"I'll help you." Belle smiled. He loved her. He might not have said as much, but it was right there in his eyes.
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to jump back out your window, slide down that tree, return to Damien's, and get some sleep. Then I've got to see about getting a special license."
"A special license?"
"I'm not putting up with this nonsense any longer than I have to. With any luck we'll be married by the end of the week."
"By the end of the week?" Belle echoed. "Are you mad? I can't get married this week. I can't even get officially engaged until my parents return."
John groaned as he picked up his boots and uttered a curse which was completely unfamiliar to Belle. "When are they getting back?" he asked in a very low voice.
"I'm not certain."
"Would it be possible for you to offer an estimate?"
"No more than a couple of weeks, I would imagine." Belle forbore to point out that they would have to wait at least another month or two after her parents returned before they could actually marry. Her mother would insist upon a large wedding. Of that she was certain.
John swore again. "If they're not home within a fortnight Alex can give you away. Or call your brother down from Oxford. I don't care which."
"But-"
"No buts. If your parents ask questions, you can simply tell them that we had to get married."
Belle swallowed and nodded. What else could she do? "I lo… " She lost her courage, and the rest of the sentence remained on her tongue.
He turned around. "Yes?"
"I-nothing. Be careful getting down that tree. It's rather tall."
"Three stories, to be precise."
His wry grin was infectious, and Belle felt the corners of her mouth tugging up as she followed him to the window.
He leaned down and murmured, "A kiss goodbye." His lips touched hers in one last, passionate caress.
Belle barely had time to kiss him back before he moved away, pulled on his gloves, and disappeared outside. She rushed to the window and looked out, watching him with a smile as he made his way down the tree.
"He could have just gone out the door," she muttered to herself. "Persephone's room is in the opposite direction." Oh well, it was more fun this way, and certainly more romantic. As long as he didn't break his fool neck on the way down. Belle leaned out the window a little further and sighed with relief when she saw his feet touch the ground. He leaned down to rub his bad knee, and she winced in sympathy.
She watched him until he disappeared from sight, leaning against the windowsill with a dreamy expression on her face. London could be beautiful on ocassion, she mused. Like now, with its deserted streets, and-
A movement caught her eye. Was that a man? It was hard to tell. Briefly she wondered what someone would be doing up and about and on foot this time of night.
She giggled. Maybe all of London's gentlemen had decided to do some unconventional courting that evening.
Taking a deep breath, she shut the window and made her way back to bed. It was only when she was snuggled up under her mountain of covers that she remembered that he had never found his fulfillment.
She smiled wryly. No wonder he was so cranky.
***
John made his way back to his brother's house, his hand on his pistol the entire time. London was getting more and more dangerous these days, and one really couldn't be too careful. Still, he hadn't wanted to bring a carriage by Belle's house. Someone might have seen it, and he didn't want her subject to any vicious rumors. Besides, it was only a few short blocks to Damien's home. It seemed that all of the ton was squeezed into one tiny section of London. He doubted that most of them knew that the city continued past the borders of Grosvenor Square.
He was about halfway home when he heard footsteps.
He turned around. Was someone behind him?
Nothing but shadows. He continued on his way. Surely he'd imagined it. He was still paranoid from the war, when every sound could mean death.
He turned the last corner when he heard the footsteps again. And then a bullet whined past his ear. "What the hell?"
Another bullet whizzed by, this one grazing his arm and drawing blood. He whipped out his pistol and spun around. He saw a shadowy figure across the street, furiously reloading a gun. John lost no time in firing, and the villain went down as he took a bullet in the shoulder.
Damn! His aim was off. Gun still in hand, he started after his would-be assassin. The man saw him coming, grabbed his shoulder, and got to his feet. He shot John an apprehensive look, but his face was covered by a half-mask, so John had no way of recognizing him. With one last fleeting glance, the villain rushed off.
As John made his way across the street, he cursed his leg for slowing him down. Never had he been so furious at the fates for maiming him this way. There was no way he'd be able to catch up with his attacker. Accepting defeat, John sighed and turned around. This was trouble.
And he had no right dragging Belle into it.
His hand strayed to his arm as he finally realized that he was bleeding. He could barely feel the pain, however. His fury blocked out all other feeling. Someone was after him, and he didn't know why. Some lunatic was sending him cryptic notes and wanted him dead.
And whoever it was, he probably wouldn't hesitate to involve Belle if he realized how much she meant to John. And if he had been following him at all during the past week, he would know that John had spent every free minute in her company.
John swore as he mounted the front steps to Damien's house. He would not put Belle in danger, even if that meant he had to postpone his marriage plans.