Evil, and yes, mad.
“Imagine my surprise to discover the old bat was insane after all. A murderess, no less.” Dudley laughed.
Jade refused to believe Marcus was ... gone ... except, he would be rescuing her if ... she fought a rush of rising panic. “What will you do now?” she asked, to give herself time to think.
“Plant you and your dead lover with your grandfather. I’ll inherit quite easily when you go missing.”
Bile rose up, threatening to make her retch. “You won’t inherit for years,” Jade said, trying to appear calm. “There was a long tie-up with grandfather’s money, if I remember, correctly, because he went missing. I wonder how the law will appreciate a second family member coming to a questionable end?”
Dudley got anxious and rushed her, backed her toward the new grave. He raised his arm to strike. “Don’t give me—”
A growling caught their attention. Mucks lunged and attacked Dudley’s leg, fused to his flesh by her teeth.
As Dudley raged and tried to shake the pup off, Jade knew that Emily couldn’t be far behind. She ran in the direction the pup had come, but the dog’s painful yelp stopped her.
“Papa? Papa?” she heard Emily wail.
Em had found Marcus.
Tears spilled down Jade’s cheeks. A darkening cloak threatened to engulf her. How could she have brought Marcus to harm when she loved him so much?
Emily called to Marcus again.
Jade fought the darkness threatening her, a half-hearted fight. With Marcus gone, if not for Emily, Jade would welcome oblivion.
The determined pup rose and went back on attack.
Dudley kicked Mucks aside.
Emily shot from the woods in her pup’s defence and got herself caught in Dudley’s crazed clutches.
Jade tried to pry Emily free of the viper, but he cuffed her and knocked her to the ground. “Let her go, Dudley,” she said. “You can have it all. I’ll sign it over to you.”
He laughed. “I don’t need a signature. I need a shovel to plant the three of you.” He closed his hand around Emily’s tiny throat.
“Mama,” she called.
A body flew at Dudley and knocked Emily free.
Marcus, bloody of face, pummelled the bastard as Jade swept Emily from the fray. But Dudley got the upper hand, battering Marcus about his injured head, his fist slipping in Marcus’s blood when knuckle met bone.
Jade held Emily’s face against her neck, and for her sake, she did not cry out, but her silent tears fell free as she watched a fight only one man could win. The stronger one.
Emily tried to look. She called for Papa. Jade pulled her face back against her. “It’s all right, baby, it’s all right. Mama’s got you now. You’re safe.”
Jade wanted to shout to Marcus that she loved him and she’d marry him, but she was afraid to distract him. Except, he should know. He should know before....
Dudley beat Marcus senseless.
The man she loved hit the ground. Unmoving.
He would not rise to fight again.
Dudley had won. He swiped blood from his face and retrieved his pistol. Standing beside Marcus, Dudley trained his pistol at Marcus. “One shot and he’s gone,” he said watching her. Dudley grinned and cocked the trigger.
A shot rang out and Dudley doubled over, and lurched forward, his pistol slipping from his hand.
Jade stopped screaming when Em’s little hand touched her lips, not certain what happened, except that Dudley lay face down across Marcus.
Beecher rushed from the woods to kneel beside them, tossed aside his pistol, shoved Dudley aside, like a piece of trash, and gave Marcus his full medical attention.
Jade carried Emily toward them. “Is he?”
“Alive; he’s alive.” Beecher placed two fingers against Marcus’s neck. “Good pulse. Lost some blood. He’ll bruise.” He pried open an eye, probed a head wound. “Gonna have a headache like the roof’s coming down.”
“But he’ll live?”
“Expect so. Stubborn as you, unless he doesn’t care to live. If a body gives up, it’s finished.”
Emily scrambled from Jade’s hold. Jade knelt beside her as Em touched Marcus’s hand. “Papa?”
Marcus opened his eyes, ate them up with his gaze, impaled Jade with his look and begged for ... something.
She made to speak but Marcus regarded Beecher. “What took you so ... long?”
“Wedding guests.” Beecher rolled his eyes. “When I heard Ivy’s tale, I come running. Found the old grave easy enough, but I had a bit of trouble finding the new one.”
Jade let out a shuddering breath, kissed Emily’s brow. “Where is Ivy?”
“Sleeping,” Emily said.
Beecher chuckled. “Out cold when I got to him. He overheard Dirk telling your black-hearted cousin how things stood. Ivy tried to stop your cousin. Told me all about it when he came ’round. I moved some fast when we found the little one was gone.”
Jade covered the old retainer’s hand. Beecher had always been there for her. “Thank you.”
He nodded as he worked. “Time you knew something about your grandmother, young lady, before you make any more foolish mistakes. Don’t get huffy, now,” he said, bandaging Marcus’s head. “Listen for a change.”
