Chapter 32

Bella waited until enough of her evening had been given to the glittering guests, dancing, and celebration, then slipped away from the party after making an excuse to her mother about her aching head. Lady Collingwood clearly did not believe anything was truly amiss with Bella, but allowed her to depart.

"I will call on you in the morning," Lady Collingwood said. "To be certain you are feeling better."

"There is no need," Bella said quickly. She was not sure she would be any more ready to see guests in the morning. What she had seen in the foyer only an hour or so before made her more ill than an aching head ever could.

She recalled the image as she rode home in her carriage, alone. Bella had caught a glimpse of Simon slipping out to the coat closet and had followed him, intending to ask if all was well after their dance. He had left her side so abruptly for a meeting of some sort or other—she was worried that something had gone wrong with his business.

How misinformed she had been. No sooner had Bella rounded the corner into the foyer than she saw that Simon was not alone. Amelia was standing near at hand, speaking to him with an upturned face and a low voice. Amelia's hand rested on Simon's lapel She was talking in low tones that Bella could not decipher, but as Bella watched she saw all she needed to—Amelia left the event and, after only a half-second of hesitation, Simon followed her into the night.

That single event—Amelia leaving with Simon in tow—ran through Bella's mind like an icy river, numbing her and sweeping her thoughts away. Amelia had been right, then, about Simon's proclivities. Simon was honorable enough to save Bella from a dreadful marriage, but in the end, he ran back to the exciting and beautiful Frenchwoman. He'll come back to my bed. That is what Amelia had said, wasn't it?

When Bella reached the flat and walked inside to a darkened home, she believed Amelia's prediction was true. When she waited up into the wee hours of the morning with an open book unread in her lap and a candle sputtering into wax at her side, she was certain. Simon had found solace in Amelia's arms. Whatever passion he lacked with Bella, he clearly felt for Amelia.

Bella wondered now about Amelia's strange role in her kidnapping—Bella must have misunderstood her appearance in the park that dark night. Whatever Simon sought in Amelia's company, Bella could not believe he would do so knowing Amelia to be at the center of such a vile crime. Amelia must be innocent of the claims Bella had lain at her feet earlier that evening.

At last, when the candle was nearly burned out, Bella went to bed. She slept fitfully, and woke more exhausted and devastated than when she'd first lain down. Her clock told her she'd overslept by a few hours, and she wandered out into the hall in her nightgown and shawl, her hair in a loose braid over one shoulder.

No need to dress for Simon. Bella could see that his door was open and his bed untouched within. Instead, she walked into the living room.

"Isabella."

She froze at her mother's voice, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she attempted to focus on Lady Collingwood's stick-straight posture in the settee nearest the door.

"Mother?" she put a hand to her hopeless hair. "I was not expecting someone so early."

"My dear, it is not so very early," her mother began in a cool tone, "and beyond that you ought to have expected me—after all, I told you I would come to see to your welfare."

But you've never seen to my welfare before. "I'll go back and change," Bella mumbled. "And call for some tea."

"Nonsense. Is your husband already up and about for the day?"

Bella swallowed hard. Her husband had not returned at all the night before, but she was not willing to admit such a thing to her mother. "He is."

"Then there is no trouble with you having a spot of tea here in your night clothes. It is only I, after all." Lady Collingwood nodded at a nearby tray that Bella had overlooked when she first came into the room. "And I already asked your housemaid for some tea."

Bella drew her shawl closer about her shoulders. "I… I'm sorry. How long have you been waiting?"

Lady Collingwood did not answer this question. Instead she pursed her lips together and folded her hands in her lap as though she were about to embark on one of her classic lectures. "Have a seat, Isabella."

Bella did so, feeling like a child.

"I can see that something is bothering you. I want to know…" suddenly, the look of lecture and confidence faltered on Lady Collingwood's face. "…I want to know… if I can help."

Bella caught her breath softly. Her mother had never spoken to her in such a manner before, opening up the conversation for moments of honest vulnerability. Bella did not know how to proceed, but she was touched that her mother had asked after her wellbeing in the first place.

"Mother," she began slowly.

"I know I haven't the right to ask you about your life now," Lady Collingwood burst in, speaking crisply as though she was afraid to let Bella get a word in edgewise. "I noticed you did not wish to invite me into your home before now or show me your life with Mr. Lyndon."

"That isn't it," Bella said quietly. "I just…"

"But I have seen that you care very deeply for this Mr. Lyndon, and he seems to be a better match for you than we had at first thought." Her mother stopped speaking all at once, as though pulling up on the reins of a runaway carriage, out of breath and nervous.

