“Thank you, Constable,” she said. The man left, and Mr. Blankley closed the door after him.
“My Lady?” Mr. Blankley asked. He was pale. Lurid news of her father’s near brush with death had upset him.
“I have to go and tell my mother,” she said, feeling remarkably steady. She had been worried that they would be too late. “Please bring a tray up. I presume she’ll need a bit of brandy after she hears this.”
Arabella climbed the stairs. She felt a wave of relief. It was over. Somehow, Charles had made it in time. Because she had gotten that sense, the Constables had arrived in time, too.
She knocked on her mother’s door, steeling herself for the upset that she was about to cause. Her mother would need to hear where her father had been. That wasn’t something that should be kept from any lady.
Chapter Forty
It was a late night; however, Charles left the Duke, resting comfortably and out of any danger. The physician said that he would have the Duke returned home the next day.
Charles awoke late the next morning. Mrs. Osbourne had a brief letter for him, from Lord Dunsmore.
Good work, Mr. Conolly. Are you sure that you want to continue as a barrister? I think I could use a fellow investigator, if you are interested.
Charles laughed, setting the letter aside, to be answered later. He had enough intrigue to last him quite a while. He planned to settle down, marry Arabella, and live peacefully.
He ate his breakfast slowly, reading the paper. There was a story on the front page, about the Duke of Tiverwell’s brush with death.
The Duke had been leaving the establishment on Barker Street, when he went down an alley in an attempt to meet up with his carriage a few blocks away, when he was accosted by the individual responsible for the murders of five other gentlemen.
Luckily, Charles Conolly of Basil Square was following a short distance behind, and saw the individual—an unknown woman—stab the Duke of Tiverwell in the side. Mr. Conolly was able to prevent her from causing any more grievous harm to His Grace.
The constables arrived soon after. They report that the woman has yet to give them her name, or her story. She is scheduled to give a deposition this morning.
The last time that Charles had been in the paper, it had been as the child of a man who had been wrongly executed. To have been the savior in this case was a blessed relief.
He decided to stop by to get the deposition. He had many questions which begged answers. Then, he would stop by the Duke of Tiverwell’s, so that he could bring them answers.
Charles arrived at the townhome of the Duke of Tiverwell early in the afternoon. He knocked on the door, then waited. Mr. Blankley opened the door. He smiled.
“I was told to expect you, sir,” he said, holding the door open. “Please come inside—get out of the cold!” The butler treated him with open solicitousness.
Charles was shown in to the Duke’s bedroom, where he was propped up on some pillows. Arabella sat in a chair beside the bed. She smiled at Charles.
“I presume you’ve brought us some news,” she said.
“Arabella, perhaps you shouldn’t hear this,” the Duke said.
“I know most of the unsavory details already,” she told him. “Particularly where you were. Now, you’ll either let me hear what Charles has learned, or I’ll ask him as soon as he’s done telling you.”
The Duke narrowed his eyes. “Very well. Have a seat, Mr. Conolly.”
Mr. Blankley had just pulled up a chair, so Charles sat. “Thank you, Mr. Blankley,” he said. He gathered his thoughts for a moment.
“She’s given her deposition, Your Grace,” Charles began. “Her name is Diana Bartlett, although she seems to call herself Nemesis. She used to be the Earl of Bromwell’s maid.”
“Lord Bromwell?” the Duke gasped.
“She and the Earl of Bromwell had a bit of a romance, years ago,” Charles explained. “He got her pregnant, and then threw her out of the house when she claimed that the child was his. She was left on the streets, with not much money. The only people to have mercy on her were the workers at Madam Christina’s.
“After she gave birth to the child—a son—she gave him up, and then began working as a prostitute herself at Madam Christina’s. After a while, the Earl showed up—as one of her clients. He didn’t recognize her—so changed was she. She followed him out and killed him, dumping his body into the river. After that, she began to murder all of her clients. The married ones, in particular.”
“What about Longmire?” the Duke asked.
“He was to be married,” Charles said. “He had told her as much. She asked him if he still planned on seeing her, afterwards, and he promised that he would. She marked him for death, immediately.”
“Pappa,” Arabella chided.
“I was,” her father admitted. He turned to Charles. “I can’t ask you to promise that you won’t—”
“I would never be unfaithful to Arabella,” Charles said. “Not even in a moment of insanity.” He turned to Arabella. “I promise you, you have nothing to worry about on that point.” She beamed at him, reaching out. He took her hand in his.
“No one deserves her more than you,” the Duke said.
Charles and Arabella smiled at each other. He would never betray her—not so long as he drew breath. He would gladly spend the rest of his days, endeavoring to make her the happiest she could possibly be.
