by Ava Stone
“Shall I say it again?” she asked tartly, because her heart was breaking and sounding any other way would be nearly impossible at the moment.
“Caroline.” Marc grabbed her elbow, and stood at her back. “You cannot leave. It isn’t safe.”
“Neither is staying here,” she breathed out. And the faster she got to Hampshire, the faster she would reach Alex and Livvie…
Goddamn it. Marc was not going to be manipulated, not even by her. “You are not going anywhere.” She was being completely ridiculous in suggesting otherwise.
Caroline snorted and yanked her elbow from his grasp. “You are not my lord and master, Marc. And as you have so plainly explained, you never will be. So whether I stay or go will not be dictated by you.”
Damn stubborn woman. “You are making too much of this, Caroline. Everything has been going so well. I don’t know why—”
A scratch came at the door. “Lord Haversham?” Mrs. Dawson called through the door.
“Oh, bugger off,” he grumbled under his breath.
Caroline glared at him over her shoulder. “I believe we’re done here, my lord.”
Oh, they were far from done.
The scratch came again.
“What the bloody hell is it, Mrs. Dawson?” he barked.
Even through the door, he heard the housekeeper gasp. But his threshold for dealing with emotional women was currently at an all-time low, so he scowled in response.
“There’s no reason to yell at the poor woman,” Caroline said as she crossed the room and opened her door. “Do you need something, Mrs. Dawson?”
But the housekeeper’s eyes were on Marc and she held an envelope in her hands. “From Simmons, milord. Robson said it was quite urgent for you.”
From Simmons. Blast and damn. What the devil was it now? Marc strode across the room and took the note from his housekeeper. “That’ll be all, Mrs. Dawson.” Then he tore open the note as she hurried away.
Lord Haversham,
It has come to my notice that one of the maids here has allowed Lord Peasemore access to Lord Staveley’s library. I would bet my yearly the fellow is Galloway’s man. I was in the process of dealing with that situation when I received word from Benton Park. Apparently, they have experienced a break-in up north as well. I thought you should be notified immediately.
Please let me know if there is anything you would like me to take care of in London.
Your devoted servant,
John Simmons
Damn it all, a break-in at Benton Park. The bloody Home Office was as frustrating as…well as a damned sixteen-year-old girl, honestly. And bloody Peasmore? That suddenly made a lot of sense, not that it mattered any longer. But he was exactly the sort of fellow Galloway would want in his arsenal. Young, with a scandalous reputation, and heir to a powerful title. He was Marc nearly twenty years ago. And just as big a fool.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. Galloway and his damned team simply would not let this go. Marc might as well find the goddamn code himself and hand it over so the infernal organization would leave Caroline in peace. But helping them do anything was more than irritating as he’d be quite happy for them all to hang on any other given day. However, he didn’t see any other way.
“You can go scowl somewhere else,” Caroline said softly.
Oh, he was not through with her. Marc folded up the note and narrowed his eyes on her lovely face once more. “Caroline, I have to deal with something. It is urgent. Promise me you won’t leave Saddleworth until I return.”
She shook her head. “I will make no such promise, Marc.”
Bloody stubborn woman. “I have to go find some damn deciphered code to keep you safe. Now tell me you won’t leave Saddleworth until I return. We are not done, you and me.”
She frowned at him. “Deciphered code? What are you talking about?”
Marc blew out a frustrated breath and told her the truth of it. “It seems, Staveley was deciphering something for the Home Office before he died. They would like it back, finished or otherwise.”
Her brow furrowed even further. “David was working for the Home Office?”
“Apparently.” Marc shook his head as it made just as much sense now as it did when he first heard that tale. “I am guessing that is what your thief is after. So if I can find the damn thing…”
“What does it look like?” she asked quietly.
How the devil was he supposed to know that? “A book, most likely.”
“Well, David only had a million of those.”
That was true. “Inside it, there would be scribbles, most likely, as he worked the code though.”
Light dawned in her eyes. “I know it. He was working on something, a puzzle he told me. He took a book with him on the road to Prestwick Chase.”
Marc gaped at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“How long have you known, Marc?”
“How long have I known what?”
“What my thief was looking for?”
“Since before you returned to London.”
She scoffed. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
A strangled laugh escaped her. “Well, you’ve done much more than that, haven’t you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
But she shook her head instead of answering. “If any of you had thought to simply ask me—you, the Home Office—I could have told you where David’s book is. But you all decided it was better to keep me in the dark. And—”
“That is not the way the Home Office works, love.”
“Marcus Gray, on my life, if you call me that again—”
“Then what?” he challenged. “Because I do love you, Caroline, and I have never lied to you, and—”
“No!” She shook her head. “You simply keep things from me. And you…”
“And I what…?” he prodded.
She slowly released a breath. “You chased me, you made me fall in love with you when you never had any intention of us ever having a future together, Marc. You are more despicable than I ever thought you were.”
