'Hmmm. Well, I'll have your father see to that immediately. Where is this new home John has purchased?' Caroline turned around as she reached the top of the stairs, a worried expression on her face. 'He did say his name was John, didn't he?'
'Yes, Mama. And it's right next to Westonbirt. I met him while I was staying with Emma.'
'Oh.' Caroline made her way to her bedroom, where a maid was unpacking her cases. 'I suppose I'll arrange a reception for you next spring, when everyone is in town. But I do think that we ought to do something soon, if only to let everyone know you're married.'
Belle privately wondered why it was imperative that 'everyone' be immediately appraised of her marital status. 'Won't the notice in the Times suffice?'
'Not at all, my dear. We need to let the
'No, I suppose not.'
Caroline suddenly clapped her hands together. 'I know! The Tumbleys's winter ball! It's perfect. Everyone always comes in from the country to attend.'
Belle gulped nervously. Every year the Earl and Countess of Tumbley held a ball in November. It was one of the few events for which the aristocracy would travel back to London in the winter. Normally, she would have loved to go, but she didn't think it would be safe for her and John to venture out into large crowds at night. 'Er, when is it, Mother?'
'Sometime in the next few weeks, I imagine. I'll have to check my correspondence for the exact date. I have such a stack of letters to go through.'
'I'm not really sure that we would want to go, Mama. We are newly married, you know, and wanting a bit of privacy.'
'If you wanted privacy, you should have hightailed it back to the country the minute after you said, 'I will.' But as long as you're here, you'll go to this ball, and you'll do it with a smile on your face. And then you can go back to wherever it is that you're living now and rusticate. Where are you living now-I mean, what's it called?'
'Bletchford Manor.'
'What-ford Manor?'
'Bletchford Manor.'
'I heard you the first time. It's a dreadful name, Belle.'
'I know.'
'No, I mean it's hideous.'
'I know. We're planning to change it.'
'See that you do. After the Tumbley bash, that is, because you're not stepping a foot out of London before then.'
Chapter 19
John sat in Hardiman's Tea Shoppe the next day, his back to the wall as he watched out for a man he hadn't seen in over five years, a man who wanted him dead. He'd secured a table in the rear, with Alex and Dunford discreetly seated four tables away.
John kept his eyes on the door, and ten minutes past the agreed upon meeting time, George Spencer walked into the establishment. John felt the years rush away, and he was back in the Spanish tavern again, watching his countryman violate an innocent girl.
Spencer scanned the room with icy blue eyes until his gaze fell on John. He flicked his head back, propelling his straight blond hair from his eyes. He strode arrogantly through the shop until he reached John's side.
'Blackwood.' His voice was cold.
'Spencer. You'll pardon me if I don't offer you the courtesy of rising.'
'Not at all. I've heard you're lame. I wouldn't want you to overexert yourself.' He shoved the chair back and sat down.
John nodded graciously. 'A war wound. Some of us remained with the company through the action. Where did you go, Spencer? France? Switzerland?'
Spencer's hands clutched at the table, and he nearly rose from his seat in his rage. 'Damn you, Blackwood. You know that you forced me to desert. Do you know what it's like to come back to England in dishonor? My father had to pay off the authorities just to keep me from getting arrested.'
John fought to keep his own rage in check. 'And you think you don't deserve to be arrested after what you did?' he hissed. 'You should have been hanged.'
'Spare me your sensitivity, Blackwood. That girl was nothing. A stupid peasant, nothing more. She'd probably shared her charms with a dozen men before me.'
'I saw the blood on the sheets, Spencer. And I heard her screams.'
'For the love of God, Blackwood, I did the girl a favor. She was going to have to get that out of the way sooner or later.'
John gripped the table in an effort to keep himself from strangling him. 'She killed herself three days later, Spencer.'
'Did she?' Spencer looked unconcerned.
'Don't you feel any remorse?'
'Damn town was overpopulated, anyway.' Spencer held out his hand and idly examined his fingernails. 'Those Spaniards breed like rabbits.'
'She was an innocent girl,' John bit out.
'I am forever impressed by your sense of chivalry. But then again, you always did have a soft spot for the ladies. May I offer you my congratulations on your advantageous marriage? So sorry it's going to be such a short union.'
'Leave my wife out of this,' John bit out. 'You aren't fit to speak her name.'
'Oh my, aren't we getting dramatic? I hope love hasn't made you soft, Blackwood. Or perhaps your knee took care of that years ago.'
John took a deep breath and forced himself to count to five before speaking again. 'Just what is your plan, Spencer?'
'Why, to kill you. I thought you'd figured that out already.'
'May I ask why?' he asked, his voice icy with politeness.
'Nobody plays me for the fool, Blackwood, nobody. Do you understand me?' Spencer was growing agitated, and his brow was tense and damp with perspiration. 'What you did-'
'What I did was shoot you in the ass.' John leaned back and allowed himself his first smile of the day.
Spencer jabbed his finger at John. 'I'm going to kill you for that. I've been dreaming about it for years.'
'What took you so long?'
John's calm manner only served to enrage Spencer even further. 'Do you know what happens when a man deserts? He isn't exactly welcome back in England. His fiancee decides that she might do better elsewhere. His name is dropped from all the lists that matter. You did this to me. You.'
'And is England suddenly welcoming you with open arms? I had heard you weren't welcome at the best of parties.'
For a moment John thought that Spencer was going to leap over the table and go for his throat. Then, abruptly, the blond man calmed down. 'Killing you won't solve all my problems, of course. But it will bring great joy into my life.'
John sighed. 'Look,' he said mildly, 'I suppose I don't really need to tell you that I'd rather you didn't kill me.'
Spencer let out a short bark of laughter. 'Elegantly said, but then again, I'd rather you hadn't ruined my life.'
'Why did you come today? Why sit here and make idle conversation?'
'Maybe I was curious. What about you? One would think you'd be hesitant to meet with your killer.' He leaned
