“Jojo, you did your job well,” Drummond said. “You must be better on your back than you are on the stage. Look at how willing the mighty duke is to sacrifice himself for you.”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Hot tears of terror. She had to do something. To act before her brother shot Felix. But she was afraid that any wrong move on her part would make him pull the trigger.
“I love her,” Felix said simply.
Drummond released a bark of bitter laughter. “Love is a fiction invented by fools. But I am heartily glad you are a fool. It will make this far easier than I could have imagined.”
Suddenly, the report of a gunshot echoed through the room. Everything seemed to happen all at once. Drummond’s hold on her neck eased, and he slumped forward, the weight of his body slamming into her chair. Something warm and wet was all over her neck.
Felix cried out her name.
The gun fell from Drummond’s limp hand, hitting the floor with a clatter.
Felix was running toward her, arms outstretched, and he was safe, unharmed, she thought. Thank God. Everything slammed into her all at once: sensation, emotion, air forcing its way back into her lungs, fear—that constant companion—robbing her of her ability to speak.
She was hot. Cold. Terrified. Colors blurred. Shapes became indistinct. Other shouts rose up, more voices, more footsteps, as the room was flooded with a sea of men. She gasped for breath, her vision darkening around the edges. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest. Her lungs burned. Ringing sounded in her ears. It was as if she had lost control of her body. As if she were watching from somewhere else as she pitched forward, falling into nothing but darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
Felix held Johanna in his arms, cradling her like a babe, as he carried her down the narrow stairs leading to the flat above the apothecary where Drummond McKenna had been secreting himself, using an alias, since his arrival in London. She was breathing, thank Christ, and she had not suffered any wounds he had been able to see in his frantic inspection of her person.
In the wake of the tense operations between himself, Drummond McKenna, and the Duke of Westmorland, his heart was still pounding. When he had arrived at the apothecary’s shop, it had been to a small gathering of Special League men. Arden had been adamant that Felix could not be the one to enter the flat and confront McKenna directly. Westmorland, who had recently inherited his dukedom and the latest addition to the League, had argued Felix was the best choice to go.
They had already learned from the apothecary belowstairs that there was a separate rear entrance to the upstairs flat, one accessed via the apothecary’s shop. Westmorland and some reinforcements had quietly approached the flat in covert fashion while Felix had been the one to confront McKenna.
The sight of Johanna, her eyes wide with terror, helpless at her brother’s mercy, had hit him like a blow. He had not been prepared. With the Home Office, his duties had not entailed field work. He had scarcely ever wielded a gun against another man before this night, though he was an expert marksman and more than familiar with firearms.
Her eyes fluttered open as he reached the lower floor corridor, which was lit by a lone gas lamp. “Felix?”
“I am here, darling,” he said, part of him not feeling safe until they were free of this building.
Until they were as far away from Drummond McKenna’s lifeless body as his feet could carry them. The bastard was dead, and thank the Lord for that. Westmorland’s approach from the rear had been stealthy and silent. His timing had been impeccable. As had his aim.
The moment McKenna had turned the pistol upon Felix, Westmorland had taken his shot. His bullet had lodged in McKenna’s skull before the man had known what hit him. His eyes had gone lifeless in the seconds before the pistol had fallen from his limp fingers and he had slumped forward, his dead weight falling upon Johanna.
Felix wished he could kill the bastard all over again for the ruthless force he had exerted upon her. The pressure he had been applying to Johanna’s throat had been so strong that she had lost consciousness because of it. The combination of shock and her inability to breathe had led her to swoon.
He had endured the fright of his life watching her eyes flutter closed and seeing her pitch to the floor as he rushed forward in a vain attempt to catch her. At first, he had been afraid she had been hit by a bullet from either McKenna’s gun or that Westmorland’s shot had traveled straight through McKenna to lodge in Johanna. But the lack of blood had suggested she had simply been in shock and deprived of air.
He would give her the air she needed now.
By God, he would give her anything she wanted.
Everything she wanted. All his love, all of himself, every single bloody thing she needed.
Forever.
Just as long as she would let him.
Gratitude was pouring over him in great waves, along with relief. They were both safe. McKenna was dead. And Johanna would forever be free from her brother’s tyranny. She would never again have to fear him or be forced into doing his bidding against her will.
“Felix?” she rasped again as he reached the street and his waiting carriage.
To hell with anything and anyone else. There was no way he was taking her anywhere other than to beneath his own roof this night. He needed to know she was safe. To have her near. After what they had just gone through together… But he could not forget the contempt she held him in, the anger she had for him.
He stopped, halfway to his carriage, gathering his wits and his breath. “Johanna, are you hurt?”
“No,” she said slowly. “I…Felix, what happened? You were not injured, were you?”
“No,” he reassured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It is all over now, thank God. McKenna can never hurt you or anyone else again.”