As though she’d punched him in the gut, Marc winced. He didn’t, after all, care about anyone else’s opinion of him, not anyone else in the world except for her. “I never thought you’d agree to any of this,” he told her honestly. “For the longest time, you were safe to love because you were so completely unavailable.” It wasn’t the most decent answer to her charge, but it was the truth. When she’d finally relented in his pursuit of her, no one had been more surprised than him. And he hadn’t had the good sense to think things through because…well, because how could he possibly think straight when she’d invited him into her bed? He truly hadn’t thought years down the road, what that might mean for both of them.
Caroline turned away from him. “Luke had all of David’s things sent on to Prestwick Chase after he found his body at that inn in Northamptonshire.” Her voice cracked. “Everything is boxed up and in the attic. You’ll find the codebook there, amongst his other things that I was not prepared to go through.”
Marc couldn’t care less about the codebook. He only cared about her. She was all he’d ever cared about. He followed her across the room and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Caroline, I should have told you. But…” Damn it all, how was he to explain himself so she’d understand? “I have spent the majority of my life not telling anyone anything. And, you won’t believe me, I know, but I have trusted you with more than I have ever trusted anyone else in my life.”
She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “If only that trust could make me respectable.”
Goddamn it! “Don’t you think I want to marry you? Don’t you think I want to shout to the world how much I love you? Because there’s nothing in the world I would want more than for things to be like they’ve been with all of us here these last few weeks. It’s the first time in my life…”
When he said nothing else, she spun around to face him. �
��The first time in your life?”
“That anything has ever felt…right.”
She swiped at a tear, which made Marc’s heart ache like nothing ever had before.
“Sweetheart, I could not bear it if something happened to you. If you were hurt or killed because of me.”
“So I should be made to suffer now on the off chance that something might happen later?” she asked. “Right now I am in danger, Marc, and not because of you, but because of David.”
And how ironic was that?
“No one’s future is certain,” she continued, “but only you get to decide whether you live in continual fear or whether you live life to the fullest, every moment that you do have.”
Goddamn it, she sounded quite resigned. “Don’t leave me,” he said softly. Because if she did, he wasn’t sure how he could ever go on.
But Caroline heaved a sigh. “Then choose me, Marc. Choose to live, because I cannot stay otherwise.” She shook her head. “I can’t live like Callie, hidden away from the world. And I will not have our daughters think of me as your mistress. I wouldn’t want that life for any of them, and I won’t let them see me choosing that life for myself.”
Marc didn’t even realize his hand was shaking until he lifted it to brush a tear from her cheek. And in that moment of weakness he said, “I choose you, then.” And it was like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, which was the strangest sensation. “What do you want to do? Head for Scotland or send for a Special License?”
She threw her arms around him and cried against his neck, “I don’t care. Just as long as I have you forever.”
Marc held her close and breathed in that familiar lilac scent of hers for what felt like a lifetime. Dear God, he never wanted to let her go. But he did have to. “A Special License, then,” he said. “I’ll deliver the damn code to Whitehall, and I’ll get a license at the same time.”
She pulled back slightly from him. “I am so happy. You have no idea how relieved I am that our child will have a name.”
And if a battle-axe had struck him on the head, Marc would have felt less stunned. “O-our child?” he stammered. He had to have misheard her.
But she nodded, making him slightly dizzy.
“For Chrissake.” His hand was most definitely trembling then. “Why didn’t you say something?” Why had they just gone through this whole ridiculous exercise? If she’d told him the truth—
She shook her head, her golden curls bouncing against her shoulders. “Because I wanted you to choose me, Marc, not feel obligated to do so.”
Damn it all. That old familiar fear twisted his heart. A child. His and Caroline’s child. How could he—
“No one’s future is certain,” she said again, seemingly reading the panic that must be in his eyes. “Not yours, not mine, not this baby’s.”
Perhaps not, but he was going to do all he could to ensure their safety for as long as he could. “The damn thing is at Prestwick Chase? The codebook?”
She nodded. “I’ll write a note so Keeton he won’t give you a difficult time.”
Chapter 28
Half a day from York to Derby in a mail coach and then onto Prestwick Chase in the heart of the Peak District. Two hours for the ducal staff to locate the right box in the attic and for Marc to finally put his hands on Staveley’s bloody codebook. He was tempted to stay the night at Luke and Lady Juliet’s country estate, but the sooner he got to London, the sooner he turned over the damn book, made his way to the Archbishop for a Special License, and made his way back to Saddleworth, the sooner he could make Caroline his in the eyes of God.
He still couldn’t quite believe that she was with child…Well, he could believe it. He knew how these things happened. The two of them hadn’t spent a night apart in weeks, and he hadn’t been careful at all, not as he should have been. He had filled her with his seed more than once in that time. This was not Caroline’s fault. It was most definitely his.
Marc could, and still did, blame Carys for Callie’s conception, however. She’d taken advantage of him upon his return to England, in his despondent state over Max’s death, and he was completely certain that his less-than-scrupulous wife had put a little something in his drink that fateful night. And when she announced she was with child a few weeks later, Marc thought it was more than certain she was attempting to pass some other fellow’s bastard off as his own. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d attempted such a thing, after all. But when Callista had been born, when Doctor Starkey had handed the tiny little black-haired bundle to Marc, he had known without a doubt that she belonged to him. It went beyond the fact that she looked so much like Marc and his mother, he could feel his connection to the child the first time he touched her. And even though he didn’t have a complimentary thing to say about his late wife, he had lost his heart to Callie the very moment he saw her.
