"She loved me…" Kirby's tone was broken.
"No, but I do believe that you loved her," Neville allowed.
"They'll hang me for sure," Kirby replied, his gaze frantically searching the room.
"You'll not escape." Neville took a menacing step forward.
Kirby lunged for the door, but Neville knocked him to the ground, giving him a right hook to the jaw. Kirby stilled, unconscious.
"Impressive." Curtis nodded his approval.
"I cannot tell you how long I've wished to do that." Neville stood and straightened his coat. "You, find me something to tie his hands," he called to the remaining barrister who stared at Kirby's body with wide-eyed shock.
"Y-yes, my lord."
Shortly after they tied Kirby's hands with some rope found in his desk, several constables arrived. Curtis quickly disclosed the proof and confession, with the barrister's confirming every detail.
As they carried Kirby's unconscious body out the door, Neville felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Are you dealing well with this?"
"Yes," Neville replied, knowing what Curtis was asking. Because Kirby's story… could have been his. Even the similarity in the names was uncanny. But while Kirby plotted revenge, Neville was able to see the truth of the matter. Mary, his own betrothed, had sought pleasure elsewhere as well. When she'd discovered she carried a child, she'd tried to seduce him, but sensing something off, Neville had refrained from the temptation she'd presented. It was when he'd refused her that the truth had come out in a desperate flood. When he'd threatened to put her aside, she had left in a fury. A week later, she was found at his family's London residence at the bottom of the stairs. That was the Prother case… Mary Prother. The known story was that she fell down the slippery marble stairs. But the truth? Her suicide was her own revenge, attempting to frame Neville as the jealous lover. And it might have worked had her father's valet not killed himself the next day, a Romeo and Juliet act. A note was later found, confessing his love for Mary and their knowledge of her expecting, and something about not wanting to let a lie keep him from getting into heaven. Her parents, not wanting the world to know the shame, paid to keep certain information from the public's knowledge.
And, as such, lent to quite the amount of speculation concerning himself. Which was why he went into more of a reclusive state, and why he'd become involved with the war office.
And all such events led him to this moment.
To the beauty of finding love.
Beatrix.
"Are you with us, old man?" Curtis's voice called him back to the present, and he studied the scene before him. Two constables waited for his answer to some question.
"Pardon?"
"Is there anything you wish to add to Mr. Sheppard's statement?" one with a neatly trimmed mustache asked.
"No, no." Neville shook his head.
"Then I believe that's all we need. Er, what about the fellow out front knocked out?"
"He's the butler. I'm not sure what role he played."
"We'll take him in as well then, just to gather his statement. I think he's waking up."
The officers left, and Curtis rubbed his hands together. "I think our work here is done." He smiled.
"It would seem so. Shall we go to our next appointment?" Neville asked, his body tense with anticipation.
"I thought you'd never ask."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"BEATRIX!" BETHANNY'S VOICE PULLED HER ATTENTION from the book before her as she retired in the library. As Beatrix glanced up, Bethanny scurried into the room and closed the door softly behind her, her brown eyes lit with excitement.
"He's here!" Bethanny clapped. She reached out, pulled her sister's hands, and helped her to stand. The book slumped to the ground, making a muted thud as Beatrix stood.
"Who?" Her heart wanted to believe it was Neville, but to do such would be quite the risk. And certainly her sister would not be so animated if the gentleman she'd referred to was Sir Kirby.
"Who?" Bethanny scoffed teasingly. "Neville…?" She let the word linger in the air, heavy with expectation.
"Neville?" Beatrix breathed, savoring the name and feeling a joy lighten her heart.
"Yes!" Bethanny took a step back and studied her sister. "This won't do." Immediately she stared tugging on Beatrix's hair, adjusting her dress, and picking at invisible lint on her skirt.
"How do you know?" Beatrix asked, tolerating her sister's grooming.
"I… that is…" Bethanny blushed slightly. "Graham and I arrived at the same moment. Of course, my husband followed Neville and the duke into the study, all but slamming the door in my face," Bethanny grumbled.
