“There’s disease, famine, the four horses of the apocalypse.”
“Helaine!”
“And I haven’t even started on the fears my mother spouts. She was afraid that if I went walking, I would fall.”
“Fall?”
“And break my neck before she got a grandchild out of me.”
Irene started to smile. “I’m sure she was more wor-ried about you falling than the lack of a grandchild.”
Helaine gave her a wry look. “I’m not so sure. The point is, my dear,” continued Helaine, “that the minute one starts enumerating fears, there is no end. They mount up until one never gets out of bed.” Then she snapped her fingers. “Bed! That’s another list of fears. Do you know that it’s possible to be killed by one’s own sheets? If you’re a particularly twisting sort of sleeper, you can strangle yourself. And I heard of someone who just spontaneously burst into fire. Just started burning from the inside. Died horribly within minutes.”
“That’s not true!”
“I absolutely did hear it. Came directly from my maid, who got it from someone in France.”
Irene laughed. “Now you are bamming me.”
“I am not!” Then Helaine sobered. “You need to face your fears, Irene. Otherwise…”
“I will lock myself in my room and wish myself dead?”
Helaine didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. They were both thinking of the state she’d been in when Helaine had first offered her the purchasing job.
“Do you love him? Does he ease your fears?”
“There is madness in his family,” she suddenly blurted.
Helaine laughed. “My dear, look hard enough, and there is madness in everyone’s family.”
“But this madness… he says… he fears…”
“Ah, so you are magnifying both your fears, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “But he does not seem a particularly fearful sort of man. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Irene smiled, her thoughts on Grant. “He saved my life today. And…” She took a deep breath. “And when I am with him, I feel….”
“Excited? Lustful? Girlishly tittery?”
Irene laughed. “Yes, all those things! But I was going to say safe. He makes me feel safe. Except when he is purposely trying to frighten me.”
Helaine’s eyebrows shot up. “Does he do that often?”
Irene shook her head, honesty forcing her to tell the truth. “He wants me to know him. And sometimes, what he says frightens me.”
“What? The madness?”
Irene pressed her hands to her cheeks and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Well, there’s your problem right there! Stop thinking. What do you feel? Afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Happy?”
Irene nodded, the thought of a child too new for anything but excited joy.
“In love?”
“Yes,” Irene whispered. “I have loved him for a while now.”
“And you said he was proposing to you? So he must love you, yes?”
Irene’s eyes opened. “I believe he loves me too. He has said so.”
“Ah, then it is simply fear that is keeping you apart.”
Was it so simple? Boiled down to the basics… that was it, she supposed. But fear was not simply cast aside. One did not just wish it away. “I don’t think I’m a brave person.”
“Ah well, then, I have the solution. First off, Lord Crowle appears to be a rather brave man. After all, he took on an armed assailant to save you. Twice!”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. There is something else you haven’t thought of. Something vastly important that I believe will sway your decision.”
Irene lifted her head anxious to hear anything that would make everything clear. “Yes?”
“When one sleeps in the same bed with a husband, it is impossible to strangle oneself with the sheets. You can’t twist too much without rolling smack dab into your husband. Therefore, life is much better and much safer with a man in your bed. A man such as Lord Crowle who has twice defended your life.”
“Helaine!” she scolded, though she was laughing as she spoke. “You are deliberately being ridiculous.”
“And you are being a coward,” the woman shot back, her voice softening, even though her words were hard. “Do you recall when I first approached you about your job? How you said that you wished for a child—”
“But perhaps it was for the best that there hadn’t been one. Because I was so ill.”
“You weren’t ill. You were grieving. And I told you—”
“That I would have been strong for the child.”
“Yes,” Helaine said, her face softening into a coaxing smile. “You are strong, Irene. And you have been happier with Lord Crowle than I have ever seen you.”
“And I love him.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “I already love this child.”
“Of course you do.”
“But what about the madness?” she wondered out loud.
“What about being strangled by your bedsheets?”
Irene smiled, but the expression didn’t last. “You must think me the weakest of creatures.”
“I think,” Helaine said slowly, “that you are one of the strongest women I know. You have lost a husband, my dear. You continued to work while a madman stalked you.”
“I didn’t really believe—”
“Yes, you did. You just didn’t want to believe it. But you have found love, my dear. Do not become frightened now. Not when the worst is over. Besides,” she said, leaning forward in a conspiratorial whisper, “many women lose a husband. How many lose two?”
Irene blinked. “What?”
“Think on it. You have already had terribly bad luck. It is your turn to be happy now.”
She hadn’t really thought of herself as unlucky. Just that for some reason, whenever something good happened, the bad was only a step behind. She was the daughter of an earl, but he was a gambler and a fool, so they were perpetually on the edge of ruin. She’d fallen in love and married into wealth, but her husband had died soon afterwards. She’d found a job she adored, but a madman had tried to kill her. And finally, she’d fallen in love again, but the man who loved her thought he was insane.