And now there would be another child. This one born from the love he had for Caroline. Marc was quite terrified about the prospect. Somehow he would find a way to protect them, all of them, from his unsavory past…
If only Caroline could be talked into living at Saddleworth all year long ‘til the end of time. There wasn’t an inch of the place that wasn’t heavily guarded. From the gamekeeper to the gardeners to the stable boys and footmen, every member of his staff was more than prepared to defend the Hall as well as those inside its walls. They would be as safe as he could make them.
But she’d been rather stubborn about that in particular. I can’t live like Callie, hidden away from the world. If she wasn’t so damned lively, so damned adventurous…she wouldn’t be her. And he loved her, every lively, every adventurous inch of her.
The mail coach rambled to a stop at the Gloucester Street Coffee House and Marc quickly climbed from the conveyance with his small valise. He glanced down at his pocket fob. Two in the morning. On the dot. No need to hie off to Whitehall at this hour, Galloway would be…well, who knew where the devil he’d be, but he wouldn’t be in his office, that Marc was certain of.
So he crossed Piccadilly and hired a hack to take him to Upper Grosvenor. After all, it might be helpful if he could get a bit of rest before he headed to Whitehall in the morning. Of course, he wouldn’t sleep as well as he had done the past several weeks with Caroline in his arms, but at least it would be his own bed.
The ride to Haversham House wasn’t terribly long, though Marc was quite exhausted by the time he arrived. He paid the driver and just as he started toward his stoop, a shadow seemed to move behind him and then the sharpness of a blade poked into his back, right above his waist.
“I never thought it was you.” St. George’s voice. God in heaven. “Never once suspected it.”
Damn it all. Marc’s blood ran cold. He’d been so tired, he’d let his guard down. And now…He couldn’t die just like Max had. Not now, not with Caroline, their baby, and Callie…
“But I started thinking about it after encountering you at Vauxhall. And the pieces suddenly fit together. It was you all along.”
“You’re mistaken,” Marc began. “I—”
“You there!” came a voice across the way.
Marc blinked into the darkness and his mouth fell open in surprise. Of all the goddamned idiots in the world to show up now. He’d never been glad in his life to see bloody Blackaby, not one time. But at the moment, the Runner’s face was the most beautiful sight in the world.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Blackaby continued, crossing the way with a determined stride.
“Who’s that?” St. George hissed near Marc’s ear as his blade traveled northward.
“Bow Street,” he replied. “He’s been out to get me for years.” And thank God for it. If Marc could just convince St. George he was as awful as Blackaby thought he was, he might just get out of this alive. If he…
And then the man’s blade jabbed into Marc’s back, and he stumbled forward in searing pain. “He can have you then.”
The edges of Marc’s vision were fading, but h
e managed to yell, “For God’s sake, shoot the bastard,” before everything went black.
Lucas Beckford dropped into a seat beside his old friend Marcus Gray’s sickbed. For the love of God, was history doomed to repeat itself? Caroline had lost Staveley this same way. Of course, Staveley hadn’t abandoned Caroline to go gallivanting across the countryside with an actress. So perhaps she wouldn’t be as devastated this time. If Marc wasn’t fighting for his life, Luke would have been half tempted to hand the man his ass after the way he treated Caroline.
“…still has a fever,” Doctor Watts explained. “Lucky the knife missed his lung, but if his fever doesn’t go down…”
Luke nodded. “He’s too stubborn to let a fever get him.”
The old doctor smiled sadly. “I hope you’re right.”
And then Luke noticed a footman hovering in the threshold. “Mr. Blackaby has stopped by.”
Marc’s favorite jackass. Though he might be now, since Blackaby had shot the fiend who’d stabbed Marc.
“I suppose you can send him up.” Besides, Marc was unconscious, what would he care if Blackaby was in his chambers or not?
A moment later, the Bow Street Runner strode into Marc’s sickroom with the footman lagging behind him. Blackaby frowned when his eyes landed on the fallen marquess. “No change?” he asked.
“He still has a fever,” Doctor Watts said. “He did mutter Lady Staveley’ name, but other than that…”
“Should we send for her ladyship?” the footman asked.
Over Luke’s dead body. “I hardly think we’re going to subject my sister to this spectacle, especially after the way he treated her.” Marc was Luke’s friend and he always would be, but Caroline was Luke’s sister and her needs would always supersede those of the disreputable Marquess of Haversham.
“Yes, yes, I quite agree.” Blackaby nodded. “Terrible the stuff they said in the papers.”
The footman cleared his throat in a fairly meaningful way. “Mr. Beckford, might I have a word with you?”
Odd request coming from a footman, but as Marc didn’t know if Luke was sitting by his bedside or not, he heaved a sigh and then pushed out of his seat. He followed the footman into the corridor and frowned at the man. “Yes?”
