Dancing at Midnight

  “John, how could you joke about this?” Belle cried out. “This is my mother!”

  “I’m sorry, love,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Dunford, where did they go?”

  “Follow me.”

  He led them out a side door and down a dark hallway, where Alex and Emma were waiting for them.

  “Do you know which door he went into?” John whispered.

  Alex shook his head. “Emma,” he said. “I want you and Belle to go back into the ballroom.”

  “Absolutely not!” came the heated reply.

  The three men then turned their collective gazes on Belle.

  “My mother is in danger!” she replied hotly. “As if I would abandon her now.”

  “All right,” Alex sighed, realizing that a direct order was a waste of time. “But stay back!”

  The two women nodded, and the quintet made their way down the hall, peeping into every doorway, taking care not to let the hinges creak whenever possible.

  Finally they reached a room which was partially open. John was at the head of the group and immediately recognized Spencer’s voice. He turned around and put his forefinger to his lips, motioning everyone to keep quiet. The three men wordlessly took out their guns.

  “You silly man,” they heard Caroline say disdainfully. “What can you possibly hope to accomplish by doing this?”

  “Be quiet.”

  “I won’t be quiet,” came the imperious reply. “You’ve dragged me off from the party into a deserted room and pointed a gun at me which I can only surmise is loaded, and you expect me to be quiet? You are sorely lacking in intelligence, my dear man, and—”

  “I said shut up!”

  “Hmmph.”

  Belle bit her lip. She’d heard that tone before. If she hadn’t been so terrified this might have been funny.

  John, Alex, and Dunford exchanged looks. If they didn’t make a move soon, someone would be dead, although they weren’t necessarily convinced that the victim would be Caroline. John held up his hand and silently counted with his fingers. One. Two.

  Three! The men burst into the room and spread along the back wall, their pistols trained on Spencer.

  “It took you long enough,” he sneered. He held Caroline’s arm in a painful grasp, and his gun was pressed up against her temple.

  “Your attitude is beyond surly,” she scoffed. “It ill becomes you—”

  “Mother, please,” Belle pleaded, coming in through the door. “Don’t provoke him.”

  “Ahhh,” Spencer said approvingly. “You brought the ladies. What a treat.”

  Belle couldn’t see John’s face, but from the way he was holding his shoulders, she could tell that he was furious with her for not remaining out in the hall. “Just let my mother go,” she said to Spencer. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”

  “I might, if you’d be willing to trade places with her.”

  Belle took a step forward, but John’s arm shot out like an iron band. “No, Belle.”

  “Really, Belle, don’t be silly,” Caroline said. “I can handle our lackwit friend here.”

  “I’ve had enough!” Spencer exploded. He slapped Caroline across the face.

  Belle let out a little cry of dismay and rushed forward, eluding John’s grasp. “Leave her alone!”

  Spencer’s arm snaked out and wrapped around Belle’s waist, pulling her close to him. Her stomach turned over in dismay, but she swallowed down her fear and said, “Now let my mother go.”

  With a vicious shove, Spencer pushed Caroline away from him and she went rumbling to the floor. She opened her mouth to give him a scathing rebuke but then held her tongue, not feeling quite as brave now that he held her only daughter in his grasp.

  In that moment, John lost the ability to breathe. It felt as if Spencer’s hand were reaching out and squeezing around his windpipe. Belle was standing next to him, trying to appear brave, but John could see the fear and loathing in her eyes. He threw down his gun, put his hands in the air, and took a step forward. “Let her go, Spencer. I’m the one you want.”

  Spencer caressed Belle’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

  John’s control snapped, and he would have jumped him right then and there if Alex hadn’t reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. “I said let her go,’’ John repeated, his body shaking with fury.

  Spencer’s hand stole around to her backside and he gave it a little squeeze. “I’m still thinking about it.”

  Belle grimaced, but otherwise she did her best to remain silent. John’s life was on the line here, and if she could save it by letting this man paw her, by God, he could paw her all he wanted. She just prayed he wouldn’t try anything more intimate. The bile was already rising in her throat.

  John’s body was taut with rage. “For the last time, Spencer, let her go or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Spencer replied mockingly. “What can you possibly do? I have a gun. You don’t. Furthermore, I have your wife.” He let out a maniacal laugh. “And you don’t.”

  “Don’t forget us,” Dunford drawled, jerking his head toward Alex. Their pistols were trained on Spencer’s chest.

  Spencer looked back and forth between his adversaries and laughed. “I cannot imagine one of you would do anything as asinine as to shoot me while I have a loaded gun aimed at the lovely Lady Blackwood. Still, she is not, after all, my main purpose in coming here, and I am afraid I am going to have to trade her in. Blackwood?”

  John took another step forward. “Release her.”

  “Not just yet.” Spencer yanked off his cravat and shoved it at Belle. “Tie his hands behind his back.”

  “What? You cannot mean...”

  “Do it!” He raised his gun and aimed it at John’s forehead. “I can’t very well tie him up and keep my aim at the same time.”

  “Oh, John,” Belle whimpered.

  “Do as he says,” John said. Behind him he could feel Alex and Dunford tensing their muscles, getting ready to spring into action.

