All things considered, Rhys was fairly certain it could have gone worse. He'd been half convinced that Belle would react the same way she'd reacted every other time they'd tried intimacies and withdraw afterwards, but instead she'd woken and wanted to be held for a little while before they began their day. He was once again in her library checking his correspondence, though without Belle, who had gone for a walk with the dog and Grace.

"You have a visitor," Jefferson said from the door. "It's your father-in-law. I put him in the green drawing room."

"What's he doing here?" Rhys asked, bracing himself on the chair to stand.

Not that he was trying to keep Belle from her father, but Maurice French never seemed quite comfortable with the idea of Belle's marriage and hadn't visited more than a handful of times since.

"He said he had important news," Jefferson said with a shrug. "Do you want your cane?"

Rhys considered his options. It had been close to a month since his injury, but he was still relying mostly on Belle to help him from room to room (though that was at least partially because he liked having her around). He had no idea when Belle would be returning, though, and they couldn't exactly leave her father downstairs by himself all day.

"Bring the cane," he said to Jefferson. "And then make sure Astrid took him tea."

Jefferson nodded and vanished into the hallway for a few moments before returning with Rhys' cane in hand. It took a few minutes for him to find a position that wasn't unbearably painful, then another ten or so to make his way down the stairs to find Maurice pacing agitatedly around the room.

"If you're going to keep pacing," Rhys said, dropping into a chair and stretching his wrist. "Then let me know now so I can have something brought in to read.."

"Is Belle here?" Maurice asked, sitting on one of the settees.

"She's out with her maid," Rhys replied. "She should be back soon. Is something wrong?"

"No," Maurice said. "But there's news."

"Oh?"

"Gaston is engaged," Maurice said. "He's bringing his fiancee home in two weeks for the wedding."

Rhys took a moment to process this news. He didn't know what Belle's feelings on the matter would be; it hadn't been something they had discussed in any depth and he honestly wasn't sure he really wanted to know her opinion one way or the other.

"What do you know about her?" Rhys asked.

"Gaston seems taken," Maurice replied. "Her name is Ruby Lucas, and she owns a steel company. That's about it. How do you think Belle is going to react?"

Truthfully, Rhys wasn't sure. She surprised him sometimes with how resilient she could be, but there was still a fragility in her that scared him. She didn't talk about her cousin, and he'd never asked about him.

"I'm not sure," Rhys said at last. "She's been doing better, but there are still bad days. It's hard to say."

Maurice nodded, still fidgeting in his agitation.

"She'll understand," he said at last. "Belle's a good girl. She has to understand. He has to secure the line."

Rhys wasn't entirely sure what Belle 'had to' understand, but he certainly couldn't blame Maurice for clinging to his hope. At least Belle had definitely known this was coming. There was never any doubt that her cousin would have to marry. It was simply a matter of time as to how long it would take Gaston to select a bride and arrange to bring her back home.

Maurice looked like he was about to say something, but Rose bounced into the room suddenly, followed closely by Belle.

"Papa," she said cheerfully, pulling her gloves off and embracing her father when he stood. "I just got home and they told me you were here!"

She seemed to be in a good mood, and Rhys wasn't sure if he was glad because it meant that she might be buoyed by her already high spirits or if he was sorry they might be spoiling her good mood. Belle and her father exchanged pleasantries, and she eventually took a seat in the chair next to Rhys.

"So, Papa," she said to her father as she mixed sugar into her tea. "What brings you to our home?"

Rhys didn't miss the use of the word 'home' and from the looks of things, neither did her father. Maurice glanced over to Rhys so quickly that he almost missed it. Rhys had the distinct feeling that Maurice had some regrets about the whole situation. Belle obviously had picked up on at least some of her father's discomfort, but she also seemed to take some mild offense to it - or at least enough offense to want to go out of her way to show him she was happy. If nothing else, Rhys was going to carry the knowledge that she was happy with him.

"Your cousin has sent news," Maurice said with an incredibly forced smile on his face. "He's coming home."

"He found a wife?" she said evenly. "How lovely."

Rhys could see the tension in her hands as she spoke, and it was all he could do to keep himself from putting his hand on hers and offering her some support.

"He did," Maurice confirmed. "They'll be home soon and the wedding is in two weeks."

