by Burke, Darcy
Well, they hadn’t done that yet, but she fervently hoped they would.
Sutton kissed her cheek, his lips cold against her. She looked at him earnestly. “Hurry home, please. You’re freezing.” He nodded, then took himself off.
West hadn’t said anything to Lionel, but his scowl communicated plenty.
“Next time I will listen to you,” Lionel rasped. “In the meantime, feel free to browbeat me.”
“I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of your wife. If anyone can make you feel suitably remorseful, it is her.” West stared down at his friend. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
West turned to Emmaline and kissed her cheek as Sutton had done. “I’m going. Send word if you need us. I’m sure Ivy will be over here in the morning.”
“Thank you.” Emmaline watched him go, then picked up the laudanum. She held Lionel’s head while he sipped the liquid down his gullet.
He grimaced. “That’s fairly awful.”
She set the glass down and caressed his face, torn between wanting to shake him and kiss him. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie… I truly didn’t mean to duel.” He blinked up at her. “And really, I didn’t. I don’t know if you watched, but I only lifted my sword in defense. Mostly.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better, you imbecile? And of course I didn’t watch. As soon as I arrived, I tried to put a stop to it. But that was just as Sir Duncan stabbed you.”
Lionel lightly touched his wounded side and winced. “What happened to him? I seem to recall you brandishing a sword.”
“I let him live.” For a moment, she’d considered running him through.
“Of course you did. You couldn’t have hurt him—or anyone.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be so sure. I was beyond fury, beyond rage. I can see how one might be motivated to such desperate lengths.” She lowered her voice as love flowed through her. “Especially in the name of those we hold most dear.” She put her hand in his and squeezed his fingers.
“You understand how I felt when my father died,” he said quietly.
“Yes. I knew I loved you, but as soon as I thought you might be taken from me, I experienced a depth of emotion I never knew I was capable of. Honestly, it scared me to death.”
“Loving someone will do that. Can you… Are you ready to feel that?”
She let out a short laugh. “I don’t think I get to decide. As I said, I love you. Beyond measure.”
He looked away from her, his brow creased in lines. “I don’t deserve that.”
She dropped his hand and cupped his face, drawing him to focus on her once more. “Stop saying that! I’ve had quite enough of your melancholy. I understand why you’ve punished yourself for so long, but must you punish me too?” Her voice had climbed, and her chest was heaving.
He blinked, then stifled a yawn. “No. I suppose I must learn to accept that the most magnificent woman in the world has miraculously decided to love me. And I shall count my blessings all day long—every day—until I die.” He settled back against the pillow and flinched again. “Hopefully that will be some time from now.” His eyes fluttered closed.
She tucked the blanket up around his shoulders. “You should sleep now.” She went to fetch another blanket, but turned back to kiss his cheek. “And thank you for what you did regarding my parents.”
His eyes shot open. “He told you?”
“No, my mother visited today. It was actually rather nice.”
He scowled. “They weren’t supposed to tell you.”
“Can we please dispense with secret-keeping? Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
His gaze softened, and he reached up to cup her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Kiss me.”
She leaned down and covered his lips with her own, moving softly, tenderly, oh so carefully.
He dropped his hand to the bed and closed his eyes once more. “I look forward to expanding on that when I’m well.”
She watched him for a moment and swore he fell asleep immediately. Eventually, she turned and went in search of another blanket. She tried a trunk in the corner and found success. When she lifted the wool, her eyes fell on a box. Curious, she pulled it out along with the blanket.
After covering him and making sure he was quite warm, she returned to the box. Picking it up from the floor, she took it to the other side of the bed and opened it, fairly certain of its contents.
Dueling pistols.
Were these the weapons he’d used in his prior duels? She wanted to dispose of them. But would he agree? She somehow thought he might.
The physician returned just then, and she set the box on the nightstand, banishing it from her mind as she assisted him in dressing the wound.
Then Hennings brought food and introduced the subject of a schedule for watching over Lionel. Emmaline was adamant that she wouldn’t leave, even for a moment, but that they could come and go as they wished. Ultimately, the physician decided to sleep in one of the guest chambers but planned to check in periodically. Hennings decreed that he would hover as he saw fit, at least until exhaustion made him take a nap. But it would only be a nap, he’d assured Emmaline.
He’d also given Emmaline the letter Lionel had referenced earlier. Drafted before the duel, he’d written:
Dearest Emmaline,
While our marriage didn’t begin as one might have hoped, I have no regrets about the short time we’ve spent together. On second thought, if my life is finished today, I will deeply regret the brevity of our relationship. I would trade anything for even one more minute of loving you.
Not that I will stop doing so, even after I am gone. I am yours for eternity, whether you want me or not. It is my fervent hope that you do and that we will spend the rest of our lengthy lives as the family I’ve dreamed of.
However, if I do not survive, I most humbly beg your forgiveness. Again. I am, often distressingly, a man of extreme honor and passion. I duel today because I feel I must. It is a question of my honor as your rightful and devoted husband to put an end to any question about our marriage. As you told me, you don’t want anyone to believe it is fake, and nor do I. I want everyone to know how much I love you and how committed I am to our union. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness.
