by Kelly Boyce
His heart hammered against his chest as the carriage swung wildly away from the wall and a body flew out, hitting the wall then tumbling over it. It had happened too fast and the snow blew too thickly to allow him to discern whether it had been Judith or Pengrin.
He pulled up on the reins and the horse skidded to a stop. Benedict jumped from the saddle and ran to the wall, leaning over it. Several feet beneath him, Pengrin dangled, his hands gripping the jagged stone at the base of the wall. Beneath him, the Thames churned and beckoned, crashing against the barrier.
“Don’t just stand there! Help me, dammit!” Panic edged Pengrin’s demand, but the emotion did not serve to move Benedict. If Pengrin was here, Judith was still in the carriage. “Bloody hell, man, pull me up! The stupid chit tried to kill me!”
If any part of Benedict had been swayed by the man’s plight, his words cut such feeling off. “Go to hell, Pengrin. It is nothing more than you deserve.”
He pushed away from the wall and mounted once again. The carriage hobbled now, one of the wheels broken, leaving it dragging along the wall, the gaping hole left by the door perilously close to its edge. If Judith fell out, she would risk tumbling over the wall into the water below much like Pengrin had done. Or equally as horrible, be thrown beneath the jagged spokes of the wheel.
Benedict dug his heels into the horse. The speed of the carriage reduced as he drew closer, the broken wheel slowing the runaway horses. He passed the carriage and leaned in the saddle to grasp the bridle of the nearest horse. His arm screamed in protest where he held the saddle’s pommel, every muscle in his body stretched to maintain his hold on the other horse’s bridle.
A lifetime passed before they finally stopped and when they did, Benedict feared letting go. Feared they would spook again and run away. He dismounted and ran to the side of the carriage that had expelled Pengrin. Inside, he found Judith on the floor, white as snow and eyes wide. Both of her feet were wedged against either side of the seats, and her hands pressed into the seat cushions for purchase.
She was alive and unharmed. He had never seen a more beautiful sight.
“You’re safe,” he said, reaching for her.
She nodded, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, but she made no move to release her hold. “I—I—” It was all she managed before the fear caught up with her and a sob bubbled up her throat and broke free. He wished to join her, though his would have been tears of joy. Relief. She was alive. And God help him, he was never letting her out of his sight again!
With gentle movements, he pulled her feet free. “Let go. Come to me.”
She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. I am not a crier,” she said, as if it mattered. As if he would think less of her.
She slid into his arms and despite the pain the pressure of her weight sent shooting through him, he held onto her with everything he had, burying his face into the thick waves of hair that had come loose during the treacherous ride. He breathed in her scent and for a moment simply stayed there while the horror of what had happened settled around him and clarified all the things they had tried to deny each other.
Things that would no longer be denied.
“I love you, Judith Sutherland, and you are going to be my wife and I’ll not hear another word about it.”
She remained silent a moment as she clung to him and he feared she might be forming a rebuttal to his proposal. “Not a single word?”
“No.” If he said it firmly enough, perhaps he could convince her. “Not one.”
Again silence. Then, “But what if that one word is yes?”
Despite the rightness of it all, her easy acceptance took him by surprise. He had expected a fight, to argue against her insistence that he needed to do what was best for his family. Hogwash, that was. The truth of the matter was the best thing for his family would be making her a part of it. With her intelligence and strong will, her clear head and beautiful heart, he could accomplish anything. They could accomplish anything. He was certain of it.
“Do you mean it?”
“I do,” she whispered. “With all my heart.”
His heart soared in response and for a brief respite joy overrode the pain barraging his body.
He pulled away just enough to stare down into the face he loved more than life itself. A smile filled his heart. “Then I wholeheartedly accept your answer, Miss Sutherland.”
She returned his smile and the warmth that radiated from it warmed him despite the storm raging around them. “I promise to make you very happy.”
“You already have. More than you can ever know.”
He leaned down and captured her mouth in his, putting everything in that one kiss that had filled his heart these past weeks, removing all the fear and worry and pain and replacing it with hope and certainty and love. Was there a more wonderful thing to surrender to?
He did not think so.
Epilogue
The wedding was the loveliest of affairs. Judith had never seen Uncle Arran happier and the Dowager Countess of Blackbourne, who now insisted upon being called Mrs. Sutherland, had never been more beautiful. Love was truly a wondrous thing.
It made Judith all the more excited for her own wedding to follow after the holidays, once her uncle and new bride returned from their honeymoon. Which, considering the time of year, would take place no farther than Havelock Manor, as travel during the winter could be arduous. And, as the new Mrs. Sutherland put it, she much preferred the idea of spending her time curled up in front of the fireplace with the man she loved than braving the elements to do the exact same thing somewhere else.
“Ah, my lovely bride-to-be, there you are.” Benedict joined her at the refreshment table, lifting her hand to kiss the back of her knuckles through her gloves. “I was just speaking with your uncle,” he murmured, laughter in his tone.
Judith smiled. “And how did that go?”
