Love Forever After

by Patricia Rice

  Arthur leaned forward eagerly. “Guy can write an impassioned love letter begging Dolly to come to London to keep him company, and you can send Alexandra to Penelope. That should keep them both out of trouble.”

  Guy flushed a little at this suggestion. Still overcome by the shock of Dolly’s acceptance of his proposal, he had not yet come to terms with the role of lovelorn bridegroom. He shifted uneasily in his chair.

  Graham had been looking for an excuse to talk to Penelope, but after all these weeks, how could he just drop by with Alexandra in hand and say, “Oh, by the by, would you take my daughter? I might be killed any day now.”

  Graham shook his head in disagreement. Allowed to grow out, his hair had begun to return to its natural state. He kept it trimmed, but paid little heed to where the leonine mane fell, particularly when he ran his hands through it.

  “What would you have me tell Penelope that wouldn’t frighten her to death? I’ll just keep Alexandra here with the governess. I don’t think DeVere brave enough to risk entering the house again, and if he should, he might be a little surprised at the changes made.”

  Through Dolly he had kept up with Penelope’s activities, but their estrangement seemed total. They were both keeping busy as if their lives remained unchanged from that of before their marriage. Yet Graham meant to protect Penelope from anything that might harm her. He could not bear to lose Penelope as he had Marilee. He would suffer all the torments of hell before exposing her to any more danger.

  Arthur broke the silence following Graham’s declaration. “Are you sure we can rely on this Nell of yours? It’s dangerous business going in that sordid crib of DeVere’s. Maybe we ought to send someone else.”

  “Who else would you send? All Nell needs to do is enter his crib and say she has a message for DeVere. If DeVere keeps any connection at all with the place, he’ll receive it. Just her brashness in entering ought to infuriate him into responding. I’ve promised her she can be there to watch us capture him but she’s a right one. She’ll do.”

  They discussed the other details of their desperate plan to draw DeVere from his hiding place and departed after their separate tasks shortly later. Graham remained alone, still tapping his pen against the desk.

  He tried not think of Penelope, for each thought made him all the more conscious of his pain in losing her. Yet nothing and no one would let him forget. Even Nell had pierced him with arrows of anguish when she told him how his clever lady wife had asked her to help locate young girls deserving of a better home. Nell had been enthusiastic over the project, but Graham could scarcely listen for the pain twisting at his insides.

  He could still see that wounded look on Penelope’s proud face when he had refused to give up his revenge. He had been wrong, terribly wrong, but it was too late to go back and tell her now. It was better this way She was safe and doing well without him. He had set up an account for her to draw on whenever she needed money and ordered his banker to replenish it as necessary. He had no idea whether she had touched the funds or not. He just felt better having provided them. Now, if something happened to him, she wouldn’t have to suffer, and Alexandra would still have someone to love.

  Thinking of Alexandra’s anguished questions at Penelope’s disappearance, Graham rubbed his head and turned it to other thoughts. Once he could be certain DeVere was behind bars, he would send Alexandra to Penelope for a while. He hated to be separated from both of them, but at least he could relieve Alexandra’s agony, if not his own.

  Never forgive. Those words haunted his dreams and every waking hour. She had said she would never forgive him. Running his hand through his hair, Graham bent his head over the desk and groaned. All the deceits and deceptions she had forgiven unquestioningly, but he had refused the one thing she had asked. All these years of his own mercilessness would be paid back in triplicate.

  His cry of pain echoed through empty corridors.

  Shadows moved along the wooded lane in the chilly October night. Three people were seated on horses. A smaller figure crouched with a mangy hound on the ground. Their whispers made little noise, yet their argument was vehement.

  “You can’t go out there, maggot-brain! One good shot and your spoon will be in the wall. It’s light as day out there.” Guy gestured toward the moonlit field and its rubble of stones.

  “DeVere won’t come out where we can see him until he sees me. He won’t shoot until he’s certain I’m not Chadwell and can’t give him the information he seeks. By then, if you value my life, you’ll have moved in,” Graham soothed his restless mount.