Bella dropped her head. "That's just it, if you must know. I do care deeply for my husband, but he does not love me in return. He married me out of obligation, and it hurts me to see that." She rushed to add, "I know you do not think love is an important ingredient in a marriage, but I… I love him despite myself. And every time I look at him, I can see that he does not love me in return."

Lady Collingwood weighed these words in a long silence. She was clearly unused to this sort of open communication. Bella took pity on her.

"I do not mean to shock you, Mother," she said. "We can forget I said anything and speak no more of it if you like."

"No." Lady Collingwood clasped her gloved hands together. "No, that will not be necessary. I asked because I want to know. And, in this case, I think I might actually be able to help."

"Help?" Despite her sadness, Bella had to make an effort not to laugh. She could not see a way that Lady Collingwood, of all people, would be able to help in this matter. "How?"

"You see dear… I have a piece of information about Mr. Lyndon that I do not believe you were previously privy to." Lady Collingwood swallowed hard. "I'm rather afraid to share it, though. I suspect you will not be overly pleased with your father and I when you hear."

"Intriguing," Bella managed.

"Not so intriguing as all that." Her mother cleared her throat. "The thing is, Mr. Lyndon asked for your hand in marriage, before you were wed." She hesitated a moment, and Bella detected a tinge of pink in her mother's cheeks. "A good three years before you were wed, actually."

Bella felt her heart catch in her throat as her mother's meaning sunk in fully. "He asked to marry me… before? Why did you never tell me about it?"

"Because we deemed it an unsuitable match," Lady Collingwood said stiffly. "Your father thought you were destined for greater things, and I considered your studies at your aunt's too important to disrupt with a youthful marriage. Unfortunately, Mr. Lyndon claimed that his feelings for you were too strong to be dismissed so completely and continued to write to you."

Understanding flooded Bella. "But you intercepted his letters." She wished she could say she was truly surprised, but suddenly it all made sense. Her parents had always been controlling of various parts of her life. It was no surprise that they had fended off an ardent admirer without her knowing. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Her mother fidgeted with the lace finger of her glove. "You deserve to know the truth, now that you're married. You deserve to know that your husband wanted to be your husband long before fate thrust you together."

Bella felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes at the words. Lady Collingwood was right. If this was true, it changed everything. How could she not have known that Simon cared for her? He hid it so well. She was desperately hopeful that his feelings remained, but three years was a long time for a man to nurse affection for a woman who did not return his letters or give him any encouragement in return.

"But that was a long time ago," she said softly. "I am not sure he harbors those feelings still."

"Perhaps not," her mother answered bluntly, "but if he did once… is it not possible that they might return? Stranger things have happened. I would encourage you to have patience, my dear."

Lady Collingwood stood, clearly having her fill of open honesty for the day. "I really ought to be going, Isabella. I've trespassed on your time long enough, I imagine."

Bella stood, not wanting to let the moment slip away. "Why now, Mother? Why tell me the truth about Simon after all this time?"

Her mother hesitated before responding. "It is a mother's prerogative to admit when she is wrong, especially when she sees her daughter happy for the first time in years—maybe ever."

Bella reached out to embrace her mother, but Lady Collingwood took a small step away. "Not yet, dear," she said, looking nervous. "Change comes by degrees."

"Of course," Bella said, hiding a smile. "I'm thankful, all the same, that you came today."

"Yes, well. Let us make a habit of it in future." Lady Collingwood bowed her head in farewell and left the flat. Bella thought she looked smaller and less frightening as she left, more like a mother and less like a society lady.

She gathered herself up and changed into clothes for the day. Her mothers revelation dogged her mind, spinning tales both unlikely and enticing. Was it possible that Simon had truly loved her once?

Could he find that sort of love again? What about his indiscretion with Amelia? Surely past loves did not cover a multitude of wrongs in the present. She dressed in white muslin and pinned her hair in a loose chignon with wisps about her face. She wanted to be simple Mrs. Lyndon when she faced Simon at last—not Lady Isabella in all her glory.

She did not have long to wait. No sooner had she settled herself in the parlor again, than Simon appeared from the street outside, shaking a fine mist off his umbrella and taking off his long black coat. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn to the ball the night before, just as Bella suspected.

He looked up wearily when she stood to greet him, and smiled as though the world was on his shoulders.

"I'm glad to see you made it home safely." His voice was low. "I'm sorry I could not get word to you earlier about my whereabouts. I imagine you were distressed to return to the flat alone."

Bella thought about lying. She thought about saying all the polite things Aunt Nellie had taught her in the face of pain and betrayal. It is no matter. Your business is your business. May I call for some tea? But her mother's words emboldened her to address the topic head-on, as she would have all those years ago, before the courage and directness had been trained out of her.

"Were you with her?" Bella asked. Her voice was quiet, but hard. "I saw you leave with Lady O'Mara. Were you with her all night?"