"Am I invited?" she asked and Rhys almost missed the bitterness in her voice.

"Of course, sweeting," her father said instantly. "If you'd like to come. Your husband too, of course."

Belle nodded and took a sip of her tea.

"Be sure to let us know the details," Rhys said at last. "And we'll try to be there if it's possible. It is very last minute."

Belle looked at him gratefully, and he knew she'd been looking for a polite way to say she didn't want to go. She was his wife and he would protect her as long as he could.

Maurice looked at Rhys with surprise in his eyes, then back at Belle quickly.

"Of course," Maurice said, apparently recognizing what was going on and switching back to small talk with his daughter.

Maurice only lingered about a quarter of an hour, and when he left, Belle remained in the parlour sipping tea quietly for a little while more. Rhys knew he should say something to her - either to bring up the upcoming marriage and ask her feeling on the matter or find something to say that might distract her from the news. He couldn't think of what to say, though, so he said nothing. He simply sat with her until the tea got cold and the dog ran off to find someone more interesting to play with.

Belle was going to be replaced. It was strange to think of it that way, because she'd already married and was happy with her husband, but this new girl was going to be her replacement. She had known it was coming, but it still hurt that she'd been cast aside. She had the overwhelming urge to throw herself at her husband like she had when she'd found out he was worried about her inability to be around his son. It would be another way to prove she was happy in her marriage, but she wasn't sure what to do about it. She was happy with Rhys; happier than she'd been with Gaston. She just...she wanted people to understand that and stop pitying her. She also wanted her home back. It hadn't been a lie to tell her father this was her home, but she missed where she had grown up and she missed being able to walk into any home in the country and find a welcome.

"Have you ever met an American?" she asked her husband after a little while.

"For business," he replied, looking at her curiously. "Why?"

"I've never really spent much time with any," she said as calmly as she could. "My friends and I never spent much time with the dollar princesses."

"Oh?"

"They're not our sort of people," she said bitterly, glancing up at him and then suddenly remembering her new place in society. "Or at least they weren't mine."

Apparently now she'd been replaced by one. It was the final slap in the face of the entire situation. Belle had been raised in that house and now another woman would be taking her place - a woman she had been taught to dislike. Another woman's children would grow up in the house Belle had been told her children would grow up in and that her son was supposed to inherit.

Belle wasn't even sure she'd ever have any children anymore.

"Do you want more children?" she asked him finally, staring into the dregs of her tea so she wouldn't have to make eye contact.

Her husband just about fell out of his chair at her question, setting his teacup down so hard it clattered on the saucer.

"I hadn't thought about it," he said without ever taking his eyes off of her. "Why? Do you want children?"

"I had been considering it," she replied. "Isn't that what people do?"

"It...can be," he said slowly. "But I certainly don't expect anything from you."

"I I think I'd like some," she replied. "At some point."

"Would you?" he asked, his voice cracking a little bit. "I hadn't realized you thought about it."

"I've been thinking about it since I was a child," she said. "I don't think I'd like to be like this forever."

Rhys looked like she'd cornered him with a pistol and she felt bad for it, but she couldn't stop barreling ahead.

"I just want us to be a family," she explained. "A proper family. I love you, and I want to be a mother."

"I...you...you love me?" he said dully.

As fast as her mind was racing, it took Belle a moment to piece together what she'd actually said a moment before, but there it was. She'd not meant to say it like that. She'd wanted to wait for the right moment to tell him. Ideally, it would have been some special occasion and she'd have had some idea whether he felt the same or not. She certainly didn't want to blurt it out over lukewarm tea after a visit from her father.

"I do," she said finally, trying to keep her voice from cracking in her nervousness. "Does that surprise you?"

If she'd hoped for a declaration of his affection - or even an acceptance of hers - she was going to be disappointed. Indeed, if she'd dared to hope for anything other than all the color draining from his face, then it wasn't to be. He stared at her in confusion for a few moments during which her heart seemed to stop and start in little fits. She was fairly certain that she was going to melt into the floorboards.

"Why?" he finally said after a few moments. From the shocked look on his face after, she could tell he hadn't entirely meant to say it - but now that he had, there wasn't any way for either of them to ignore it.

"You're my husband," she said almost instantly. "Why wouldn't I love you?"

He was pressing his hands into his thighs hard.