  “He’s bound to know you and Chadwell are the same! If he comes at all, it will be in anticipation of killing you. That’s probably the only reason he has remained in London. Don’t give us Spanish coin, Trev. The message said ‘at the keep.’ We’ll just wait until he appears,” Arthur insisted, handling his horse with ease despite his injured leg.

  “DeVere won’t appear until I do,” Graham explained again. “Pippin’s animal should set up a howl when he scents him, so I’ll know to protect myself. Just concentrate on catching the cad when I draw him out.”

  “By Jupiter, why don’t I ever learn?” Guy groaned as Graham swung his mount around and walked him into the open field.

  The small group sat in silence, waiting for the prey to walk into the trap.

  Graham caught a brief flash of moonlight on metal in the shadow of one of the toppled tower walls and slowed. He had forgotten that tumble of rocks would be sufficient to almost cover a man of DeVere’s size. Running would risk a ball in the back. He hadn’t come this far to let the killer free. He swung down and approached the fallen stones on foot, keeping the horse between himself and that flash of metal.

  The dog would scent nothing unusual since the wind blew from the direction Graham had assumed DeVere would take. He didn’t doubt that he’d upset the watchers by his unplanned action. They could see nothing, however, and would not risk everything by riding out without a sign of their target.

  Graham spoke first, in low undertones. His plan had not called for speaking at all, and he had to improvise. “You wanted to see me, DeVere?”

  The shadow rose from behind the rocks and waved the pistol. “Step out where I can see you. I’d like to know who has the audacity to label me a traitor and offer to save my neck in the same breath.”

  Graham gestured behind his back, hoping Guy and Arthur would have the sense to circle around behind the wall. That would take time, and he didn’t have much of it. The normally imperturbable DeVere sounded rattled.

  “More than your neck will be lost if you don’t listen to me,” Graham called back. “Castlereagh has been searching for a connection between the monstrous maniac in the streets and the assassination attempt ever since you tried to implicate me. Thanks to a few of your girls, he’s found it. They’re closing the brothel and gambling rooms tonight. Your neck will be all you have left shortly.”

  “That’s preposterous!” DeVere’s voice rose nervously but his pistol hand remained steady. “There is no connection. They can’t possibly find one. People of that ilk talk too much. Give me a man of breeding anytime. That’s you, Graham, ain’t it? You always kept your lips sealed. So did Arthur. Guy was the only telltale. That religious mother of his, I suppose. Definite lack of breeding there. Come out from behind the horse, Trev. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  A shout emerged from the trees. Guy and Arthur must have circled around to see what was happening. DeVere’s head jerked sideways in surprise and his gun wavered.

  Graham seized the advantage offered. Leading his mount, he lashed out with his foot, kicking over the wall and knocking the gun from his enemy’s grip.

  DeVere shouted in fury, but before he could dive for the weapon, two more men raced into the field. Realizing Graham hadn’t come alone, he spat an oath and leapt for his own horse. Before Graham could remount, DeVere was off across the field in the opposite direction.

  With a cry resembling a general’s call to a
rms, Graham gained his seat and set off after the rapidly disappearing steed. His horse was exhausted from the long journey from London. DeVere obviously had a fresh horse.

  Graham raced his tired mount across the stone-strewn field. He sensed rather than saw the other two riders following close behind him. Arthur was already exhausted from the journey and risked his health in this madcap chase. Guy’s roan was already too winded to keep up with Graham’s stallion. It would be up to Graham to stay with the scoundrel. He had enough revenge in his heart to follow DeVere into hell.

  DeVere guided his horse in a flying jump over a hedgerow and galloped for the cover of a stand of trees. Graham gestured for the others to circle around while he followed on their prey’s heels. He’d not been on a hunt in years, but he had not forgotten the emotions generated by the chase as his horse sailed across the hedgerow after his quarry. The thirst for DeVere’s blood was strong.

  In the distance, Pippin’s dog howled and raced to intercept their path, as if running a fox to ground.

