The footman shook his head. “We were debating what to do.”
Leo was afraid he knew. This must be Forrester. In that case the man was dangerous. He had to get to Phoebe.
“Stay here. Do not make a sound until I tell you to. Do not approach until it’s safe.”
Under no circumstances would he let his beloved wife face the ruffian alone. He would not watch. Slipping off his coat, he draped it silently over a nearby chair, keeping his attention on the scene outside.
The small group stood about twenty-five feet away, beyond a rose garden, before the artfully concealed grotto. A fine drizzle made the going soft and the day overcast. No shadow. Good.
He moved until he could sneak a glance at the man. He was dressed plainly, even roughly, black cocked hat and russet coat. Leo took in what the man was wearing, judging every aspect of how he could deal with this. He was a reasonable shot, but the man facing a totally still Phoebe and Miss Childers had his pistol aimed at Phoebe’s head, and one in his other hand. Leo could not guarantee that if he shot now, the man would not take his first. Or on his way down. He needed to get closer.
“How do I get behind him?”
“The back door,” Linton said. “It’s the door we use to get to the mews or the garden. If you avoid the gravel path, you can walk across the garden.”
Leo patted the hilt of his sword. He’d love to feel that bastard on the end of it, but he would take the man threatening his wife’s existence any way he could. “Do you have pistols?”
Linton stepped back, without turning around, a movement that might attract attention. He drew out two pistols, elaborate dueling weapons, very fine. “They’re the late Mr. Childers’s. I loaded them, sir. They were the only weapons to hand. I would shoot that man, but I can’t be sure I’d hit him.”
“I can once I get closer,” Leo said grimly. “Stay here until I tell you otherwise.” He glanced at Linton. “Keep watching and come up behind me when you can. I don’t want him to see me until I’m close enough to be sure of my shot.”
Grimly, Linton nodded his agreement and picked up a pistol lying on a side table.
Thrusting a weapon into each of his breeches’ pockets, hilts turned out so he could seize them quickly, Leo left the room on stockinged feet and followed Linton through a job door to a small, terracotta-tiled hall. Muddy boots stood there, testament to the rain and the morning’s heavy fall of dew. For a big man, Leo could move very quietly when he chose, and there had never been a better moment for it.
Would Phoebe betray his presence, let her gaze go to him when she saw him? He would have to take the risk.
He stepped out, onto the grass, avoiding the path Miss Childers’s footman had advised him. The women wouldn’t see him until he emerged from behind a few ornamental trees, presumably planted to hide the servant’s entrance. Very useful now.
Now he’d removed his coat, the better to move silently, he would be more visible in white shirt sleeves and an ivory waistcoat. His cut-steel buttons would catch the light, but he didn’t have the time to unfasten the long row. Although the day was overcast, the sun shone through a thin layer of cloud, enough to mark Leo, should the man turn around. He needed to get closer, to be sure of his quarry. With the hilt of his sword and the butts of the pistols easily accessible, he took his first step out.
The women would see him now. He was not close enough to be sure of their expressions, but neither moved or gave any indication of his presence. But they must have seen him. The man stood with his back to them. He wore a rough frieze coat and held a black pistol, pointing it unerringly at Phoebe.
He took another step. Slowly, taking great care where to place his foot, he moved across the short grass area, then over a flowerbed planted with clusters of primroses and forget-me-nots. Sweet peas sent their perfume floating in the air from a nearby trellis as he passed. All was normal, even the drizzle, were it not for the man with the pistol pointed at Phoebe’s head.
As he approached, she lifted her hand, and spoke. “Here, take it. This is paste, just like the other one.” Something glinted and sparkled in her hand.
“I knew it would be here. It just took me a while to work it out. Chapman said he didn’t have it, then he said it was paste.” He paused and jerked the gun. His lip curled. “He’s at the bottom of the Thames now, but he didn’t have any money. It’s my turn. Come over here and give it to me.”
