It had been three days since Lord Warwick had escorted her home and turned her over to Anderson and Molly’s gentle care. She had so desperately wanted to care for his wounds. But he sluffed them off as minor.
She knew full well they were not. His face had been cut in several places when he crashed through the French doors and the wound on his arm looked particularly deep. But he had seemed in such a rush to be away from her.
Three days without word.
He had explained that the other traitors needed to be taken before they got word of Lord Hicks’ fall. She had so wished she could be there when Lady Simpson was taken.
Lord Warwick, however, had made no move to ask her along. No move to share this with her.
It must all be kept quiet, he told her if he still hoped to track down Hicks’ conduit to France. But there had been something else. A strange new fear in the back of his eyes. Something was bothering him. Greatly. Much more than the mission he still followed.”
Molly called for her again. What was so serious that her maid couldn’t come to her?
Amanda sighed, “Yes, Molly,” she said as she rose from the settee to find out what her maid was calling her for.
Molly stood at the front door, holding it open. A man in red and gold livery, powdered wig, and sparkling buckled shoes stood there, a square envelope in his hand.
“Miss Waters?” he asked as he held out a square envelope.
She nodded as she accepted the message.
“We will wait for you Ma’am,” the messenger said as he turned. Amanda caught a quick glimpse of a large black carriage waiting outside.
“Is it from Lord Warwick?” Molly asked her.
Amanda opened the envelope and slowly shook her head. “No, it is from Lord Liverpool.”
Molly gasped as her hand went to her mouth in shock. “The Prime Minister, Mum?”
“Yes. It seems I am to go with these men.”
Molly’s eyes softened, “Is it about Lord Warwick,” she asked. Amanda’s insides turned over. Was this about Warwick? Had he been killed in rounding up the other traitors? Was this what Lord Liverpool wanted to see her about? To tell her personally.
Surely not, she told herself. But deep inside, a fear began to build inside of her.
“Hurry,” she told Molly, “I must change. My blue dress, I should think, the one with the lace.”
Molly nodded as they both hurried upstairs. The sooner she got there, the sooner she would know.
Within the hour, Amanda stood before the door to the Prime Minister’s office and took a deep breath. This was it, this was where she would find out if Lord Warwick had survived.
What would she do if he hadn’t?
No, she told herself, that must not happen. Perhaps, he was wounded again and needed her nursing. Yes, that might be it.
Taking another deep breath, she nodded to the secretary who smiled back at her encouragingly as he pulled the door open.
Amanda stepped inside and froze, there, sitting across from the Prime Minister was Lord Warwick.
Her heart jumped. He looked well. In fact, he looked perfect.
Why then? Why had she been summoned? And how dare he treat her like this. No word.
Lord Liverpool looked up and gave her a quick smile as both men rose to greet her. She quickly dropped into a curtsey.
“Miss Waters.” The Prime Minister said. “Thank you for coming. Please, won’t you join us.”
The man waved a hand indicating the remaining chair across from his desk. Amanda shot Warwick a questioning look but he only smiled back and nodded at the chair.
“I asked that you join us,” Lord Liverpool said, “at Lord Warwick’s insistence. He refused to tell me anything unless you were here to corroborate.
Amanda’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Warwick smiled at her then turned to Lord Liverpool and began laying out the story. What had happened, when and why. Occasionally, he would turn to her, raising an eyebrow. Silently asking her to confirm that he had remembered things correctly.
Each time, she would nod, her heart skipping. Oh, how she loved this man. Every part of her craved him. Needed him.
When he talked of how Lord Hicks had captured her, she froze for a second when the Prime Minister asked why Lord Warwick had men watching her house. Would Warwick expose their liaison? What would the Prime Minister think if he discovered the truth?
She need never have worried. Lord Warwick shrugged. “After Miss Waters’ assistance in my recovery. I was concerned that Lord Hicks might discover her.
The Prime Minister paused for a second as he turned to stare at her for a long moment, She could tell that the man did not fully accept Warwick’s story. But, at last, he nodded for him to continue.
Lord Warwick started again. Telling him about Anderson coming to his house. About shooting the Lord Hicks’ henchman. About how she had worked herself far enough away from Hicks to give him an opportunity. The wrestling match and how she had gathered the pistol from the floor and held it against Lord Hicks head. A fact that sent a shiver down her spine.
When he was done, he sat back and said. “I wanted it on the record that it was Miss Waters that captured Lord Hicks. And without her insights, the others would never have been identified.”
Lord Liverpool nodded slowly, “That is all very well, but there will be no record of this situation. As you well know.”
“True, I understand. But we will know, that is the best I can do.”
Amanda’s heart continued to pound in her chest. “Have they been taken then. The other traitors. Were you able to catch them?”
He smiled at her, that smile that melted her insides. “Yes, All of them. Ridgetop was halfway to Scotland before my men caught up to him. And Lord Broadmoor tried to kill himself when we approached. Luckily, he was too slow.”
Lord Liverpool shrugged, “He only delayed things a few weeks. Once we have what we need he will join the others in disappearing.”
Amanda shuddered, these men talked of death and dying so easily.