Put like that, she had the worst luck in the world, and she should… well, she should take to her bed, where she would likely be strangled by her own bedsheets.
“Or,” she whispered, “I can take what happiness I have now and deal with the consequences when they happen.”
Helaine squeezed her hands. “You have found your courage then?”
Irene shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I suspect Grant is downstairs anxiously awaiting my return.”
“It will be all right,” her friend said as they hugged. “You will see.”
Irene closed her eyes, trying to take the words into her soul. “Well,” she finally said, “at least I won’t strangle myself in my sleep.”
They separated on a laugh, and then Irene went downstairs to tell Grant the news.
Twenty-nine
Grant was waiting at the base of the stairs, his whole body twitching to run up and see if Irene was all right. The only thing that kept him in place was the knowledge that Helaine might be better suited to help Irene than he was. That bitter thought burned in his gut, but if Irene needed her best friend, then the least he could do was stay away.
Even though he might go mad—again—with the waiting. Then a large hand settled on his shoulder. Robert. Trying to be comforting.
“Come sit down. Have something to eat. They’ll be down in a minute.”
Grant had to restrain a snarl in response. Instead, he bit out two words. “I’ll wait.”
Robert’s hand slipped away, but the man didn’t move. Eventually, he spoke, his voice low and soothing, as if he were calming a dangerous animal. Perhaps he was.
“You know you’re in love with her, right? I’ve never seen you so… complete as
when you’re with her. You ought to marry her.”
Grant turned slowly, and his glare would have intimidated anyone but Robert. “I was on one knee in the carriage. Had just proposed when the bastard—when—” When he had killed a man.
Robert’s eyebrows shot almost to his hairline. “Oh. Well. What wretched bad luck.”
“And now, she’s upstairs. Probably ill. Probably horrified by what… by…”
“You saved her life, Grant.”
“I killed him. In front of her.” God, he couldn’t believe he’d said that aloud. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not a soldier. Never have been. Never thought I’d…” Kill a man.
Robert’s hand returned to his shoulder, squeezing in sympathy. “You didn’t mean to. It was self-defense. You’re not in trouble anywhere on this.”
“Except in her eyes.” And maybe, in his own. But there hadn’t been any other way. And truthfully, it had been an accident. He’d just wanted the man away from Irene.
“You don’t know what she thinks.”
“I don’t know bloody anything!”
“Then how about we go upstairs and…” His voice trailed away as Helaine and Irene appeared at the top of the staircase.
Grant’s breath released a huff of relief. Irene looked well. Her clothing and hair had been set to rights, her body appeared whole, and her movements were assured. And when he looked into her eyes, fear rising again, she smiled.
She smiled at him.
“Irene?” he whispered.
Beside him, Robert chuckled. “Lady Irene, you look much better. If you would allow it, I think my friend here would like to speak privately with you. My library is just this way. No one will bother you.” Then he held out his hand for his wife. “Helaine, are you all right?”
“Perfectly fine, my love,” she said with a warm smile. “Have all the guests arrived?”
“Yes, they’re all here, all seated. Samuel’s figured out the entire crime between the street and here.”
“Of course he has.”
Robert glanced at Irene. “He’ll share his theories whenever you’re ready.”
“I know them,” grumbled Grant. “I’ll tell her.”
Robert’s grin widened. The prat. “Of course you will. Just this way, Lady Irene.”
Helaine abruptly reached between them—delaying him for yet another moment—and kissed Irene on the cheek. “I’ll go in to the guests. Take your time, my dear. Speak from your heart.”
Grant twitched, his gaze hopping between the women’s faces. What did she mean by that? What did Irene have to say from her heart? Bloody hell, he was a babbling fool. He needed to gather his wits. But there was no more time as Robert escorted them to the library. Irene glided forward then settled into one of the chairs by a low fire. Grant followed, wondering if he should go back down on one knee. But, of course, he couldn’t. That could be incredibly bad form if her mind was on what had happened. So he stood there, awkwardly searching her face while Robert left, shutting the door.
They were alone. And suddenly, what he wanted to say was right there, his body and his mouth moving without conscious thought. He dropped to both knees before her.
“Irene, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about what happened, but not sorry it’s over. You needn’t be afraid anymore.”
Irene took a deep breath. “He was a madman angry at Papa?”
“Yes.”
“And now—”
“And now, he will never bother you again.” He swallowed. “I’m just sorry you had to see—”
His words cut off as she touched his face. “How are you doing? It must be hard on you.”
He closed his eyes, feeling her warmth all the way to his soul. “I know I had to do it. And I honestly didn’t mean to.”
“You were protecting me. It is one of the reasons I love you. You act from your heart without thinking so hard of the consequences.” Her lips quirked in a rueful smile. “It is something I want to learn from you. I’m afraid I think too hard and too much about all the things that could go wrong. It freezes me.” Then she leaned forward enough that their foreheads touched. “You bring me to life.”