To her immense fury and frustration, Simon actually smiled. It was a slight, tired smile, but a smile all the same. "More or less, I was."

It was so unexpected, a man being open about his mistress with his new wife, that Bella could think of nothing to say. The pain cut into her like a knife. She opened her mouth to ask him "why," but in the end she could not. She whirled on her heel and fled the room, making for her own chambers as though all her fears were in hot pursuit.

Simon caught up with her before she reached her door, catching gently ahold of her elbow to halt her progress.

"Bella, what is it? What is the matter?" He turned her to face him, his eyes full of concern. "You're white a sheet."

She jerked her elbow away. "I thought that I could live a double life, for your sake," she said, tears betraying her and rushing to her eyes. "But I find I am not strong enough. If you wish to be with Lady O'Mara, then I beg you to set me free. Annul the marriage, Simon. I know that my reputation will suffer, but I would rather hear whispers in a ballroom than share the bed of the man I love with another woman."

Simon stepped back as though slapped. "Bella, it is not like that—" suddenly he stopped short, his expression deepening. "Wait. Did you say that you loved me?"

She shook her head. "To my shame, yes. If you must know, I think I have loved you forever, Simon. I long ago gave up hope that you would ever be mine, but I never imagined myself in this situation—possessing you in name only, while watching you spend all your days in the arms of another woman. I cannot do it. I would rather go through life alone." She could taste the salt of her tears and her vision blurred. "Please, don't ask it of me."

In a moment, she felt Simon's arms around her. He swept her to him, holding her close as she sobbed. "No, my love," he said, his voice suddenly softer and gentler than she had ever heard before. "You have it all backwards, Bella, just as you did when we met in Lady Ellory's garden all those weeks ago. You have it all backwards."

His voice soothed her, and by degrees she found herself understanding his words. "I… I don't understand."

She tipped her head up to look at him, but did not pull away. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair back from her face before explaining, "I was with Lady O'Mara last night because I was tasked with unmasking her as a French spy. She is a vile woman, responsible for the loss of two of our agents—one, a child—and the endangerment of countless more. I laid a trap for her last night, and she took the bait."

"A… spy?" Bella could hardly believe what she was hearing. "But she was so enchanting, and the ton loved her…"

"That is what made her so effective," Simon said. His face softened into a smile. "But I would not go so far as to say the entire ton found her enchanting. I, for one, did not."

"I thought…" Bella blushed. "I thought—"

"I see what you thought, and it grieves me to know that such imaginings have been plaguing you these last few hours," Simon said quietly. "I was not unfaithful to you, Bella. I was out all night processing the paperwork and catching my cohorts up on some of the finer points of the arrest. We cannot simply hand her over to the authorities, you see. There is too much intrigue involved, and if the Crown does not handle the matter directly, she will end up back on the streets, as dangerous as ever."

"Your business… what has been engaging your time so much as of late…"

"Was this."

"I thought you were simply a soldier." She thought back over all the times Simon had disappeared on important business, of how quickly he had managed to track her down when Ramsgate made off with her, and of how mysterious he seemed at times. "But you are more than that, are you not?"

He hesitated. "We are all soldiers, in the end. But yes, I am a special sort of soldier." He smiled tenderly at her. "I will still withhold some things from you for your own protection, but you ought to at least know the truth of my profession. I am a spy for the English. When I am overseas, it is in pursuit of the sort of intelligence that Lady O'Mara sought on our shores."

"That makes sense," Bella said, catching her breath. "I cannot believe I did not realize it sooner."

"I'm glad you did not." Simon laughed. "If you did, it would mean I was a rather poor spy."

Bella dropped her gaze, her mind spinning. I was wrong about Amelia. I was wrong about Simon's profession. What else was I wrong about?

As though reading her thoughts, Simon tipped her chin so that her eyes met his again and said gently, "Let me make myself very clear, Bella. I could never have gone to Amelia's bed as you supposed last night."

"You are a man of honor." She nodded, shamefaced.

"Not only that," he took a deep breath. "But I love you, Bella. You say you have always loved me, and I can hardly believe it to be true. I would have been more open about my own feelings if I had not feared you would feel forced into reciprocating. Now that you have told me the truth…I cannot hold it in any longer." He bent down, his lips brushing hers lightly. "I love you desperately, and marrying you has been my deepest held hope these last years. I could not believe my good fortune when you accepted me in Gretna Green."

"But you were so cool and detached," Bella protested. "You were so careful around me—"

"Only because I did not think you cared for me in return. I did not want to make you uncomfortable." Simon looked into her eyes. "Are you uncomfortable now?"

Bella could not speak. She simply shook her head, eyes shining with joy, and stood up on tiptoes to return his kiss.