Uncle Arran had threatened to divvy the parts of Benedict up and bury them throughout the village for what Judith had been put through during her time in London. It had taken a full week of everyone banding together to convince her uncle that Benedict was not at fault. That when needed, he had not hesitated to come to her aid, at his own peril.
“He has stopped threatening to kill me, which I take as great progress.”
“Wonderful.” She held his hands, unwilling to let him go and caring little if it made them a spectacle amongst the guests that consisted of villagers and local gentry, family and a few close friends. “I’m sure in time he will come to love you as much as I.”
“Let us simply be content if he does not carve the Christmas ham while staring me threateningly in the eye.”
She laughed and lightness filled her, something she had not experienced since she was a young girl and everything was still right with the world. As it was now, once again.
“Good day, Miss Sutherland. It is lovely to see you again,” Mr. Bowen said, joining them. “Still determined to marry this old boy, are you?”
“Indeed I am. I’ve quite lost my mind in that regard,” she said, happy to see Mr. Bowen again. He had stayed behind in London following their statements to the authorities, indicating a need to tie up a few business matters before joining them. “Have you any good news for us?”
Benedict shot her an odd look. “Good news? Were we expecting news?”
Mr. Bowen smiled. “Indeed we were, and I do.”
Judith clasped her hands at her breast. “Tell us.”
“Pengrin’s insistence that Hawksmoor had the bank notes you had given Crowley seemed worth exploring. I searched Hawksmoor’s offices and discovered he kept very detailed journals on any number of topics, including Crowley and his mystery employer. It appears our reclusive viscount had heard rumblings about their scam of collecting so-called investments from desperate gentlemen with the promise of strong returns. Most of the gentlemen in question were, according to Hawksmoor’s notes, not overly deserving of his interference in th
is regard, but it appears he took a special exception when the scam involved Glenmor.”
Benedict shook his head. “But why? I barely know the man.”
Mr. Bowen shrugged. “Hawksmoor has always had a strange sense of justice. According to his journals—”
“You read the man’s journals?”
Judith nudged him. “Do you want to hear Mr. Bowen’s news, or not?”
“Yes, please continue.”
Mr. Bowen gifted them with a rare smile. “Hawksmoor made a short-list of who he believed your silent partner might be. He suspected it had to be a gentleman privy to those whose finances were in dire straights and would be willing to risk much to improve their lot.”
“And he figured it out from that?”
“He’d narrowed it down to three, but according to his notes, he leaned heavily toward Pengrin being the culprit, though he had no actual evidence to bring against him as yet. He confronted Crowley, but the man refused to give Pengrin up. It wasn’t until Pengrin discovered Crowley had double-crossed him thereby putting Crowley’s life in danger, that he went to Hawksmoor promising information in exchange for protection.”
“But Pengrin got to him anyway,” Benedict said.
Mr. Bowen nodded. “But not before Hawksmoor took your bank notes as collateral.”
Benedict let out a deep breath. “Then that explains why Hawksmoor had my money.”
“Yes,” Mr. Bowen said and his grin widened to such a spectacular degree, Judith wondered why he did not allow the expression more often. It quite suited him. “According to Hawksmoor’s notes, he had intended on returning it to you. But it appears Pengrin reached him first.”
Benedict rubbed at his forehead. “And it was all there?”
“Save for what Crowley spent at the tailor and a few sundry items, it appears your investment was barely touched. The other gentlemen were less fortunate, but they had invested prior to your uncle becoming involved and I suspect it wasn’t until the late earl passed away that Crowley got the idea to keep it all for himself and cut Pengrin out completely. Unfortunately Pengrin’s debts made him a very dangerous man, hence Crowley’s untimely demise.”
The twisted turns created by two men’s greed and the lives they’d nearly torn apart in the process sickened Judith. Both Crowley and Pengrin had been determined to keep the fortune Benedict and his uncle had invested, to the point both had died for it in similar fashions.
After Benedict had rescued Judith from the carriage, they went back to where Pengrin had fallen over the edge, but he was no longer there. Two days later, his body was fished out of the Thames, much as Crowley’s had been. Judith held no sympathy for either of them, not after all the pain their greed had caused.
“I see smiles,” Lady Rebecca said as she joined their group, looping her arm through Mr. Bowen’s. “Has my husband told you the wonderful news then?”
“He has, indeed,” Benedict answered, though his voice continued to echo the wonder of it all. Judith was less surprised. Mr. Bowen had informed her of his plans to stay behind and see what else he could discover from Lord Hawksmoor’s files, but both agreed not to raise Benedict’s hopes in that regard until the outcome was certain.
Relief swept through her.
“And the letter?” Lady Rebecca asked. “Did you deliver it?”
“Hush. You’ll ruin the surprise,” Mr. Bowen admonished, yet did so with such warmth in his voice and love in his eyes that Lady Rebecca laughed and kissed his cheek. How Judith counted the days until she and Benedict could share such affection in public without worry of raising eyebrows.
Benedict’s brow furrowed. “What letter?”
Mr. Bowen reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a vellum letter, handing it over to Benedict. He glanced down at the seal then over to Judith. “It is the Earl of Dungrave’s seal.” Pengrin’s father.
“Open it,” she urged.
