Belle was still uneasy that night, and she laid awake next to her sleeping husband. It had been easy to pretend not to be worried all day when she'd had distractions and people to talk to, but now in the dark when there was nothing else to take her mind off of it, she had to admit to herself that she was afraid.

Desmond Ramsey, youngest son of a country earl, had been at the park. What he'd been doing awake that early in the morning was entirely beyond her, but there he'd been, plain as day, promenading with a young lady she didn't recognize. She almost hadn't recognized him without Nottingham nearby. The two were practically inseparable and had been as long as she'd been aware of either. She wasn't sure if he'd seen her or not, but even so, the idea of it had been horrifying. She'd done so well at avoiding her old life the entire time they'd been in the city that this felt like an invasion into a world she'd struggled so hard to build.

What would she do if Nottingham came looking for her? She'd been preparing for this, but it had always been a vague hypothetical situation. It was something that required knives and an obsessive attention to her surroundings. The idea of him had always seemed strangely unreal and larger than life since the attack, and she suddenly needed to see if the packet of his debt Rhys had given her was still safely where she'd left it. She knew it were there, because who would have moved it? But her chest was tightening and the idea that maybe she couldn't reach it at a moment's notice was rushing through her head over and over again until she finally got out of bed as carefully as possible, grabbed the dagger out of the box that she kept it in on her nightstand, and dashed to the dressing room as fast as she dared with Rhys still asleep.

She'd put the papers into a leather folder and then hidden the packet in a hat box in her dressing room for the trip to London. She'd never really been certain of what to do with the gift – it had been too much to really think about at the time, and every possible use for them seemed as good as any other. Revenge would be nice, but she liked the security of having it be her secret as well. And if she were to get revenge, what would be the best way to present it to him? The possibilities had been far too many for her to make any decisions on the matter, and she'd left it as something to take out as a reminder that she was safe and her husband loved her. Now, though, she ran her fingers over the soft leather cover over and over again as she tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. She was safe, she was loved, she was protected. No matter what Nottingham did, he couldn't reach her anymore.

She didn't know how long she sat on the floor of the dressing room cradling the sheath of papers in her arms before suddenly the cloud cleared and she realized how silly this was. It was the middle of the night and she was on the cold floor holding papers and a dagger, as though they'd stave off the evil. She still wasn't tired, but she was exhausted, body and soul. How much longer was she going to be haunted by this?

Belle returned the papers to their hiding place, still feeling silly as she place the hat box on its shelf and let herself out of the dressing room before going back to bed. The dagger went back in its box and she climbed under the covers with Rhys. He was warm and she was chilled, and he felt so nice to be with. He stirred as she cuddled up to him and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled, stroking her arms slowly. "You're cold."

"I am," she replied. "Go back to sleep."

He nodded and hummed a little and she felt him relax again. The sun was coming up, and she was safe in her husband's arms as sleep finally reached her.

Belle hadn't slept more than a few hours before she felt her husband begin to stir next to her. She was still tired, but she was also itching to be moving. She still wasn't sure what she planned to do for her walk. Not going would mean admitting that she was upset, and no matter that she knew Rhys would be desperate to help her any way he could, she just wanted to not be a bother. He'd told her that he had work to do in town, and all she wanted was for him to finish so they could go home.

She smiled as well as she could and kissed him on the cheek before he left, and promised to see him that evening. After that, it had been so easy to just follow her usual routine. The dog still needed to be walked, and she didn't know where else to tell the driver to take them besides Hyde Park. Somehow, it would have been too much effort to ask to go elsewhere, and it would have been a sign that something was wrong, and she just wanted to pretend like everything was still wonderful.

The closer they drew to their destination, the tighter the knot of fear in her belly tightened and the more convinced she was she had to continue. Rose was already wriggling excitedly in her lap at the prospect of getting onto the ground and getting to sniff all her usual places. Why should Belle let Nottingham deprive Rose of this enjoyment? Why should she let him deprive her of every pleasure? Besides, for what she feared to come to pass, Ramsey would have had to see her in the park - and she wasn't sure that he had. It was also possible that Ramsey and Nottingham had fallen out over something or that it wouldn't even have occurred to Ramsey to tell Nottingham about her. Even if he did, he would think she came later in the day. Nobody would be there when she arrived, she was sure of it.

