”
“I can’t leave,” Belle said. “The shop—”
“We have an entire wedding to plan in less than twenty-four hours, Miss Howard.” Lady Eleanor clapped. “Pressez-vous un peu!”
Belle had no idea what language Lady Eleanor spoke or what her words meant, but she closed the shop and followed her into her waiting carriage. Twenty-four hours later, she was still reeling from the whirlwind of activity, and she clutched her father’s arm tightly as he walked her up the aisle of a beautiful church in Hanover Square.
The wedding party was small. On her side were Mr. Dormer and her sister as well as the Tipps and Mrs. Price, who was wiping her eyes with a silk handkerchief.
On Hew’s side, she saw his mother and his father, whom she had only met the night before. Willoughby Galloway had come as well and beside him was a lovely blond woman who must be his wife. And lastly—Lady Keating! Belle had smiled at seeing the baroness. How had she even known about the wedding? Lady Keating smiled back at her then looked toward the front of the church.
Belle looked too, and her breath caught in her throat. She’d forgotten to look at Hew. But there he stood—straight and tall, his blue eyes warm with admiration for her. It struck her then that she was really marrying him. He was marrying her!
Her heart began to pound, and she was glad her sister had forced her to eat that slice of toast this morning. She felt as though she might faint.
She clutched her father’s arm more tightly, leaning on him until she was finally standing before Hew. He looked down at her, answered some question the minister had posed, then took her hand. He wore white gloves, as did she, but she could feel the warmth of his hand through the material. He squeezed her hand, and somehow she knew everything was right. This was right.
He was perfect.
HEW’S PARENTS HAD HOSTED the wedding breakfast at a rented town house. Now that it was late fall, not many families were in London, and they had been able to rent a large, lovely house. And yet, Hew rejected the offer to stay with his new wife in one of the many bed chambers. Instead, he took her to Mivart’s.
He insisted on carrying her through the door of their room, and she gasped as soon as she looked about. “It’s our room!”
He smiled. “I thought you’d like that.”
“Mr. Arundel, I never would have thought you were the sentimental sort.”
“I can be.”
He nodded to the footman who had carried their luggage then used a foot to close the door behind him.
“You can put me down now,” Belle said.
“Not here,” he murmured and carried her straight to the bed chamber. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and he’d done nothing but imagine what he would do when he finally had Belle alone. Hew set her gently on the bed and pulled her to her knees, cupping her face. “You look so beautiful,” he said. Her cheeks reddened and she started to tilt her head to one side, to hide her scars, but he kissed her. “When I saw you walking toward me in St. George’s, I knew I was the luckiest man alive.”
“And when I saw you,” she said, “all of my worries and fears floated away.” She smiled. “I’d begun to think you were just a dream. Mrs. Price misplaced all of the letters you sent. My father found two, and I only read them this morning. You caught Pennywhistle,” she said.
Hew reached for the ribbons of her hat and untied them, then found the hat pin and tossed the hat aside. “The Saboteurs caught him with the information your father and I provided, which included confessions from the men we caught.” He nodded at her as he began to pluck pins from her honey-blond hair.
“Does this mean I am now an agent for the Crown?”
He laughed. “Retired. That was your one and only mission.”
“Fine by me,” she said and reached up to push his hat off his head. He freed her hair just as she began to pull off her gloves. Hew ripped his own off then ran his bare fingers through her silky strands. “Why did he do it?” she asked.
Hew removed a broach from her neck and began to unfasten her bodice. “Hmm?”
“Pennywhistle,” she clarified. “Why did he sabotage the railway tracks and kill those people?”
“Exactly the reason we’d thought. A deposit of minerals had been found on his property and it extended into the land he’d sold the railway. He tried to buy it back and couldn’t, so he decided to steal what he could. He needed time and a diversion.”
“What will happen to him now?” she asked, the slightest tremor in her voice as he opened her bodice. Hew looked into her face, noted her eyes were large and a deep brown.
“A trial and hopefully years and years”—he kissed her neck—“and years of time in prison. But I don’t want to talk about Pennywhistle.” He kissed her again. “Or railways.” Another kiss. “Or sabotage.” He pushed her bodice off her shoulders and helped her shed it. “I have more important things to do.”
“Such as?”
“Figure out how the devil to get you out of those skirts.”
As it turned out, he didn’t have to figure it out at all. With only a little help, she shed them easily, followed by her corset, and then her chemise. Hew had been shedding his own clothes, but when she stood naked before him, his hands trembled slightly.
My wife, his mind repeated over and over.
A bubble of fear rose in him, but then she reached for him, and the bubble floated away. This was Belle. His Belle. He could trust her with his life. Hell, she’d saved his life.