Marcus chuckled but groaned at the pain the chuckle cost him.
“Serves you right,” Jade said, cupping his cheek, before returning her attention to Beecher. “Tell me, then.”
“Your grandmother wanted the world to think she hated men so much, she made them servants to keep them in their place. But the fact is, she rescued most of them, me included.”
Jade took her gaze from Marcus and focused on Beecher.
“Don’t mistake the hard edge she showed the abusive men in this world for the kind heart she showed humanity, man and woman alike. You think she chose a lonely solitary life, so you’re dead set on following her. Fact is, she didn’t choose to be alone.” Beecher gazed openly at her. “Constance had a man in her life.”
“When?”
“From the day your grandfather died till the day she did.”
“She did n—”
Marcus touched her face, silencing her. She covered his hand with hers, held it against her cheek, unable to speak, seeing for the first time the man who had always been there for her and her grandmother. “You,” she said to Beecher.
“Me.” He nodded toward the hidden dray. “I tended her often, after that one, justifiably dead, roughed her up. We fell in love. Jade, your grandmother knew enough not to equate love with weakness. She wouldn’t want you to make that mistake.” He frowned. “Not anymore than you already have.”
“But you never married. You remained a servant in her employ. How could she—”
“I remained her servant to be near her, because her husband was presumed living. There was no other way. Much as Constance flaunted scandal, and loved every minute of it, by God, living openly with a man not her husband would have destroyed her ability to help downtrodden women. That, she could not abide.”
“But you didn’t; I mean you couldn’t have—”
“We weren’t celibate, if that’s what you’re implying, though I don’t suppose Constance would approve my telling you so.”
“I love you, Beecher,” Jade said. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“No, Jade, darlin’. No, you never did. But I always knew.”
Emily yawned. “Take Papa home now? Mucks?”
“Yes, Emmy-bug,” Marcus said on a wince. “Home.” He put so much emphasis on the word, hope blossomed in Jade’s breast.
Beecher checked the panting pup and bandaged her middle. “Ribs,” he said to Jade.
She nodded. “What about Dudley?”
“Gone. I’ll take care of everything. You get Marcus and the little one home. I’ll be along in an hour or so.”
Beecher helped Marcus lie down in the dray. Emily sat beside her papa, taking his hand, Mucks beside them. Jade drove them back to
Peacehaven.
Because they were worried, Garrett and Abigail had stayed, so Garrett helped Jade get Marcus to his old room on the main floor.
“Fancy that,” Marcus drawled as Garrett helped him along. “You helping me walk.”
“Stuff it, Marc.” Garrett’s voice broke. “Why the devil did you put yourself in jeopardy like that?”
“Jade,” he said, simply. “Emily. I’d do it again.”
Garrett cursed. “Aye. I’d do it as well.”
“Jade,” Marcus called, seeking her hand as she turned down the bed.
She gave it and waited. “I’d help you with your Downtrodden Society. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No, love,” she said, kissing his raw knuckles. “You didn’t, but you showed me in so many ways that I should have known.”
Garrett urged Marcus to lie back.
“Good,” Marcus said on a sigh and closed his eyes.
Jade remembered Beecher saying much the same thing to her. It was easy to take love for granted, and she promised herself to be careful in future not to.
Abigail took Emily and Mucks to see Eloisa, who also awaited news of them.
Garrett helped Jade undress and bathe Marcus, who passed out when she washed the grazed gunshot wound on his head, as Beecher had instructed her to do.
Jade covered Marcus with a sheet and walked Garrett to the door, leaning into him when he put an arm around her. “You’re a good brother,” she said.
“You’re a good sister.”
Jade shook her head, unable to think of anything except Marcus. “I hurt him every time I refused to marry him.”
“He understands. Let him ask again?”
She smiled. “I think I’d like having you for a brother.”
“I think I’d like having a honeymoon.” Garrett’s grin discharged the emotional moment. He claimed Abigail and her bedroom upstairs for what was left of the night. Emily would spend it with Eloisa, as she already slept in her bed.
Jade went back to sit by Marcus. Why did it take her so long to realize he was her missing half, that she couldn’t live without him?
He slept for a good while as she sat watching to make sure his chest rose rhythmically. He nearly gave his life for her and Emily, and he’d do it again.
“Oh Gram, I have a rare one, and so did you. Why did you never tell me?”
“Because you were an innocent, that’s why.” Beecher came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “By the time you were a woman grown, her mind was muddled and she didn’t have it in her to tell you. And I ... I was a coward, I think, and sick over the thought of losing her. I didn’t consider anything or anyone in those dark days but my own grief.”
“Would you have died for her?”
