“Wherein Belle takes a lesson in seduction.”

 

Belle did not attempt to speak with Edward again that day, nor did she seek him out that night. He was too raw and angry to even make the attempt. But the next day, she determined she would confront him and put to rest any fears that he had that he had hurt her on purpose or could do so again. She would learn better how to deal with the terrible nightmares he suffered, and never wake him in such a manner again.

Lord and Lady Falmouth returned in the early afternoon, and Belle did her best to play the welcoming hostess. She tried to be merry as she oversaw the decorating of the house. Vast swathes of evergreen, rosemary, and glossy holly with its blood red berries adored lintels, windows, and the grand stairway, and Belle made little posies of Christmas roses to be placed amongst the greenery on the mantles. It had been a job she’d been looking forward to, but it must have been clear that her mind was elsewhere. With a heavy heart, she watched as the footmen lifted a kissing bough of evergreen and mistletoe, with apples and bright red ribbons making it festive. She wondered if there were lovers among the servants, and how many mistletoe berries would be missing for each stolen kiss by the time Christmas was done. Would any be hers and Edwards?

Belle knew well enough that some families, especially among the ton, had relegated such decorations to below stairs, feeling them inappropriate for proper company. But she was mistress of Longwold now, and such traditions made her feel a part of the place and its history. It made her feel as though it was truly home, her home. From the warmth and enthusiasm that the servants gave to the decorating, she felt she had made the right decision.

Once the great castle was beautiful and festive in its lush green finery, Belle went to find some peace in the library, only to discover that Violette had followed her. She had thrown herself into the decorating with characteristic joy, and Belle found she liked her new sister more and more.

“How are you, Belle?” she asked, her voice full of sympathy.

Belle did her best to return a reassuring smile, but found it hard to pretend everything was as it ought to be. “Well enough,” she replied, gesturing for Violette to take a seat beside her.

Violette took her hand, her eyes full of concern. “You won’t give up on him, will you, Belle?”

Belle looked at her in astonishment. “What? Of course not! Surely you do not think me such a feeble creature as that?”

“Oh no,” Violette exclaimed, but there was deep concern in her eyes. “Only, I know how ... how difficult Edward can be, and I know you did not love him when you married, but ... Oh, Belle, if you’d have known him before, you would have fallen for him in a heartbeat, I promise you that.”

Belle gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “You need have no fears on that score,” she said, her voice low.

Violette stared at her, a slight smile curving over her lovely mouth. “You love him?”

Belle nodded. “With all my heart, but I fear that I am not enough to heal him.”

Violette grasped her hand between both of hers. “You are, Belle, I know you are. You must just keep trying, please.”

Belle laughed, touched by Edward’s sister’s devotion to him. “You have my word that I will, Violette. It’s just ...”

“It’s just…?” Violette pressed.

Belle squirmed a little inwardly, she wasn’t sure Edward’s sister was the right person for such confidences. “It’s just ... the only time ...” Belle paused again and took a deep breath. “The only time I can get close to him at all is ... is when ...”

“Oh!” Violette exclaimed, as she began to understand. “Yes. Yes, I see.”

Belle watched as Violette pursed her lips. “Well, if it weren’t my brother, I could maybe suggest ... but…” Belle smiled as Violette pulled a face.

“It’s of no matter,” Belle said with a heavy sigh that said otherwise. If she was more experienced in such matters, she could seduce the man, but as it was she couldn’t even get near him, let alone have any idea what to do if she managed that much.

“Celeste!” Violette said suddenly, startling Belle out of her reverie.

“What?”

Violette got to her feet and pulled at Belle’s arm, tugging her until she followed. “You must speak with Celeste,” she said, her voice firm.

“Oh, but ... no, I couldn’t,” Belle exclaimed in horror. “I hardly know the woman!”

“Oh, pish!” Violette exclaimed. “You only need be in Celeste’s company for half an hour to know you love her, and when I decided to elope with Aubrey ...” She paused suddenly, going a little red. “I’m sorry, have I shocked you?”

Belle gave a short bark of laughter. “You’re talking to the woman who trapped your brother into marriage,” she said, her tone dry.

Violette grinned at her. “Well, anyway,” she carried on. “Celeste gave me the most wonderful and ... intriguing advice. She’ll know just what to suggest.”

So, Belle trailed along in Violette’s wake as the poor earl was ejected from their suite of rooms so that his wife could have a private talk with Belle. If he had an inkling of the reason why, he said nothing, his grey eyes placid if rather intrigued, but Belle was never more mortified.

For most of the next couple of hours, Belle simply listened, feeling as though her cheeks were on fire. But Violette had been perfectly correct. Celeste was a mine of information on the subject, and not the least bit hesitant in sharing it.

“So, you see,” Celeste replied, reaching for what must have been her third slice of fruitcake as Belle topped up their tea cups. “It is really very simple, oui?”

Belle nodded, though her stomach had tied itself into a knot. It was certainly simple enough, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t rather daunting, though.

Celeste gave her a shrewd look. “Do you think that your ‘usband, ‘e cares for you?”

Belle smiled, enchanted as everyone seemed to be by the countess’ pretty French accent.

“I think he does, a little, at least. He ... he desires me.”

Celeste gave a little snort of laughter. “Of course ‘e desire you. You are perfectly lovely.” She popped a piece of cake into her mouth and chewed, her expression thoughtful. “Getting a man to desire you is the easy part,” she said with a sigh as she placed a hand over her heart. “The ‘eart, though, getting ‘is ‘eart is another matter. Alex was very difficult,” she said, shaking her head.

