The maid breathed an audible sigh of relief. They trudged for a few moments until Belle suddenly slammed her arm out in front of Mary. "Hold," she whispered loudly.
"What's wrong?"
Belle squinted her eyes at the blond man she saw thirty or so yards up the path. Was that Spencer?
With her eyesight it was impossible to tell. Damn, why had she been so foolish? She never would have come to the park with only a maid for an escort if she'd been thinking clearly. A fat raindrop landed on her nose, jolting her out of her frozen stance.
"Back up," she whispered to Mary. "Very slowly. I don't want to attract attention."
They tiptoed back toward a wooded area. Belle didn't think the blond man saw them, but her nerves were still on alert. It probably wasn't Spencer, she tried to tell herself. If it were, it would certainly be too much of a coincidence to think that he was also out taking a walk in Hyde Park on a cold, windy day, for no other reason than to take in some fresh air. The only reason he'd be out would be to follow her, and the blond man up ahead did not appear to be following her.
Still, she had to be careful. She moved more deeply into the trees.
The air suddenly pounded with thunder, and the rain began in earnest, fast and furious. Within seconds, both Belle and Mary were drenched to the bone. "We must get back," Mary yelled over the din.
"Not until the blond man-"
"He's gone!" Mary tugged on her arm and began to drag her out to the clearing.
Belle yanked her arm back. "No! I can't! Not if he's-" She looked up ahead. No sign of him. Not that she could see much of anything. It had already been growing dark, and the rain had completed the job.
A sudden crack pounded in her ears. Belle gasped, jumping back. Was that thunder? Or a bullet?
She began to run.
"My lady, nooo!" Mary tore after her.
Panic-stricken, Belle ran through the wood, her dress snagging on branches, her hair streaming into her eyes. She tripped, fell, and righted herself. She was breathing hard, disoriented. She certainly didn't see the low-hanging tree branch in front of her.
It slammed into her forehead.
She went down.
"Oh, my good Lord," Mary cried out. She knelt down and shook Belle. "Wake up, my lady, wake up!"
Belle's head lolled from side to side.
"Oh no, oh no," Mary chanted. She tried to drag Belle along the path, but the rain had soaked through her thick garments, making her far too heavy for the maid.
With a cry of frustration, Mary propped Belle up against a tree trunk. Either she stayed with her or went back for help. She didn't like the thought of leaving her lady alone, but the alternative… She looked around. They were surrounded by trees. No one would ever see them.
Her decision made, Mary straightened, picked up her skirts, and began to run.
***
John was sitting in the library, nursing a glass of whiskey. He had reached that unique state of anguish which even alcohol cannot obliterate, and so the glass had remained in his hand, untouched.
He sat in excruciating stillness, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon and disappeared, listening as the tiny raindrops which pattered against the windowpane grew into fat rivulets.
He should go to her. He should apologize. He should let her tell him she loved him. He knew he didn't deserve it, but if it upset her to hear the truth… There was nothing that gripped his heart like a tear in Belle's eye.
He sighed. There were a lot of things he should do. But he was a bastard and a coward, and he was terrified that if he tried to take her into his arms she'd only push him away.
He finally set the glass down. With a fatalistic sigh, he stood. He'd go to her. And if she pushed him away… He shook his head. It was too painful to contemplate.
John made his way up to their bedchamber, but there was no sign that Belle had been in the room since their argument. Puzzled, he made his way back downstairs, crossing paths with the butler on the landing.
"Pardon me," John said. "But have you seen Lady Blackwood?"
"No, I'm sorry, my lord," Thornton replied. "I thought she was with you."
"No," John murmured. "Is Lady Worth about?" Surely Caroline would know Belle's whereabouts.
"Lady and Lord Worth are dining this evening with their graces, the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne. They left over an hour ago."
John blinked. "Very well. Thank you. I'm sure I'll find my wife somewhere."
He descended the last few steps and was about to search Lady Worth's favorite salon when the front door burst open.
Mary was gasping for breath, her brown hair plastered to her face, her entire body heaving with exertion. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Oh, my lord!"
Icy fear squeezed around John's heart. "Mary?" he whispered. "Where is Belle?"
"She fell," Mary gasped. "Fell. She hit her head. I tried to drag her. I did. I swear it."
John already had his coat on. "Where is she?"
"Hyde Park. She- I-"
He grabbed her shoulders and shook. "Where, Mary?"
"In the wood. She-" Mary clutched her stomach and coughed violently. "You'll never find her. I'll go with you."
John nodded curtly, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out into the night.
Minutes later he was atop his stallion. Mary and a groom followed on Amber, Belle's mare. John sped through the streets, the wind tearing ferociously at his clothes. The rain was coming down hard now, hard and cold, and the thought of Belle out alone in such a vicious storm left him numb.
They were soon at the edge of Hyde Park. He motioned for the groom to bring Amber close. "Which way?" he yelled.