“The mystery deepens,” Humphrey said wryly from his position guarding the darkest corner of the room. “Holy hell, but will Julian love this. Any chance you can locate a gifted majordomo with that humming mind of yours, Belle sweet, as we need one on the estate?”
Belle turned to gaze at Humphrey for a long moment, her eyes narrowing in fascinated study, then she shook herself and circled her attention back to her brother. “I was told our beast of a stepfather dropped you in a London slum. I ran away from him when I was fifteen and went to a smaller village in the next shire where I could afford lodging. Then I took every job an insufficiently educated woman who nonetheless speaks three languages and is willing to lie through her teeth can—seamstress, tutor, shop girl, maid—while I saved money. I arrived in London ten months ago and began to roam the streets, lying in wait for a man with my eyes. I knew you’d find me eventually, with the dreams, but I hoped to hurry fate.” She smiled without humor and motioned to his expertly-tailored clothing. “I fear I was walking the wrong streets. I don’t often go so far as the West End and the society pages. You’re the bounder with the blue eyes they write about.” Her lips tipped low, a short sigh slipping from her. “Oh, Finley Michel, what have you been doing?”
As if awakening from a stupor, Finn glanced about the room, recording every tattered piece of furniture, every battered surface. The sound of glass breaking and a hoarse shout in the alleyway running alongside the building only added to his unease. “You’re not staying here, Belle. Not another night.” With a creak in the floorboard, Victoria stepped closer, reacting to the edge of panic in his voice. That she was so attuned sent an ill-tempered rush through him. “Don’t argue with me, any of you,” he said in a voice he rarely found the opportunity to use, except when pitching a drunken sod out the back door of the Blue Moon. It was Julian’s voice he emulated, a rigid tone offering no room for negotiation. He had learned from a master.
Humphrey stepped into the pale candlelit circle. No gas fixtures in this dwelling. “I’ll bring another carriage for the belongings.”
“Who are you to order me about? It isn’t much, but it’s home,” Belle said and straightened her slim shoulders in a pitiful show of force. Finn felt a swirl of dread imagining what she’d had to endure without him, without a family, without protection. But those were stories for another day as he was confident his heart couldn’t take much more on this one.
Humphrey chortled and scrubbed his hand across his stubbled cheeks, amused by her, Finn could see. “I didn’t save his arse all those years ago”—he jabbed his elbow at Finn—“to have his sister spend another second in this squat.”
Belle stared, and Humphrey met her gaze without flinching when a woman’s fury could be a harrowing thing. Finn wondered if he imagined the spark of awareness that flowed between them. Perhaps Belle found Humphrey handsome. The women in the village trailed after him, chattering about him needing a wife, so anything was possible. He was the most protective man Finn knew aside from Julian, and the most caring, though his hulking frame obscured his gentle nature.
It didn’t sound like Belle had encountered this type of concern in years, if ever when Finn had been smothered daily.
For the first time since they’d entered the pitiful abode, Finn looked to Victoria. They shared that spark of awareness, too, for some unfathomable reason. It snuck under his skin like a splinter, pain, and pleasure. She returned his regard without wavering, her gaze molten gold in the candlelight, ethereal, haunting, her knowledge of him so absolute he felt naked in a way wholly unrelated to his attire. This was his life—chaotic, bewildering—and she had an uncomfortably clear view of it.
A view he’d never given another. Never thought to give another.
“I’ll help you pack,” Victoria offered, her encouragement subtle but intoxicating. So compelling a proposal, he turned his head to gaze at the frayed wallpaper rather than watch a woman he was becoming obsessed with bundle a sister he hadn’t known existed into her threadbare coat. “You and Finn have much to discuss”—the crash of a cart and human sounded on the street—“but perhaps not here.”
“I’ll go,” Belle finally whispered, “because there isn’t any reason to stay. There has never been.”
At the softly spoken words, Finn ushered her outside and to the waiting carriage, his heart shattering for them both.
Finn had suspected she’d come, hence her protection.
The footman followed at a discreet distance, trailing her through streetlamp-lit shadow and light, across slick, rain-drenched cobblestones. Staying close as she snaked between the carriages lining the street outside the Blue Moon, the men inside them laughing and making ribald comments. Her guard made no effort to conceal his presence as he splashed along behind her. He also made no effort to impede her journey.
Prevent her from making a life-altering mistake.
If giving the man you were falling in love with your innocence was a mistake. She considered it a gift. To herself.
Before marrying one she didn’t love, like, or desire to save her family.
This choice was hers. The only choice that was hers.
And his, if she trusted her instincts, which she was foolish enough to do.
Tugging her cloak closer about her face, she crossed the thankfully deserted alleyway backing the gaming hell. Shattered glass crunched beneath her boot as a varied combination of foul scents stung her nose. There was no alternative. Not after seeing Finn’s inconsolable face before he bolted from Julian’s townhouse, Humphrey’s grip on her arm the only thing keeping her from running after him.
She and Agnes had tried to make an unorthodox event routine, settling Belle in a bedchamber more luxurious than any she’d previously occupied if her hesitancy to touch the furnishings provided an accurate narrative. Tucked her beneath an overstuffed counterpane with a cup of cocoa and a plentiful fruit and cheese tray while Humphrey closeted Finn away for—what had Finn called it?—an advice and whiskey session.
This sudden appearance of his sister was too much to shoulder alone. She’d known this the moment he left his discussion with Humphrey to find her haunting the hallway outside the study like one of Simon’s ghosts. He’d only shaken his head wordlessly and stalked past her, rushing out the door like the devil nipped at his heels.
Swallowing her apprehension that she was intruding where she shouldn’t, she halted before the Blue Moon’s side entrance. Lifted her hand to smack that silly little bell when the door opened, and Finn unceremoniously yanked her inside. They stood in the entryway, breathing heavily for no reason, tripping into each other’s gazes.
“If you turn me away, Blue, I’ll find another man at the first opportunity to relieve me of—”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” he snarled and in a masculine show of fury, tossed her over his shoulder, kicking the door shut, and taking the stairs to his chamber two at a time. She slapped his back and hip, struggling, but he contained her easily, lean muscle concealed well beneath his tailored attire. Her cloak slid from her shoulders, and he kicked it from his path without pausing.
Ruining any notion of romance, he marched into the room they’d clashed in two short weeks ago and tossed her atop the massive sofa. She gasped and went to her knees, straightening her skirts while shooting him a glare hot enough to scorch wood. The overflowing bookcases, artwork-lined walls, and curio-stuffed shelves, evidence of a keen mind and industrious life, were no longer a surprise. She now knew there was much more to him than he cared to show a thoughtless world.