Forever yours,
Lionel
The parchment was quite wet from Emmaline’s tears before she finished reading his beautiful words.
It was after midnight when she climbed into bed beside him. He’d scarcely moved since he’d fallen asleep several hours before. But his color was good, he was pleasantly warm to the touch, and he was breathing steadily. She told herself not to worry, even as memories of Geoffrey’s death stole over her.
Curling into Lionel’s side, she laid her hand on his chest. It rose and fell, reassuring her. And she finally fell asleep.
* * *
The creak sounded like a shot to Lionel, making him twitch. Pain flashed through his side, reminding him of where he was and what had happened. He heard the creak again and opened his eyes, working to focus in the near dark. A shadowy figure crept past the hearth.
Was it Emmaline stealing into his room as she’d done the other night? He hoped so. Even if they couldn’t repeat those activities just yet, he could still hold her.
But wait. There was something warm against his side. That was Emmaline.
Then who the hell was skulking about his room?
He reached over and pushed at Emmaline to alert her to potential danger. “Who’s there?” he called out loudly, hoping to warn her and maybe anyone else who might be around. Where was Hennings? Tulk? Asleep as he and Emmaline had been. It was the middle of the bloody night.
The shape moved next to the bed, and Lionel could finally make out his features. “Mullens. How the devil did you get in here?”
He shrugged. “I’m good at inserting my way into situations. Townsend could have told you
that. Your footman will have a nasty bump when he awakens, but should be fine. Too bad I can’t say the same for you.”
Lionel hadn’t felt Emmaline move, but realized she was no longer beside him. Where had she gone?
He looked up at Mullens, the pain in his side increasing as the laudanum wore off. “You’re here to cause me harm?”
“To remove you from my path.” Mullens’s tone was dark and hushed. “And don’t think to call for help—I’ve a pistol in my waistband that I won’t hesitate to use. However, I prefer to accomplish this errand as unobtrusively as possible.”
His errand? “Why are you here?”
“You ruined my enterprise.” The man’s voice climbed just a bit.
Lionel no longer doubted the man’s role in everything. “Your extortion scheme, you mean?”
“First you call out Townsend before he could collect payment from Lady Richland and don’t even have the decency to kill him. I had to do that to keep him from turning on me. Then you ensure my sister is terminated from her rather well-placed post without a bloody reference.” Mullens’s thin upper lip curled. “You really are a menace. Then you notify Bow Street. They came calling today, but fortunately, I wasn’t there. Apparently, Sir Duncan—I believe you know him—told them all about how I encouraged him to challenge you to a duel, not that he needed much persuasion. He was already quite enraged with you, and it only took a few well-placed words of confidence to push him toward what he already wanted to do. It’s a pity he proved nearly as worthless in a duel as Townsend.”
Lionel’s brain was still a bit fuzzy from the laudanum. He worked to comprehend everything Mullens said. “Did you say that you killed Townsend?”
“I had to. I visited him after the duel, and he said he couldn’t continue, that he planned to tell you that I had put him up to the extortion. The scoundrel owed me money!” Mullens’s voice grew in intensity but not volume. “So I waited for him to drift back to sleep and simply put a pillow over his face. Given the injury you’d caused, there was no inquiry as to how he died.”
Mullens sounded so smug, so…proud. “I’d hoped that Sir Duncan would kill you, but it seems that I must do everything. If you agree not to put up a fight, I’ll leave without harming anyone else…say your lovely wife?”
Lionel struggled to rise but couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he could put up a fight. “Touch my wife and you’ll die.”
The cock of a pistol made Lionel’s blood run cold. He looked at the man’s hands. They held a pillow, not a gun.
“Perhaps I can help.” Emmaline came forward, her hand wrapped around one of Lionel’s dueling pistols.
Mullens turned to face her. She’d come around the bed so quietly that neither Lionel nor Mullens had noticed. “You want to kill him for me?” Mullens asked. “I suppose that makes sense. He did kill your husband. And he was carrying on with Lady Richland.”
“Actually, he wasn’t, at least not recently. And I believe I just heard you admit to killing Geoffrey,” she said softly, raising the gun toward Mullens. Her eyes suddenly burned with menace. “I wouldn’t ever kill Lionel. I’d much rather kill you.”
“Emmaline, don’t.” Lionel couldn’t let her do it. She didn’t understand the consequences. Well, maybe she did—she certainly understood him.
“Don’t concern yourself, darling,” she said. “I believe I will sleep quite well at night.”
Mullens struck his hand out and sent the items on Lionel’s nightstand flying. Lionel turned to avoid the debris, and the motion nearly made him pass out from the pain. White light blinded him, then he heard a shot.
“Emmaline!” Lionel cried.
The sound of a male cry filled the room. A moment later, the door opened, and Hennings rushed inside.
Lionel struggled to sit up, to see what had happened, but the pain was too great. He fell back, panting, his vision crossing.
“Lionel, you mustn’t move,” Emmaline said. He turned his head and focused well enough to see her standing by the side of the bed, her face creased with concern.
He blinked, trying to right his equilibrium. “What happened?”
