Page 3 of Break Me: Smith and Belle

That was a good idea. I should have thought of it. Clearly, the cook thought so as well. “Thank you.” I got the oddest sense that I’d hurt her feelings by asking her to leave, but it wasn’t as though she could make this matter any better. The only way we were going to help the situation was by facing it as a couple.

“I don’t want a bath,” Belle muttered, her words nearly lost as the sound of running water filled the air.

“It’s a good idea, beautiful. It was cold out there,” I said. “I think it would be a good idea if you had a little help when you are taking care of Penny.”

“That’s what Nora is supposed to be for,” she said coldly. Each word felt like a brick being laid between us. She was building a wall around herself. I didn’t need to build her a fortress. She was doing it on her own.

“Nora can’t be here all the time,” I said in a measured tone. “I know Edward is here, but maybe we should call your aunt.”

“You really don’t trust me,” she said in a small voice, plunging forward before I could assuage her fears. “Good. You shouldn’t trust me. I don’t trust me.”

“Whatever’s happening, I swear to you that we will figure it out.”

“I know.” But there was no confidence in her eyes, all I found there was defeat.

3

Belle

I hated the patterned paper covering the walls. I’d been staring at it for the better part of half an hour while Mrs. Winters and Smith clucked over me. Penny had been taken to the nursery for a bottle. It was the first time I hadn’t been the one to feed her. Instead, I sat here staring at the fucking walls. I’d picked out the floral wallpaper, thinking its lush green colors would provide a sensual backdrop to our bedroom. I must not have looked closely enough, because I hadn’t seen what was hidden in the print until it had been applied to every wall in the bedroom. Small spiders had been painted on to the rose petals, nearly blending into the lush background. I’d only noticed them recently. Now I couldn’t see anything else. Sometimes, I was convinced they were crawling across the leaves.

“Beautiful, what are you looking at?”

I tore my gaze away and shook my head as he studied the spot I’d been staring at. Could he see the spiders? “My mind must have wandered.”

Poor choice of words. Was that what had happened earlier on the ice? Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking of moments I couldn’t explain. Putting the photograph of Margot in Smith’s desk drawer. Forgetting the nappies on the changing table. I hadn’t even checked the tea I had been given by the pharmacist. It was a wonder that something worse hadn’t happened.

Well, it almost had.

A shiver rolled up my back, turning into a full tremble that overtook my body until I was shaking like the leaves the spiders crawled across on the wallpaper. Smith reached for my hand, pulling me up from the bed so that he could wrap his strong arms around me. But the instinct I usually had—the one that sent me melting against my husband’s chest—was gone. I stood, locked in the spot, letting him hold me, but wanting something much darker than comfort.

“You should drink your tea,” Mrs. Winters announced, ignoring our embrace and bustling around us to pour me a cup. Before she could hand it to me, Smith intercepted it and raised it to his nose.

“This is the new one?” he asked.

“Lord knows. It was in the bag from the shops.” She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

I couldn’t help wondering what she thought of us. The frantic, incompetent young mother and her suspicious, mysterious husband. But whatever she thought of us, Smith seemed reassured by her answer.

“You should drink this,” he coaxed.

I arched an eyebrow, trying to get a read on what was going on with him. At least if I was going mental, I wouldn’t be alone. “Has it been approved by my poison tester?”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. Given that he’d been moments from watching his wife and child die, I couldn’t exactly blame him. “Why don’t you sit back down?”

I did as he suggested, more than willing to follow his orders. If I listened to him, he would keep me safe. That’s what I needed him to do. Smith would make the decisions. Or Edward. Or whoever was around and still had a functioning brain in their skull. I wrapped my hands around the teacup, letting its warmth seep into my skin, but my trembling continued. The day had been cold, but my physical reaction had less to do with the weather and more to do with my close call.

“It’s about the tea,” he said, and I looked at him in surprise. “You got the wrong one. There must have been a mixup at the pharmacy. The tea you were drinking decreases milk supply.”

“What?” I blinked at him. That didn’t make sense. “I read the box.”

“It didn’t come in that tin?” he asked.

“I put it in the tin to keep it fresh,” Mrs. Winters interjected. She twisted her fingers together, looking back and forth between the two of us as she confessed. “I should have asked.”

“Why?” I asked slowly.

“When you brought it home from the doctor, I assumed you wanted your supply to dry up,” Mrs. Winters admitted.