Page 37 of Saved By the Belle

“I think perhaps your mission followed you here.” She gave him a rueful smile.

“It does appear that way. I haven’t been able to write to Baron and explain—”

“I’ll take care of that. I can give him the basic details. I want no specifics, and it’s best if we don’t commit them to paper at any rate. Winn can put two and two together easily enough.” The carriage seemed to slow. “Ah, here we are.”

Belle peered out the window. A man with an umbrella had opened an iron gate, wide enough to allow the carriage to pass through. The gate itself was very tall and designed to block the view of the house from the street. In fact, the house was set back far enough that the coach had to continue for another minute before pausing in front of the house. The door opened, and a footman offered a hand to Lady Keating. She took it and Belle followed. Once out of the coach, Belle turned back. “He needs assistance.”

“Fetch a pallet,” Lady Keating said.

“No,” Arundel argued, waving away the footman’s help. “I can walk.”

Lady Keating gave Belle a look of quiet exasperation, and Belle smiled. It was comforting to know she was no longer alone in this. “Did you prepare the room?” Lady Keating asked a woman who came forward.

“Yes, my lady. The maids are finishing now.”

Lady Keating gave orders to her staff and started inside. Belle knew she was meant to follow, but she looked behind her at the short drive and the gate she’d passed through. The entire property appeared to be surrounded by the iron fence. Vines and bushes grew along it, making the grounds difficult to see from the outside. She turned back to the house and looked about, trying to keep her mouth from dropping open. She’d never been in a house like this. How wealthy must Baron Keating be to afford a house in Mayfair—not a town house and not a terraced property, but a freestanding home with grounds?

The drizzle was beginning to soak through her blanket, and she followed the staff inside a large foyer. Except for the lamps the servants carried, the house was dark, and Belle noted that some of the furnishings were covered with white sheets that gave the place an eerie feeling. Belle did not know much about the upper classes—save their preferences with regard to tea—but she did know they covered couches and chairs when they traveled to avoid the accumulation of dust. “Have you just returned from a trip?” she asked Lady Keating, who led the small party up the stairs. She moved very slowly, which Belle assumed had to do with the way Arundel was struggling. The lady herself looked quite healthy and spry.

“No, I am preparing to embark. In fact, if not for the rain, I would have already departed. It’s fortunate your letter reached me,” she said to Arundel. “Are you quite certain you don’t want any assistance? The stairs do continue.” She gestured to a generous curve in the stairs as they led to the second floor.

“I have it,” he panted.

Belle hoped he didn’t topple down the steps or rip out his stitches. Fortunately, someone else was here to sew them. She’d leave his care to those more qualified.

“I’m sorry if I have forced you to postpone your trip,” Arundel said, leaning against the wide stair railing. “I didn’t know who else to contact.”

“You were right to send for me,” Lady Keating said. “You’ll be much safer here than above a shop, especially since whoever wants you dead had tracked you there. They’ll not be able to track you here, and if they do, they won’t be able to get in. And you haven’t delayed me at all. As I said, that was the rain’s doing. We’ll have you fixed up and then I will be on my way.”

“But...” Belle all but tripped on a step. “But you cannot leave. He needs someone to nurse him.”

“I’m afraid I must leave. But not to worry, you may stay and nurse him. I’m sure he will be well in a few days.”

Belle looked at Arundel, whose face was white as a ghost and who was struggling to climb the next step. Blood had seeped through the blanket he held against his chest, meaning his stitches had opened again.

“Thomas,” Lady Keating said calmly. “Catch him before he falls.”

The footman behind Arundel stepped forward and caught the man as his eyes rolled back and he fell. Another footman joined Thomas and the two hefted Arundel between them and carried him the rest of the way.

Belle stood at the top of the staircase and wondered if she could make a run for it. If she didn’t leave now, she might never get away.

“Are you coming, Isabelle Howard?” Lady Keating asked.

Belle met the other woman’s eyes. It seemed to Belle that the baroness knew exactly what she’d been thinking and wouldn’t stop her if she ran. Belle was tempted. Her shop was in a shambles and her father injured. The desire to return to Fenchurch Street was strong. But then so was the desire to stay here. Something pulled at her when she thought of Arundel. Responsibility?

Perhaps.

Duty?

That was part of it.

The memory of the kiss they’d shared?

Belle sighed. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Worse, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Eleven

“This is my friend, er—” Lady Keating made a vague gesture to a man standing near the windows of the chamber they’d just entered. Belle was looking about the chamber, which was obviously a hastily prepared guest chamber. It was large, the size of half her flat. A hearth with a crackling fire was situated on one wall and a large bed with four posts was on the opposite wall. A maid was folding the Holland covers and Arundel was laid on the large bed even as another maid was still tucking the fresh sheets under the mattress.

---