She ignored his demand. “What about the earrings?”
“Sold ’em. They’re long gone. Now I want the main prize. Come. Here. Now.”
No! Their attacker would kill her, once she’d served his purpose. She was half a dozen short steps away from him.
She must not get closer. She would not.
Leo was close enough now to leap for the man, if he could be sure he wouldn’t fire his weapon. Another step, that was all he needed to be sure of the villain.
As Phoebe hesitated, Leo heard an ominous click. The man had pulled back the hammer. Damn, if he’d known the bastard hadn’t cocked his weapon, he would have taken that chance. But now the weapon was ready, and if Phoebe made one wrong move, the man wouldn’t miss at that range. She was barely three feet away.
“Here!” Drawing back her arm, Phoebe hurled what she was holding at her attacker. Miss Childers looked directly at Leo, and the man turned around as the jewels fell to earth behind him. For all the good it would do him.
Forrester’s eyes blazed when he saw Leo. He fired his weapon at Leo, the report crashing through the preternaturally still air, the flash of powder igniting. But Leo was forewarned by that click. Throwing his body to one side, he let fly with his own pistol. He landed, rolled and pulled out his sword, ready to finish the job, as he sprang back to his feet.
Shouts rent the air, and someone screamed.
Not Phoebe. Please God, not Phoebe.
Everything happened at once. One shot, then another. The man standing before them opened his eyes wide, staring at them, and then slowly fell forward. His weight hit her, and she fell under her attacker.
In an instant she’d kicked herself free and scrambled to her feet, heading to where her husband stood. “Oh you foolish, foolish man!” she cried, launching herself at him.
He caught her, flinging his sword aside. “Phoebe! Oh my love, I am so happy to see you unhurt!” Grasping her waist, he eased her away. “You are unhurt, aren’t you?”
“Yes, you idiot! I was never so worried as when I saw you. Angela and I were k-keeping him busy, trying to distract him long enough for s-someone to come. Because we were in s-sight of the upper windows, so obviously someone would come.”
Dragging her close again, he kissed her. Before he crushed her lips against his, she detected a fine tremor in them. Then, as always, she forgot everything.
“We’re going home,” he said as soon as their lips parted. “Tomorrow.”
Chapter 23
That afternoon, Leo and Phoebe received Mr. Cocking of Bow Street in their drawing room in Berkeley Square. Not the large, grand one where Her Grace was busy entertaining a few friends, but the one Phoebe preferred, the less formal, comfortable one with the view over the gardens.
Cocking sighed heavily. “It was a clear case of self-defense, Your Grace. Think no more of the unfortunate incident. The body has been removed. There were plenty of witnesses to attest to your story. It was Forrester. I remember him from his appearances in court.”
The lock around Phoebe’s heart opened. Although the footman had obviously brought his death on himself, she wanted it spoken aloud.
She bade Mr. Cocking sit, and poured him a dish of tea, which he thanked her for but did not touch.
They gave him all the information they had. Cocking drew a glittering string out of his pocket. “This is what he had on his person. It’s paste. Probably the one he took from the other woman.” The central stone was intact.
On the tab
le at his side sat the other necklace, its central stone shattered, a broken shard of glass that had cut Phoebe that fateful night.
Phoebe nodded. “When I c-collided with the man—Chapman—I grabbed the bracelet, b-but the central s-stone on the n-necklace shattered. I cut m-myself on that. I should have realized the jewel was not real then.”
Cocking leaned forward, resting his bony elbows on the silk arm rests. His eyes narrowed. “How many necklaces were there?”
“Two.” Leo plucked the necklace from Cocking’s hand. “This will be the one La Coccinelle was killed for. The other has a shattered central stone. If you have no objection, we will retain this one. We have plans for it.”
Cocking shrugged. “Since there’s no value in it, you may keep it. The principals are dead, so there will be no trial. Before he died, the murderer confessed as much to you.”