  “I can’t.” Tears stung at her eyes. “I just can’t.”

  “Tie his hands,” Spencer warned, “or by God I’ll shoot him on the count of three.”

  “Can I tie them in front? It seems so barbaric—”

  “For God’s sake, tie them any way you please. Just do it tight and be done with it.”

  With shaking hands, Belle wrapped the necktie around John’s wrists, trying to tie it as loosely as possible without raising Spencer’s suspicions.

  “Step back,” he ordered.

  Belle took a baby step away from John.

  “Farther.”

  “What are you going to do to him?” she demanded.

  “You haven’t figured that out yet?”

  “Mr. Spencer, I’m begging you.”

  He ignored her. “Turn around, Blackwood. We’re going to do it through the back of your skull.”

  Belle’s legs grew weak, and she would have fallen to the ground if she hadn’t crashed into an end table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dunford slowly inching forward, but she had little hope he’d be able to save him. Spencer could see his every move, and there would be no way to surprise him. By the time Dunford could wrestle him to the ground, the fatal shot would already have been fired. Besides, the room was densely furnished; it looked as if the Tumbleys had shoved every stray settee, sofa, and table into it. Dunford would have to jump over two chairs and an end table if he wanted to take a direct route.

  “You!” Spencer barked, jerking his head at Belle without really looking at her. “Get back even farther. I’m sure you have a yen to play the heroine, but I will not have the blood of a lady on my conscience.”

  Belle moved sideways, as the end table was blocking her path. She sniffed. She smelled violets. How odd.

  “Farther!”

  Belle took another step back and thumped up against something solid. Something solid and...definitely human. She looked across
the room. Alex, Dunford, Emma, and her mother were all in plain sight.

  “Take this!” came a whisper.

  Good God, it was Persephone! And she was pressing a pistol into Belle’s palm.

  Spencer raised his arm and aimed.

  Belle felt herself dying. She’d have to shoot Spencer and pray that her aim was true. There was no way she’d be able to get the gun to John. Damn, why hadn’t she let Emma teach her how to shoot properly?

  John twisted his head around as far as he was able. “If I could have just one last wish?”

  “What?”

  “I’d like to kiss my wife goodbye. With your permission of course.”

  Spencer nodded curtly, and Belle hurriedly moved forward, concealing the gun in the folds of her skirt. With her free hand she reached up and touched John’s face, making sure that Spencer could see her movement. John glanced down at his wrists, and Belle saw that he had worked his hands free of the loosely tied cravat.

  “Oh, John,” she whispered loudly, “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded. Give me the gun, he mouthed.

  “Oh, John!” she wailed, figuring that the better show she put on, the more time they would have to plot. She moved her free hand to the back of his head and pulled him to her in a scorching kiss. She pressed herself as dose as she could to John, praying that Spencer wouldn’t be able to see what was going on in the narrow space between their bodies. She placed the gun in John’s hands, quickly pulling the loosened cravat off his wrists as she did so.

  “Keep kissing me,” he whispered. She could feel his hand settling into the contours of the gun. Her tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of his mouth, savoring the slightly salty taste of him.

  “Open your mouth, love,” he said softly.

  She did, and his tongue swooped in to deepen the kiss. Belle returned his passion with equal fire, all the while keeping one eye open and trained on Spencer, who was watching them with a fascinated expression. His arm had lowered slightly, and Belle knew that their kiss had pulled some of his attention away from his obsession to kill John. She resolved to distract him completely and moaned loudly with pleasure.

  John began to trail small kisses along her jawbone, and Belle arched her neck to give him greater access. But she could feel that his attention was focused elsewhere. She felt him nod, and then from the shadows came a hideous, barely human shriek. The sound was terrifying. Belle felt sick to her stomach just listening to it.

  “What the hell?” Spencer was jolted from his voyeuristic reverie, and he couldn’t stop his head from turning toward the awful sound.

  John abruptly let go of Belle, and before she realized what was happening, she pitched forward and tumbled onto the ground. John spun around, whipping the gun out and shooting Spencer’s pistol cleanly from his hand. Alex and Dunford immediately rushed forward, tackling the stunned man to the ground.

  Persephone stepped forward and folded her arms, a satisfied smile on her face. “Sometimes a little age and wisdom is a very good thing.”

  “Persephone, what are you doing here?” Alex demanded as he yanked Spencer’s wrists behind his back.

  “That’s a fine way to greet me after I’ve gone and saved the day.”

  “Oh, Persephone,” Belle said with great feeling.

  “Thank you!” She clambered to her feet and flung her arms around the older woman. “But what was that awful sound?”

  “Me.” Persephone grinned broadly.

  Caroline raised her brows incredulously. “Surely that wasn’t human.”

  “Oh, but it was!”

  “It certainly did the trick,” John said, joining the women after making sure that Spencer was tied up properly. “Although I must admit, I never dreamed you’d emit such a sound after I signalled to you to make a commotion.”

  “You knew she was here?” Belle asked.

  “Only after I saw her hand you the gun. Well done, Persephone.” John pushed his hair back and noticed that his hand was shaking. It would be a long time before the image of Spencer holding Belle hostage would fade from his mind.