“After all,” the Duke went on. “You’re a dear member of society, you’ve saved my life, and found out who the murderer is. You’re a hero, and I think, perhaps, the fact that you don’t have a different title matters, not one bit.”
“No,” Charles agreed. “What truly matters can’t be bestowed through a title.”
“You’ll acquire one, anyway, once you marry my daughter and only heir. I can’t imagine a better successor as Duke of Tiverwell. I imagine you’ll be far more deserving of it than I.”
“I will endeavor to do my best,” Charles said, surprised at the Duke’s change of heart.
“Come, Charles,” Arabella said, standing up. “We should let Pappa take his rest.”
“It’s good to see you doing so well, Your Grace,” Charles said.
The Duke smiled, as he leaned back on his pillows. “All thanks to you, Mr. Conolly.”
They both walked out into the hall. Arabella pulled the door closed after them.
They stood, smiling at each other for a long moment. Arabella reached out, taking his hand in hers.
“Mamma’s already planning the engagement party,” she said. “She’s already written the announcement for the papers.”
He turned to face her, pulling her close. “Good,” he said.
“You’re not nervous?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m marrying you. Nothing can go wrong.”
She laughed. “Plenty could go wrong,” she said, thinking of the million things that could happen. It could all be borne with grace, however. She was going to marry the man whom she loved.
He leaned in, kissing her, there in the hallway. His hands went, as they always did, to her waist. She pressed herself closer to him, feeling the solid warmth of his body against hers. When she pulled away, she stared into his eyes. There was so much more, but nothing that they could possibly do in the hallway outside of her father’s bedroom.
“Come,” she said, “Mamma will want to speak with you.”
“What about?” Charles asked.
“That lovely speech that you just gave Pappa?” she said. “You’re going to have to give it to Mamma. She’s extremely hurt about my father’s indiscretions.”
“I’ll gladly repeat it, then,” he said.
“Good,” she replied. Last night, telling her mother everything had been difficult. But it was important that she had the truth of it. Her mother had felt hurt. But with the truth, the Duchess could make her own decisions on how she wanted to proceed. Arabella knew that that was important.
Epilogue
; They waited a month, to allow the Duke of Tiverwell time to heal. The Duchess of Tiverwell, having heard of her husband’s infidelity, had gone to stay with her mother, in Bath. Following the wedding, she planned to split her time between Bath and Charles and Arabella’s home in London.
Charles stood up at the front of the church, which was filled with the ton, as well as a good many of London’s top barristers. In front of him, Arthur, Alistair, and Lord Dunsmore were in the first row, alongside Mrs. Osbourne. Having no blood relations, Charles felt proud to have his friends there to support him. On the other side, the Duchess of Tiverwell beamed at him.
He walked over to her. She offered him her hand. He pressed it with his fingers, bowing gallantly.
“Welcome to the family, Mr. Conolly,” she said.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“From here on out, you must call me Mother,” she told him.
“If you wish, Mother,” he replied, happy to comply.
The organ began to play, and everyone stood up. Charles faced the altar, his hands clasped in front of him. Slowly, he turned around to see her.
She was dressed in a slim ivory silk gown. It had an empire waist, with bell sleeves. The lace veil was over her face, through which he could see her smiling at him. She held a handful of bright crimson amaryllis, tied with a thick white silk ribbon.
He only had eyes for her—the whole world melted away. When she neared, he finally looked to the Duke of Tiverwell, who’d been at her side as she walked down the aisle. Charles shook the Duke’s hand.
“She’s yours to take care of, now, Mr. Conolly,” the Duke said.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“You’ll do well,” he said.
Charles turned to Arabella, lifting the veil over her head. She handed her flowers to Lady Emily Southrop, who went to sit down in the front row. Then, hand in hand, Charles and Arabella stepped up to the altar.
The priest began the ceremony. Charles could barely hear a word. Arabella stood, facing him, her hands in his, smiling at him angelically. His heart swelled with love. He couldn’t imagine life without her.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said. “You may kiss the bride.”
Arabella beamed at Charles, then leaned in. The whole church burst into thunderous applause. She and Charles then turned and walked down the aisle together. They exited the church getting into the carriage that awaited them. He helped her up and then climbed in. Once he was seated beside her they both looked at each other.
“Good day Mrs. Conolly,” he said. She warmed at her new name.
“Mr. Conolly,” she replied.
“Alone at last,” he said.
“Not quite,” she said. “We’re going to have to make it through all of the festivities, and then we can be alone.” She blushed, even though it was what she had been thinking about for the past year.
“Are you nervous?” he asked her, bringing her hand to his lips. Her skin tingled where his lips touched.
