"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 sure Alex and Emma and Dunford can testify." She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that John wasn't planning to take the law into his own hands. If he killed Spencer, he'd be hanged.
They had just reached the cold night air when Ehmford suddenly burst upon them. "Wait!" he yelled, stopping to catch his breath. "He's got your mother, Belle."
"What?" The blood drained from her face. "How?"
"I have no idea, but I saw him leave the room with her a few moments ago, and he was holding her very close to his side."