His hands went first to her shoulders, then wrapped tighter around her back. Hers mirrored his, and soon they were wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” she asked at the same moment.
Then they pulled back, looked into each other’s eyes, and spoke again at the same second. “I’m fine.”
Her smile widened. “Grant, I have something to ask you.”
“Anything.”
“Do you still—”
“Love you? With every breath in my body. I know all your objections, all your terrible thoughts, but I tell you, it’s all poppycock. I love you. You love me. We should be wed. Immediately.” Then he searched her face, reassured, as her smile seemed to grow warmer. Hotter.
He licked his lips, wishing he could kiss her right then. Wishing he could do a whole lot more. A man had tried to kill her today, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her back to his room, lock her inside, and then spend the rest of his life pleasuring her.
Meanwhile, her gaze had grown misty soft. “I love you too. With all my heart. And I think, with your help, I shall not be so afraid anymore.”
“Don’t be afraid, Irene. I will keep you safe.” He pulled her hands to his lips, pressing kisses into her palms. “Please say you will marry me. I know it is not the time to ask, but I cannot hold the words back. I love you. I want you as my wife.”
She frowned for a moment, lifting her hand to his face so that he was forced to look at her. “I want to keep working,” she said. “As long as I can, whenever I can. In truth, it’s only the lifting and carrying that is strenuous. I’ve already spoken to Helaine. She said we’ll work out the details.”
He frowned, not following her words. “Irene,” he finally said. “I would never stop you from working. I understand the strength one can find from doing a job well.”
She smiled. “I know you do.”
“But… but what do you mean about the details? About Helaine?” And damn it, was she going to marry him or not?
“Lord Crowle,” she said, her tone light despite the formal phrasing. “It would be my greatest delight to marry you.”
He surged forward, kissing her deeply. Yes. She was saying yes! But then she was pulling back, holding him away while she moved his hands. She pressed them down. Much further down, until his palm lay flat on her belly.
“And I hope you will love your child too.”
He blinked. His mind blanked completely, as if he’d been hit with a white-hot stroke of lightning so beautiful, so all-consuming, that it blanked out everything else. And all the while, he was staring at his hand against her belly, imagining a child there.
“A baby?” he whispered. “You’re increasing?”
She nodded. “I realized it upstairs. I’m with child, Grant. We’re going to have a baby.”
He searched her eyes, seeing the happiness shimmering, and suddenly, everything in his world settled into place. As firmly as a machine part dropping into its slot. As clearly as the last stroke on a fabric design. As perfectly as the way he fit into her, and she around him.
His world was right. She was right. And they were going to be happy together.
He was old enough to know that the feeling wouldn’t last. The world didn’t stop with a single perfect moment, but that didn’t lessen the impact of her looking at him with her heart in her eyes.
She loved him. He loved her. And they were going to be a family.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I cannot even find the words to say how much.”
“And I love you.”
He kissed her then. Softly. Tenderly. So carefully that he thought he would break from the sweetness. Then abruptly, he pulled back.
“I have to go. I’ll get a sp
ecial license. We can be married in an hour.”
“An hour!” she cried, laughing. “No! This is Penny and Samuel’s day.”
“Tomorrow then.”
She smiled. “Tomorrow then.”
Then he surged to his feet, picking her up as he swung her around in his joy.
Epilogue
Irene took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it, as the foul odors of the East End assaulted her senses. Then she nodded at Grant. He stepped forward and rapped sharply on the door of the second-story flat where little Carol’s family lived.
There was noise inside, and then a small boy pulled open the door. Carol’s little brother. A moment later, Carol’s exhausted mother appeared. Her eyes widened when she saw them, her mouth going slack before she stepped back.
“My lady!” She bobbed a curtsy even as she spun around. “Carol! Lady Irene is here. And…” She glanced back.
“Lord Crowle, ma’am,” Grant said a little coldly.
The woman nodded, bobbing another curtsy. Then Carol came stumbling out from a back corner.
The room was nothing more than that—a square room with a fireplace. One corner had what appeared to be bedding. Table, cooking pot, chamber pot. That was about all this little family owned. Carol stumbled forward from the bedroll, her eyes wide and rimmed in red.
“Carol,” Irene said softly, her heart sinking into her belly for what she was about to do. “Carol, I’ve a couple questions.”
The girl swallowed but straightened, rubbing her hands awkwardly on her skirt. Meanwhile, her mother stepped back and gestured them inside.
“Thank you,” Grant said, his tone hard. “We won’t take up much of your time.”
Irene took a breath, hating what she was about to do. Samuel had worked out that somehow, Hank Bagley had gotten Irene’s schedule. How else would he have known to attack along that route?
In the last three weeks, only two items on Irene’s schedule had been for sure: the date and time of Penny’s wedding and the wedding breakfast afterward. Somehow Bagley had learned of that. Somehow he had worked out that the one place Irene would surely be is on the route between wedding and breakfast. And the most likely suspect for sharing Irene’s schedule was little Carol.
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