  Graham’s blood pounded as he spied his target emerging from the trees. DeVere had cost him his wife and five years of his life and a love he could never hope to find again. The insane bastard would pay if Graham had to strangle him with his bare hands. He pushed the stallion harder as it reached the flat expanse of a wheat field.

  The field was only half threshed. DeVere drove his horse through the center, leaving a wake of crushed grain behind. The senseless destruction infuriated Graham even more. The man thrived on pain. Let DeVere feel it for himself for a change.

  Racing after his prey, Graham lost all sense of Guy and Arthur. The dog’s cries were faint in the distance. He cursed as he realized another stand of trees lay in front of them. He suspected the low lying limbs indicated an orchard. To ride upright through an orchard begged for a blow to the head and a topple from the horse.

  DeVere took the trees at a reckless pace, lying low against his horse’s neck. He was not as skilled a rider as Graham, but his smaller size made him more maneuverable.

  Graham thought he recognized his surroundings, but he was intent on keeping his seat as he dodged trees and branches. Not until DeVere guided his horse over a turnstile and into the neatly turned earth of a vegetable garden did Graham curse his ill luck.

  Penelope’s orphanage! How could he have forgotten? He had only been here once, but he recognized the brick edifice even from the rear. Not many farmhouses were so sturdily made.

  The place had been empty of all but workmen when he had last been here over a month ago. As his horse took the stile, Graham had the sinking feeling that this was no longer true. Lanterns glowed in half the downstairs rooms, and he could see the occasional flicker of a candle above. Hell, surely DeVere didn’t mean to seek shelter in a foundling home?

  Even as he thought it, Graham caught sight of the villain leaping from his horse and running toward the house. Infamous! To take cover behind the skirts of women and babes was even lower than he had dared imagine any man could fall, much less a gentleman born and raised.

  But he had to admit it was the only protection the isolated countryside offered. Negotiating the mangled cabbage patch, Graham dismounted more slowly than DeVere. This would take thought.

  He heard the hoof beats of Guy’s horse and thought to wait—until screams erupted inside the house. Leaping for the back step, Graham dashed through the kitchen doorway and into the house.

  The screams within nearly drowned the sounds of the howling dog running after him. Graham shook his head in dismay. His reinforcements: a boy and a dog.

  It had never occurred to him that DeVere would take a house full of orphans as hostage, but it should have. He ran through the kitchen to enter the uproar in the front hall, pistols in hand. He slid to a halt at the madness he encountered.

  Women in mobcaps, wielding dusters, screamed curses that would put a man to shame. Young tykes with golden hair streaming down their flannel night shifts screeched in upper registers from between the stair rails. Their words weren’t exactly clear, but their murderous intent was obvious. Much larger girls filled the parlor doorways. Graham gaped as one voluptuous beauty winked at him before returning to the fray with a candlestick holder and a cry that would terrify a banshee.

  Guy burst through the front door and into this melee. He halted much as Graham had, staring in disbelief.

  Graham finally discerned a flustered DeVere clutching a kitchen knife to the throat of a primly dressed lady of indeterminate age and amazed expression. She did not seem frightened so much as confused as her young charges turned to a horde of screaming demons in her defense. Without flinching she lifted her gaze to Graham standing bemused in the kitchen doorway. His great size did not prevent a number of urchins from scampering in and out around him, arming the crowd with knives and iron skillets and rolling pins.

  Even as they watched, one of the golden-haired tykes from above launched a pallet down the stairs while a trio of youngsters at the bottom took swift aim at DeVere’s knees with their kitchen weapons. A rowdy miss with the arms of a wrestler smacked the villain’s shoulder with a long-handled iron ladle, and the knife flew into the air. The air erupted in whoops and hollers akin to a tribe of wild Indians.

  Graham couldn’t help it. The look on DeVere’s face as the lady broke loose and smacked him across the face while the screaming demons launched a full frontal assault doubled him up with laughter. Women had ever been DeVere’s downfall.