Benedict slipped his finger beneath the seal and unfolded the letter, holding it up so Judith could read along with him. In the letter, the earl issued a heartfelt apology for his son’s actions as well as informing him he had purchased, in Benedict’s name, a substantial amount of shares in the Liverpool and Manchester Railway as compensation for crimes perpetrated by his late son.
Judith lifted a hand to her mouth as she stared down at the amount the earl had gifted to Benedict.
“I cannot accept this,” Benedict said, his gaze fixed on the letter.
“You can and you will,” Mr. Bowen said. “The shares have been purchased in your name. That cannot be undone. And it is small compensation for everything Pengrin put you and your family through.”
“Marcus is right,” Lady Rebecca said. “The man tried to kill you both. It is a miracle you survived. And Lord Dungrave can more than afford it. Allow him to assuage his guilt and ease your hardship in the process. This will go a long way to starting your new life together on the right foot and allow you to put this sordid mess behind you. Heavens, how either one of you avoided scandal in this regard is beyond me!”
Judith looked at Benedict and heat bloomed in her cheeks.
Benedict caught her eye and cleared his throat, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And Lord Hawksmoor, how does he fare?”
Mr. Bowen’s smile disappeared. “There is no change, I’m afraid. I have moved him to Northill to convalesce, but it is hard to say how much improvement we can expect. The doctor has indicated head wounds can be tricky devils.”
Lord Hawksmoor’s lack of progress was the only black spot remaining in this whole affair and it hurt Judith’s heart to think the man still suffered. Had it not been for his machinations, likely Benedict’s fortunes would have been lost completely.
“His family did not take him in?” Benedict asked.
Mr. Bowen’s expression darkened further. “They did not. He remains persona non gratis in their eyes.”
His answer took Judith aback. “But he is the heir. What could possibly have occurred to turn them so harshly against him?”
“Hawksmoor never said,” Mr. Bowen said. “I suppose that is a tale to discover another day, is it not? Today we are here to celebrate a joyous occasion, and one soon to come, yes?”
“Indeed,” Judith smiled and turned toward Benedict.
He took her hand. “With a lifetime of happiness to follow.”
Heat seared her insides as he squeezed her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss her once again. His passionate gaze promised untold delights and she, for one, could not wait to discover every aspect of what that entailed.
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for reading SURRENDER TO SCANDAL, Book 5 in The Sins & Scandals Series. I hope you have enjoyed reading Benedict and Judith’s adventures on the road to happily ever after as much as I loved writing it.
If SURRENDER TO SCANDAL is the first book in The Sins & Scandals Series that you have read, I hope you will check out the other books in the series. As of this printing, there are currently five books available in the series with the 6th, A SINNER NO MORE, on its way in February 2016—just in time for Valentine’s Day!
For the most updated booklist, check out my website book page, or sign up for my Newsletter at www.kellyboyce.com. I send out notifications to all subscribers to let them know when a new release is on its way, as well as provide the opportunity to win a prize with each new edition. Be sure not to miss it!
I love to hear and connect with my readers through social media and email and you can find all of my social media links on my website!
Lastly, in addition to my Regency series, I have also written several western historical romances set in the Old West and published by Carina Press (The Outlaw Bride) and Harlequin Historical (The Salvation Falls Series). These are listed on my website book page as well. The latest in the Salvation Falls series is part of Harlequin’s Christmas Anthology, Dreaming of a Western Christmas available September 15, 2015. I hope you’ll check it out.
Again, thank you
for reading SURRENDER TO SCANDAL and I hope you will consider leaving a review at your favorite online retailer to help others discover The Sins & Scandals Series!
Wishing you all the best,
—Kelly
Acknowledgements
The biggest acknowledgement for this book needs to go to my dear friends and family who recognized I was burning out under the schedule I had set for myself and suggested I might want to take a step back and re-think things. I didn’t particularly want to do this, but I trusted these people to have my best interest at heart so I took their advice. In doing so, I realized I had become too consumed with page counts and timelines that I had lost the joy of the process in the rush to get ’er done. As it turned out, it was sound advice and I’m glad I took it.
SURRENDER TO SCANDAL was the first book I tackled on my less rigid writing schedule and I’m happy to report the joy of writing has returned, along with my sanity.
So a big thanks to those of you who gave me a gentle (and sometimes not-so-gentle) talking to.
I’d also like to thank the crews at Starbucks Scotia Square who understand I want a sugar-free vanilla latte with soy when I show up in an ungodly hour of the morning having left my ability to speak at home, likely still in bed. Verbosity at that early hour is not a skill I possess. Also, to the Second Cup crew on Portland Street—thanks for not kicking me out when I spend hours hiding in the corner, sipping lattes and making liberal use of your free wifi. Coffee shops are my second home and you guys and gals make it a comfy and welcoming one.
As always, thanks to the people that helped me pull this book together: My editor, Nancy Cassidy, who helps me write the best book possible. Kim Killion (cover designer) and Amy Atwell (formatter)—thanks for your remarkable skills. You ladies are awesome!
And, as always, to John—for going on this crazy journey with me. You’re the best!
