Dancing at Midnight (39 page)

*  *  *

For the next hour and a half, the quintet played the roles of innocent

partygoers. Belle and John had no dearth of well-wishers, most of whom

didn't bother to hide their insatiable curiosity about John and their

hasty marriage. Alex and Emma stood nearby, their mere presence

signaling their approval of the match. But more importantly, they were

able to keep an eye out for Spencer while John and Belle were busy

making polite conversation. Dunford acted as a roving spy, darting

around the ballroom and monitoring the entrances and exits.

After nearly two hours, Caroline, Henry, and Persephone finally arrived

and made their way immediately to Belle and John.

"You wouldn't believe what happened to us!" Caroline exclaimed.

"A carriage accident?" John deadpanned.

"How did you know?"

"You had a carriage accident?" Belle said, horrified.

"Well, it was nothing dangerous. The left rear wheel slipped off, and we

tipped a bit to the side. A bit uncomfortable, but no one was hurt. We

did, of course, have to return home to change, however, and as a result

we are extremely late." Caroline blinked

a few times as she took in her daughter's slightly rumpled gown. "I say,

that dress wasn't meant to be /crushed /velvet, was it?"

"We were the unfortunate victims of a carriage accident as well," John said.

"You don't say!" Persephone exclaimed, and then she made her way to a

table laden with refreshments.

"That's odd," Lord Worth put in. "Very odd."

"Indeed." John's expression was grim.

Dunford appeared at their side. "Good evening, Lady Worth, Lord Worth. I

must say, I had expected to see you earlier.

Er, Blackwood, if I could have a moment alone with you."

John excused himself and met with Dunford a few yards away. "What's

happened?"

"He's here. And looking furious. He came in through the side door a few

minutes ago. My guess is that he wasn't invited. Either that or he's

afraid the butler will call out his name. But he's in full evening

dress. No one will look twice at him. He blends right in."

John nodded curtly. "He's going to try something."

"We need a plan."

"There's nothing we can do until he makes the first move."

"Just be careful."

"I will. Oh, and Dunford? Keep an eye on Belle,

will you?" John swallowed convulsively and searched his brain for the

right words. "It would be very difficult for me should anything happen

to her."

Dunford's lips curved into a tiny smile and he nodded. "I'll keep an eye

on you, too. It would be very difficult for her should anything happen

to you."

John caught his gaze. They didn't know each other very well, but they

were bonded by their feelings for Belle, Dunford as her longtime friend

and John as her passionately devoted husband.

John turned back to Belle and his in-laws, who were busily greeting a

heavyset couple who'd come to offer congratulations on

the recent wedding, expressing their sorrow that they hadn't been able

to attend the actual ceremony. John caught the tail-end

of the conversation, and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as he

watched Belle clenching her teeth, obviously trying hard

not to point out that they hadn't been invited. Her eyes lit up when she

saw him return.

"Our friend has arrived," he said quietly.

"Oh, who is that?" Caroline inquired.

"Just an acquaintance of John's from the army," Belle improvised, taking

some solace in the fact that she wasn't exactly lying.

"You must go seek him out, then."

"Oh, I think he'll find us," John said archly.

Caroline's attention was then captured by a friend she hadn't seen since

she'd returned from Italy, and Belle quickly turned to

John and asked, "What are we going to do now?"

"Nothing. Just remain vigilant."

Belle took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She wasn't feeling

especially patient. "Have you told Alex and Emma?"

"Dunford did."

"So we just stand here like sheep while he plots his nefarious schemes?"

"Something like that."

Belle grimaced and an extremely odd noise emerged from her mouth.

John looked to her in amazement. "Did you just growl?"

"I might have done."

"Good God, we'd better be rid of Spencer soon, or my wife is going to

turn into an animal."

"A particularly vicious one, too, if I have any say in the matter."

Belle sighed and looked around the ballroom. "John! Isn't that

him right there?" She pointed discreetly at a blond man sipping a glass

of champagne.

John followed her gaze and then nodded curtly, never taking his eyes off

of Spencer. At that moment the cur looked up from

his glass, and their eyes met. John felt an icy cold shiver run through

his body, and suddenly he was more convinced than ever

that coming tonight was a bad idea. He had to get Belle out of here.

He'd have to deal with Spencer in his own way.

"He's coming this way!" Belle whispered.

John's eyes narrowed. Spencer had plunked his glass down on a nearby

table and was making his way across the ballroom.

John noticed that he was no longer looking at him; his gaze had shifted

to Belle. Fury and fear raced through him, and his

hand convulsively tightened around hers.

"Good evening, Lord Blackwood, Lady Blackwood," Spencer said mockingly.

"What the hell do you want?" John snapped. It was taking all of his

self-restraint not to jump Spencer right there and then and wrap his

hands around his throat.

"Now, now, Blackwood, why so surly? I've just come to say hello to you

and your lady wife. That is what one is supposed to

do at these events, isn't it? Of course my memory might be playing

tricks on me. It has been so long since I've been to a

London ball. Been out of the country as you know, for an extended period

of time."

"Your point being?"

"It has been a long time since I have danced. I was hoping Lady

Blackwood would do me the honor."

John yanked Belle closer to him. "Absolutely not."

"That's for the lady to decide, don't you think?"

Belle swallowed, trying to work some moisture into her throat, which had

suddenly gone quite dry.

"Your invitation is most kind, Mr. Spencer," she managed to say. "But I

am afraid I have decided not to dance this evening."

"Really? How odd." Spencer's eyes glinted silvery-blue with malice.

"In deference to my husband," Belle improvised. "He does not dance, you

know."

