Geoffrey stared hard at him. “You never would have gotten away with this. How would you have explained it when we found Etienne’s body?”
Barnesley lifted his chin up. “I would have said Sir Ambrose did it. And you would have believed me because you still miss him.”
“Is he really dead?” Geoffrey swallowed.
Barnesley stared at him. “You never knew your uncle. Not everything. Not his genius. Not really.”
“Never mind.” The duke undid his neckcloth, and Carlisle did the same. “Let’s tie him up.”
Geoffrey nodded, and he brushed his shoulder against Etienne’s. “You don’t need to worry anymore.”
Chapter Twenty-two
A few weeks later
“I want to show you something.” Geoffrey led Etienne down the stairs. “No more being afraid.”
Etienne’s heart tightened as he descended each step, and he narrowed the gap between Geoffrey and him once they entered the dungeon. If he was sufficiently fortunate to be in the presence of a brawny shouldered man with bulging arms who claimed to adore him, he would take advantage, just in case the cells were not quite as empty as Geoffrey claimed.
Barnesley had been convicted and sent to a larger prison: Etienne would never need to see the man again. Barnesley had confessed everything. He had taken over Sir Ambrose’s operation, moving Sir Ambrose’s valuables slowly through the tunnels, only panicking when the tunnels were discovered.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Etienne swept his gaze over the cells.
Geoffrey darted him an amused glance and extended his hand.
Etienne frowned. “I am perfectly capable of ambling along by myself.”
“We’re alone,” Geoffrey said.
“Perhaps…” Etienne gripped the hand, surrendering himself to Geoffrey’s strength and warmth. He locked his hand with Geoffrey’s, and his fingers roamed over the curve of Geoffrey’s palm and fingers.
Geoffrey’s hand was already so familiar, but he would never tire of it.
Something clenched in his chest, but he brushed the thought aside. Geoffrey was right. They needed to seize the moments when they could be together. It won’t last, nothing lasts, better to enjoy everything now.
He turned to the cells, noting the absence of large puddles and moldy bedding. Etienne moved over the stone floor. The place was still austere, but it no longer suffocated him. He smiled at Geoffrey, suspecting the man’s presence was responsible.
“Sit.” Geoffrey pulled a chair forward.
Etienne sat, grateful for the distraction. His knees were unsteady. He could walk for days outside and be fine, but standing in Geoffrey’s presence for a few minutes was clearly a feat he remained incapable of.
Geoffrey sat in the chair opposite, Barnesley’s chair. He rubbed the back of his neck and straightened his neckcloth.
“It’s perfect,” Etienne said. You’re perfect.
Geoffrey gazed at him, smiled, and then darted his eyes away.
“I wanted to ask you . . .” Geoffrey gazed at the floor.
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Geoffrey jutted out his chin, his eyes blazing.
Etienne’s heart beat faster, forming a rhythm he was unaccustomed to, one that made him think about warm fires and Christmas garlands. And Geoffrey. Always Geoffrey.
“And I thought . . .” Geoffrey closed his eyes and inhaled. “Well, you were actually the person who discovered the tunnels. And you do have much experience as a spy.”
Etienne nodded, though the joyful rhythm that had threatened to burst out was quietening.
“So you can work here,” Geoffrey continued.
“As your assistant.”
“Exactly.” Geoffrey smiled and leaned toward him. His face glowed, the light from the cell window radiating onto him. He was so handsome. He was everything Etienne ever desired.
Etienne directed his gaze at the cell again, contemplating being the person to put people in there.
“Solving crimes. Bettering the world. We can do that together.” Geoffrey’s voice quickened, and his lips widened into a smile.
Etienne turned his head away. “That’s why you want me to stay?”
“You’re very talented. And with your knowledge of the underbelly of Sussex society . . .”
“It would help that I am a criminal?”
“Used to be a criminal.” Geoffrey nodded firmly. “Don’t forget that.”
Etienne leaned into the chair, and rested his arms along the sides. The chair was sturdy. Good quality.
“You’ll be taken care of here.”
Etienne nodded. “I know.”
He was silent, trying to avoid Geoffrey’s big, hopeful eyes as the dismay inside him expanded, swelling and spreading inside his chest.
“Please look at me,” Geoffrey said.
Etienne turned slowly. It would be so easy to tumble into the man’s gaze and agree to everything. And shouldn’t I be doing just that?
“I don’t think I could bear to see you get married,” Etienne said.
Geoffrey tilted his head, his smile still fixed on his face. “Who said anything about getting married?”
Amusement filled Geoffrey’s voice, and Etienne lowered his eyes.
“And,” Geoffrey said, “I wouldn’t want you to get married either.”
Etienne laughed this time. It was so easy to laugh with Geoffrey. “Impossible.”
Geoffrey smiled. “Good.”
Etienne frowned. “But you might be pressured to marry.”
“I think I can be firm.” Geoffrey stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. His arms hung at his sides.
Etienne tapped his heel against the stone floor.
Geoffrey leaned forward, and grabbed Etienne’s hand. “Is this why you’re not leaping into my arms? I thought I had developed a damned good plan. Look, it’s true some men are pressured into marriage. But I don’t have a family—not much of one at least. And the only person here who possibly might pressure me would be the duke, and he won’t.”
