"You look terrible," she said.
It was several moments before John could find his voice to reply. "Oh, Belle," he said hoarsely. "You look wonderful."
***
A couple of days later, Belle was feeling much better. She was still a little weak, but her appetite was back, and she was entertained by a steady stream of visitors.
John she hadn't seen for over a day. As soon as he was assured she was no longer in danger he collapsed from exhaustion. Caroline gave Belle periodic reports on his condition, but so far the reports had not varied beyond, "He's still sleeping."
Finally, on the third day after her fever broke, her husband entered her room, a slightly sheepish smile on his face.
"I had despaired of ever seeing you again," she said.
He perched on the side of her bed. "I've been sleeping, I'm afraid."
"Yes, so I've heard." She reached out and touched his jaw. "It's so lovely to see your face."
He smiled. "You washed your hair."
"What?" She looked down and pinched a curl between her fingers. "Oh, yes. It was badly needed, I think. John, I-"
"Belle, I-" His words came out at the same time as hers. "You first."
"No, you go ahead."
"I insist."
"Oh, this is silly," Belle said. "We're married, after all. Yet we're so nervous."
"What are you nervous about?"
"Spencer." The name hung in the air for several seconds before she continued. "We must get him out of our lives. Did you tell my parents of our situation?"
"No. I leave that to your discretion."
"I won't tell them. It will only worry them."
"Whatever you say."
"Have you devised a plan?"
"No. When you were ill-" He swallowed convulsively. Just the memory was enough to terrify him. "When you were ill I couldn't think of anything but you. And then I slept."
"Well, I've been thinking about him." He looked up.
"I think we should confront him at the Tum-bley bash," she said.
"Absolutely not."
"Mother has already insisted that we attend. She wants to use the occasion to present us to society."
"Belle, it will be so crowded. How am I to keep an eye on you when-"
"The crowds are what will protect us. Alex, Emma, and Dunford will be able to stay close to our sides without raising suspicion."
"I forbid-"
"Will you at least think about it? We'll face him together. I think that… together… we can do anything." She wet her lips, aware that she'd stumbled over her words.
"All right," he agreed, partly because he wanted to change the subject, but mostly because the sight of her licking her lips forced all rational thought from his head.
She reached out and placed her hand on his. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"Belle," he blurted out. "I love you."
She smiled. "I know. And I love you, too."
He picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it fervently. "I still cannot believe that you do, but"-when he saw that she would interrupt, he placed his hand gently over her mouth-"but it gives me more joy than I ever thought possible. More joy than I thought there was in this world."
"Oh, John."
"You've helped me to forgive myself. It was when I knew you weren't going to die, when I realized I had saved your life." He paused, his expression dazed, as if he still couldn't believe the miracle that had taken place in that very room. "It was then that I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That I'd paid my debt. A life for a life. I couldn't save Ana, but I saved you."
"John," she said softly. "Saving my life hasn't made up for what happened in Spain."
His eyes flew to hers, horrified.
"It doesn't need to make up for it. When will you accept that you weren't responsible? You've been torturing yourself for five years, and all because of another man's actions."
John stared at her. He stared hard into those bright blue eyes, and for the first time, her words began to make sense.
She squeezed his hand.
He finally blinked. "Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between. Yes, I was supposed to protect her, and I failed in that. But I didn't rape her." He shook his head, and his voice grew stronger. "It wasn't me."
"Your heart is free now."
"No," he whispered. "It's yours."
Chapter 22
John yanked viciously at his cravat. "This is stupid, Belle," he hissed. "Stupid." belle tiptoed around his valet, who had let out an agonized groan over the death of his careful handiwork. "How many times do we have to go through this? I told you there was no way to get out of going to the Tumbley bash tonight. Mother would have my head if I didn't show my face before all the ton as a properly married lady."
John dismissed his valet with a curt nod, wanting to keep the conversation private. "That's exactly it, Belle. You're a married lady now. You don't have to obey your parents' every order anymore."
"Oh, so now instead of following my parents' orders, I get to follow yours. Pardon me if I don't jump with glee."
"Don't be sarcastic, Belle. It doesn't suit you. All I'm saying is you don't have to do what your parents tell you anymore."
"Try telling that to my mother."
"You're a grown woman." John made his way over to a mirror and began to refold his cravat.
"I have news for you. Parents don't stop being parents when their children get married. And mothers especially don't stop being mothers."