  “How on earth did you get in here?” Belle asked.

  “I knew something sinister was going on. No one saw fit to confide in me.” Persephone sniffed in disdain. “But I figured it out. I also eavesdropped a lot. And then I realized—”

  “Excuse me!” Dunford called out.

  Six heads swiveled in his direction.

  “We might want to notify the authorities about him.” He motioned down to Spencer, who was lying on the floor, bound and gagged.

  Belle waved him off, too interested in Persephone’s story. “He’s not going anywhere like that.”

  Dunford raised his brows at her nonchalance but nonetheless planted his booted foot in the middle of Spencer’s back, mostly just for the fun of it.

  “If I might continue,” Persephone intoned, thoroughly enjoying her role as heroine for the day.

  “By all means,” Belle replied.

  “As I was saying, I overheard Alex and Emma discussing the ball tonight and realized that John and Belle might be in danger. That is why I insisted they take me along.” She turned to Belle. “Now, I realize that I wasn’t the strictest of chaperones, but I did take my position seriously, and I felt that I would be remiss in my duties if I did not come to your aid.”

  “For which I am extremely grateful,” Belle felt compelled to interject.

  Persephone smiled benignly. “I realized that you might need a secret weapon tonight. Secret even from yourselves. You were all so busy with your schemes you didn’t notice that I disappeared the moment I arrived at the party. I went up into the balcony which overlooks the ballroom and watched. I saw this man accost you, Belle, and then force your mother out of the room.”

  “But how did you get in here?” Belle asked.

  Persephone smiled craftily. “You lot left the door open. I just crawled in. No one noticed me. And the room is rather generously furnished. I simply darted between chairs and settees.”

  “I can’t believe we didn’t see you,” John muttered. “My instincts must be off.”

  “It is dark in here,” Persephone replied, trying to reassure him. “And your attention was engaged at the time. I wouldn’t worry about it, my lord. Besides, you were the first to notice me. After Belle, of course.”

  John shook his head in admiration. “You’re a wonder, Persephone. A true wonder. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Your firstborn girl, perhaps,” Dunford suggested impishly. “Persephone is a fine name.”

  Belle scowled at him. A fine name perhaps, but not for any child of hers. But then again—Belle’s eyes lit up as an idea unfolded in her mind. An idea so perfect, so timely— “I must offer you my gratitude, too,” she said, linking arms with the older woman. “But I’m not sure my first daughter is the right way to thank you.”

  “Whyever not?” Dunford’s mischievous grin spread from ear to ear.

  Belle smiled archly and kissed her former chaperone on the cheek. “Ah, Persephone, I have grander plans for you.”

  Chapter 24

  A few weeks later John and Belle were curled up in bed at Persephone Park, enjoying their relative peace and quiet immensely. Belle was thumbing through a book, as was her habit before going to sleep, and John was sorting through a stack of business papers.

  “You look very fine in your new spectacles,” he said with a smile.

  “Do you think so? I think they make me look smart.”

  “You are smart.”

  “Yes, but these give me a more serious air, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps.” John put his papers on a nightstand, then leaned over and dropped a wet kiss on one of her lenses.

  “Jo-ohn!” She pulled the spectacles off and began to clean them against the quilt.

  He plucked them from her hand. “Leave them off.”

  “But I can’t see the book without—”

  He took the book from her ha
nds. “You won’t need this either.” The book slid to the ground, and John covered her body warmly with his. “It’s time for bed, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Only maybe?” He nipped at her nose.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Stop your teasing.” She tickled him in the ribs. “I’m serious.”

  He looked at her lips, thinking he’d like to nip at them, too. “What is on your mind, darling?”

  “I still want a poem.”

  “What?”

  “A love poem, from you to me.”

  John sighed. “I gave you the most romantic proposal a woman has ever had. I climbed a tree for you. I got down on one knee. What do you need a poem for?”

  “Something that I can hold on to. Something that our great-grandchildren will find long after we’re dead, and they’ll say, ‘Great-grandfather certainly loved great-grandmother.’ It’s not so silly, I think.”

  “Will you write me a poem?”

  Belle thought about that for a moment. “I’ll try, but I’m not as poetic as you are.”

  “Now, how do you know that? I assure you that my poetry is appalling.”

  “I never liked poetry before I met you. You have always loved it. I can only deduce that you have a more poetic mind than I do.”

  John looked down at her. Her face shone with love and devotion in the candlelight, and he knew he could deny her nothing. “If I promise to write you a poem, will you promise to let me kiss you senseless whenever I wish?”

  Belle giggled. “You already get to do that.”

  “But in every room? Can I do it in my study and your sitting room and the green salon and the blue salon and the—”

  “Stop! Stop! I implore you,” she laughed. “Which room is the green salon?”

  “The one with all the blue furniture.”

  “Then which one is the blue salon?”

  John’s face fell. “I don’t know.”

  Belle bit back a smile.

  “But can I kiss you in it?”

  “I suppose, but only if you kiss me now.”

  John growled with pleasure. “At your service, my lady.”