“Jeebs, Crivvens…” Edith muttered, shaking her head, using various colorful words from home silently as she attempted to complete her embroidery in the parlor.
Embroidery.
She could not remember the last time she had embroidered something, and now, here she was, finishing a project.
She’d actually had the time and the peace of mind to take the task on, and had completed four sketches, five watercolors, and three landscapes.
Time and peace.
She hadn’t had much of either in years.
For some reason, she had not seen Sir Reginald in some time, which was delightful, but also gave her cause to worry. Not for Sir Reginald, naturally, but that something far worse would be coming. He had not come by the house since Lachlan had come to stay, and yet he had to know he was there.
What’s worse was that Lachlan had begun to challenge Edith to go out on her own, without Owen. She was terrified of the idea, but he continually promised that she would be safe.
It was never entirely clear what that meant, but he had been talking so much about resisting and rebellion that it had begun to sound like a fair idea.
So, she had begun.
She had made a few small trips on her own, just brief walks and errands, keeping her head high and pretending she was not a pariah in Society.
One day, she had found that Owen was still following her, though at a very great distance. He was not exactly pleased to have been discovered, but Edith was comforted by it all the same.
A sharp jab of a needle shook Edith from her reflections, and she hissed, shaking the injured finger out as she looked over the embroidery. No harm done there, fortunately.
Rufus could be heard baying loudly now, and Edith looked up at the ceiling ruefully, Lachlan’s low voice audible, but not intelligible.
Lachlan had been wonderful since he’d come to stay with her. He’d kept her from growing despondent, made her smile when she would have been solemn alone, and provided warm conversation with every meal. He did give her time alone and privacy whenever she wished, but if he caught her looking morose, he would do what he could to improve her spirits.
And he was marvelously protective. Sir Reginald’s henchmen had tried to come into the house two days ago, and it had only taken a scant few words from Lachlan and two punches to convince them otherwise.
There had been no attempts by any to enter since then.
Edith knew better than to suspect that her troubles were over, but the temporary reprieve was blessed indeed.
A thundering down the stairs brought a smile to Edith’s lips, and she glanced through the open parlor door to them. “I ken that Noah had a fair few animals in his ark, but if they came oot of that boat in a stampede, I still think ye’d make more noise than the lot of them.”
Lachlan stopped and made a face at her, rather as he had done for most of their childhood. “Dinnae get yerself in a kerfuffle, mo piuthar. The stairs remain unharmed, and yer neighbors will only think yer lover is pleased as punch to be wi’ ye.”
Edith covered her face and leaned forward, laughing in embarrassed hysterics. “Aich, ye gomeral, haud yer whist, and take yer blatherin’ off wi’ ye.”
Her brother chuckled without restraint and came to her, patting her on the head. “Tha’s the mos’ Scottish I’ve heard from ye since…” He trailed off, his hand stroking her hair far more gently. “Well, since I saw ye las’ at home.”
She looked up at him, smiling and taking his wrist in her hand firmly. “Having ye back with me, Lachlan, has brought a wee bit of Scotland back tae me. I thought I’d lost that part of me long ago.”
He smiled in return, exhaling. “Ye’d never lose Scotland, Edie. She’s in our blood.”
She squeezed his wrist in a show of gratitude, and his smile grew at it.
“Let’s have a stroll, Edie,” he said brightly, patting the hand on his wrist and stepping away. “The evening is verra fine.”
Edith glanced out of the window, then back at him. “This late?”
He pretended to look at the window, as well. “It’s no’ late. I still see the sun.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Barely.”
“Perfect.” He scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Come, a wee stroll will do us both good.”
“Are we taking Rufus?” Edith asked as she rose with a groan.
Lachlan shook his head. “No’ this time. The lad can stay here with Owen and learn the art of whiskey.”
“I have ears, ye ken,” called a voice from the hall.
“Aye, and a mouth tae go wi’ them! Hasna helped ye much yet!” Lachlan winked at Edith with a grin.
She rolled her eyes. Sometimes, there was no explaining Highlanders.
They both donned light outerwear and ventured out of doors, Lachlan surprising Edith by not taking her arm. Not that she minded, but he had always done so before this.
It was such a cool, fine evening, that there were a great many people about. Their usual walk seemed rather congested, so Lachlan nudged his head along another path, and Edith followed, not minding at all.
“Edie,” he murmured softly, leaning close, “do ye still carry a sgian dubh on ye?”
“Aye,” she replied in surprise. “The blade is no’ as sharp as it once was, but it would suffice.”
He nodded, smiling in his usual carefree way, not bothering to explain the question as they moved towards their new route.
But, it seemed, that path was just as popular with Londoners at present, for there were just as many others about here as there had been elsewhere. Edith frowned as she was suddenly separated from her brother, though it was not terribly surprising, as there were some very pretty young women about. Lachlan must surely have been bored with only her for company, and it was only natural that he should take the opportunity to be introduced to one or two of them.
Edith merely shook her head and kept going, knowing he would find her eventually. The path was a simple one, the route uncomplicated, and she was not very far from her house.
