There were spots in front of her eyes and her vision was going in and out. Very gratefully, she sank into the waiting dark, running as far and as fast from the pain as she could.
* * *
Emmanuel leapt at Chandler as soon as Isabella went limp in his arms, murder in his eyes. Lord Gefferton held his daughter’s head in his lap, his tears wetting her hair and face in a deluge of remorse.
Lord Edric ran forward, getting between Emmanuel and Chandler.
“Peregrine!” he shouted, “Hold him.”
Lord Peregrine came forward, unsure who to restrain. A crash at the window had them turning to see the second thug had burst through the window and was currently running towards the wood.
Lady Peregrine plucked the rifle from Lord Edric, that Isabella had thrown to him, and pointed it menacingly at Chandler. “Don’t you move, you bastard.”
Chandler hesitated, clearly calculating his odds. Lord Peregrine came forward, and grasped his arms, pressing them behind his back and tying them tightly with his cravat, while his wife held the rifle steady, aimed at Chandler’s head.
Lord Peregrine kept casting glances at his wife as he tested the bonds he had tied.
“What is it?” she snapped.
“Nothing…just…that was remarkably well…” Lord Peregrine took a deep breath, “That was quite…something to see.”
Lady Peregrine lifted an amused eyebrow in spite of the seriousness of the situation. “Quite something to see? What do you mean by that?”
“Just that you look quite…spectacular with the rifle in your hands like that.”
Lady Peregrine showed her colors. “Well…” she simpered, “Perhaps we could—”
“Will you be silent?” Lady Gefferton exclaimed irritably, “We have a very serious situation here to deal with. Your sister is injured, Sarah.”
That pulled the Peregrines out of their self-imposed bubble and now that Chandler was securely tied, Lady Peregrine dropped the rifle across her mother’s lap and hurried over to her sister, kneeling on the floor beside her.
Isabella was breathing shallowly, sweat beading her brow. Chandler’s knife was wedged in her upper arm and the wound was bleeding sluggishly. She was shivering, either with pain or cold, as Gefferton smoothed her hair while crooning to her, the tears rolling down his face.
“We have to summon a physician at once.” Emmanuel said, feeling that he might just shake apart and disintegrate if he lost one more person that he loved.
Lady Peregrine got to her feet. “I’ll get the coachman to ride for the local physician. Meanwhile, let us put her somewhere more comfortable. The Dowager’s bedchamber is just down the hall…”
Emmanuel leaned down and picked her up. Her slightest whimper had him wincing in sympathy. He turned to look at Lady Peregrine with wide, scared eyes. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Isabella came to her senses, to find herself in a bed. Her arm was throbbing and she knew that it hurt, but she was floating in a sea of calm and did not really care about the pain at the moment.
She blinked the blurriness away, trying to bring the person seated by her bed into focus. She smiled when she could finally see Emmanuel clearly, his hand, warm around hers. She was generally warmer than she had previously been and for that she was grateful.
“Should you be in here alone with me?” She looked around the room for a chaperone even as she asked.
Emmanuel smiled. “You have just taken a knife to your arm, on my behalf, and the first thing you are concerned about when you finally open your eyes is whether we are chaperoned?”
Isabella’s eyebrows rose. “Did the rules change while I was out? Is it no longer necessary?”
Emmanuel shrugged. “Nobody around here cares. Their primary concern is your return to full health.”
Isabella moved her arm slightly and felt a jolt like lightning, heat up her entire left side. She hissed, turning to the side and closing her eyes. “I expect I shall not be in good health for some time.”
“Yes, the physician feared the same.” Emmanuel’s face took on such a visage of desolation that it scared Isabella.
“What else is wrong, Emmanuel? Why do you look like that?”
Emmanuel shook his head, his eyes—which were avoiding hers—shiny with tears. “I…I am just so sorry that this has happened to you, Isabella. The…physician is skeptical about whether you shall ever regain feeling in your hand.”
Isabella stared at him, taking the words in, and his reaction. “Well…I suppose we can be cripples together, then.”
He lifted his eyes, filled with abject misery. “Do not say that. You will never be a cripple, do you hear me? I won’t allow it.”
Isabella tried to shrug but even that slight movement was excruciating. “What’s good for the goose…and all that.”
Emmanuel shook his head. “No. Not you. Never you.”
Seeing how much this topic was depressing the Duke, Isabella decided to change it. “What has happened with Chandler and my father? What is to happen?”
Emmanuel sighed. “Your father has given himself up to the constables and his steward was taken away to Newgate. Lord Peregrine is seeing about getting your father out on some kind of bail.”