"You shouldn't," he replied. "I never meant for you to."

Belle wasn't sure what to even say to that. He'd never meant for her to love him? Well, she'd never meant to love him, and yet here they were. There was no sense in denying that she loved him, because she did and she wanted to continue to do so.

"Well, I do," she said softly and a thought occurred to her. "It's all right if you don't feel the same. I don't expect you to."

"That's not it," he said, and she couldn't control her smile at that.

Belle reached out to put her hand on his thigh, and he practically fell out of his seat trying to get away from her.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he continued with panic in his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She was about to ask why on Earth he was apologizing for her loving him when he damn near threw himself at the wall and used it to prop himself up so he could leave the room as though he were afraid of her. She briefly considered following him, but the image of chasing him around the house while he limped away from her was too ridiculous to contemplate - so she stayed where she was until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

Either he had fallen on the stairs, in which case she needed to go find him, or he'd found himself a hole to hide from her in and it was safe to retreat to her own little fortress and lick her wounds. The library was empty this time of day; Lizzie would be attending to her regular duties and Grace was probably out on an errand. That left Belle alone to stew in her confusion. She truly didn't understand her husband - she'd thought they were close enough to an understanding. They slept together, spent their days together, he relied on her for his mobility and she'd entrusted him with her body in almost every way. Was it really so unbelievable she might come to love him?

After he'd had a half hour to cool down, Rhys realized he'd acted like a complete fool. He owed Belle an apology and probably an explanation, but he couldn't bring himself to go seek her out yet. For one thing, he had no idea what to tell her. What do you say to a woman after you react to her declaration of love as though she was trying to murder you?

He'd meant to go to her before dinner, but he got sidetracked by returning to his room and then dinner was served (and since his accident they'd been eating upstairs) and it wasn't until she didn't come to his room by the time she usually came to bed that he realized he absolutely had to do something or this was going to become a very real problem. He considered claiming he didn't know where she was (which would at least have let him put off the inevitable) but the reality of the situation was that she was likely either in her library or her bedroom. There weren't many other places she spent any considerable amount of time and the one room was on the way to the other.

Sure enough, she was sitting quietly in her library when he found her with a book cradled on her lap. He liked coming upon her in those moments when she hadn't quite realized he was there. He would become incredibly self-conscious about her looking at him sometimes, but if she didn't know he was around he could just see her and be happy that she was in his life.

When she didn't notice him right away he eventually knocked on the door, drawing her attention up. She smiled briefly, but just as quickly as it had come he saw her struggle to force the corners of her mouth down. His heart broke just a little bit. He'd obviously hurt her, and now he had to make it right.

"I came to apologize," he said by way of greeting. "I acted terribly this afternoon."

"Did you?" she replied with a studied calm, marking her place in her book and setting it aside. "I don't remember that."

He had expected her to be a little angry, but that didn't really make it much easier to handle her (entirely justified) scorn.

"I deserve that," he said. "And you have every right to be upset. You said something wonderful and I could not have reacted worse."

"Why did you react that way, anyway?" she asked him, and he must have flinched because she continued. "If you want me to forgive you, I'd like to know what I did."

He took a deep, bracing breath to steady himself for what must come next.

"It wasn't anything you did," he said, coming to sit near her. "You love me, and that's wonderful. I do love you, too, Belle. My God, how could I not? You're wonderful."

"I don't understand," she said. "Then why were you so upset?"

"Do you remember our agreement before we got married?" he asked her. "The one you asked for when I proposed?"

"I remember everything about that," she said stiffly. "Do you mean about how I didn't think I could be a true wife? Rhys, I changed my mind. I'd like to at least try to have a real marriage."

"I do," he said. "It...I didn't just agree to that for your sake."

"No?"

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't want to ever be in a position to hurt you - any woman, really."

He had no idea how to put this into words. He'd never told anyone about this at all, not even Neal's mother. How do you tell a woman that the idea of penetrating her was terrifying? It was especially bad with Belle, who knew the same fear. Milah had been completely trusting of him, and even later her main complaint with their marriage had been boredom and nothing he'd done - it had been more of what he'd failed to do, really. It was close to amazing that Neal had even been conceived.

