The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 4 (The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Sets)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "What? What is it?

  "That my father was murdered by Howell. That he found out your father had been falsely accused, that he had been used, and was going to betray the real criminals."

  "Are you sure of this?" he gasped, gazing up at her.

  "Not sure. I only have suspicions and suppositions. But you need to know about your father. You were so overwhelmed with what you learnt about Francis that you weren’t able to hear the rest."

  "The rest? Hear what?" Randall asked, growing more and more agitated.

  She outlined for him all his mother had told her, and concluded, "So you see, you were right. Toward the end your father didn’t know who you were. Or much of anything, really. Better to have him thought senile, than a criminal or a knave.

  "But I don’t think he was guilty. I think his secretary either knew and was complicit, or more likely, was sure he was innocent, and was got rid of before he could deny all the charges and defend your father’s honour."

  "The latter, if what I know of him was true. He was a decent chap, not inclined to take the easy way out. Very loyal."

  "I’ve got the word out in London to see if anyone turns up a one-handed corpse. Between the river boatmen and the resurrection men, we might end up with some clue as to what happened."

  "He also archived all of father’s many papers in a steel storage vault in one of the banks. Matters for posterity, like his Parliamentary speeches and so on. I have the codes. I can give them to Alistair Grant. As an officer of the court, he would be permitted to gain access to them."

  "So you’re not leaving me behind again?"

  He heaved a huge sigh. "No, not this time. I’m sorry, love. The truth is, I’ve been trying to expose Howell for what he really is for some time. But all the tarts are afraid of him and his friends, for they won’t sing no matter how much seed we offer them."

  "They might if they're given a chance to kick him whilst he’s down."

  He stared at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

  "Just that once he is accused of one crime, it seems people always declare they knew he was a bad ‘un all along. Say all sorts of interesting things they might not otherwise reveal."

  "But Geoffrey would never, not unless he had a real reason to—"

  She gave a knowing smile.

  A half an hour later, the Bransons came in to tell them they did. "I'm guessing this engagement ring identifies the body as Clarissa Dawson?"

  "Yes, it’s the one I gave her," Randall whispered, struck by the enormity of what they had discovered. That she had not eloped, but had been dead all these years.

  "I shall let the parents see this and the remains of the dress to ensure this is she."

  "Anything else?" Isolde ventured to ask.

  Malcolm held out his hand. There was something small and sparkling in the palm of it. It was a cravat pin bearing the initials CH.

  "We found clutched in the skeleton’s hand. We’ve got Chauncey Howell now. Be vigilant until he’s behind bars, but rest assured this will be over soon."

  Randall and Isolde embraced each other with sheer relief. The Bransons discreetly let themselves out, and went about their business of locating Howell to charge him with murder and attempted murder.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A week after the dreadful fire in the stables, Randall was feeling much more hale and hearty, strong enough to attend a memorial service for poor Clarissa.

  He was far more subdued than he had ever been, even when Isolde had first met him. His face had taken on such a bleak look that she was almost tempted to tell him about Michael.

  But she had great hopes that he would join them for their All Hallow’s Eve expedition, and she had promised to keep his location a secret, so she kept her word for the moment.

  "What is it, love?" she asked one day.

  "I’ve been thinking."

  She smiled in relief. "Really? I have too. What have you been thinking about?"

  "About the nature of life and love, how fleeting it can all be. How one’s security and safety can be taken in an instant."

  "Yes?" she asked with a worried frown.

  "I don’t mean to be morbid, really I don’t, but I want to do more for the children than just what they have in my will."

  "What did you have in mind?" she asked, for in truth she had already requested that Alistair look into what it would take to legitimise the children as their own.

  "I want the children to be adopted by us as their real parents."

  She hugged him to her. "So do I." She pulled some papers out of the desk, and he read through the procedures quickly.

  When he had finished, he nodded and said, "Tell him to make it happen. I don’t care how long it takes or what it costs. So long as you are all provided for, I can die a happy man."

  She pulled him into his arms. "There’s no point in thinking such terrible thoughts. You and I are happy and in love. Now that we are certain there’s a baby on the way, we need to make plans for our future, for all of us, true. But you're going to live a long time—"

  "Howell nearly killed me. Twice, if you count the challenge to a duel. You’ve saved me both times. I just hope you have no cause to regret your generosity in agreeing to be my wife. You certainly have had to take the rough with the smooth."

  "More smooth than rough. And I’m not the kind of person who repines or looks for greener pastures. I have all I need right here."

  He hugged her hard. "I know it. And thank God every day for it."

  She took his hand. "Come, we’ve spent enough time for the moment brooding. It’s about time we went out for a ride, and paid some calls, tended to estate business. It is too lovely a day to be talking about nasty Howell and death."