No one would expect Lady Edith Leveson to have an escort for a walk. Not anymore.
Only a few moments later, Edith felt the ribbons of her bonnet cut, the bonnet itself flung off, and her hair seized in a painful grip.
She reached back with a gasp, but she could not dislodge the ever-tightening grip.
“Sneaky little slut,” hissed Sir Reginald, wrapping his free arm around her waist while his fingers gripped her scalp with such pain that tears sprang to her eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I didna send for him,” she spat, struggling against his hold. “I told him you forbade it.”
“Not hard enough,” he insisted as he shook her head by her hair. “You could have cast him off, you could have barred him entry, and certainly to your bed. But you did not.”
He forced Edith to walk awkwardly as she was held fairly immobile by him.
Her sgian dubh was at her wrist, fastened into her spencer, if only she could get to it.
“I am free to do what I wish,” she told Sir Reginald, driving an elbow into his stomach. He grunted at the contact, but his hold remained.
“You are no such thing,” he ground out against her ear. “You are mine.” He hissed against the skin of her neck before running his nose, mouth, and even his tongue along it.
She jerked her head away, but he followed, and his fingers began to tear at her dress. Sleeves first, and then to her bodice, rendering the garment nearly indecent, though not entirely.
Edith growled in distress. “I am not!”
“Don’t fight me,” he barked. “I have been far too lenient with you, and that will change tonight.” He pressed against her forcefully, leaving no doubt as to his intent.
“I will fight you all the way, and you will never make it past the door,” she told him, struggling frantically as she reached for her sleeve.
“You’re making a scene,” he told her, finally moving his face away from her neck.
And then Edith screamed, a blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream, and all in the vicinity looked towards them.
People gasped in horror, and women covered their mouths, this time in sympathy, as there was no mistaking Sir Reginald as the one who had rendered her thus, his hold on her aggressive and obvious.
Several men began to rush over with shouts as they saw Sir Reginald manhandling her, and far more than she thought had been around. More of the men were commonly dressed than seemed gentlemen, and some quite dirty, though Edith didn’t care, if they would only come to her aid.
One of the men, a tall and imposing one, had gone directly for Sir Reginald, seizing him by the throat while others fastened themselves at his arms.
Edith was snatched from Sir Reginald’s hold, and was passed, rather gently considering their roughness and rough treatment of him, from man to man. Finally, the first man who’d reached Sir Reginald, undoubtedly the leader of her rescuers, took her from the others, and his hold was tight, warm, and far too familiar.
“Now, I think,” he murmured close to her ear, “you might call me a hero.”
Edith gasped and turned in his hold to see, beneath the dirt and common clothes, her beloved Graham, smiling despite his exertional breathing.
“Graham!” she whispered, unable to cry out in truth for her disbelief.
He smiled at her, his hold tightening, and her heart surged with delight. She reached for him, but he pulled away. “Not now, Edith, there is too much to do.” He nudged his nose along hers with a brief sigh. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
She tried to argue that it was the same for her, but he silenced her with a look. Then, he turned her back to look more closely as a few others marched Sir Reginald away from the group.
Edith would have gasped again had her lungs the strength to do so. Beneath the dirt and disguise, she could now see Francis, Henshaw, Andrews, Tony, Aubrey, Cam, and, of all people, her own brother, Lachlan. He had changed his clothes and somehow found dirt or soot to dirty himself with.
“Feasgar math, Edie,” he said cheekily. “I’m sorry for deserting you, but these lads wanted a bit of Scottish blood to get his hands dirty.”
The others chuckled, some shaking their heads, while Edith rolled her eyes.
Graham squeezed her tightly for a moment, then released her. “Go with Owen, Edith. I will come to you tomorrow and explain everything.”
Edith glanced over to see Owen joining them, nodding at each man with familiarity. She noticed he was not dressed in a filthy disguise as they were, however.
She nodded at Graham, smiling at him, then at the others. “Thank you,” she whispered. “All of you.”
Aubrey took her hand and kissed it, looking every inch a rough blacksmith. “You should have known we would do something, Edith. Nothing would have stopped us.”
“Not a damn thing,” Henshaw confirmed with a nod.
Edith could have cried at the firm answer he gave. “Oh, Hensh, you have done so much for me. You have given up so much of yourself and your time.”
He shook his head, silencing her. “Worth every moment, Edith. Not another word.”
“Mus’ ye be so damned noble, Hensh?” Lachlan groaned, clapping the man on the back. “A man resembles the verra devil standing beside ye.”
“Someone has to make me look good,” Henshaw joked, nudging Lachlan hard.
“Go home, love,” Graham murmured gently, guiding her in Owen’s direction. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
Edith glanced back at him, afraid he might disappear. “Promise me.”
Graham’s eyes stayed firm and steady on hers. “I promise.”
Her heart leapt and fell in a quick swoop. She turned and let Owen help her home, though she knew well enough that she would not sleep at all for anticipation of seeing Graham in the morning.
“Lord Radcliffe, mistress.”