“Really?” Belle said in astonishment. For all she thought of the earl as a rather terrifying man, he had never hidden the fact that he was utterly besotted with his lovely wife.

Celeste laughed at the surprise in Belle’s eyes. “Alex, ‘e was worried that ‘e was too old for me, the foolish creature!” she said, rolling her eyes. “But it was also that ... Well, ‘e ‘as a rather forbidding reputation.”

Belle nodded, having heard a number of rather disturbing rumours about the man.

“Much of it is true,” Celeste carried on with a smile as Belle’s eyes opened a little wider. “And because of that, ‘e did not want to ... to taint me with ‘is past, I think.” Celeste reached over and covered Belle’s hand with her own. “You understand, I think, ma chère?”

“Yes,” Belle replied, as the comment made perfect sense in the light of her experience with Edward. “Yes, I do.”

Celeste nodded and laid a protective hand over the gentle swell of her stomach. “These men, they think we are the weaker sex, and perhaps if we speak of just physical strength, that may be. But there are other kinds of strength, Belle, and women, we are much stronger than they, in ‘ere.” She placed a finger by her temple and smiled. “You are a strong and resilient woman, I see this in you. I ‘ave been where you are, Belle. So now, now you must be brave, and go and take what it is you want. Lord Winterbourne is your ‘usband, and ‘e must act like one. Go and show ‘im what that means.”

Belle drew in a sharp breath and nodded. “I will,” she said, feeling hope flicker in her heart. “At least, I shall try everything I can.”

Celeste nodded and gave her a warm smile. “Bien!” she said, clapping her hands together in satisfaction as she looked back at the tea tray. “Alors, is there any more cake?”

***

Edward stared out of his bedroom window. He felt like his head was a seething mass of revulsion, images of the past warring with the present, and now Belle was there, too. When he had seen the blood, her blood, staining the bed sheets, something had snapped. He had done that. He had lashed out and Belle had suffered because of it. Sweet Belle, who was trying so hard to be everything he wanted her to be.

She just didn’t understand.

She was everything he wanted her to be. She was everything he had never realised he wanted or needed. He hadn’t given much thought to marrying before the war, but he’d always wanted someone warm and loving, someone who would give their children the kind of home that his own parents had never had the slightest concept of.

Except he couldn’t be a part of it. Not any longer. He had married the right woman, the perfect woman, but she had married entirely the wrong man.

When he had seen her blood, suddenly Belle had been there with him. He was on the battlefield again with the cannons roaring in his ears, looking down on what remained of his broken comrades, their bodies smashed and broken, and Belle had been there too.

He had seen her bloody and lifeless and ... and his heart had exploded into pieces.

That would not happen to Belle. He would not allow it.

In some rational part of his brain, he knew that was impossible. They were no longer at war, and even if they were, Belle would hardly be anywhere near a battlefield.

But he also knew of many other things that could take her from him in a heartbeat. From disease to childbirth, there were any number of scenarios in which she could die, and leave him alone.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t suffer that loss. If he were to let her in, if he cared for her in the way she so clearly wanted him to ... Panic rose in his chest. He was too damaged by the past; he had nothing to give her, nothing of worth; he would hurt her, emotionally, at the very least; and going on his actions to date, maybe something much worse; or perhaps something would take her from him, and any one of those things was too much to endure. He would die. He would far rather die than see her come to harm.

Not for the first time, he wished he had been one of the fallen, as it would have been so much simpler. But then Violette would have been left alone and unprotected, and his cousin Gabriel would have forced her into marrying him, and every generation of Greystons to come would have been damned.

He put his head in his hands and found he was shaking, it was too much, everyone’s expectations weighted him down until he couldn’t breathe. He wanted nothing more than to run for the woods and curl up in that bloody hole until enough time passed that he was buried good and deep. But when he’d gone after that dreadful scene with Belle, all he could hear was frantic voices calling his name, echoing across the landscape until he wanted to howl at them to leave him be, for the love of God. Yet he knew he was hurting them, knew that they were afraid for him, and so he had returned.

He found himself unwilling, and angry at the need, to be anything they wanted him to be, and yet unable to inflict the hurt it required to tear himself away for good.

“Drink this.” Edward felt Charlie take his hands and press a cup of something warm into them. “Come on now, Eddie, drink it up.”

Charlie forced him to lift the cup, pressing it to his lips. Edward swallowed and grimaced.

“Too much sugar,” he grumbled and heard Charlie chuckle, though it sounded a long way off.

“Good for ye,” Charlie shot back. “Buck ye up.”

Edward snorted. “Didn’t need to dump the whole bloody pot in it.”

“You know what ye can do if you don’t like it, my lord,” Charlie said in his most dignified voice, though Edward knew well enough that Charlie would never leave. Charlie had suffered, too, he knew that. Charlie had the same nightmares, but maybe the man was stronger than Edward, for Charlie kept on, always smiling. Cheerful Charlie, they’d all called him - that daft bugger from the Dials. But Edward knew better. Charlie was tough and wily and brave, braver than he was, brave enough to keep living.

Edward looked up, thankful that Charlie had made it home, at least. That he had stuck around when Edward had given him blessed little reason to do so.

“Thank you, Charlie,” he said, and they both knew it wasn’t for the tea.