  "No riding for you. I’m not taking any chance with you now that you’re expecting. As for the calls, we’re still relative newlyweds so far as they are concerned, with a large family and a great number of responsibilities, so can do as we like without offending anyone.

  "As for estate business, it’s why I have hired a good steward and secretary, to take some of the burden off us so we can spend more time with each other and the children."

  "You’ll find any excuse to stay in this bed, won’t you?" She winked.

  "I don’t need an excuse. I just need you."

  "Then have all of me, as much as you like. I won’t complain."

  "Don’t mind if I do. So long as you take what you want as well."

  She smiled like a contented cat. "Don’t I always? But I want you so much, you might just come to regret that offer."

  "I doubt it. For nothing could give me greater pleasure than to make you happy," he said with a grin. "As often as you like, as many ways as you like."

  Randall never did regret the offer, though there were a few times in the next couple of days that he almost thought he might. Isolde’s pregnancy seemed to make her even more sensitive than she had been before. One simple stroke down her shoulder or arm was enough to propel her into his lap, or him against a wall, the floor, the pedestal in their favourite alcove, and the seat of their carriage in broad daylight. It would not have been so bad if it had not been in front of half the neighbors at the Harvest Festival at the start of October.

  "Good Lord, looks like old Randall really has met the woman of his dreams," Jonathan laughed to Thomas as the window shades snapped shut and the carriage rolled out of sight.

  "Glad to see it. He deserves every happiness. I know the old tabbies of the Ton predicted he would be cutting a swathe through the lightskirts of London in no time, but she’s a lovely woman, and you can see he adores her."

  "Do you think Michael is ever going to rejoin the family?" Alexander asked. He more than anyone knew what it was like to have lost his entire past.

  "I think so. He needs time. At least Isolde has become friends with them all. I know she’s invited him to our big jaunt to Cheddar Gorge for Halloween. If he turns up, it will be a fine reunion."

  "I’m looking forward to it.
I certainly hope he comes. But Michael can be awfully stubborn," Clifford said.

  "True, but Isolde can be as well. And Michael is helping Isolde to clear his father’s name. That has to mean something."

  "It’s good of Alistair to take on his case. I feel sure he’ll get his name cleared once and for all," Jonathan said with a smile. "The poor old chap was guilty only of naivete, not all the other horrible things they accused him of."

  "I’m so delighted Randall met Isolde. She’s a good woman. They seem so happy," Alexander said.

  "I think they shall be," Thomas said.

  "Does she know about his past, do you think?" Clifford asked in a low voice. "I mean, we all suspected there was something badly amiss with his former fiancee Clarissa. And his raking. It must be a bit hard for Isolde to take."

  "I'm pretty sure he would tell her the whole truth. He's a decent chap, and no fool. He has a rare woman there, and is not going to do anything to ruin that," Thomas said.

  "Glad to hear it."

  "But he will have plenty of people trying to ruin it for him, if Howell or Georgina have their way," Jonathan pointed out.

  "What can they do now?" The Duke shrugged. "Randall and Isolde are married, well and truly, Georgina has been disgraced, and Howell is the subject of a manhunt here and in London."

  "I’m not sure. We’d better just keep an eye out for him," Alexander said.

  Thomas nodded. "I’ve never liked Howell or Georgina, and they surely hate Randall. I’m fairly sure their love can withstand any tests, even the vicious Georgina and those horrible lies she spread about him, She doesn’t give up easily, it has to be said. Martin and Blake have sworn they will never speak with her again. Her family’s censure might bring her around. But you can never underestimate the enmity of a man like Howell."

  "Have they got any whiff of him yet?" Jonathan asked curiously.

  Thomas sighed and shook his head. "He might have fled to Ireland or the Continent. It's hard to say. All I know is, until they catch him, Randall and Isolde will never be safe."

  Jonathan's lips moved in a silent prayer. Then he said, "All we can do is support him, keep a weather-eye out for them both. He deserves our friendship. Any mistakes he made were long ago, and he was driven to them by sadness and despair. Who is to say we would not have done the same thing?"

  "Or worse, for less cause," Clifford said, thinking of his wife’s half-brother Gerald, who had resorted to becoming a highwayman and had terrorized the countryside raping and pillaging until Vanessa had helped uncover the truth about him.

  "Aye, worse indeed," Thomas said with a shake of his head, remembering how his sister had suffered at the hands of the seducer who had been after his family’s fortunes.

  Alexander looked at the grim faces of his friends and recalled all he had lost during the war himself, his brothers, and even his memory and own name due to the French sympathisers who had plotted against him and the Rakehells.

  But these were much too gloomy thoughts for a festive fall day. Alexander forced a smile on his face and declared, "Come, come, now. No more gloomy thoughts. Not when we all have so much to be thankful for." He smiled over at his wife Sarah, and Blake and Arabella and Martin and Eswara came up to say hello.