“Bartholomew will be sent to Australia I hope. I did give my word.”
Lord Liverpool pondered his request then finally nodded. “Eventually.”
“We will question Lord Hicks of course,” Warwick continued.
“Vigorously, I hope,” Lord Liverpool said making Amanda shudder again. The man was ruthless.
Warwick nodded, “Yes, but I fear we are too late. By now, His conduit back to France has undoubtedly been closed.”
Lord Liverpool nodded, accepting the truth of the situation. Sitting back, he brought both hands together and rested them under his chin.
Amanda glanced back and forth between the two men, unable to believe she was here at this moment. At the very center of the British Empire discussing spies and death as if she were talking fashion with Lady Weston over tea.
“So, that is that, then,” Lord Liverpool said. “We will consider this action closed. The perpetrators will be dealt with of course, but that is no longer your concern. No, this is closed.”
Lord Warwick sighed heavily and leaned back.
Amanda’s heart lurched to the side. Was that then? Was it really over. If so, she would have no excuse to be part of his life. The sudden sadness felt as if it would engulf her. Bury her forever.
The Prime Minister leaned forward and started to shuffle through the papers on his desk. “Now that that is finished,” he said as he looked up at Lord Warwick. “there is a new matter. An Earl being blackmailed.” Lord Liverpool hesitated, obviously unwilling to share the Earl’s name in front of her. “His Highness the Prince Regent,” he continued, “is very concerned as you can well imagine. He asked for you in particular.”
Amanda held her breath. Once again Warwick would be placed in danger.
She glanced at him and found him studying her for a long moment. Frowning, he turned back to Prime Minister and shook his head.
“I am sorry My Lord, Please pass my apologies to His Highn
ess, Unfortunately, I will be unable to assist in this matter. I will be unavailable for the next several months.”
“Why not?” the Prime Minister asked, obviously upset.
“Because I am getting married,” Lord Warwick replied.
“What?” Amanda demanded as her world shattered around her. How could he? So quickly. Who? Was she some Duke’s daughter, or a foreign princess perhaps? Who was the woman and how had she captured him?
A fiery anger built inside of her. A fire that threatened to erupt right here in front of the Prime Minister.
“Who?” she asked before he could answer her first question.
Lord Warwick smiled weakly and raised an eyebrow. She held her breath as she waited for the word that would end any chance at happiness.
“Yes, who?” The Prime Minister asked. “And I would remind you that, as an Earl, you need His Highness’s permission to marry. A boon I am not sure he will be willing to grant.”
Amanda ignored the Prime Minister as she continued to stare at Warwick. Her world was destroyed. She had always known this would happen. But to find out here, at the moment of her triumph. He had ruined everything, in so many ways.
He continued to hold her eyes with his as he answered the Prime Minister. “I am sure that His Highness will allow me this. After all, the woman has just helped the Empire by discovering a bevy of French spies. It would be sort of churlish to not allow her to marry a man who loves her so much.”
Every nerve, every fiber of her being froze solid. Could it be? Was he? No, but who else?
Her eyes searched his.
He smiled widely and nodded, raising one eyebrow in question, obviously asking her.
“Me?” she whispered, unable to speak correctly.
He smiled, “Of course, Amanda,” he said, “You know perfectly well that I can’t go through this life without you at my side. It just wouldn’t be right.”
Amanda stared back at him in disbelief, “This is how you ask me? Here in front of the Prime Minister? The one place I can’t cry with happiness. The one place I can’t throw myself into your arms.”
The Prime Minister laughed, waved his hands at them and said, “Oh, don’t worry about me.”
The last word was no sooner out of the Prime Ministers mouth before she threw herself into her true love’s arms.
“Yes,” she said as she kissed him. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”
His strong arms snaked around her as he kissed her back. Then stopping for a moment, he looked into her eyes. “Just because you have me wrapped around your little finger. Do not think this puts you in charge.”
She laughed at him as her heart bubbled over with happiness. Leaning down so that she could whisper in his ear, she said, “I am yours, in every way. I have always been and always will be.”
He sighed heavily as he pulled her in tight.
Yes, she thought. This was how her life was meant to be. With this man.
Epilogue
The church bells stopped ringing. Amanda sighed, it was almost time.
She stood next to the vicar and turned slightly so that she could find Olivia. Her friend held Arabella for her. Little Lady Arabella Warwick. The pride of her life.
James, Bradford’s and Olivia’s son, dangled a ribbon in front of the baby, keeping her distracted. The two families spent so much time together, the boy had become very protective of the baby. As if he had taken on the responsibility as his. And at such a young age.
Amanda’s heart melted with happiness at the knowledge that her daughter would grow up with such a friend in her life.
The vicar coughed, breaking her daydream. A disturbance at the rear of her church made her shift her attention. There he was, her John, her Warwick. Molly on his arm, dressed in white, her eyes big, but a determined set to her lips.
Molly glanced at her, a huge smile breaking across her face. The girl had been so thrilled when Amanda agreed to stand with her as she wedded Anderson.
Amanda glanced at Anderson to see his reaction. The big man looked as if he had been hit by a charging bull. But the look of shock was almost instantly replaced with a look of pure love.