  Across the room, Guy struggled to keep his face straight. By this time DeVere was on his knees covering his head with his arms, his cries beyond comprehension. The suave, polished diplomat disappeared beneath a flurry of dusters, pallets, and petticoats.

  From behind Graham a small voice exclaimed with disgust, “Gor blimey, a gaggle of petticoats bummed the rat!”

  Pippin’s look of pure distaste broke Graham’s last remaining hold on impassivity. His roars of laughter brought even a pair of angelic twins from above to amazed attention.

  The vengeance of the women DeVere had ruined or murdered was quite properly wreaked by the hands of little girls.

  Chapter 38

  Graham gnawed on the end of his pen as he stared out the window and not at the wide foolscap on the desk. He had never failed at words before, but his mind couldn’t provide the impassioned plea that would ensure Penelope’s return.

  He watched as the governess pushed Alexandra on the swing in the yard below. His daughter had grown pale and listless these last weeks in town while he worked with the authorities to bring DeVere to justice. By the time he had produced the evidence of the villain’s involvement in the multiple murders and cleared his own name, Alexandra had quit speaking Penelope’s name. She looked at him as if he were a stranger. Returning to the Hall had not returned the roses to her cheeks. The only time he heard her laugh was over some antic of Pippin’s, and now that the boy had been sent off to school, he never heard her laugh at all.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have sent Pippin away. Penelope would have known the right thing to do. The boy was too clever to be left untaught, but Alexandra was lost without a companion to play with. Graham cursed and began to pace the floor.

  He should have written sooner. He should have told her he was wrong. He should have apologized, explained, pleaded, anything to make her understand. But he was terrified of her rejection. How could he say the words just right to make her understand and come back to him? She had said she would never forgive, and Penelope’s pride was an un-breachable wall, much as his own had been.

  Lost in tormented thought, Graham failed to notice his daughter slipping from her swing until he turned to discover her perched on the edge of the leather chair, watching him through large, dark eyes.

  “Alexandra! I thought you were with Mrs. Haywood.” Graham crouched before the chair and stroked her lovely hair.

  “Mrs. Haywood has a headache.” Soberly Alexandra contemplated him.

  Graham asked what he had known he would have to ask. “Do
you miss our Penelope?”

  Dark eyes met his warily. “When will she come home?”

  Graham sighed and stood, pacing back to the window. “I fear she will not.” He turned to look at his daughter. “But if you would like, I could ask her if you could visit for a while. Would you like that?”

  A glimmer of hope leapt to the child’s eyes. “I could tell her how much we miss her. Then she would come home. I know she would.”

  Graham shook his head. “I don’t think so, Alex. Do not get your hopes up. But I will write and ask her if you might visit a while. I’m sure she misses you.”

  Alexandra’s wariness turned to defiance. “Penny said she didn’t like to leave someone she loves. She must not love us. I don’t want to see her never, no more.”

  Graham crossed the room and swept her up in his arms, crushing her in his embrace as he pressed her tearful sobs to his shoulder. “If Penny said that, then she meant it. She didn’t want to leave, but I made her go. Please, Alex, don’t cry. She loves you just as much as I do. I promise, poppet.”

  Alexandra lifted her head and sniffed back a tear. “Then make her come back! I’ll help. I want her to come back more than anything in the whole world. She can even ride my pony. I’ll tell her so. Penny said if we want something badly enough, we have to fight for it. And you gave me my pony when I asked. Maybe she will come home if I promise to be a good girl. Please, Papa, ask Penny to come home. Don’t you love her anymore?”

  Graham had to turn his head away to keep the child from seeing the tears running down his cheeks. “I’ll write to her today, poppet. Then we’ll see what happens”

  Satisfied, Alexandra ran from his arms and out to tell her story to her pony. When the door closed behind her, Graham sat down at his desk and began to write. She might turn deaf ears on his pleas, but he would make her know why he had done what he had to do and beg her forgiveness. The words of love he longed to say would have to wait until he knew whether she would listen.