“Oh.”
Emmanuel searched her eyes intently. “Do you hate me now?”
She smiled painfully at him. “Do you?”
The Duke slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “You took a knife in the arm for me. How could I do anything but love you?”
“My father…had your parents killed. How could you possibly love me?”
Emmanuel looked down at his hands. “It is indeed complicated.”
Isabella moved her fingers slightly, but soon desisted, trying to hide the resultant wince. “We do not have to solve everything this instant. Tell me when they are scheduled to stand trial.”
“I will. I have not paid much attention to them, I must admit. Not with you lying here…” He looked away, swallowing hard and blinking back tears.
“I am all right.” She whispered and felt as if she must sleep soon. She had not the energy to keep her eyes open.
“I know you are, my love. For I have prayed for your deliverance.”
Isabella closed her eyes, the last thing she saw was Emmanuel covering her cold hand again, keeping her warm.
* * *
Lady Gefferton followed the warden down the dimly lit hallway of the prison, her gown pulled up with one hand. The warden came to a stop in front of a door and she paused as well, taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart. She did not know what she would find on the other side of the door—whether it would be her husband or some living, breathing caricature of him. The warden stepped back, and she stepped into the room.
Lord Gefferton got to his feet. The cuffs of his shirt were stained brown as were his stockings but otherwise, he looked whole and much the same as the last time she’d set eyes on him.
“Diana…” he said, his eyes wide with hope for her forgiveness.
Chapter 30
Repercussions
“Diana, my love…” Lord Gefferton did not know what he was feeling. On one hand, to see his beautiful, pure wife in this filthy cell offended his sensibilities. On the other, that she would brave this endless grime to see him was heartening. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
She drew herself up to her full height and Lord Gefferton knew that she was here to make some sort of declaration. Seeking to delay it as long as possible, he opened his mouth and let the first thing that occurred to him emerge. “How are the children? Do they all know yet?”
She took a deep breath, seemed to freeze, closed her eyes and then opened them again. He was taken aback when she moved to the bed and sat on it. He wanted to protest, tell her that it was too dirty for her to sit on…instead he followed her lead and sat down next to her.
She sighed deeply, closed her eyes before opening them to regard him sadly. “I do not know how we got here.”
He did not dare break eye contact with her. “I…made some wrong choices and then…” his voice cracked, “I tried to cover them up. And now our daughter is paying the price.”
Lady Gefferton nodded. “We all are.”
“Yes.”
“I never meant for you—”
“No, no, I know you did not. You did not pressure me or indicate to me in any way that getting you that jewelry was some sort of ultimatum. I was young, I was stupid, and I thought I could get away with it—I don’t know why I thought that. I suppose…my privilege blinded me.” He shook his head slowly.
“I never thought to ask questions. I simply accepted your gifts as my due.” Lady Gefferton swallowed, “Oh God, what the Duke and his family must think of us!”
His mouth twisted. “There will be other matches for our Isabella.”
Lady Gefferton shook her head slowly. “No, there won’t. She loves him. She will disown us before she is forced to turn her back on him. She put her life in danger for him.”
Lord Gefferton scrunched his eyes shut. “What are we to do then? If he will not accept her, then—”
“I think that he will. I think that they will find a way.”
“How?”
Lady Gefferton shook her head, “I do not know. I suppose…” she turned to face him, “the same way that we will.”
Lord Gefferton slumped in relief. “So you will…stand by me?”
“I married you for better or for worse, Colin.”
“I do not think they meant this when they made those vows.”
She gave him a strained smile. “I suppose not all of us get to deal with some lighthearted troubles like a mistress on the side or a by-blow showing up.”
“Umm, well...” Lord Gefferton gave her a look and she widened her eyes angrily at him.
“No!”
He put up his hands as if to ward off blows. “Of course, no. I suppose it’s too soon to be making jokes.”
She knocked him on the forehead with her knuckles, a grim smile on her face. “It is way too soon for jokes, you fool.”
* * *
It took three weeks for Isabella to be well enough to get out of bed, at least according to Emmanuel’s exacting assessment. While she continued to stay at the Peregrine dower house for the sake of propriety, Emmanuel visited every day and spent long hours with her, simply waiting on her hand and foot.
Isabella tried to chase him away, reminded him of his responsibilities, but he would hear none of it.
“You are my most important responsibility at the moment.”
He also would tell her nothing of what was happening with her father or his steward, and so once he left for the evening, she would bombard Sarah for details.
“Our father has been released on bail. His hearing will be in two weeks.”