Arden approached him then, patting him on the back. “Well done, Winchelsea. Your fearlessness is to be commended. I cannot help but to think the Home Office would have you back without hesitation after the bravery you’ve exhibited tonight.”
“My time with the Home Office is done,” Felix said, and he meant those words. The only responsibility he wanted, from this moment forward, was as a father and a husband.
But first he had to convince the woman in his arms to marry him.
Arden inclined his head. “Understood. If you will excuse me, I need to send word to the Criminal Investigation Department.”
“I can walk, Felix,” Johanna protested as Arden walked away.
“I do not want to let you go,” he said with brutal honesty.
He had been so certain, with McKenna’s pistol pressed to her temple, that he would lose her forever. It was as if he had to continue touching her to assure himself she was real.
Once he had her inside the carriage, he settled her on the squab. He seated himself opposite her as the vehicle swayed into motion, but decided it was not good enough. Instead, he joined her and hauled her into his lap.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, not protesting his commandeering of her person. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They held each other tightly, with the embrace of two people who had just stared death in the face and survived. The frantic cling of two people who had almost lost each other.
He buried his face in her rose-scented hair, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion.
It was not one of his fits he was suffering, but something else. Something different. Their hearts were beating against each other, visceral reminders of all they had just been through. Of how fragile were the bonds of life.
How precious.
“Marry me,” he said at last into the silence. “I was wrong to lie to you, Johanna, and for that I am sorry. You can hold on to your anger for as long as you need. But please, say you will become my duchess.”
“How can you want to marry me?” she asked softly. “We have been ensnared in deceptions ever since the moment we first met. We do not know each other as we truly are.”
“Then we will g
et to know each other,” Felix offered. “We will begin again. We will start over.”
She looked up at him, meeting his gaze in the low light. There was such sadness in her eyes it brought a new physical ache to his chest. He wanted to kiss away the sadness, to chase away her doubts.
“How can we, Felix? We have done nothing but lie to each other, and I have only brought you danger and hurt.” She paused, cupping his jaw tenderly. “Verity was almost killed because of me, and when I think what could have happened to you tonight…”
“You are not to blame for the actions of Drummond McKenna,” he told her, interrupting.
He could not bear to utter the phrase your brother after what he had just witnessed. Johanna could not be more different from that man, and Felix could scarcely believe they shared blood.
“I am to blame for bringing you so close to danger,” she argued, tears glittering in her eyes. “I am the reason you stepped down from the Home Office.”
“You are the woman who stole my heart when I least expected it,” he returned tenderly, unable to keep from worshiping her with his gaze. She was so lovely, so beloved. “You are the reason Verity and I found laughter again. You are the light that was missing from my life.”
“Do you not see, Felix? You cannot marry me. I had a child out of wedlock. I am an actress, and I cannot hide that. My face and name are far too well-known. I am scandalous.” The tears were on her cheeks now, trailing down her silken skin.
He wanted to follow them with his lips. To kiss them until there was no trace left of her sadness. To swallow it whole, take away her every pain. “If you are scandalous, my love, then I shall simply be a scandalous duke. And to the devil with anyone who turns up their noses at us. We will face them all together.”
“Felix,” she whispered.
He kissed her lips gently. Slowly. “I love you, Johanna.”
“How can you love me after everything that has happened?” She shook her head, a sob tearing from deep within her.
She was torn, he could see, but he felt as if her tides were shifting. Just a few more nudges, and she would relent.
“Our circumstances dictated who we were, what we could reveal to each other. I propose starting fresh.” He paused and kissed the tip of her nose before continuing. “As Miranda says, How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world that has such people in’t! Let us create a brave new world together. Let us write our own story, free from all the chains that once bound us.”
“Oh, Felix.” Her heart was in her eyes, though she had not spoken the words yet.
He thought they were there.
He believed they were waiting to be uttered.
Because he could feel the strength of the emotion emanating between them. Theirs was a connection that was extraordinary. It surpassed everything else. Not even the dividing lines between them mattered.
“Tell me you will be mine,” he urged. “Tell me you will, because I almost lost you tonight, and I cannot bear to lose you ever again.”
“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much, Felix, and there is nothing I want more than to be yours.”
At last.
He was kissing her before she could say another word. The first three were all he needed to hear. His lips moved over hers with all the love in his heart, showing her the depth of the emotion he felt for her. It went beyond the marrow of him, all the way to his soul.
But then he realized she had not yet said the one word—the one specific, equally necessary word—he needed from her lips. He broke the kiss.
“You did not answer my question, darling,” he said. “Will you marry me? Be my duchess and a mother to Verity?”
“I will never take Verity’s mother’s place.” She caressed his jaw. “But it would be my honor to be your wife and to be a mother to your daughter. I love you both, you see, so much my heart hurts.”