"I highly doubt that." Beatrix giggled.
"I did try to stop the door with my foot, and I may or may not have listened at the threshold… but then the duke opened the door with me against it. I say, I already feel sympathy for his heir. The man has a wicked scowl." Bethanny shook her head.
"Wait… you were just arriving? You were supposed to be here hours ago." Beatrix glanced to her sister questioningly.
Bethanny's face bloomed with color. "We got distracted."
"I don't want to know any other details." Beatrix held up her hands, a wry grin teasing her lips.
"Nor will I offer any." Bethanny winked. "However, it is to your extreme benefit that we arrived when we did, because we now know of his arrival and have time to freshen up. I'm assuming he needs to inform the duke about Sir Kirby. You did hear of his arrest earlier today?" Bethanny paused, watching her sister's response.
"Yes! But I haven't heard any details. Did you hear anything of use while listening at the study door?"
"No." Bethanny pouted. "However, judging by the tone of the duke's voice, he was quite shocked, but I didn't hear anything more. Graham thinks the duke won't be entirely pleased with Neville once he sweeps you away." She winked.
"And you were surprised by that notion?" Beatrix rolled her eyes.
"No. I was simply providing my observation. I imagine the duke will be more amicable once Neville makes his intentions clear, and the duke has his feathers soothed with a formal request of his permission. Especially with this Kirby-mess all taken care of."
"It's now that I realized just why you were so worried about your relationship with Graham. The duke is quite… protective… is he not?" Beatrix shook off the thought of Sir Kirby, focusing on the delight of knowing Neville was there, speaking to the duke… of her. Wasn't he?
"Indeed…" Bethanny sighed, grinning slightly. "And Graham is the duke's close friend."
"Neville… is not."
"No, but I do not think that will impede his intentions." Bethanny smoothed her palm across Beatrix cheek.
"Am I presentable?" Beatrix stepped back and spun slowly.
"Stunning."
"I imagine they'll request our company soon," Bethanny assured.
"Not soon enough. I'm sure the duke will need to be informed quite thoroughly on the circumstances surrounding Kirby's arrest." Beatrix felt her heart pound with relief, yet acute anticipation. Was it truly all over? Had the nightmare ended?
A knock at the door caused Beatrix's heart to stutter then pound with fierce expectation.
"Yes?" Bethanny answered, moving to stand in front of Beatrix.
"Lady Graham, Miss Beatrix, your presence is requested in His Grace's study," Murray replied as he opened the library door with his usual unassuming manner.
"Of course, please tell His Grace we will be there directly."
Murray nodded and left.
Bethanny spun while reaching out and grasping her sister's hands. "Are you ready?"
"I was ready quite a while ago." Beatrix took a deep breath.
"Then let's not delay." Bethanny hitched a shoulder with a saucy wink.
Memories flooded her mind as she walked toward the study. How many times had she and her sisters slid down this very hall in their stockings, only to be scolded by Mrs. Pott, the housekeeper? How many tim
es had she done the very same thing Bethanny had done earlier and pressed an ear against the duke's study door? Yet, it all seemed different, as if the atmosphere had changed, or maybe it was just her.
Bethanny paused just before the closed door and held up her hand for Murray to wait before opening it. Turning to her sister, she placed her hands on her shoulders. "Knowing the men within, they'll not discuss Kirby yet. Neville will wish to offer for your hand first, taking care of the most important. Therefore, take a breath… slow down your racing heart… because years from now, you'll want to remember these moments. I can't tell you how often I'll find myself remembering when Graham finally offered for me… when it was official, the faces of those present, the very scent of the air." She took a deep breath, as if remembering it again. "This is your moment. Own it, my love. Don't rush it, don't fight it… walk through it. Don't run." Bethanny pulled her into a hug.
"Murray?" Bethanny nodded to the door.
