A Rake by Midnight
Page 25
Should she pull the trigger? There was an even chance of the ball hitting Mr. Henley. She took a deep breath, gripped the pistol still crushed between them with her whole strength and rolled to expose Mr. Henley’s back. She could not pull the trigger for fear of killing herself, but neither could she allow him to use the pistol against Jamie or the others.
He jerked his hand in an effort to wrest the pistol from her, then twisted as she rolled sideways. Her wrist gave way from the stress, leaving Mr. Henley with possession of the pistol. He laughed and swung the barrel up to her heart, forgetting everyone else in his hatred of her.
Time slowed as she watched his finger curl around the trigger. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see his triumph. A single shot reverberated in the crypt and, miraculously, she did not feel a thing. She heard the sound of a pistol dropping to the floor and suddenly she was being dragged upward.
“Gina?”
She opened her eyes. Jamie was holding her, studying her, his gaze traveling the length of her. “Are you hurt?”
Weak with relief, she sagged against him. “I am fine, Jamie. He did not hurt me.”
She could feel the tension leave his body as he held her tighter. “Thank God. Thank God….”
He turned with her in his arms and she saw Lockwood and Andrew bending over Henley’s still body. It was over. Finally over. She was shivering violently and realized she must be suffering shock. And all she could think was that, “You can put me down now, Jamie. I have to be home by midnight.”
He only laughed and held her closer.
Epilogue
September 25, 1821
The summons to Andrew’s library before dawn did not come as a surprise. Charlie had brought her home last night, leaving the others to clean up the mess she’d made. And, after Mama’s vapors, she had written a letter of gratitude to the Wednesday League. She never could have gotten through the last weeks without their support and understanding. They had understood and helped her reclaim her pride and her life. Without them, she would still be cringing in corners. Then she’d managed to get a few fitful hours of sleep and had just begun dressing for the voyage. Now she was prepared for almost anything as she passed the stacks of crates and trunks in the foyer and knocked on the library door.
At a soft call, she entered.
It did not appear as if any of the brothers had been to bed. Charlie, his arm still in a sling, and Andrew, looked relaxed while Jamie and Lockwood appeared as if they’d just returned from some errand or other. There was an empty chair in front of Andrew’s desk and he motioned her toward it.
She perched on the edge of the seat and took a deep bracing breath. She could not tell from their faces if the news was good or bad. She risked a glance at Jamie and was reassured by a little smile lingering on his lips.
Andrew poured her a cup of tea from the silver pot on his desk. “Breakfast should be ready soon, Eugenia, but we wanted to talk to you before the others come down.”
She nodded and accepted the teacup and saucer.
“Cyril Henley, as you know, is dead. There will be a short obituary in the Times tomorrow. Nothing will be said of his activities or the nature of his demise.”
She smiled, pleased that there would be no gossip. She could not bear the thought of her family being caught in controversy and speculation again.
Andrew cleared his throat and continued. “We took Miss Metcalfe home and explained her condition to her parents. To say they were shocked and mortified is an understatement. They are making immediate arrangements to remove to a small village in Tuscany to complete their mourning. Mr. Metcalfe will return after a few months, but Miss Metcalfe will remain. Lord Wycliffe made it clear that her only hope of escaping prosecution is to remain abroad.
“As for your name on Henley’s murder list, Devlin has put out the word that Henley is dead and there will be no reward for any further attempts on anyone’s life—yours most especially, Eugenia.”
She glanced quickly at Charlie and Jamie.
Andrew caught her look. “There are a number of cutthroats who are now out of work, and one in particular we are still in search of, but I feel it safe to say that you are no longer in danger.”
She took a sip of her tea and realized that everyone was looking at her. “I, ah, thank you all. I am dreadfully sorry for any trouble or inconvenience I have caused—”
“Inconvenience?” Jamie repeated with a little quirk to his mouth. “You have hunted Henley to ground when the Home Office could not. To the contrary, we owe you a debt of gratitude.”
She smiled. “If only I could handle Mama half so well.”
“Your mother is handled,” Jamie told her. “It seems your ship has been delayed. Whatever decision she makes, you will have sufficient time to make yours.”
“Mine? Is there some decision I have to make?” They seemed to have taken care of everything.
Andrew stood and nudged Charlie while Lockwood opened the library door. “Jamie has asked for a private word with you. Do you mind?”
Heat washed through her. Mind? She shook her head as Jamie came toward her and took her hand to lift her to her feet. The library door closed softly, and they were alone.
He pulled her into his arms and tilted her chin up to him. “Eugenia O’Rourke, I love you to utter distraction. Will you marry me?”
Yes, her heart cried, but she could not help teasing him one last time. “And?”
“The question.” He nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes, my love. You were virgin.”
She laughed. “Oh, Jamie. I adore you. I cannot tell you what it means to me that you love me enough to try to lie.”
He looked indignant. “Confound it, woman! It is the truth,” he protested.
“Even when you attempt a lie, you tell the truth. Because it is true, Jamie. Mr. Henley gave it away before you arrived last night.”
He lowered his lips to her, dropping small kisses on her cheeks, her lips, her throat as he spoke. “That never mattered to me. In every important way, you were. I am the first man you’ve lain with, the first man you’ve given yourself to, the first man you’ve loved. And if luck is with me, I will be the only man you ever need.”
“Yes,” she answered his question and confirmed his wish. He was the only man she would ever need. She’d wanted a simple answer. Uncomplicated and true. He’d given her the only one that mattered. The truest one of all.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7006-4
A RAKE BY MIDNIGHT
Copyright © 2010 by Gail Ranstrom
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