“Oh…” Isabella’s heart sank. Once the ton heard about her father’s doings—if they hadn’t already—things would get difficult for them. They were likely to be shunned. That might not be such a hardship for Isabella, who preferred to spend time with her books anyway and was used to the ton regarding her as something of an oddity, but for her mother and other sisters, it would sting.
Isabella felt sorry for them. She felt bad for the ruination of their reputation which would likely follow them like a curse for generations. She wished there was something that she could do to alleviate the worry and stress she saw in her mother’s eyes every time she came to visit.
“Will you testify at the trial?” she asked Emmanuel when he came to visit.
“I do not wish to discuss it,” he would reply and then distract her by feeding her soup or extracting a book from his bag to tempt her with.
It was frustrating, although she could understand his attitude.
* * *
If you had asked Emmanuel how he thought the saga of his parents’ tragedy would have ended, he would have said that it would end with lead balls and blood. With their killer laid out on the ground and him perhaps arrested for murder, or dead as well.
He had reckoned without the additional drama of a fiancée, whose father was responsible for the worst thing that had ever happened to him. How was one to respond to it all? He was quite sure that even the most thorough book of etiquette did not cover this.
All he knew was that he had been frantic with fear while Isabella lay ill and unresponsive after she had put herself in harm’s way to save his life. What he knew for sure was that he loved Isabella. For the first time since his parents’ demise, he had a chance for a family of his own.
He was very grateful to his aunt and uncle for everything they had done for him, but he had always felt like something vital was missing from his life. He was always looking for that missing piece. He had filled that emptiness with thoughts of revenge and retribution but now he realized that since he had found Isabella, that wound was no longer bleeding.
And so he was willing to do whatever it took to make this situation succeed.
To that end, he took himself to the magistrate’s court on the day of Lord Gefferton’s hearing, who was just arriving, in company with a barrister, to the magistrate’s quarters when Emmanuel drew up. He hailed them to halt, for he wanted to have a word with the Viscount.
Lord Gefferton stood, his barrister standing a step or two away, and waited for Emmanuel to approach, his expression wary.
“What may I do for you, Your Grace?”
Emmanuel sighed. “I cannot drop the charges for this case.”
Lord Gefferton nodded. “I am aware.”
“But…I would like to speak a word on your behalf.”
Lord Gefferton frowned. “Why?”
“You know why.”
Lord Gefferton shook his head, dropping his eyes. “I do not deserve any mercy, Your Grace. Not only did I send these brigands after your parents, but I sought to hide it from you, even going so far as to suggest that Chandler should kill you, to keep my secret. Have no care for me, Your Grace. I am getting exactly what I deserve.”
Emmanuel sighed. “I know it well. But what of your family? Do they deserve the shame that will be heaped on them?”
Lord Gefferton kept his eyes downcast. “Do not beat me with that stick for already, it is stuck in my craw. I have asked my family to distance themselves from me and I do intend to state that I did what I did completely without their knowledge. But that is all that I can do.”
“Perhaps…there is more.” Emmanuel said, “If you are willing to do the hard thing.”
Lord Gefferton looked up at last. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that we can meet with the magistrate privately, in his chambers. If you are willing to make certain concessions, and pay certain fines to the Crown, you will at least be able to go home to your family.”
Lord Gefferton’s eyes brightened. “I am ready.”
Emmanuel nodded curtly, “Very well. Let us go.”
They entered the magistrate’s quarters through a side entrance and were led straight to the chambers. While there had been some gossip to do with Lord Gefferton’s arrest, no one as yet had the details as to why. No doubt wild stories had been invented to compensate for this lack of knowledge but so far, the truth was only known to a few.
If the magistrate accepted Emmanuel’s proposal, nobody would have to know a thing about Lord Gefferton’s crimes.
They entered the chamber, bowing to the magistrate.
“Your Grace, I understand you have a proposal for the defendant,” the magistrate began without preamble.
“Yes, I do, sir.”
“All right then, let us hear it.”
Emmanuel took a deep breath. “When he was a young man, Lord Gefferton committed a crime. He meant to steal a jewel from my mother, but the brigands he hired ended up k-killing my parents. That was not his intention, but it was carried out in his name. Lord Gefferton acknowledges this.”
The magistrate turned to the Viscount. “Is this the truth?”
“Yes, Your Honor,
it is.”
The magistrate nodded for Emmanuel to continue.
“In addition to the horrific crime committed, Lord Gefferton sought to conceal the crime from the general public and to keep the perpetrator close by so as to ensure that he, one George Chandler, did not turn on him.”
A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 26