  Jonathan nodded. "The harvest festival is a time to give thanks to God for his bounty. We have more reason to be thankful than most. And if Michael gives in and tells Randall he is still alive, and they arrive at the truth about his father and Howell, their cup will runneth over."

  "Amen to that," said his wife Pamela, putting her arm around his waist.

  "Speaking of cup," Blake said hopefully, "please pass some of your wife’s marvelous cider."

  Alexander grinned and complied, giving Sarah a hearty kiss. All the Rakehells raised a glass to toast their newest neighbours in Somerset, and drank thirstily.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The following morning’s post brought Randall and Isolde the news they had both been waiting for. Alistair Grant had located Howell in London and had him arrested for arson, attempted murder, and murder.

  Howell had also been thoroughly implicated in the scheme to defraud the shareholders in the fictitious company Howell had set up. As promised, Alistair omitted any mention of the role Michael had played in bringing Howell to justice.

  His eyes widened as he read the letter over a cup of tea with his wife in their small private sitting room.

  She hugged him hard, tears of joy in her eyes. "I’m so pleased. I know how happy this must make you after everything you’ve endured. It isn’t much consolation now, but it is something to help you put the past to rest."

  He kissed her hand. "And all of this has been possible thanks to you. You persisted in seeking the truth, even when I had given up in despair."

  "It was a labour of love."

  He smiled. "In addition to all your others. What you’ve done with the children, for example. Quite the little ladies and gentlemen now, aren’t they." His tone was gruff with emotion.

  She misinterpreted his tone as one of displeasure.

  "I’ve never been afraid of hard work or sacrifice before, so why now? I love you, Randall, and just want to see you happy."

  "You do make me happy."

  "Please don’t be angry."

  He hugged her quickly. "Angry? No, never! I just can’t believe how much trouble you’ve gone to."

  She gave him a loving smile and said sincerely, "No trouble at all for the man I love."

  "I can’t believe this. It’s a dream come true. You are." He gave her a resounding kiss that soon had them scurrying for the privacy of their room and the comfort of a bed.

  Much later she asked, "So what’s it to be?"

  He groaned. "Not again, Isolde. Even this stallion has galloped his last for the moment."

  "No, silly," she said, stroking his hair back from his lapis eyes. "You’re free of the past now, and Howell has been brought to justice. We can do as we like, with no fear of the consequences. We need to decide what we’re going to do about all your commitments in Parliament and throughout your properties. We don’t have to stay here if you don’t wish to. There's always Berkshire as well, or even a whole new estate if you like. If we can find something that suits."

  "I have found something that suits."

  "Really?" she said in surprise, wondering why he had not thought to mention he had been house hunting.

  "Somerset. Right here in this house that you’ve made a blissful home. And the first thing we are going to do is make the Barkston stables even more renowned than they were before. I know it will be hard travelling up and down to London to sit in the House, but it isn’t all year round. And with the break in the journey via Berkshire, it won’t be so bad."

  Her eyes rounded with joy. "Oh, Randall, are you sure?"

  He nodded and smiled. "I am sure. I hated the idea of coming back here. I freely admit it. I didn’t want to confront the past. Now I’m so glad you convinced me, and we all love it here. And we’re amongst so many friends, I feel confident that you’ll all be safe and well looked after during the times I do have to go sit in the House."

  "We'll be fine, I promise. And I can go with you just about up until the time the babe is born."

  He nodded, and kissed her. "I know it will be hard for you to be separated from me, for you have little enough reason to trust in my reform as a rake. But if I can make a real difference, then I simply have to take it the chance. And you can come up with me for the Season, enjoy a few balls and parties. Do some of your marvelous charity work."

  "Are you really sure?"

  He kissed her. Certain.

  He lifted his lips before he got completely carried away again. "Anyway, I’d better write to thank Alistair straight away, and ask him to move forward with the adoptions." He swung his long legs out of the bed. He put on his dressing gown, and went over to their desk.

  Isolde was lost in her own thoughts for a time as she listened to the pen scratching over the paper. />
  There were only a few dark clouds on their horizon, and one of them was the unresolved issue of Michael. She had kept her word thus far, but surely since this was the last of Randall’s wishes....

  She shivered. All of them had come true. His mother, the children, Francis, her own happiness and the baby within her. And even Michael, if he did but know it. It was all theirs for the asking, life, love, a family, even political power. What price would they have to pay?

  Or had they already paid? she wondered, thinking of his other brothers, his father and mother, and her own father. The three men killed, the prize stables destroyed. She shivered at the thought of how close she had come to losing the man she loved more than life itself. The father of all their children.