Etienne smiled. “I suppose he wouldn’t.”
“Exactly. He cares far too much about you.”
“So you won’t ever marry?” Etienne said.
“Never. And I would like if you could work by my side.”
Etienne nodded. “I don’t think I could ever do it though.”
Geoffrey stiffened. He dropped Etienne’s hand and averted his gaze. “Oh.”
“I mean . . .”
Geoffrey laughed, but the noise was nothing like a laugh should sound. There was no glee, only sorrow. Etienne’s heart ached at the sound. “I don’t know where I got the sudden romantic streak from. You must forgive me.”
Geoffrey stood suddenly, and his boots clinked as he strode across the floor. Etienne rose up to stand next to him.
“I thought when you kidnapped me . . .” Geoffrey refused to meet his gaze. “I suppose I was being foolish.”
“It meant something. I do care.”
Geoffrey’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Thank you. But I do understand the fact you care might not mean you want to spend a whole life together with me.”
“That’s just what I want.” Etienne stepped nearer Geoffrey and dragged the man toward him. “Everything I ever could desire.
Geoffrey frowned. “But . . .”
“It’s working here,” Etienne said with a rush. “I don’t always want to surround myself with crime. And I know it’s noble to do so, and perhaps I’m simply not a very good person. And maybe it means that you’ll want somebody else, someone who is that noble and wonderful and . . .”
Geoffrey brushed the hair from Etienne’s forehead. “Don’t belittle yourself.”
“No?”
Geoffrey wrapped his arms around Etienne. “No.”
Etienne moaned. Geoffrey’s arms were strong, and Etienne nestled himself into the warmth. Geoffrey’s face brushed against Etienne’s, the stubble scraping along Etien
ne’s cheeks.
“I should never have assumed you would want to do that,” Geoffrey said.
“It sounded so perfect, but the thought of doing so . . .”
“Makes your heart race and your chest tighten?” Geoffrey murmured.
“Yes. But not in a good way. Not like it does when I’m with you.”
Geoffrey’s laugh rumbled near Etienne’s ear, and Etienne closed his eyes. Geoffrey kissed his cheek. “Did I mention I adore you?”
Etienne leaned his head back to look at Geoffrey. He stared into Geoffrey’s gray eyes. How could anyone think they were dull? Most of the time, they were quiet, cool and elegant. But sometimes they were the color of overcast clouds and the stormy sea. Now they were the color of elephants and dolphins, playful. Etienne adored them. “I love you, Geoffrey Hammerstead.”
Geoffrey’s mouth parted, and Etienne seized his opportunity, kissing Geoffrey. They melded together once more. Geoffrey’s hands were all over Etienne, and Etienne’s hands were all over Geoffrey.
“I don’t want you to leave.” Geoffrey’s tone was sorrowful. “And even if I never do get married, people might gossip if . . .”
“If they see you cavorting with the local criminal?”
Geoffrey’s arms went slack. “Yes.”
Etienne lifted his head.
“And if I found out about anything, it would be my duty to arrest you.”
“Of course.”
“And I couldn’t abide the thought of you doing anything dangerous.”
“Well, then.”
“And I don’t see why you would need to resort to such practices when—”
Etienne smiled. “I’m sure I can resist the temptation to turn to my thieving ways.”
Geoffrey blinked. “You can?”
Etienne nodded. “Most assuredly.” He leaned closer. “Though it is horribly nice of you to consider still having me in your life even if I were a criminal.”
Geoffrey’s eyes glistened.
“And anyway, despite your arrest, I really haven’t been much of a criminal at all lately. Not when working for the duke. Not really.”
Geoffrey stroked a finger over Etienne’s hand, sending a jolt of heat through his body.
“I was considering . . .” Etienne glanced at the light streaming from the window and inhaled. “I thought maybe you might be in need of my services in another regard.”
Geoffrey swung his head at him. “Oh?”
Etienne nodded, his resolve firm. “Gardening.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “You want to be my gardener?”
Etienne straightened. “Yes. It’s so interesting, and you need some people to help care for everything and . . . well, I would love to be involved.”
Geoffrey kissed his cheek. “Yes. Certainly. That would be perfect.”
Then Geoffrey’s arms were around Etienne, and he swung him around. “You will be amazing.”
Etienne averted his eyes, but warmth soared through his body.
“And you will want to stay with me?” Geoffrey asked.
“Always,” Etienne said.
“I’m here for as long as you want me,” Geoffrey said. “I never want to lose you again.”
Etienne’s heart clenched at how close they had come to losing it all. He covered his hands over Geoffrey’s, feeling the hair on the man’s hands as he squeezed them. “We’ll never let that happen.”
And the next moment, they were kissing again. Geoffrey’s body was firm against his, and Etienne gasped as Geoffrey’s hands began lingering on interesting places.
Etienne sucked on Geoffrey’s neck, finding the space that the neckcloth did not touch and then licking the salty texture.
“The bedroom,” Geoffrey gasped, and Etienne smiled.
They stepped away. They had privacy here, but one of the chamber maids might wander into the corridor.
