Page 42 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

“Remind me not to do you any more favors,” Georgia said, her tone flat.

“I’ll request the file.” I couldn’t imagine what I’d owe her if she actually came down here and got the report in person. Possibly my second born.

“Something tells me he won’t like that,” Georgia said thoughtfully.

“Why would he care about an old file?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But I wasn’t a pushy bitch with him,” she said. I could almost picture her air quoting me. “I tried everything to get him to send me that file. I was sugar-sweet, Price, and he wouldn’t budge.”

“You know how things are in a village,” I said to her. “They have to abide by their red tape or they have nothing to do.”

“Well, if you find out more, I want to know,” Georgia said. “I want to know what’s hiding in your basement.”

“Nothing’s hiding in my basement,” I snapped. At the same moment the door down the hall slammed shut, startling me. I checked my Omega and frowned. Either Mrs. Winters was upset about something and slamming doors, or Belle’s lunch date had been cut short. For once, I’d rather deal with an irritated housekeeper than discover something had gone wrong for my wife’s trip out. “I need to go. It sounds like a dead end, anyway.”

“I’ll keep looking into it.”

I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, but she’d already hung up. It was a waste of George’s time to keep looking into this, especially if it was as simple as getting a file from Longborn. I wanted to know more about the skeletons they found of my property, but I couldn’t deny that all evidence pointed to a rational explanation for their presence. We’d probably simply disturbed an old grave, excavating to add to the casks. Sometimes, I wondered if my time in London had warped my perception of the world. Had I begun to see evil doing when there was only coincidence? I needed to focus on here and now, starting with checking on my wife. The hallway was so eerily quiet, I’d begun to think I’d imagined it. I poked my head into the guest rooms and the nursery, finding both empty. As I walked toward my room, the door opened and Nora ducked out. She took two steps in my direction before looking up. When she did she froze in her tracks, letting out a tiny yelp.

“I’m sorry to scare you,” I said. I looked over her shoulder at the bedroom door she’d closed behind her. “I thought I heard someone come in.”

“Lunch ended a little more quickly than expected,” Nora said, choosing her words carefully. I recognized a lawyer’s trick when I heard one. She was telling the truth but leaving out the important bits. Her eyes skirted aways from me as she spoke, and I wondered what had made her so nervous. Before I could ask her, the bedroom door opened again, revealing a harassed-looking Belle, bouncing the baby wearily. When she saw me, she sighed.

That was new. I told myself it meant nothing, but even something as simple as finding me at our bedroom door seemed to annoy her.

“Can one of you take her? I need to lie down.”

I stepped forward, arms open and accepted Penny. “Are you feeling alright?”

My question was cut off by the bedroom door closing. I turned to Nora, hoping for answers, but she only smiled. “I can take her to the nursery if you like. I still have a few more hours scheduled here.”

“Why don’t you check in with Mrs. Winters?” I suggested. “She usually does Penny’s laundry in the morning. It might be nice if Belle woke up to everything done.”

“I can do that.” She nodded enthusiastically, and I thought I caught a bit of relief on her face as she headed toward the spiral staircase that led to the lower levels.

What was that about? Had the baby been more than a handful? Something brought them home early. Now Belle was locked in our bedroom and the new nanny was avoiding eye contact. I hoped I was simply reading into things. I carried Penny back to my study. Whatever had been wrong earlier during their trip, she seemed content to sleep in my arms now. I half heartedly organized the papers on my desk with one free hand, mostly focused on enjoying the feeling of my daughter nuzzled against my chest. I sorted a stack to file and reached to open a desk drawer. I kept my father’s gun in the top drawer, so I opted for the lower one. When I opened it, I froze, spying the edge of a familiar picture frame.

When I decided to close my London office, I placed most of its furnishings and files into storage. There’d been no where to put them in our Holland Park home, so this was the first time in nearly six months that I’d sat at this desk. But even six months ago, the framed photograph of my late wife had been packed away in some dusty corner box in my office. I hadn’t looked at a picture of Margot since the moment I realized I was in love with Belle. I’d let Margot go then, consigning her to memories I rarely called to mind. Still, she was there in the back of my mind, intruding on my thoughts at the worst times. I’d failed her. Or she had failed me. The only thing I was certain enough about was that our marriage had been a disaster. More than that, it had been another of Hammond’s devious attempts to control me. He’d alluded to being behind the car accident that took her life, although he never had a chance to tell me why. Someone had murdered him before he came clean. I could have asked the last time I saw him alive—the time at which he admitted manipulating me into marrying her. I’d been too furious at that revelation to seek answers. Not because I hadn’t suspected it to be the truth, but because, despite everything, it had shown me how foolish I had been.

Belle had been another of his manipulations, but that had backfired. She had shown me what love truly was and made me willing to fight for ours.

And, it seemed, while she had been unpacking my things, she’d come across this photograph of Margot and placed it here. I couldn’t guess why. Maybe that was a passive way to confront me about finding it amongst my possessions. But I’d rather she had yelled at me, so I could apologize and throw the thing rather than find it shoved in a drawer. Or maybe, and somehow this was worse, she thought I wanted it here and had quietly seen to my wishes. If she’d been truly angry, she would have taken the gun she must have found when she was sorting through my things and hunted me down.

I leaned down, cradling Penny against me carefully so that I wouldn’t wake her as I took the frame up out of the drawer. Laying it on the desk, I looked around and realized there was no rubbish bin for me to toss it in.

There was a light knock on the door and I called out, “Come in.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” Nora shuffled into the room, her arms empty. Mrs. Winters must not have done the washing yet. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

I stood and circled around my desk. “Take her, so we can find somewhere to sit.”

Nora accepted Penny with ease. She looked like a natural holding the baby. Belle had chosen correctly, despite her concerns about Nora’s age.

I dug out a chair from under a few boxes of books and moved it across from my desk. “Have a seat.”

I hesitated, wondering if I should take the baby back, but Nora continued to hold her, sinking in the chair, her teeth chewing on her lower lip. I returned to my chair, a pit opening in my stomach. What could have made her nervous this early into her position with us.

Nora’s eyes were on my desk, and too late, I realized she was staring at the photograph of Margot.