Yes, she thought. Molly had chosen wisely. This man would love her. Just as her own husband loved herself. A woman could not ask for more.
Unable to stop herself, she looked at Warwick, so strong, so handsome. Hers, she thought with amazement. This man was hers, to have and hold forever. How had such a miracle ever happened? Even after two years, she still felt a need for him. A rightness when she was in his arms.
Without thinking, her hand came to rest on her stomach. She would tell him tonight she thought as she smiled to herself. Perhaps this time it would be a son. A future Earl of Warwick.
Yes, she thought, it felt like a son.
Smiling to herself, she fought to contain the sheer happiness inside of her. Life was as it should be. Life was as it was meant to be. Filled with family and friends and with the man she loved.
The End
Author’s Notes
Thank you for reading ‘A Rake’s Redemption’ series.
I would love to know what you think of it. My readers make it possible for me to do what I love so I am always grateful and excited to hear from you. Please stop by my website or send me an Email at [email protected]. Feel free to sign up for my newsletter. I use my newsletter to announce new releases and give away free books. I also post on my Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/G.L.Snodgrass/
As always, I would like to thank my friends for their assistance with this book. Sheryl Turner, Anya Monroe, Eryn Carpenter, and Kim Loraine. I couldn’t have done it without them.
If you enjoyed this series’ please tell a friend or two. And please help out by rating this book at Amazon, Bookbub, or Goodreads. Reviews from readers make a huge difference for a writer.
I have also included the first two chapters to my latest Regency Romance, ‘Duke in Disguise’ The first book in my Stafford Sisters series..
Again, thank you.
Duke in Disguise
Chapter One
His Grace, the Fifth Duke of Norwich looked out over the dance floor and frowned. Being taller than most, he was able to examine the room easily. The same people as always, he thought. Nothing ever changed, not really.
Men who wished they were elsewhere. Young women, girls really, on the prowl for a husband. Nothing more than cats stalking a mouse. More interested in the title than the man who held it. And old women watching over it all like owls perched on a fence rail.
“Norwich,” a voice said from behind him, sending a cold chill down his spine.
“Mother,” he replied as he turned to find his mother looking as serious as always. A diminutive woman, it always amazed him to think that someone of his size could come from such a small woman.
Her sandy brown hair was turning gray. But she was still a handsome woman.
She stepped up next to him and watched the couples dancing. “I’m surprised you deigned to grace us with your presence tonight,” she said with that haughty tone that made his skin crawl.
“Well, you did say it was important to you. That, and I couldn’t think of a good reason to beg off.”
She glanced up at him and slowly shook her head. “Lady Everton is a good friend. Your presence will make her event all that much more successful.
He fought to stop from growling. This was his world, he told himself. His mere presence made an old woman he barely knew happy. All because of his title and eligibility as a bachelor of the highest rung of British society. Of course, a vast fortune didn’t hurt either.
The repetitive nature of the ton and its parties had begun to drag on him. No wonder so many men turned to whiskey and fallen women.
“So,” his mother asked. “Do any of this year’s hopefuls catch your eye?”
His stomach clenched up. “Mother, you know our arrangement. You don’t push me to marry and I remain civil.”
She smiled slightly as she turned to s
tare at him. Slowly, her smile turned to a frown.
“You have been fighting,” she said with an accusatory tone that reminded him of his younger years. She continued to stare at him until she gently reached up and brushed the slight bruise beneath his eye. A look of motherly concern threatened for a brief moment then was quickly contained.
“It is called boxing,” he said. “As you well know and is perfectly acceptable.” Why did he have to justify himself? He was a Duke of the realm.
“Hmpf,” she snorted as she shook her head.
He sighed internally, his mother would never understand his passion for boxing. But then how could she. It was one of the few things in this world unaffected by his title. A man was judged on his abilities, not the lineage of his fathers.
“You will have to marry someday,” she said with a sad frown as she once again looked out at the dancing couples. “It would be better for you if you allowed me to help. At least I can provide guidance so that you do not make a grave error.”
The Duke of Norwich rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Twenty-eight years old and his mother still didn’t understand. The thought of being chained to one of these social climbing, fortune hunting, …. women, was not going to happen.
“I have more than enough cousins to take up the responsibility.”
His mother shuddered, “Lord Pemberton? Don’t be ridiculous. The man could no more be a duke than a chambermaid could become a princess. Besides, his wife would make an abominable duchess. The woman wouldn’t know the first thing about maintaining standards.”
Norwich slowly shook his head.
“I am serious,” she said as her voice rose just a little. “Not just anyone can be a duchess. It takes … someone strong. A woman who can hold up under the constant scrutiny. A woman who knows the rules and lives by them. Especially the unwritten rules. Only someone raised and trained for the task will be suitable. No, this is why you need my help.”
He shrugged his shoulders. He never intended to marry. But he had not told her. Not officially. No need to break her heart.
A sadness filled him as he realized why his mother was so passionate about the subject. She had been a young woman when his father had died. Only days after she had given birth to their first son. A drunken celebration had led to him falling off the Tower Bridge at high noon. A story that still made people laugh all these years later.
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