He could manage well enough when it came down to it, and he did enjoy sex. The problem, really, was that he was easily upset by any indication that his partner was in pain or anxious. Early on in his first marriage, every attempt had been utter hell before he realized that certain sounds hadn't been bad signs. He probably even could have gone through with it with Belle the time she'd convinced him to try, but he sincerely doubted he'd have been able to relax long enough to finish. She'd been too nervous, and he'd been far too attuned to her mood. It turned out that had been a good thing, in the end, but he didn't think he'd be able to handle another rejection like that, either.

He was feeling that sick panicky feeling in his stomach again, and he was fighting the urge to run away again as she spoke.

"You're not going to hurt me," she said softly, reaching out and taking his hand. "You've never hurt me."

"You can't be sure of that," he replied around the bile that was rising in his throat. "You hardly know what it would even be like."

"I know enough," she said in a huff. "At the very least, I think I know what it shouldn't be like."

He winced a little at the reminder of what she'd been through, she was so innocent still, in spite of everything. He wished he could go back and shoot Nottingham before he had a chance to touch Belle. She could have been spared everything and lived a warm and happy life like she truly deserved, instead of this sham of a marriage with a broken man.

"I'd like to at least try," she said finally. "With you. I want to try with you."

"You're not ready," he said weakly more because he didn't have any other idea what to say to change her mind than any real conviction. "You do this when you're upset sometimes, you try to force things."

"That may be true," she replied. "But it doesn't have to always be true. I'm getting better - you know I am - and I don't want to be like this forever. I want to have a normal life someday."

He nodded, but he still wasn't sure what to tell her. He wanted her to have a normal life as well, but it wasn't something he was sure he could do himself.

"We can both be better, you know," she continued. "We can get better together if you'd like."

She was talking about being better as though he had a time before this that he could return to. He had always been this way and he was sure now that it was a part of him as inalienable as the color of his eyes and the way he couldn't stand the taste of tomatoes.

But Belle was looking at him and her eyes were so hopeful and trusting as though she was absolutely certain that there was some part of him that had existed before. She had been raised in love, he'd been raised in anger, and she had no idea that there was any difference between them. He wanted to be a better man for her, but there was suddenly this unbridgeable gulf between them. Perhaps it had been a mistake to marry her. He'd thought he could give her a home - a safe place where she could be free from any demands, and now he was beginning to fear he'd instead trapped her in a marriage that could never be everything she hoped.

He didn't know how to tell her all that, though. How could he even begin to explain it to his wife? Belle thought he was saveable, but there was nothing left of him to save.

He at last became aware of her hand resting on his. She must have put it there while he was lost in his thoughts and the little gesture stung his heart.

"We can try," he said at last, because what else could he say to her? That he was a sad, broken man and that she should give up all hope of fixing him before it was too late?

She smiled at his words, and leaned forward to kiss him again. He savored the sensation of her lips brushing against his as long as the moment lasted. She pulled away after a few seconds, and he felt the loss intensely before remembering himself.

"I brought you a present," he said, reaching into his jacket and removing the roll of papers he'd tied with a ribbon in preparation for the moment he would give it to her.

Belle looked at him curiously, reaching out and accepting the gift from him. It had taken him weeks to assemble this gift. Weeks of writing letters to his solicitor (and one or two to his son), the release of thousands of pounds, and more than a few favors being called in. She flipped through the pages slowly, taking time to read the words.

"I don't understand," she said after a few minutes. "What is all this?"

"It's Nottingham," he replied, and he saw her hands twitch just a little bit at the name on his lips. "Or at least, it's his estate. Every debt he owes, I bought. What you hold in your hands is at least ten years of his annual income, far more than he can afford to repay in one go at any rate."

Her mouth was hanging open a little and she looked back down, flipping through the papers incredibly quick, her eyes scanning the numbers on each one.

"You shouldn't have spent all this money," she exclaimed. "It's not worth it. How did you even have this much money?"

"I didn't pay the full value of any of them," Rhys replied. "Well, maybe the first few. Some of them I traded in favors for, some I paid full value for, but most people sold them to me at a reduction once they realized what his financial state was. They figured it was better to get something before he became insolvent rather than nothing later."

"But why?" she asked him, still holding the collected IOUs, receipts, and bills in her hands like she was afraid to drop them. "This must have cost a fortune. Why did you do it?"

