Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners)(24)

“You intend to have me arrested?” She felt hollow, numbed by Dante’s duplicity.

His eyes were cold. “If you are guilty, yes.”

This had become an undreamed-of nightmare to Bella. Something so unexpected, so unbelievable, she could hardly comprehend it was happening.

She gave a dazed shake of her head. “I do not know the Monroes at all. I believe this morning was the first time I have ever said more than a few polite words to them.”

“Nevertheless, your contact with them has necessitated my sending word to my associate in London for the Monroes to be apprehended and questioned.”

“How…?”

He shrugged. “I engaged the service of one of Mr. Rogers’s grooms. He left early this morning, and should already have reached London and relayed my message.”

The ice about Bella’s heart was starting to melt and be replaced by her earlier fury. “Then I suggest you also send word to your Prince Regent that I am not, nor have I ever been, a spy for Napoleon. That I would never contemplate helping a man whose quest for power was ultimately responsible for the death of my father and my husband. The Prince Regent, being the man that he is, might also enjoy knowing I was gullible enough to suck your cock on the journey here!” She turned on her heel, tears blinding her as she all but ran up the stairs.

How dare he?

How dare he!

How dare they?

Bella had no idea who that third party might be, but as far as she was concerned, the Prince Regent and the Duke of Huntley could both go to hell.

Dante stood alone downstairs, exactly where Bella had left him, for once in his life unsure how to proceed. One thing he did know was his erection had begun to wilt at the onset of this conversation with Bella, and it had now deflated completely. Which was perhaps as well, because, as he had suspected, Bella’s anger and disgust toward him assured there would be no more lovemaking between the two of them today. In all probability, ever again.

He had known this would not end well. It was the very reason he had gone to see Nik four nights ago and tried to remove himself from this situation. The last thing he wanted was for Bella to hate him.

Too late.

His expression was grim as he now crossed the room to the tray of drinks on the side cabinet, pouring three fingers of brandy into a glass before downing it all in two swallows. He drew his breath in sharply even as he welcomed the burning sensation down the length of his throat, followed by that heat exploding in his stomach. He poured himself a second glass. He might as well get roaring drunk, because he very much doubted he would even see Bella again this evening.



It was fully dark when Bella woke, her eyes feeling gritty and sore from where she had cried herself to sleep several hours ago. She had not thought to light a fire earlier, and the bedchamber felt a little chilled. But no more so than Bella’s heart.

Dante believed her to be a traitor to her adopted country.

The Prince Regent and another unnamed man who was a spymaster for the Crown also suspected her of treason.

Fresh tears stung her eyes and fell soundlessly down her cheeks.

Living in France until she was nine years old was a distant memory, as was the family she still had there, an aunt and uncle, and several cousins older than herself. She and her mother had left France all those years ago because of the unrest caused by Napoleon and his army. They had totally embraced their adopted country once they arrived in England, her mother’s eventual marriage to a marquis securing them both a place in England’s aristocracy. Bella’s own marriage to Lord Jeremy Aston six years ago had confirmed that place.

Perhaps that was the—what was it called when… Ah yes, modus operandi. Perhaps integrating and becoming a part of England’s aristocracy was the modus operandi of all French spies?

Perhaps, but to now know she was suspected of being one, not just by Dante but also the highest authority in the land, was hurtful in the extreme.

Although it had not succeeded in robbing her of her appetite, she recognized self-disgustedly as her stomach now gave a low growl. She had no idea what the time was, but her early breakfast this morning seemed a very long time ago.

Bella lay on the bed and listened to the sounds of the house. She could hear the creaking and settling of the floorboards and the timber it was built from. The wind rustling the leaves on the trees outside. The ticking of a clock somewhere inside the house. But otherwise, all was silent.

Was Dante still here?

Surely, with his suspicions toward her, he would not have gone out and left her alone in the house?

More likely he had also retired to one of the six bedchambers Bella had discovered on the second floor before choosing this one looking out at the beautiful forest beyond, and he was now asleep.

If so, then it was safe for her to go down to the kitchen and hopefully make herself a cup of tea. She could also prepare something to eat from the box of provisions the groom and driver had carried in from the carriage earlier.

After which, she would turn her attention to how she might leave here and return to London without Dante knowing she had gone. At least until it was too late for him to stop her. He had mentioned the nearby village earlier. If she walked to the inn there and was careful, she might avoid being seen by Dante’s driver and groom. It should then be a simple matter to persuade the innkeeper, with the incentive of some of the money in her purse, into providing her with a form of transport which she might use to take her far away from Hampshire.