by Donna Hatch
He took another step inside, wishing for all the world that he had a lamp. “Tish?”
Another wordless sound, more urgent this time, guided him a few steps to the right. Her perfume mingled with the scents of fish and dank rotting wood and jute. He could barely make out a dark form on the floor in front of him. He bent down and reached out. Something soft touched his gloved hands.
“Tish?”
Two more squeaks in quick succession. Was she so badly hurt that she couldn’t speak? Or gagged? He tore off his gloves and felt around, finding soft fabric, an arm, a shoulder; lower down, with his other hand, he found a leg and a knee. He slid his arms underneath her back and legs, and lifted her up. Fighting the impulse to simply stand still and hold her close, he carried her outside where he could see to her better. He set her down on the cobbled street, leaning against the outer wall.
Gagged, white-faced and wide-eyed, Leticia looked back at him. Tristan worked the cloth’s knot until it loosened enough to throw away. Red marks around her mouth testified of the tightness of her gag. A bruise purpled her temple and another darkened her cheekbone and eye. The brute had struck her. Tristan almost went for his gun. Instead, he worked at the ropes on her hands until Richard handed him a knife—the beast’s knife—and cut her binds, freeing first her hands, then her feet.
“Oh, Tristan,” she cried out.
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. “It’s over. You’re safe.”
She nestled against him, gasping. He held her, murmuring reassuring words, and kissing her brow. If only he’d followed his gut and gone with her to the kitchen door to see about Molly. Instead, he’d hung back, not wanting to intrude.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he said.
She broke down and wept. He held her as helplessness and rage and tenderness warred, shredding his insides.
Her fingers curled around his lapels. “You came,” she breathed. “You came.”
“When I heard you scream, I rushed out, but he’d already carted you off.”
She moved her hand to his cheek. In an unsteady voice, she said, “You found me. I knew you would.”
“You left us a trail to follow. That was very resourceful.”
She let out a huff, then sniffled. His heart ached to see her so shaken.
“I wasn’t sure it was enough,” she said. “Anyone might have taken them before you saw them.”
“I wasn’t far behind, but I was on foot. When I passed Richard on the street, I commandeered his coach, so we were never far behind. Each time we lost the cart in the traffic, we found another clue you left.” He glanced at his brother. “I can’t believe you came along when you did.”
Richard met his gaze. “It appears providence was on our side.”
Tristan sent him a look of gratitude. A half smile touched Richard’s mouth and he nodded. A moan caught Tristan’s gaze. The thug who’d attacked Leticia lay on his belly, trussed up like the pig that he was. Tristan wanted to roast him.
Leticia let out a shaky breath. Tristan fished a handkerchief from a pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her face and blew her nose.
“We need to get you home,” Tristan said. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.” Her voice came out stronger, more like the Leticia he knew.
Eyeing her with caution, he helped her up. She glanced at him and nodded, her gaze steadier. Still trussed up, the arsonist let off a string of curses at women in general and men who supported their madcap schemes.
Richard cuffed him. “Be silent.” He dragged him to the carriage.
Tristan put an arm around Leticia. “He won’t bother anyone, ever again.”
Her eyes brightened with tears. She shook her head. “So senseless. One man’s fear and resistance to change caused so much destruction and sorrow.”
Tristan had a few other choice words he might have used but remained silent.
After delivering the criminal to the care of the authorities, Tristan took Leticia home. When they arrived in front of her aunt’s house, no one got out of the carriage.
Leticia thanked them both like a proper lady, then burst into tears again and threw her arms around Tristan.
He held her, aching all over for what she’d suffered. What else had the monster done to her? “Did he hurt you?” he whispered in her ear.
He hoped she knew that he was asking if she’d suffered more than was apparent. “No. He struck me twice that I remember and threatened me with a knife, but nothing beyond that.” She stiffened, pulled away, and eyed him. “I vow my virtue is intact. Does this change anything for us?”
“No, of course not. How can you think that?”