Leo nodded. “Forrester refused to believe Chapman and killed him. His body is probably at the bottom of the Thames. Then he set out to discover the jewels for himself, first searching my wife’s room, then going after La Coccinelle.”
“Neither had the real diamonds,” Phoebe said sadly.
“Tomorrow we will be traveling to Leicestershire and then to my main house in Derbyshire, so we will not be available,” Leo put in.
Cocking’s sharp gaze went down to where Leo and Phoebe were unashamedly holding hands, but he said nothing.
“Miss Ch-Childers asks you to p-pay her a visit,” Phoebe said. “She says y-you may work with the SSL in the future, if you wish.”
Cocking sneered. “You expect me to work with some amateur organization of ladies?”
“If you wish for answers,” Phoebe told him, “you will work with them. You w-will receive a sh-share of the reward, if you do.” Bow Street men worked for the rewards offered by the victims of burglary, or the families of the murdered. They received no other remuneration. If nothing brought Cocking to work with Angela, the promise of rewards would.
The Bow Street man sighed. “Very well. So we have been chasing…nothing?”
Leo nodded. “We believe the real necklace was sold some time ago, when Lady Latimer’s gambling got out of hand. She has been using a paste version since then. That was stolen on the night of the ball, probably at the lady’s instigation in a scheme to claim the insurance for the piece. The lady set about accusing my wife in an attempt to confuse anyone looking for them.” His lip curled. “But I would not allow that.”
Cocking grimaced. “I was counting on the reward for the diamonds.”
“You will get it,” Leo promised him. “She only offered it for the return of the necklace, and though this is undoubtedly a copy, it is still identical to the one stolen. We will return it to her, but I will ensure you receive the reward. This affair will come to an end.”
* * * *
Leo had treated Phoebe tenderly, made her rest, but she had insisted on attending the meeting with the Bow Street man.
When she had gone for her rest, she found him waiting.
This time when he held her, he did not let her go. Dismissing her maid, he undressed her, and she performed the same office for him. When they were finally naked, standing by the bed, he gave her the last truth.
“I love you.”
Gazing into the depths of his eyes, Phoebe saw nothing but honesty. “I was torn apart when I thought you did not. But I swore to myself I would learn to live with it. Many women do.”
“You don’t have to. I will tell you every day, lest you forget.” Smiling, he kissed her, and they lost themselves to passion.
“I should leave you. You must rest.”
“I d-don’t want to rest.” She would not bear him to leave her. “Please stay. M-Make love with m-me.”
Laying her on the bed, Leo prowled over her, his erection huge and needy. The heat of it scorched her as she lifted her knees and made room for him at the heart of her. He slid into her welcoming heat, their movements practiced but no less wondrous. Fully embedded inside her, he paused, lifted up on his elbows and gazed at her.
“I was a fool. I should have come for you the week after we met. I loved you then, but I didn’t recognize it.” He gave a wry grin. “I thought it was lust.”
“Wasn’t it?” She teased him, rotating her hips for the joy of feeling his hard length inside her.
“Partly,” he admitted.
“For me, too. I love you, and I always w-will. I c-can’t believe we are here and doing this.”
“Oh, you can believe that.”
He moved with purpose, withdrawing and then driving deep, finding the angle that nudged her most sensitive spot with every stroke. Throwing all caution away, Phoebe arched up to him, encouraging him, no longer shy or reluctant to show him how much she wanted him. How much she loved him.
Leo didn’t stop until her screams echoed around the walls of her bedroom, and then he joined her, his cries joining hers.
They lay in complete contentment, kissing and caressing, fully open to one another. “I’m snatching a few days for us. Just us, alone, together. No pomp, no ceremony,” he told her.
She threaded her fingers into his hair. “How?” Because she was learning that a duchess was rarely her own mistress. She had duties. This was the best one, though.