With a click of the knob, the door swung open silently, stilling all the murmuring conversation within the study. Beatrix noted how her sister walked through the door slowly, making a pointed entrance, shielding her sister's body with her own till she veered to the side to take her place beside her husband, Lord Graham.
Beatrix breathed in the room, committing the scent to memory, following her sister's advice and slowing down her heart's galloping cadence. As her eyes met Neville's, her heart stuttered to a stop then picked up its rhythm, not quickly, but steady, as if reassessing its steady beat to match another's. Then, because, well, this was her moment, she didn't pause but walked forward, purposefully, feeling her lips spread into a secret grin as Neville's gaze sharpened with understanding.
With a wicked grin, he wasted not one moment but started toward her as well, measured steps filled with purpose, with intention.
Only one word was spoken before his lips found hers.
"Finally."
It was the one word that summed up so much of what she needed to know.
Finally, the threat of Kirby was ended.
Finally, she was free to marry Neville.
Finally, she didn't have to worry about Berty's future because of Kirby.
Finally, she was free.
Warm lips captured hers, or maybe she started the kiss, but it mattered not. What mattered was that she was where she belonged.
In his arms.
Or was.
A heavy hand on her shoulder pulled her back from the delirious dream.
"Not in my study, not till you're officially married, and as God as my witness, never in front of me again," the duke's voice broke through, and she glanced away from Neville's smoldering gaze and the alluring temptation of his lips.
"Your Grace." Beatrix nodded to her guardian.
His face turned a frustrated shade of red, and as the world came back into focus, she was able to hear the stifled chuckle of Lord Graham and the not-so-hidden laughter from Bethanny and Carlotta.
"You laugh now. Just wait till you have an heir and must suffer the torment of their courtship." The duke glared at Graham.
"Lord willing, I'll only have sons."
"Which means you'll probably only have daughters," Lady Southridge chimed in.
Beatrix followed the voice, noticing the woman for the first time. Smiling at Lady Southridge, she bit back a laugh when the older woman winked.
"Now if you two will be so kind as to stand on opposite ends of the room?" the duke asked.
"You can't be serious," Bethanny spoke up.
"I am!"
"Oh for the love all of the—" Lady Southridge broke in.
"You saw them!" the duke interrupted.
"I'm not blind yet!" Lady Southridge shot back.
"Graham, if you don't cease your cackling," the duke threatened, turning to his friend, who held up his hands in surrender as he tried to control his amusement.
Beatrix glanced to Neville, shaking her head. "I do believe you'll fit in nicely," she spoke as she tilted her head slightly.
"Is that so?" He grinned approvingly.
"No more kissing." The duke pulled her back several paces.
Neville glanced heavenward as if petitioning for strength to keep from bursting into laughter.
Beatrix simply grinned, biting her lip as she gloried in the scene before her.
"Now…" The duke released her and moved into her line of sight, his bright blue eyes glancing between her and Neville, as if he didn't fully trust them.
Unable to resist the temptation, Beatrix made a slight movement, as if taking a step forward.
The duke froze and narrowed his eyes at her. "I wouldn't try that."
"Just checking," Beatrix replied teasingly.
The duke studied her for a moment. "Are you sure you wish to be forever matched to this?" The duke turned to Neville.
"To be fair, he hasn't actually asked yet," Bethanny chimed in before Neville could answer.
"Yes, I have," Neville answered, casting a secretive grin, his eyes smoldering with their shared moment, stolen what seemed like so long ago.
"Pardon?" the duke interjected, his tone steely.
"In my defense, I did have Lady Southridge's approval."
The duke pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me that I imagined that last statement. No. Dianna, tell me you didn't—"
"It was the only option after finding them—"
"What!" the duke roared then turned to charge toward Neville.
"Not like that! Control yourself, Charles!" Lady Southridge stood purposefully and placed her hands on hips, scolding the Duke of Clairmont.
The duke paused but didn't cease his glare aimed at Neville. "You could have clarified that in the beginning."
"Heaven's above." Lady Southridge glanced heavenward, shaking her head as if asking God why He'd seen fit to complicate her life with such people.