"For one thing, I could afford it," he replied, hoping the smile he had forced onto his face wasn't entirely off putting. "Unlike him, I actually have several sources of income. This can be made up within a year or two. And for another, now you have control over him."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm giving the debts to you," he said. "They're yours to do with as you wish. Every moment he's out gambling and not selling off furniture is by your leave. You can call them in tonight if you'd like, and you would be well within your rights to do so. Or you can hold them as long as you like - he doesn't know that they've been purchased, and even if he went looking for them he'd only land at my solicitor. The important thing is, he's entirely at your mercy and you can do whatever you want with him. I'll support you in whatever you choose."

He'd suspected she would probably cry, but he hadn't quite expected her to fling herself at him, wrap her arms around his neck, and sob into his chest. It was incredibly awkward, since they had both been seated in armchairs, but it was somehow comforting having her curled up halfway on his lap and halfway crammed between himself and the arm of the chair. She was soft and warm and he knew she wasn't crying because she was sad this time and that made it all worthwhile.

"Thank you," she said at last, wiping her cheeks with a handkerchief. "It's the nicest gift anyone's ever given me."

"Am I forgiven, then?" he teased, gently brushing a curl that had fallen loose of its confines behind her ear.

"Of course," she replied, smiling at him and curling her face back into his neck for a little bit longer. It was definitely not the most comfortable he'd ever been in his life, but he'd have spent the night there gladly.

"Will you sleep in my room tonight?" she asked eventually. "I have something I'd like to show you."

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied. "Anything you like."

She smiled at him sweetly and slowly disengaged herself from his lap. He missed her instantly, but she leaned down and kissed his forehead gently.

"Do you need help to your room?" she asked him.

"I managed this far on my own," he replied. "I think I can manage that."

She nodded at him again, and on an impulse he took her hand in both of his and pressed a kiss to it before she could leave his side. There was no sense in lingering too much longer after that, and he made his way back to his room to change into his nightclothes. He wasn't sure what she could possibly want with him in her room, but he would go wherever she wanted him if that's what it took to keep her happy. He'd always wanted her happiness, really. He just wasn't always sure how to go about providing for it. Belle deserved so much better than him, but then she deserved better than she'd gotten out of life to begin with, too. None of it was fair.

Once he was dressed for bed, it took him a few more minutes to make his way down the hall using the wall for support. At least if nothing else came from all of this, he'd learned a new way to get around without hurting his wrist with the cane so Belle could have a bit more freedom. He'd only be in the splint another few weeks anyway. It wouldn't be so bad, once it was all taken care of. He could wait that long.

He'd barely knocked on Belle's door when it swung open and she was standing there in her pink nightgown and a shawl. He was completely dumbfounded. Since they'd begun sharing a bed, he'd seen her in a nightgown many times (and the one time in her shift) but she'd always begun the evening in a dressing gown of some sort. Sometimes it was the pretty purple one, and sometimes it was a green velvet, but he'd never seen her walking around in nothing but a nightgown.

She had her hair tied in a loose braid and draped over her shoulder as well, which also didn't fit her usual routine. She would braid her hair tightly to keep it from tangling in the night; she never left it so loose that strands of it were spilling out around her face a little. She was smiling and barefoot and when she backed up to grant him entry, he felt his heart tighten in his chest.

This was a seduction if he'd ever seen one in his life, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face it. It was perhaps the most innocent looking seduction he'd ever been a part of, because she still wore a shawl around her shoulders to cover her breasts and hadn't even thought to leave the ribbon at her neck untied, but if anything that just made the entire effect more endearing. It did bring a pang to his heart, if the people who had shunned Belle could see his wife - the fallen woman who had apparently tricked him into marriage - at that moment there was absolutely no mistaking her for a practiced seductress. How could anyone ever have taken her as one? She was so on edge that he could practically hear her pulse beating beneath her skin and her smile kept slipping in her nervousness, but dear God she was beautiful.

"Hello," she said in a voice that was probably supposed to sound tempting but she was so nervous her voice cracked a little and she had to clear her throat. "Thank you for coming."

She was the furthest thing from the temptress she'd clearly hoped to imitate, but somehow that just made him even more terrified. He couldn't decline her, but to do anything else was entirely beyond him. Rhys had no idea what he was going to do.