Dancing at Midnight

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.