“No,” she replied. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
He smiled at her, his eyes going sultry. “Good. Me too.”
The carriage took off, bringing them through the London streets. As the daughter of a Duke, there was some fanfare, with people, lining the streets. Arabella waved, as they passed people in the streets. They cheered.
Charles didn’t know how he made it through the banquet—Arabella sat beside him. Soon, he’d take her to their home, and then they would spend their first night together as a married couple. He had thought about this night for nearly a year—although, he hadn’t known that it would ever come to pass.
He brushed his fingers against the back of her hand, which rested on the top of the table. His eyes met hers, his skin tingling in delicious anticipation, as he considered that in a few hours, he would finally make her his completely.
He couldn’t wait to unbutton the long row that rested overtop her spine, remove the soft satin that covered her skin.
“Oh dear,” Arabella said, interrupting his thoughts.
Charles followed the line of her sight. Across the room, her mother and father were speaking, for the first time since the Duke of Tiverwell had admitted to his infidelity.
They’d both avoided each other, throughout the wedding festivities—the engagement party, the rehearsal dinner. It had been tense to say the least.
“So far so good,” he murmured. “They seemed to be talking civilly.”
“Perhaps I should go over,” she said.
“Whatever they have to say to each other, then they will,” Charles said. “You can relax.”
They both watched for a moment, then were interrupted by the approach of Lord Dunsmore.
“Mr. and Mrs. Conolly!” he said, bowing to them both. “Congratulations on your nuptials.”
“Thank you,” Charles said.
Lord Dunsmore faced Arabella. “I’ve told this to Mr. Conolly and he’s said that he’s planning on settling down. However, I am offering him a job as a private detective.” He put a hand up to his mouth then stage-whispering. “I thought, perhaps, that you could convince him otherwise.”
Arabella laughed, clapping her hands. “Oh, Charles!” she said. “You must!”
“Must I?” he asked. He’d thought that she would be against it.
“Well, of course!” she insisted. “Lord Dunsmore clearly cannot do without you!”
“I cannot,” Lord Dunsmore agreed.
“Do come and call on us this week,” Arabella told him. “I will help you convince him.”
Lord Dunsmore bowed. “I knew you would be on my side,” he said, winking at Charles, before wandering off.
Charles looked at Arabella. She smiled at him. “Oh, come, Charles. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“I thought that you’d want me around,” he replied.
“Of course, I do,” she said. “But it would be great fun if we could assist Lord Dunsmore on cases.”
Charles then saw that Arabella herself was interested. He laughed. “Very well,” he said, because he couldn’t deny her anything. “We will talk with Lord Dunsmore. But we shan’t do anything dangerous. I think the night that I went to the brothel was too much danger and intrigue.”
“Agreed,” she said.
Charles took her hand in his. They both looked around the room, where all of their friends were gathered to celebrate them. Candles flickered, and the cake sat in the corner—a whole five tiers of yellow cake with vanilla frosting, dotted with little sugar flowers.
He glanced at the lady at his side. She smiled as she pressed his hand.
“Do we live happily ever after?” he asked.
“For certain,” she replied. “Just as soon as we’ve made a space for our fencing.”
“We have a yard for that,” he said.
“Then we live happily ever after,” she said.
It was late when Charles finally brought Arabella home. The party had gone on, through the evening. Arabella was excited to finally be at her new house. Mrs. Osbourne opened the front door. She and Annette had arrived much earlier.
“Welcome home, Sir—and Madam,” she said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Osbourne,” Arabella said. She looked at Charles, her heart racing. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a while,” she told him. Her gown had a row of buttons down the back. She had a brand new peignoir, which Annette had promised to have ready when she arrived.
He leaned in to kiss her, his lips warm against her own. “I’m not waiting,” he replied. “Come.”
Anticipation made her skin tingle. She lifted her skirts, and then walked up the stairs. Annette was waiting in the bedroom. Arabella hadn’t yet been in here.
“You can head down, Annette,” Charles said.
“Very well, Sir,” she replied, curtsied. “Goodnight, Madam.”
“Goodnight, Annette,” Arabella replied as her lady’s maid left them alone in the room together.
Arabella looked around at the roo
m. The curtains were a dark blue, as well as the curtains on the bed. There was a soft blue and gold coverlet. A fire had been built up in the grate, and there were several candles lit.
“Come here,” Charles said. She turned to him. He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her to him. She turned her face upwards, pressing her lips to his. “Turn around,” he told her.
She turned, glad that he was taking charge. She had no idea what to do. He began to unhook the line of silk-covered buttons at her back. The heady rush that accompanied his unwrapping her was overwhelming. She smiled to herself.
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