Belle sighed and snuggled down into her quilts. "I don't deny it."
Emma leaned forward, intensely interested. "Are you in love with him?"
"I don't know. How can one tell?"
Emma thought for a moment before answering. "One just somehow knows. It creeps up on a person. The poets write of love at first sight, but I don't think it happens like that."
Belle's smile was wistful. "Only in romantic novels, I suppose."
"Yes." Emma suddenly straightened. "I'd best be getting off to bed. I want to make an early start tomorrow."
"Have a safe trip," Belle called out.
"We will. Oh, and please offer our apologies to Lord Blackwood tomorrow as we won't be able to attend the fair with you. Although I imagine you'll enjoy it better without us."
"I'm sure we will."
Emma made a face. "Just don't invite him back here afterwards. And whatever you do, don't go over to Bellamy Park alone."
"I don't think that's what it's called."
"What is the name?"
Belle sighed. "I can't remember. Something with a 'B.'"
"Well, whatever it's called, don't go there. Your mother would have my head."
Belle nodded and blew out the candles as Emma exited the room.
***
Shortly after noon the next day, John set out toward Westonbirt, reminding himself for the hundredth time that he was going to have to put an end to this infatuation with Belle. It was getting so damned hard to push her away. She seemed to have so much faith in him that he had almost been able to believe he deserved the happiness she offered.
But dreams had a funny way of working themselves into everyday life, and John couldn't shake the image of Belle lying on that bed in Spain, her body ravaged and used.
He couldn't be with her. He knew this now more than ever. He'd tell her today. He swore to himself that he would do it, no matter how painful the task. He'd do it… after the fair. One more blissful afternoon surely couldn't hurt.
On horseback it took only fifteen minutes to reach Westonbirt. John left his powerful stallion in the stables, walked up the front steps, and lifted his hand to knock.
Norwood opened the door before his knuckles even connected with the wood. "How do you do, my lord," he intoned. "Lady Arabella is waiting for you in the yellow salon."
"No, I'm not," Belle chirped, popping out of one of the many rooms which bordered the great hall. "Hello, John. I know I'm supposed to wait dutifully for you in the salon, but I was too impatient. You'll never guess what happened."
"I'm sure I won't."
"Alex and Emma had to rush off at the crack of dawn. Alex's sister is having her baby."
"Congratulations," John said automatically. "Does that mean that our outing is canceled?"
"Of course not." Hadn't he noticed that she was dressed in her best riding habit? "I see no reason why the two of us cannot have a lovely time by ourselves."
John smiled at her artless words but privately thought that he was treading dangerous waters, indeed. "As you wish, my lady."
The couple rode out in companionable silence, enjoying the brisk breezes of the autumn weather. The fair was actually located closer to John's home than to Westonbirt, so they crossed over the border between the two properties and rode past Bletchford Manor on their way. As they passed the stately old home, John commented, as he always did, "Damn, but I've got to come up with another name for this place."
"I heartily agree," Belle replied. "Brimstone Park conjures up images of hellfire and the like."
John shot her an odd look. "It isn't called Brimstone Park."
"It isn't? Oh, of course it isn't. I knew that." Belle smiled weakly. "What is it called again?"
"Bletchford Manor," John replied, wincing as he said the name.
"Good gracious, thaf s even worse. At least Brimstone Park had some character to it. And 'bletch' rhymes with 'retch,' which conjures up images even more unfortunate than hellfire."
"Believe me, I am well aware of all of the unpleasant aspects of the present name."
"Don't worry, we'll come up with something." Belle patted John comfortingly on his forearm. "Just give me a little time. I'm quite clever with words."
They reached the fairgrounds, and Belle's attention was immediately diverted by a man on stilts a few yards away from them. They were soon swept up into the rhythm of the fair.
"I've always wondered how they do that," Belle pondered as they stopped before a brightly dressed juggler.
"I imagine it's just a matter of throwing the balls up in the air with the right timing."
Belle elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't be such a spoilsport. You take the magic out of everything. Oh, look at those ribbons!" Letting go of John's hand, she hurried over to the ribbon-seller and inspected his wares. By the time John caught up with her, she already had two ribbons in hand and was deciding between them. "Which do you prefer, John? This?" She held a pink ribbon up against her hair. "Or this?" she asked, replacing the pink ribbon with a red one.
John crossed his arms and pretended to give the matter ample thought before reaching out and plucking a bright blue one off the table. "I prefer this one. It is the exact color of your eyes."
Belle looked over at him, caught the warm caress of his gaze, and simply melted. "Then I must have the blue one," she said softly.
They stood there locked into place by each other's stare until the ribbon-seller destroyed the moment with a loud, "A-hem!" Belle tore her eyes away from John and reached down into her reticule, but before she could retrieve any coins, John had paid for the ribbon and placed it in her hands.