“Thank God.” He rested his forehead against hers. “We love you too, Johanna. Every bit as much.”
As the carriage rocked slowly back through the London night, they held tightly to each other. Felix had never felt so much hope for the future.
Johanna had just emerged from a hot, restorative bath when there was a knock at her chamber door. She had cleansed the awfulness of the night from her skin, but she knew cleansing it from her mind would not be nearly as easy. But she had time, and she had Felix and Verity. And she would survive, just as she always had.
Only, this time, she would not be alone.
A second rap at the door shook her from her musings.
“Enter,” she called softly, aware of the lateness of the hour.
Much of the household—including Lady Verity—was abed.
The door opened to reveal Felix, a most welcome sight. And looking distinctly like the scandalous duke he had claimed he would be, he was wearing nothing more than a robe and bearing a tray in his hands. It was laden with food and wine.
Her stomach growled at the sight, and the rest of her filled with heat and awareness.
She had missed him. Dear God, how she had missed his hands on her, his lips on her. The way he looked at her with those vibrant green eyes. The way he smelled, the quiet strength of his big body, the way he held her in his arms.
“How are you feeling, darling?” he asked her, his concerned gaze searching hers as he crossed the threshold and closed the door at his back.
“Much better now that you are here,” she told him, for it was true.
Just him being in the chamber with her was enough to calm her. How she had ever supposed she could spend the rest of her life loving him from afar was beyond her now as she drank in his presence.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, laying the tray on a writing desk.
It was laden with meat and cheeses and tarts. Her stomach rumbled again.
She pressed a hand over her midriff, heat prickling her cheeks. “You are always taking care of me.”
He smiled, and Lord, but he was beautiful when he smiled. “Someone should have been, all this time.”
“I took care of myself,” she protested lightly.
But he was walking toward her now, his arms open, and she could not deny the rightness of walking into them and feeling his embrace close around her. She pressed her cheek over his heart, listening to the steady, reassuring thumps, and slid her arms around his lean waist.
He kissed her crown. “You do not need to take care of yourself any longer, my love.”
Gratitude and love washed over her. “This feels as if it must be a dream.”
“If it is a dream, let me sleep, for I don’t want to wake.” The deep rumble of his baritone infused her with warmth.
“Nor do I,” she said.
And then she could not resist sliding her fingers around to his side and lightly tickling him. He emitted a squeak that was not at all ducal.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
She tilted her head back to gaze up at him, allowing all the love she had for him to show in her eyes. “I wanted to make certain you were real, and that this is not a dream after all. It would seem scandalous dukes are ticklish.”
“Saucy wench,” he said, smiling softly back at her. “Perhaps I shall have to see where scandalous duchesses are ticklish.”
How necessary it was, to share this brief moment of lightness after all they had endured that evening. After her brother’s death. After his attempt on her life and Felix’s. She still felt quite sure he had meant to kill them both.
That part still seemed like a nightmare in itself. But although she was relieved she would never again need to fear Drummond, she could not be happy he had been killed. Nor would she soon forget the sound of the gunfire echoing in the room, the horror clawing at her throat, the heavy weight of his body falling against hers as the life drained from him.
“I am not a duchess,” she pointed out to Felix at last, forcing her mind from her turbulent thoughts.
She knew from past experience that it w
as no good to dwell in the darkness. The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light, the Bible told her, and she believed it. She had lived it. And the light she had seen was shining above her and standing before her. That light was an innocent child sleeping soundly down the hall. That light was love and happiness and laughter, and everything that was good.
Everything that was necessary.
“I have a license at the ready,” Felix told her then, his countenance growing somber once more. “Marry me tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She searched his expression, but all she could find was intent.
He was serious. “I would marry you tonight, this very second, if I could.”
What else could she say to that? There seemed only one rational response. Her heart knew it. Her tongue knew it before her mind had even reached a decision.
“Yes,” she said, “I will marry you tomorrow.”
She would marry him now if she could as well, and it was that realization which propelled her forward. Following her head had never been difficult for her. Following her heart, however, was something new.
Worth it for the chance at happiness. For the chance at forever with Felix and his daughter.
His grin widened, with relief, she thought, and something else—perhaps sheer, unadulterated joy. “You will not regret it, Johanna. I swear to you. From this moment forward, I will do everything in my power to love you and to keep you safe. I promise I will never let anything or anyone come between us.”
She fell headlong into his gaze, and she forgot all about her stomach. There was only one hunger she sought to abate now. “I promise the same, Felix. There is nothing I want more than a life with you and your daughter. I am ready to move forward, into that brave new world with you.”
“You have made me so happy. Happier than I could have ever imagined being again, before you came into my life.” He kissed her forehead with a reverence that stole her breath. “I love you, Johanna. I feel all the way to my soul that I was always meant to love you. That we were meant to find our way to each other. That this love of ours was meant to be.”
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