“How is it going to work when I’m here?”
“Well, obviously the head gardener will need to live here.”
Etienne darted his head up. “Head gardener?”
“I’ve seen the way you care for the plants. And you’re interested in the designs. I would be lucky to have you do it anyway. I never should have suggested the other position. Please forgive me.” Geoffrey smiled. “I just liked the idea of us working together all the time. I’m afraid that rather blinded me to all sense.”
“If you’re sure . . .”
“Of course I’m sure. And remember, I am just a magistrate. You can be given a bit of freedom and experimentation in the task. I couldn’t afford anyone from one of the other manors.”
“You have such wonderful gardens.”
“And you will be brilliant at it. I’ll make sure you have plenty of contact with the gardener at Somerset Hall too.”
Etienne nodded, his body swaying as if floating.
“And I think we’ll need to restructure some of the building.”
“Oh?”
“We need to make sure there are connecting doors through the various suites.”
“In case of a fire?” Etienne asked knowingly.
Geoffrey nodded. “And I think Captain Carlisle and Sebastian Lewis might appreciate it should they ever come visit.”
Etienne smiled.
“All the rooms won’t need to connect, of course. But you’ll be able to access my room every night and slip away in the morning.”
Etienne nodded.
“And as head gardener, you might be able to dine with me when the ton isn’t visiting. Which I don’t ever really intend them to do.”
“Whatever you think is proper.”
Geoffrey winked. “Or improper.”
They moved upstairs, leaving the prison cell that had been the source of so much worry for Etienne to begin with. They separated and Geoffrey headed up the stairs. Etienne would follow him later. But now he needed to catch his breath, startled to find that happiness was something for him as well, startled that he had already achieved it.
Etienne’s feet were light as he ascended the stairs. Their lives together were just beginning.
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Sneak Preview - The Viscount's Duel
The Viscount’s Duel
Available now for Pre-order
Toby Burgess is no hero. That fact becomes agonizingly true for the viscount when his wife abandons him for a foreign count. For proper, scandal averse Toby, who enforced the ton’s unwritten rules, this is a disaster. He vows to duel his wife’s lover.
Marquis Miguel de Balla has long despised Toby Burgess. Toby ruled Eton and devoted far too much attention on tormenting the one-time stutterer. But when his friend asks him to be a second at his duel, and when Toby is accidentally injured, Miguel takes him in. He just doesn’t need to be nice to the man.
Clearly duels on remote hills in Sussex have disadvantages apart from being illegal and resulting in injuries. Yet when Toby discovers the strikingly handsome Marquis is the same man he tortured at Eton, the man’s discomfit around him makes sense. And for a reason Toby can’t entirely understand, Toby becomes intent on redeeming himself.
Prologue
Eton
1790
“You dropped your books again!”
Michael swerved in the hallway. “No, I-I di-di-didn’t.”
Toby stood before him. Toby always stood before him. His hazel eyes flashed, and a side of one of his elegantly shaped lips swerved up, illuminated by the flickering flame of a single candle on the wall. “You have now.”
Michael blinked as Toby’s arm jutted out, swiping across Michael’s books like some sort of crazed knight, so they ended up clattering on the carefully polished Eton hardwoo
d floor.
The heavy thud echoed and the pages flew open, crumpling against one another.
Michael’s heartbeat quickened and his breath came in shorter, deeper gasps. He staggered to the ground, his mouth dry, as he hurried to gather the books. He cringed as his hands smoothed over the torn book linings.
“Mr Thorpe!” The stern voice of the Headmaster shot through the hallway, like a pistol.
Michael trembled at the sound of his name, and a cold wind rolled between his shoulder blades. His white shirt and woolen jumper could not cope with this chill that attacked his innermost being.
Heavy boots clicked against the floor, and Michael swiveled, clutching his books against his chest.
“Mr. Thorpe! Do you have no respect for education?”
Michael swallowed, a heavy lump in his throat. “N-n-no, s–”
The headmaster’s eyes blazed through him, and the man waved his head with such vigor, that Michael wondered if it were possible for his white-powdered wig to fly off. A vein in the headmaster’s temple throbbed, and the headmaster’s skin had turned an unpleasant purple and red tone, like a rotting vegetable. “Into my office, Thorpe. Now.”
Michael’s chest tightened, and he nodded. A flicker of concern passed through Toby’s eyes, and Michael moved his head away with a sharp movement. Even he is worried.
Hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. He bit his cheek hard.
He had cried before. Everyone had seen it, and he wouldn’t do it again.
The other boys stepped back as the headmaster plowed through them, some eyes cold and some smirking as Michael hurried after the headmaster. They’re just grateful it’s not them.
But it was always him. Michael was always targeted. The weakest student, the object of whispers and ridicules. The most Michael might ever hope for was sympathy.
Never respect. Never praise.
He would settle for invisibility.
Michael’s body quivered as he followed the headmaster into a heavy paneled room. Thick tomes lines the bookcases, as if reminding him that the headmaster was educated, intelligent, wise, and he could see nothing good in Michael.
Captured At The Castle (Scandal in Sussex Book 2) Page 20