It was the absolutely unlikeliness of anything bad happening that kept her moving forward through the park. She wasn't relaxed, but she was moving. Rosie stopped and was sniffing some flowers when Belle felt a prickly feeling on her spine that had her instantly on alert. They hadn't roamed as far from the carriage as they'd been used to, but even so Belle suddenly didn't feel safe. She looked around as discretely as possible before she saw him. It took her a moment to recognize Nottingham as a human and not the thing that had haunted her nightmares. He was shorter than she'd remembered – smaller, less monstrous. He looked so normal as he strode towards her casually, and for some reason that unnerved her more than if he'd been breathing fire as he approached.

The whole scene felt strangely unreal – it was actually the calmest she'd been since the previous evening. Everything was moving in a strange sort of slow motion as she bent to scoop Rose up in her arms and turned towards the carriage. She was closer to it than he was to her by quite a lot, she just had to walk back and she'd be shut up inside on her way home before he could get to her. It felt like somebody else's body walking back to the carriage even as she heard him call her name from closer than she thought he was. Lizzie was already inside, and Belle handed the puppy up to her maid before the footman helped her in herself.

"Don't stop for that man," she said, and the footman glanced behind him before nodding and shutting the door on the women. Belle heard Nottingham's voice again as the horses started walking, and she was safe.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were shaking as she carefully stroked Rose's fur. The puppy seemed to have sensed some of her owner's distress and was watching Belle with big brown eyes and worry plain on her face. Belle wondered how much the dog had understood, but just the fact that Rose had been concerned for her wellbeing brought tears to her eyes as they drove home.

Rhys wasn't getting a damn thing done that day and he knew it. Neal was doing a fantastic job with keeping the books, and there wasn't anything particularly important happening now that Isaac had been placated. More and more, he was starting to feel like his life wasn't there anymore, it was at home with Belle and their little life in the country. He was still thinking about what they'd discussed about having children someday, and he was beginning to become excited by the idea. Neal would likely have a mild stroke over it, but he knew his son would come around eventually as well. They'd all be a family and it would be lovely.

He was halfway through a delightful little fantasy of children playing in the garden of the little house (she was going to want someplace bigger if there were children, wasn't she?) when Maurice French arrived with a strange anxious energy radiating off of him and Rhys thought he might know the source of it.

"Good morning," Rhys said. "You didn't quite beat Miss Lucas' letter here – though I suppose it must be Mrs. French by now, mustn't it?"

"Oh God," Moe said, all the frenetic energy seeming to leave him as he fell into one of the chairs by Rhys' desk. "How did Belle take the news?"

"She was fine," Rhys replied. "The two of them were thick as thieves before we had to leave for town. If anything, I think she's relieved she didn't have to go to a wedding."

"That's good," Moe said. "I never know what's going to set her off, you know."

"She's not that mysterious," Rhys said, trying to keep annoyance out of his voice. "There's definite things that set her off, but they're easy enough to avoid if you watch her reactions and think about things from her perspective."

It was a strange thing to discuss Belle with her father. They'd barely spoken since Belle had confided her treatment in the aftermath of her assault and while Rhys knew she didn't hold any particular grudge against her father, but he hadn't had the time she had to come to terms with what had happened, either. The idea of his clever and intelligent wife being confined to her room with only two hours of mental stimulation allowed a day was horrific and he was having trouble forgiving on her behalf. But it also wasn't his place to cause trouble for her, so he punched the anger down for the time being. There would be plenty of time to discuss Belle's treatment later, and for now she was totally safe from that happening again.

To his credit, Maurice didn't take offense to the mild scolding of his son-in-law. He simply nodded and put his hands over his face for a second, seeming to try to gather himself to answer.

"Is she really all right?" Moe asked forlornly.

Of all the things the other man could have asked, Moe had chosen the one that would go the furthest towards redeeming him. He knew Moe loved his daughter or else her story would have ended much more unhappily. That part was probably the thing he needed to focus on for the foreseeable future – Belle's father had been under no obligation to house her as he did, or to take up her cause and attempt to prosecute it. He could simply have told her that her choices were Nottingham or obscurity and been done with it. Perhaps that was what kept Belle's affection for her father alive.