"Oh yes, he's a cripple. I often forget that. But I don't think that

should stop you from enjoying yourself." He stepped

forward and shoved a revolver against John's stomach, pushing it in and

up to knock the wind from his body.

Belle looked down. Her stomach lurched with terror, and for a moment she

thought she would be ill right then and there.

The party was crowded, very crowded. No one would notice that one of the

guests had just pulled a gun on another. If she screamed, Spencer would

surely shoot John before anyone could wrestle the weapon from him. "I— I

would love to dance

with you, Mr. Spencer," she whispered.

"No, Belle." John said in a low voice.

"My husband," she tried to joke. "He gets very jealous. Doesn't like me

to dance with other men."

"I'm sure he won't mind this one time." Spencer pulled the gun back,

took Belle's hand, and led her onto the dance floor. John stood rooted

to the spot, just beginning to get his breath back. His hands balled

into fists, but he couldn't feel his fingernails biting into his palms.

All of his attention, all of his energy, all of his soul was focused on

the two blond heads on the floor. Spencer wouldn't hurt her, he knew

that. Not in the middle of a crowded ballroom, at least. If anything

happened to Belle in front of so many witnesses, Spencer would never get

the chance to eliminate his true target. And John knew that Spencer

wanted him dead.

"What happened? Why is Belle dancing with him?"

John turned and saw Emma, her face creased with fear and worry. "He

pulled a gun on me, and asked Belle to dance."

"Did anybody see?" Alex asked.

John shook his head.

"Damn. It would be better if we had a witness outside the family." Alex

grabbed Emma's hand. "Come on, darling, we're dancing too." With great

speed and not so great grace, the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne made

their way onto the dance floor.

*  *  *

"What do you want?" Belle whispered, her feet automatically following

the steps of the waltz.

Spencer flashed her a broad smile. "Why, just the pleasure of your

company, my lady. Is that so incredible to you?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps I just wanted to make your acquaintance. After all, our lives

have become, shall we say, entwined."

Belle felt anger building up within her, faster than fear. "I'd

appreciate it if you would unentwine them."

"Oh, I plan to do so, have no fear. This evening, if all goes well."

Belle trod on his foot, then apologized prettily. She saw Alex and Emma

dancing just behind Spencer, and she exhaled

slowly, feeling much reassured by their presence.

"But I must admit," Spencer continued. "I am enjoying the look on your

husband's face immensely. I don't think he enjoys

the sight of you in my arms."

"I imagine not." Belle stamped on his foot, this time hard enough to

cause Spencer to grimace.

"You seem like a nice enough chit," he said, once again ignoring her

misstep. "I am sorry to inconvenience you by killing

your husband, but there is nothing to be done about it."

Good God, Belle thought, the man was certifiably insane. She could think

of nothing to say, so she slammed her foot down

on his again, this time with considerable force.

"I see that the tales of your grace have been grossly exaggerated,"

Spencer was finally goaded into saying.

Belle smiled sweetly. "You shouldn't believe half of what the /ton

/tells you. Oh my, is that the end of the dance? I must be off."

"Not so fast." He grabbed her arm. "I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet."

"But the dance is over, sir. Propriety dictates that—"

"Shut up!" Spencer snapped. "I'm going to use you to get your husband

off into a side room. It wouldn't do to kill him in a

crowded ballroom. I'd never escape the scene."

"If you kill him, you'll never get away with it," Belle hissed. "Too

many people know you want him dead. You'll be arrested

within minutes. And if you're not, you'll never be able to show your

face in England again."

"Stupid female. Do you really think I think that I can shoot a nobleman

and expect to live free and easy? I've been living in

exile for five years. I'm used to it. Taking my place in society would

be nice, but I'd rather have my vengeance. Now come

with me." He yanked viciously at her arm, pulling her toward a set of

doors that led to the rest of the house.

Belle acted out of sheer instinct. He wouldn't hurt her now. Not before

he got John. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp

and ran back to John, who was already advancing toward her. "Quick,

we've got to get away from him. He's mad!"

John grasped her hand and started to weave through the crowds. Belle

looked behind her. Spencer was closing the distance between them. Alex

and Emma were behind him, but as a couple they couldn't move as quickly

as he could alone. "This is

too slow," Belle said nervously. "He'll get us before we reach the door."

John didn't reply. He picked up the pace, his leg screaming at the torture.

"John, we're not fast enough. We need to get over there." Belle pointed

to the doors clear across the ballroom. Between

them and their means of escape were a hundred dancing lords and ladies.

"And how do propose we get there? Dance?"

Belle blinked. "Why, yes!" With strength born out of fury and terror,

she pulled John to a halt, planted her hand on his shoulder,

and began waltzing.

"Are you crazy, Belle?"

"Just waltz. And lead us across the room. We'll be there in no time.

Even Spencer wouldn't dare run across the dance floor."

John willed his injured leg into action and slowly began dancing, edging

his way across the room with every step.

In her haste, Belle dug her fingers into his shoulder, trying to propel

him further.

"Will you let me lead?" he hissed, followed by, "So sorry," when they

bumped into another couple.

She craned her neck. "Can you see him?"

"He's trying to make his way around the perimeter. He'll never catch up

with us. A superb plan, love, if I do say so myself."

They whirled frantically, their movements furiously off-beat, but a few

moments later, they reached the other side of the

ballroom. "What are we going to do now?" Belle asked.

"I'm taking you home. Then I'm going to the authorities. I should have

done so long ago, but I didn't think they could do

anything about verbal threats. But a gun in the stomach—that ought to

put him away for some time, at least."

She nodded, following him to the door. "I can be your witness. And I'm