He smiled and placed the back of his hand to Marcus’s cheek, nodded. “Was a day I almost did, but like your young man, I kept fighting. That was the last time your grandfather hurt anybody.”
Jade read the truth on his face. “But, just before Gram died, she told me she killed Grandfather.”
“Did she?” Beecher’s eyes filled and spilled over. “Her last rational thought, her last words, were to protect me.” He wiped his eyes. “I didn’t know. And she didn’t know about that land option, you understand, or what she would put you through. I wasn’t certain what you thought. Might have been you were protecting her land because she wanted it so. Didn’t know she told you about your grandfather, much less that she did it.” Beecher shook his head in wonder.
“If your grandfather’s ... irregular ... death came out, Constance’s knowledge of the circumstances would have come out as well. That alone would have certified Dudley’s quest to declare her insane. When I realized you’d started fighting the railroad, I decided to protect and help you, whatever your reason or course.”
“So why were you so mad that time I borrowed some of Lester’s clothes without your knowing it?”
Beecher shook his head in exasperation. “I heard about that body on the tracks and knew right away it was you. You could have been hurt, blast it.” He inclined his head. “I still don’t understand how Lester’s clothes figured in with that stuffed yellow dress, though.”
Jade grinned. “I wore Lester’s clothes over my own breeches to make me look bigger, more robust, and to fit into that big old yellow dress Hildy left behind when she married that peddler, remember? When I got to the edge of the woods near the track, I took off the dress, stuffed it with leaves, and left it on the track. If anybody saw me put it there, they would have seen a heavyset man.”
Beecher sighed, his look a mix of pride and aggravation. “I should have known.”
“I did wonder,” Jade admitted. “Why you climbed up on that railroad car, after giving me the devil for being there, and helped me throw that lumber in the river.”
“I did it for you, and for Constance.”
Jade stepped into his embrace. “I miss her.”
“Me too.” Beecher took a breath that shuddered out of him. “Life’s short, darlin’. Don’t waste it.”
Jade regarded Marcus, face bruised, head bound, more handsome than ever. “He is going to be all right?”
“The bullet just grazed him. After a day in bed, he’ll be champing at the bit and you’ll be fit to tie him to the bed. You set to stay with him tonight?”
“Try and stop me.”
Beecher kissed her brow. “He’s a good man.”
“I already figured that out. I’m a slow-top, I know, but late is better than never.”
“Never was a near thing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind and appreciate every moment.”
After Beecher left, Jade knelt by Marcus’s bed and held his hand to her cheek. She wept for the love she had withheld and for the time they had lost already because of her. And when she tired, and finished with self-flagellation, she climbed into bed beside him and laid her arm gently, but possessively, around his waist.
“Jade,” he called, frantic. “Emily!” He tried to rise.
She pushed him gently back against his pillows. “We’re safe. I’m here. Em’s asleep in Eloisa’s bed. Done in.”
He sighed in relief, touched his brow, felt the bandage, then he feasted his eyes on her.
“You’re nibbling on me in your mind again.”
“You’re in my bed. That gives me nibbling rights.”
“That’s a hard head you’ve got there.”
Marcus chuckled and winced. “The pot calling the kettle black.”
“Yes, and I’m truly determined on one particular point at this moment, so there’s no hope for you. You’d best give in.”
“All right,” Marcus said with wary concern. “I give in ... I think.
“Heal fast,” Jade ordered, “because I have plans.”
“Do you?” Relief and pleasure replaced his wariness as he read her. She saw the smile in his eyes. He brought her hand to his lips, nibbled a finger with tiny distracting kisses. “What kind of plans?” he asked. “Mind, I’m a sick man.”
Jade laughed. “Not too sick, I see. But if you must know, I’m planning a wedding ... ours ... because I love you and you love me.”
“Aye,” said he. “I do. And I’m up for a wedding.” He gave her his cocky half-smile. “But right now, headache or no, I’m up for a honeymoon more.”
Epilogue
Summer, 1830
Two titled scoundrels and their growing families—the Marquess of Andover and the Duke of Ainsley—filled the first pew at the wedding of Marcus Gordon Fitzalan and Jade Elizabeth Smithfield, as it burst bright upon the dawn, the sky clear and blue.
As sunlight filtered through an honour guard of stately stained-glass windows, scattering rainbow ribbons throughout, Jade marched down the aisle of St. Wilfred to meet her destiny.
The sexy scoundrel she adored, resplendent in dove-gray trousers and black frock coat, winked when their eyes met, tripping her pulse, filling her heart.
When Ivy escorted her to the si
ngle triple-arched gothic nave of the church, Marcus took her hand in his and whispered, “I adore you.” Then he placed it on his sleeve and covered it with his own.
As life beckoned, radiant with promise, Marcus escorted Jade up six stone steps to kneel before God and His minister.
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