"She is," Rhys said at last. "She's hosting a dinner later this week, actually. You're welcome to come and see for yourself."

The fact that Isaac Heller would be there could just be a surprise and that would serve as its own sort of petty vengeance.

Moe seemed to mull this invitation over for a little bit before nodding in agreement.

"And you're sure she's all right?"

Rhys swallowed a sarcastic answer. As personally peeved as he was on Belle's behalf, antagonizing her father would be entirely unhelpful to everybody.

"I won't say she doesn't have bad days," Rhys said. "Or that she's not changed, for that matter. But she has more good days than bad ones. If you can get past the idea that she's not gone back to the way she was, she's doing quite well."

Moe seemed to take Rhys' hint and had the good grace to look a little shamefaced.

"Right," he said, standing up. "You'll tell her I'm in town?"

"I will," Rhys replied. "I'll have her send you the details of the dinner when I get home tonight."

Moe turned to leave when Rhys suddenly remembered the most important part.

"Moe," he called out. "Belle does need a favor from you."

"Oh?"

"If anyone asks, she took a maid named Sarah Collins with her when we married," Rhys said. "Pretty girl, dark hair. About Belle's age."

"Of course," Moe said. "But who might be asking after her?"

"A pair of detectives most likely," Rhys said. "Your daughter has a good heart, but she's a bit impulsive."

"She always has been," Moe replied with a chuckle and the first real smile Rhys thought he'd seen on the man in over a year. "You'll let me know if there's anything else I can do for her?"

"I will," Rhys said. "I'll see you at dinner."

Moe tipped his hat and exited the room quietly leaving Rhys alone with his thoughts. Oh, sod it. He was completely useless at the office, and he missed his wife.

Belle was in the parlour when Rhys returned home, but he knew something was wrong the moment he walked in. She'd been pacing again, and as soon as she saw him she practically threw herself into his arms.

"Belle, darling, what's wrong?" he asked, stroking her hair. "Are you hurt?"

"He was there," she said. "At the park when I was walking Rose."

He didn't need to hear anymore than that. Anger was already rising in his chest and it was all he could do not to cling to her too tightly from the residual fear that her words had awoken. He'd promised to protect her, and he'd been in a factory doing nothing while she'd been in danger. He had failed her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair. "You're safe now."

"I was so scared," she whimpered. "I hate that I'm still afraid of him."

He didn't know what to say to that. She'd been afraid and he hadn't been with her, and there was no way to apologize for letting her be in danger. What the hell had Nottingham even been after coming for her in the park in the daytime? She was very much married so he couldn't have been wanting to offer another one of his half-hearted proposals, and in a public place near her own servants he can't have meant to hurt her physically. All Rhys could think was that the man had meant to play with her mind in which case he was definitely succeeding. Belle was clinging to him so hard it almost hurt and he didn't dare to loosen his grip on her, either.

"He can't hurt you," Rhys finally said. "You're safe, I promise. We can go home tomorrow, if you like."

"No," she said. "I don't want to let him chase me away."

He nodded and rubbed her shoulders and back softly. She was relaxing a little as he touched her, but she also didn't seem at all inclined to release him. Rhys had never wanted to skin a man alive quite as much as he wanted to at that moment, but she didn't need him to be angry yet. She needed him to calm her down and reassure her of her safety. Anger could come later when it would do something besides scare her.

"Do you think a bath would help?" he asked her. "I can call Lizzie to help. Or Gwen."

"No," she replied. "I want to stay with you."

"I can draw it for you," he said, though he wasn't sure why he was trying to convince her except that he desperately wanted her to calm down. "I do know how to work the plumbing, you know."

She made a noise that might have been a laugh, but she was still so upset it came out almost as a sob.

"Only if you'll stay with me," she said at last. "I don't want to be alone."

He'd do nearly anything she asked him to; he could stay with her as long as she needed.

"I won't leave you alone," he promised. "I'll be here as long as you need me."