“My grandmother has agreed to go ahead to the main estate. She’ll set the servants to preparing the inevitable house party and ball to celebrate our marriage. But I have a hunting box in Leicestershire. No doubt your parents will enjoy its hospitality before too long, once they discover its existence, but it will be ours from tomorrow. We’ll start in the morning, if you feel you can travel. Shake the dust of London and diamond necklaces away. Learn more about each other and spend far more time naked than dressed.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I’m so glad you agree. I should have taken you there from the start.” He caressed her breast.
She twined her fingers into his hair. “I know what you were doing at nights. People kindly told me.”
He frowned. “Told you what?” He’d stiffened.
“You were walking around C-Covent G-Garden and the stews. V-Visiting the g-gaming hells. People t-told me you were doing that and c-claimed you were visiting mistresses and g-gambling your fortune away. Even my f-friends were c-concerned for me. What f-fools! I knew you b-better than that. I d-did not know what you were up to, but I knew you were n-not b-betraying me with whores or gambling in places where you c-cannot win.”
Unlike her friends, and her enemies for that matter, she had trusted him. Because she knew him. Her honorable, orderly husband would never disport himself with whores and thieves. This morning, after her first good night’s sleep in a long time, a flash of intuition had told her what he was doing, and when the ladies of the SSL expressed their concern, she was sure in her reasoning. Her honorable husband with the rakish parents would never dream of doing that. The only mistress she’d known about had been from the top tier, the courtesans with wit and taste who had more to offer than a quick ten minutes against the nearest wall. Therefore, there could only be one answer. “Y-You were t-trying to find the necklace, weren’t you?”
“How well you know me!” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, so she ended sprawled on top of his big body. When she tried to lift up, he clasped her close, claiming her with a mock growl. “I will never be able to keep secrets from you, will I?”
Smiling, she shook her head, her curls tumbling over his chest in disarray.
When she tried to roll off him, he held her tight. “I enjoy feeling you here. We will not sleep in different beds, my love. Ever.”
“Aren’t men supposed to keep their d-distance?”
He pressed a kiss to his finger, and then to her lips. The sweet gesture disarmed her. “The only person who can decide that is you. Phoebe, I cannot believe my good
fortune. When I think of how we might not have met, I shudder. But you are here now, and I love you, and I’m not letting you go.”
“Good, because I don’t intend to g-go anywhere.” Love had enlivened her, and the fatigue she had felt yesterday was no more. Even the lack of sleep that their lovemaking brought had not made her as pulled-down as yesterday.
* * * *
Phoebe dressed for her last London ball of the season with a sense of bemusement. She had expected—well, not this. She was adored, as Leo had demonstrated twice this afternoon. Touching him, watching him, sharing laughter and a few tears, when she recalled her fears, all was precious and unforgettable.
One more task and they were done in London for this year. By next year she’d be better prepared to cope with it.
Phoebe took more care than usual, choosing frivolous pink with ruching and flounces. A triple fall of lace caressed her forearms, and she wore a necklace of pearls that Leo insisted on giving her. Her earrings were huge pearls.
“They are supposed to have been owned by Queen Elizabeth,” he told her when she’d touched them gingerly. “A match to the one on my pin. But they always say that about pearls. I do not think these are so old. Wear them, my love. You will dazzle.”
Tiny brilliants were scattered over her gown and petticoat, the latter delicately embroidered with summer flowers and birds. Knowing Leo’s preference, she went without hair powder, but she was no longer a stranger to the haresfoot, although she applied her face powder sparingly.
Feeling more joyous than ever in her life, she filled her pockets, picked up her gloves and fan, and went to find him.
The way his eyes lit up when he saw her went to her very soul. He took her hand and kissed the back. “Ready?”
She nodded. The dowager, who rarely attended balls, had decided to accompany them. Resplendent in silk and velvet, the two Duchesses of Leomore strode forth in perfect harmony. Although she didn’t think she was supposed to hear, the dowager’s comment to Leo warmed her and gave her the confidence to accept who she was now, and what she would become.
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