She bit her lip and glanced anxiously at Richard who should have looked uncomfortable witnessing such an intimate conversation.
Instead, he met Leticia’s gaze with steady eyes. Richard spoke in firm, almost scolding tones. “No one of any conscience would blame you or question your purity. You don’t know us very well if you think we’re so shallow—and you don’t know Tristan at all if you think this changes his feelings for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe a stroll home is just the thing.” He put on his hat and stepped out of the carriage.
Leticia glanced back at Tristan, a question still lingering in her eye.
He touched her face and smoothed her mussed hair back from her face. “I love you. Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away from you, remember?” He tried for a playful tone but the horror of the day’s events lay too heavily on him.
She attempted a brave smile. “My hero.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her until she relaxed against them and their hearts beat in unison. “I’ll love you forever.”
“I’ll love you even longer.”
Chapter Forty-One
Pausing on the church steps, Leticia smiled at Tristan and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. If it were possible for a person to perish from happiness, she would have been gone weeks ago. How she loved this man!
“Admiring me, Love?” Tristan drawled.
She smoothed the lapel of his tailcoat. “You look more dashing than usual.”
Tristan grinned. “It’s all those ungentlemanly thoughts in my head that make me so devilishly handsome.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking about the honeymoon until after the wedding takes place.”
“I have news for you; I’ve been thinking about the honeymoon since before I asked you to marry me.” He kissed her so gently, so full of love.
She shivered under the force of the warm tingles he never failed to evoke in her. “I do believe we ought to go inside and say our vows.”
“Yes, let’s do. Or I might do something to resurrect my scandalous behavior right here, right now. But first….”
He slipped a bank note into her hand. “As promised. I know the school means a lot to you.”
“You mean much more.”
If only she could capture that slow curve of his lips and the joy brightening his eyes!
“I won the bet, too, you know,” he said. “If you recall, the wager was that if I found you a husband before Christmas, you must name your son after me.”
She pictured a little boy with dark curls and shining black eyes. “I will be happy to name our son after you.”
He grinned. “With your maiden name. Tristan Wentworth Barrett. It sounds like the name of a visionary man.”
“It does, indeed.”
“Let’s get married, you saucy wench.”
“Very well, on one condition.”
He waited, with a brow lifted.
“That you promise to take me in a balloon ride again.”
He chuckled. “Your wish is my command. May that be the first of many diversions we enjoy together.”
Grinning, she took his arm and walked into the church. In the pews, her mother, beautiful in a loose-fitting gown and decorative shawl smiled and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Her father cleared his throat and put his ar
m around her mother. Her sisters beamed. Aunt Alice positively glowed. All confidence, Leticia walked on Tristan’s arm to the altar where the vicar pronounced them husband and wife.
After the ceremony, they went outside to a beautiful summer day and sat down to the wedding breakfast. Molly, who’d found a position with a baker willing to allow her to leave for school during school hours, as well as students from the charity school, helped serve food to the wedding guests. Molly made eye contact with Leticia, more steady and confident than Leticia had ever seen her.
Richard sat next to Tristan, teasing him as only a brother could, and offering wisdom if Tristan decided to make a bid for the House of Commons. Richard’s pride shone in his eyes. Tristan basked in his brother’s approval, but threw back good-natured insults all the same.
As they climbed into the carriage to take them away to their honeymoon, Tristan took her into his arms. “I love you, Tish.”
“I love you.” She nestled against him.
All those years she’d been wrong about him. She’d believed Tristan was her dear friend. Instead, he was truly the love of her life.
A word about the author…
Donna Hatch is the best-selling author of twenty historical romance titles to date. She is a multi-award winner, including the Golden Quill and the International Digital Awards, a sought-after workshop presenter, and juggles multiple volunteer positions as well as her six children. Also a music lover, she sings and plays the harp, and she loves to ballroom dance. Donna and her family recently transplanted from her native Arizona to the Pacific Northwest, where she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.
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