She nodded at that and slowly disentangled herself from him and he could see the tell-tale puffiness around her eyes that said she'd been crying earlier. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead before he could stop himself, but she didn't seem to have any lingering fear of him touching her anyway.

It took them longer than usual to get upstairs because she was keeping unusually close behind him and seemed intent on holding his hand the whole way, but soon enough they were safely in the bathroom nearest to her bed chamber. It was miles more modern than the one at home with hot and cold running water and a large porcelain bathtub. He'd thought of installing plumbing in the house, but it hadn't ever seemed important enough until right now when he was turning knobs on faucets while Belle sat at a vanity watching him with her watery eyes and an expression on her face that he didn't know how to read.

Once the tub was filling, he went back to her side and started rubbing her shoulders again. She seemed to relax a little bit. He wasn't sure if it was his actions or his proximity that was helping her, but either way he kept doing it while they waited for the tub to fill. By the time he had to turn off the water, he almost wouldn't have known she was ever upset except for how uncharacteristically quiet she was being.

"Can you help me out of my dress?" she asked, turning so he could see the buttons and sash of her walking dress. She'd never even changed after she got back from her walk.

It had gotten easier to undress her since he'd started helping her on occasion, and it only took a few moments to have her down to her undergarments. He hung the dress for her before loosening her corset so she could open the busking in the front.

"Thank you," she said, sitting back at the vanity and fiddling with her shoes and garters. He stood there feeling awkward with nothing to do besides watch her. "Aren't you going to get undressed?"

He'd not planned on it, hadn't realized she wanted him to join her in the tub although it made sense now that he thought about it for more than a second. She always wanted him closer than he'd realize and always been surprised he hadn't taken her meaning.

"Of course," he said, turning to strip off his coat and waistcoat and hang them with her dress. They'd been naked together before, but they'd never been in a bath together. He got about halfway through unbuttoning his shirt before she was behind him and her hands were batting his out of the way. He let her finish and waited for her to pull his shirt off his shoulders before turning around. She was still wearing her shift, but the rest of her underclothes were in a neat pile on a table next to the vanity.

"Sit," she said, and when he did she knelt down and helped him with his shoes and socks. She had a tendency to do that when she would help him undress, and he wondered if she knew it was sometimes difficult for him to do with his leg or if she just did it without thinking but either way it was a painfully sweet gesture every time.

Once she'd helped with his shoes, she stood and pulled her shift off over her head before stepping into the tub and settling down into the warm water. She watched him openly as he finished undressing and joined her in the tub, leaning against the high back, unsure what she wanted with him there. Without a word, Belle shifted and moved so she was seated between his legs with her back against his front. She relaxed against him easily, resting her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him as they soaked in silence for a little while.

"I'm sorry I was so upset earlier," she said after a little while. "I should never have gone to Hyde Park today."

"You knew something was wrong," he said as realization dawned on him. "That's why you were so upset yesterday."

"I saw one of his friends while we were out," she replied. "I didn't think he'd seen me, though."

"You should have told me," he said. "I'd have come with you."

"I didn't want you to," she said with a little shake of her head. "I didn't want to be a burden while we're here."

"You're not a burden," he said, angling so he could look down into her face as much as possible. "You're not. You're my wife, and your safety isn't a burden."

"I feel like one," she said, finding his hands with her own and weaving their fingers together. "Goodness knows you do nothing but take care of me sometimes. I didn't want to interfere with what we came here for."

"I didn't do anything today that couldn't have been done without me," he said. "And there won't be anything tomorrow, either."

"I won't go there tomorrow anyway," Belle said softly. "I don't want to see him again."

"I'll come anyway," he said. "Neal doesn't need my help."

She nodded and he could feel her settling into his arms again. She was warm and so was the water and if it weren't for the fact he was so goddamn terrified of what might have happened to her that morning it would have been perfect. They'd have to do this again another day, he decided. Someday when she wasn't so frightened and they could spend the time enjoying the feeling of being together like that.

"I don't know what he wanted from me," Belle said quietly. "What else can he possibly take?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," he replied, holding her tighter on instinct. "But whatever he wants, he's not going to get it."

"No," she said, looking up at him again so trustingly it shook him to his soul. "No he won't."