"No," she choked out. "No, you didn't. You told me you didn't."
"It might as well have been me," he said, unconsciously echoing Ana's mother's words.
"John, don't say such things. It wasn't your fault."
He let go of her with a chilling abruptness and strode over to the window. "I could have gone up to that room a thousand times before I finally did."
Belle's hand crept up to cover her horrified mouth. "Oh, John, what has this done to you?" she whispered.
"Has it made me less of a man? Yes. Has it blackened my soul? Yes. Has it-"
"Stop!" She covered her ears, unable to bear his words. "I don't want to hear it."
He whirled around. "You're damn well going to hear it." When she didn't move, he stalked back to her and wrenched her hands from her ears. "This is the man you married, Belle. For better or for worse. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"When will you understand that I don't care what happened in Spain? I'm sorry that it did, and I pray for that poor girl's soul, but beyond that, I don't care! It hasn't made you an evil person, and it doesn't make me love you any less!"
"Belle," he said flatly. "I don't want your love. I can't accept it."
Before she even realized what she was about, her hand flew up, and she slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" she breathed, her entire body shaking with rage. "How dare you belittle me this way?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I have never, not even once in my life, given my love to another man. And you throw it back in my face like a trifle."
His hand closed around her wrist. "You misunderstand me. It is because I value your love so highly that I do not accept it."
"You don't accept it because you don't want to accept it. You're mired in misplaced guilt and self-pity. How am I meant to build a life with a man who cannot leave the past where it belongs?"
He dropped her hand, feeling like the lowliest of bastards simply for touching her.
"How can I possibly let myself continue to love a man who can never love me back?"
He stared at her, his entire body suddenly feeling rather queer. "But Belle," he whispered. "I do love you."
John wasn't certain how he expected her to respond, but it was certainly not in the manner she did. She stepped back as if hit, and for a moment she was utterly incapable of speech. She pointed a finger out, jabbing it in his direction while her throat worked violently. "No," she finally gasped. "No. Don't say that. Don't tell me that."
He merely looked at her, every emotion he had ever felt for her clearly written on his face. Love, guilt, hope, longing, fear… They were all there.
"You can't do that," she said, each word a hoarse little stab of pain. "You're not allowed. You can't say that and not let me do the same. It isn't fair."
He reached for her. "Belle, I-"
"No!" She jumped back. "Don't touch me. I- Don't touch me."
"Belle, I don't know what to say." He looked down.
"I can't talk to you," she said wildly. "Not now. I can't talk to you. I… I… I… " Her words jumbled in her throat. Her entire body was so overtaken with emotion that she could no longer speak. She swallowed convulsively, pulled open the door, and flew from the room.
"Belle!" John called out. She didn't hear him. He sank into a chair. "I love you."
But the words sounded pathetic, even to him.
Chapter 20
Belle had no idea where she was going when she left the room, but when she bumped into Mary, her maid, in the corridor, she knew what she needed to do.
"Put on your cloak, Mary," she said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. "I need to go out."
Mary glanced out the window. "It's quite overcast, my lady. Are you certain your errand cannot wait until tomorrow?"
"I don't have an errand. I just want to go outside."
Mary heard the choking sound in her lady's voice and nodded. "I'll be right back."
Belle clutched her own cloak to her body. She'd never even had a chance to take it off after she and John had stormed home from Hardiman's Tea Shoppe.
After a moment Mary came scurrying down the stairs. Belle didn't even wait for her to reach the bottom before pulling open the front door. She needed fresh air. She needed to be outside.
They strode along Upper Brook Street to Park Lane. Mary immediately made to turn south. "Don't you want to go to Rotten Row?" she asked when Belle kept heading west without her.
Belle shook her head furiously. "I want to get away from the crowds."
"I wouldn't worry about that, my lady." Mary looked about. All of fashionable London was scrambling to leave the park. The heavens looked as if they might open at any moment. "I really think you should consider going home. I'm sure it will rain soon. And if s growing dark. Your mother will have my head. Or your husband."
Belle whirled around. "Do mention him."
Mary took a step back. "All right, my lady."
Belle immediately let out a contrite sigh. "I'm sorry, Mary. I don't mean to be so short with you."
Her maid placed a consoling hand on her arm. They had been together for several years now, and Mary knew her employer well. "It's all right, my lady. He loves you very much."
"That's just the problem," Belle muttered. She took a deep breath and forged further into the park. How far they walked she wasn't sure. Probably not very far, but the wind and the cold tired her. Finally, she turned around. "Let's go home, Mary."