She grimaced as she cast a glance toward the door. “Hennings, do you have control of that situation?”
“Indeed I do, my lady.”
She turned back to Lionel and simply said, “I shot him.”
“You didn’t.”
“He tried to run away. I couldn’t let him do that. I only wounded him in the leg. I think. It was a bit dark.”
“Yes, it’s the leg,” Hennings confirmed as Mullens moaned.
The physician came in, followed by Tulk, his nightclothes trailing behind him. “I’m so sorry my lord,” the butler cried. “I found Pratt unconscious, but he seems to be all right now.”
“Someone send a footman to Bow Street to fetch a man called Teague,” Lionel said, gasping as the pain in his side threatened to consume him.
“I’ll take care of that, my lord,” Tulk answered, leaving as quickly as he’d entered.
“Doctor, I do believe his lordship requires more laudanum. But I’m afraid the bottle may have broken in the fall.” She squeezed Lionel’s hand before dropping to the floor, presumably to look for the medicine.
He didn’t care about that right now. He just wanted to hold her, to make sure she was safe, and to determine how in the hell she’d learned to shoot.
But the bustle of activity was too great as Mullens was moved to the sitting room, and the physician found that the bottle of laudanum had indeed shattered, thanks to Mullens. He sent another footman to fetch more and, in the meantime, saw to Mullens.
Emmaline had encouraged him to let the man suffer. Lionel couldn’t help but laugh, but sobered quickly as she returned to the bed.
“You don’t want him to die,” Lionel said, taking her hand once more. “That’s something I never want you to endure.”
Her warm gaze was a balm to his aching soul. “I know, and I’m sorry you’ve had to. But the guilt and the sadness over it stops now. You are, of course, entitled to remorse, but you must forgive yourself.”
“I will.”
She squeezed his fingers and stared at him intently. “Promise me. Especially since you didn’t actually kill Geoffrey. That has to give you a bit of relief, doesn’t it?”
Did it? He had to admit he felt a bit of lightness. Still, he’d played a role in the man’s demise. No, don’t do that—Geoffrey made his own choice to involve himself with a villain like Mullens. “I have to allow that it is easier to forgive myself now. For this at least.”
“Well, I’ve forgiven you—and if I can do it, you can too.” Her lips curved into a smile, and she looked at him expectantly. “I’m still waiting for your vow.”
“I promise. How did you learn to shoot?”
She laughed. “Lady Dartford taught me. It was thanks to you actually. I was rather angry after we wed, if you recall. I thought it would help me feel better.”
He could scarcely imagine it, but then he’d just witnessed it for himself. “And did it?”
Her brow pinched as she looked down at him, her hand caressing his. “No. I fear you were already working your way into my heart, what with finding Pearl for me and just being a generally good husband.” She bent and kissed his hand. “I hadn’t ever had one before.”
He smiled, feeling absurdly happy.
She frowned slightly. “Does this make me the Duchess of Danger? Never mind, I became that when I married you.”
“It makes you the duchess of my heart. Now kiss me again because it makes my side feel better.”
She arched a brow, clearly skeptical, but leaned down to press her lips against his nonetheless. Nothing in her life would compare to this man, and she didn’t want it to.
Epilogue
Axbridge Hall, July 1818
Jade bounced across the grass chasing the butterfly, which was just out of her reach. She vaulted, leaping higher than ever before, and nearly caught her prey. As she landed on the gro
und, she gave up her pursuit with a mad cleansing of her fur.
Emmaline chuckled as she turned and walked back toward the house. The garden was coming along quite well under her supervision and would be a riot of color and fragrance when everyone arrived for their house party in a few weeks.
She could hardly wait to see her friends and their families. Her hand instinctively moved to her abdomen. She wasn’t certain but suspected she and Lionel would be joining them all in parenthood next year.
Jade followed her inside, where it was cooler without the summer sun blazing down. She’d been outside for some time and decided a refreshing bath was in order.
Making her way upstairs, Emmaline looked at the portraits lining the walls. Her favorite was in the center of the gallery at the top. She strode to it and stood for a moment gazing at Lionel with his parents.
He was perhaps five years old, each of his hands clasping one of his parents’. His father crouched to his left, and it was a far more charming likeness than the one in Lionel’s office in London. Here, the former Lord Axbridge looked so much like his son that it made Emmaline’s heart ache. His blue eyes danced with mirth and love as he smiled at Lionel.
Lionel was turned toward him, clearly laughing. But it was the joy on Lady Axbridge’s face that struck Emmaline the most. She was part of the trio, most definitely, but this was a moment between father and son that perfectly captured their close bond. His mother looked down at them both, her features alight with a rapture Emmaline had only recently come to know for herself.
The reason the portrait was so unique and so stunning was because it had been painted by Lionel’s mother. She’d sought to illustrate the love of their family, and she’d done so with absolute perfection.
As Emmaline continued on to her chamber, she thought about how her own family might not have come to be if Mullens had been successful in killing Lionel. Sometimes she felt a pang of sorrow for Geoffrey. This was always followed by a wave of guilt because she was so incredibly grateful for her current happiness.