Beatrix bit back a bark of laughter. All she could think was how they could all say the same about her.
"You, sit." Lady Southridge pointed to the duke.
"And you… I've dealt with you far more than my share. There will be no more folly. Are we understood?" She then pointed to Neville, who nodded contritely.
When her gaze landed on Beatrix, Neville followed and winked at Beatrix.
Beatrix narrowed her eyes in response. "Beatrix! Your attention, if you please?" Lady Southridge spoke with an acute lack of patience.
"Yes?" Beatrix pulled her expression into one of polite detachment.
Lady Southridge shot her an unamused glare but seemed to decide against commenting on it. "Now… Lord Neville does need to ask Beatrix something quite important… regardless of if he's asked before or not. Now he has the blessing required, now it will count!" She nodded. "Now… the rest of us… out!" She made a shooing motion toward the door.
"I'll not leave them alone without a chaperone—"
"The door shall remain open," Lady Southridge answered.
"Pardon, but last I checked, this was my house and my ward!"
"And last I checked, five minutes alone would be quite acceptable. After all…" She turned to face Neville. "…five minutes is the perfect amount of time for a declaration, yet an unimpressive amount of time for anything… else… if you gather my meaning." Lady Southridge lowered her chin, waiting for Neville to respond.
He coughed slightly, as if covering a chuckle, but nodded his agreement.
"If I hear anything… rather, if I stop hearing conversation… I will not hesitate to make a very disruptive entrance." The duke pointed a finger between Beatrix and Neville, then seeming satisfied — or rather, overruled — he reached for Carlotta's hand and led her out of the room. Graham and Bethanny followed, Bethanny glancing behind her and giving a final, excited grin. Lady Southridge was last, and with a final wink, she all but closed the door, leaving only the smallest crack.
"I am constantly vacillating between anger and adoration toward that woman." Neville shook his head.
"She tends to ha
ve that effect on people," Beatrix answered, a rueful grin teasing her lips.
"Now…" Neville slowly approached her, as if savoring the moment. "…I was once told that there are some questions that must be asked… not simply told."
"I believe the word was command." Beatrix shot back, her tone amused.
"Close enough." He shrugged teasingly. "And since I seem to have not executed that perfectly in the past, I'm going to be sure I do it right this time." He reached out and grasped her hand. Tugging on the soft leather of her white kid glove, he methodically pulled on each finger till the garment was tossed to the ground. After removing his own glove, he laced his fingers with hers, intertwining not merely holding them. "I missed you like a sailor misses air when tossed into the sea," he murmured, his gaze searching hers.
A grin slipped across her lips unchecked. "I'm rather fond of you as well," she replied, but her tone was breathless as she studied the depth of his gaze, the determination in his expression, the possessive nature of his provocative grasp of her hand.
"And this is why I feel the need to simply tell you what to do. You take your freedom far too liberally." He raised a black brow. "However, I shouldn't wish to tame you." He tugged her hand till she took the short steps forward, and their toes touched. "No, I wouldn't want to tame you even the slightest…" he whispered against her lips before tasting them.
Lips, soft yet unyielding, captured hers, tugging and nipping, teasing them with the most delicious flavor of desire born of love. "And I would imagine you consider yourself quite uncivilized?" Beatrix whispered between kisses.
"Uncivilized? Of course I'm uncivilized… but who would wish to be tame? Not I, nor you. For therein lies what is full of abandon, what is full of adventure, of courage and curiosity. You, Beatrix, will never cease in provoking me…" He chuckled and kissed her hard, drawing out her lower lip. "…in the most delicious ways imaginable… but also outside of closed… or almost closed… doors. You make me think, evaluate life, consider other opinions because, in case you hadn't noticed, I rather think I'm correct most of the time."
"Which you are not," Beatrix added, a wry tone to her voice even as she lifted up on tiptoes to place another kiss to his warm lips.
A Tempting Ruin (GreenFord Waters #3) Page 15