Graham released the breath he had been holding and moved forward, his heart threatening to break every rib in its vicinity with its pounding. He hadn’t slept at all the night before, not with rescuing Edith and the fallout, taking Sir Reginald in to the magistrate, and seeing to all the details they had so carefully prepared.
He wished now that he had taken a moment or two to rest, if for no other reason than to be clearer in this moment.
Graham came in, and his eyes found Edith at once, neglecting Amelia, who had come that morning to wait with her. He said nothing, and Amelia laughed, very low, and excused herself from the room.
He couldn’t breathe yet again, staring at her without shame. She was dressed simply, though the shade of her gown and its style did not even register in his mind. She was beautiful, soul-stirring in every respect, and his knees shook with the desire to fly to her.
“Good morning,” Edith managed to say, her cheeks coloring.
“Yes, it is,” he said simply, leaving no question as to what he was referring to.
Edith only smiled.
He said nothing else; he simply stared at her. He wanted to say everything. He wanted to say nothing. He wanted…
He wanted…
“What happened to Sir Reginald?” Edith eventually asked, her fingers clenching and unclenching in front of her.
He smirked at the question. “At this moment, he is desperately trying to explain to a magistrate why he imprisoned a woman of station and fortune and stole her rightful legacy from her late husband. We discovered that Sir Archibald had made provisions for you in his will, none of which were upheld. The weasel is also discovering that many of his friends and supporters are disgusted by his treatment of such a woman, and all of London knows what a villain he is.”
Edith covered her mouth, looking torn between laughter and tears.
“Didn’t you wonder why he had been absent lately?” he asked, tilting his head. “We have been keeping him quite busy over the last few weeks, working to ruin him in every possible way. I wanted to come to you myself, but Ingram and Henshaw assured me that you would be well enough off with Lachlan, as that rumor was already in full swing. So, we played with the rumors, setting seeds of doubt with the world, and then last night, we set the trap.”
“And I was the bait,” she answered, not sounding at all upset about being used in such a way.
He nodded, swallowing back the memory of arguing so vigorously against it. Everything had gone according to plan, and Edith was well and whole before him.
“Can you blame him?” He shrugged, smiling at her. “I would have fallen for it.”
Edith’s smile, in return, warmed him to the base of his spine. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” he admitted roughly. Then, he swallowed again, smiling. “And someone else missed you.” He turned to Owen, standing guard as he was, and gave the signal they’d arranged.
A small, curly-headed blur in a green dress burst into the room and latched her arms around Edith’s waist.
“Edith!” Molly squealed, clutching tightly.
Edith looked at Graham in shock, tears in her eyes as she held his niece. “Molly?”
He shrugged, still smiling. “She and Eloise wouldn’t let me leave them at home, not when I wrote we were ready to save you.”
He watched Edith’s throat work and felt his heart squeeze as she sank to the floor, pulling Molly fully into her arms.
“Oh, Molly, I am so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault the bad man got me,” Molly said, completely unperturbed. “I didn’t hide well enough. You saved me, Edith. I ran straight to Gray and told him exactly what you said. I remembered every word, and it worked!”
“Good girl,” Edith praised, her hand rubbing circles on Molly’s back as her eyes found Graham’s again. “I am so proud.”
Graham smiled as well, though the memory of Molly relating the tale was one he would be pleased to forget.
“Will you marry Gray and be my aunt?” Molly asked, pulling back to look at Edi
th squarely.
Graham could have choked in surprise, or laughed at Edith’s tightened expression.
She averted her eyes from him and took Molly’s hands. “Oh, you sweet lass. I’ve missed you so much.”
“It’s a fair question,” Graham said in a low voice, smiling at the woman he loved.
Her eyes shot to his. “What?” she mouthed, the words inaudible.
He shrugged. “You didn’t answer her.”
Amelia was suddenly in the doorway and cleared her throat. Molly rushed out of the room and took her hand, then stuck her head back in and urged, “Say yes!”
“Shh!” Amelia insisted, giggling herself, leading Molly away from the room.
Graham continued to watch Edith, who hadn’t moved from the floor.
“Graham?” she asked softly, emerald eyes wide.
“I find I want to know your answer very much,” he mused, taking a few steps further into the room. “I have a distinct personal interest in it, in fact.”
“You…” Edith tried, slowly getting to her feet. “You want…”
He took pity on her and smiled. “I was convinced that I would have to give something up if I ever married. There was no possible way I could ever find a woman that would be a good mother figure to Molly and would be someone I needed myself, someone I could love.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Then, you came into my life, setting the whole world ablaze with your fire and your fight, your ability to attract trouble and the way you somehow still find things to smile and laugh about. I’ve been in love with you from the start, Edith. I was never a hero, because my motives were entirely selfish. I wanted you for myself, but I resisted. Until you came to Merrifield. Until I saw you with Molly. She adores you. Then, you sacrificed yourself for her…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “You could have lost your life for her.”
“My life was not in danger,” she said quietly.
He shook his head fiercely once. “You don’t know that. And your life could have been over in so many ways; it chills me to think about it. Yet you did it, the very thing that horrified you, for Molly.”
“I would do it again, and far worse,” she told him. “I love her, Graham.”
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