Standish’s eyes rolled backward and silence descended.
Brantford stood then and turned to face her. “I’ll still need that rope, but at least now we won’t have to listen to his ravings.”
With a small sound of relief, she threw herself into her husband’s arms, taking comfort in the way they tightened around her.
“I didn’t think you’d arrive. Standish said he’d sent you to follow another lead…”
He pulled back then and gazed down at her. He raised a hand to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I sent someone else to follow that lead. I wasn’t about to allow you to remain on your own. Not with your penchant for taking matters into your own hands.”
Normally she would have protested that statement since she’d only done exactly what he’d asked her to do since they’d wed. If he’d suspected Standish might be present in her home, he should have told her. But she was so happy he was there—and she did have to admit that he was correct, for she hadn’t told anyone she was planning to visit the estate alone—that she let the statement pass.
“He could wake up at any moment… I should go find that rope.”
He dropped his hand from her face and released her, taking a step back. She mourned the loss of his arms around her, but she couldn’t stop envisioning Lord Standish leaping up from his prone state and attacking them again.
Chapter 21
Brantford watched Rose’s retreating form as she rushed from the room, his pulse still racing as he recalled the scene that had met him upon arriving at her family’s estate. The house had been far too quiet, and he’d known immediately that his wife was in danger.
He hadn’t thought it necessary to share the details of why he wanted to avoid the house, thinking he’d ease some of her worries by holding back his suspicion that the home in which she’d been raised might not be safe. But the only thing he’d accomplished was to leave her ripe for the picking, and Standish had wasted no time swooping in.
It had been a careless decision. He should have told her why she needed to stay away from the house. Yes, he’d told her not to leave their room, but without reason to be cautious, of course Rose wouldn’t be content to remain idle.
They’d had so little time together, and he’d come so close to losing her. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about their future, but in that moment he realized he wanted all of it with her. He’d never thought he would marry, but he’d come to realize that his reasons for proposing to Rose had been entirely selfish. And heaven help him, he wanted children with her and everything a life together could hold.
He approached Standish where he lay prone on the floor and nudged him a little harder than necessary with one boot. Satisfied that he wasn’t pretending at being unconscious, Brantford reached for the pistol he’d kicked away when they’d struggled for the weapon. He lowered himself into a chair and waited for Rose to return.
He hoped Standish would regain consciousness before then. There was nothing he wanted more than to smash his fist into the other man’s face again. Barely suppressed anger bubbled up within him as he recalled the sight that had greeted him when he’d followed the sound of maniacal laughter to the library. His heart had almost frozen when he’d heard Rose cry out, and a black rage had engulfed him when he saw Standish raise a hand to strike her. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to kill the man with his bare hands.
Rose returned several minutes later, a hank of rope that she’d found somewhere dangling from one hand. She must have run the whole way, for her breath was coming in quick little pants. Despite what everyone thought, Brantford was human. He couldn’t keep his eyes from dropping down to take in the sight of her breasts rising and falling, remembering other, more pleasant times she’d been short of breath.
He ruthlessly tamped down those memories. There would be time for that later, but right then it was clear that Rose was still very shaken by her recent ordeal. To be honest, his nerves weren’t entirely steady either.
She hesitated in the doorway, nervous about coming too close to Standish.
He rose and crossed the room to take the rope from her. “Keep this safe,” he said, handing her the pistol before turning to secure Standish’s arms and legs. He might have handled the man more roughly than was necessary, but no one would fault him. He already knew Standish was headed for the hangman’s noose. Given what he knew was in the correspondence Worthington had received from Admiral Heddington, nothing would save Standish now. Even if he didn’t hang for treason, Brantford would make sure he paid for the murder of his cousin and a good number of young women in France.
But he’d dealt with men like Standish before, and knew how to make them talk. With Standish having been foiled in the end, Brantford knew the man would take pleasure in sharing just how easily he’d duped Worthington. Brantford counted on that hubris, for it was the only thing that would save Rose’s father.
For good measure, Brantford stuffed his handkerchief into the man’s mouth. He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t kill the man otherwise if he started disparaging his wife again.
He turned his back on Standish and led Rose outside, making sure to take the pistol from her first. She clung to his arm without speaking.
His carriage was making its way down the driveway. When he’d returned to the inn and seen that Rose wasn’t there, he’d known immediately where to find her. He’d left instructions for the carriage to be driven to the house but had made his own way on horseback. He couldn’t allow himself to think about what might have happened if he’d arrived even a few minutes later.
When the carriage stopped, he instructed the driver to take Standish into his custody and make arrangements to transport him to London.
Normally he would have traveled with them, but he knew Standish would be secure in the more-than-capable hands of his driver. They’d worked together for years, and the man possessed skills that rivaled his own. No, he had to stay with Rose, who needed him more right now. That he didn’t want to be away from her either was a given.
“I can’t go back inside the house right now. I think I’ll need a few days before I’ll feel safe here again.”
Her voice was devoid of emotion, her expression blank, and Brantford knew she was in shock.
He led her to the side of the house where he’d hastily tethered his horse when no groom came out to greet him. He and Rose would ride back to the inn together.
The tentative control he’d held over his emotions when he realized Standish had Rose in his clutches—the notorious reserve for which he was famous—was threatening to unravel. He needed to hold Rose close and ensure nothing bad would ever happen to her again.
Chapter 22
Just two short hours earlier, Rose couldn’t have imagined how relieved she’d be to return to the inn. She and Brantford hadn’t spoken as they rode back at a slow pace. He must have sensed that she needed that extra time to compose herself.
She sat sideways in front of him on the gelding, her arms wrapped about his waist. Burying her face against his shoulder, she tried to draw some of her husband’s strength into herself. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from circling back to what might have happened had he not arrived in time, picturing all too well what Standish had wanted to do to her.
When they finally arrived at the inn, he slid from the horse’s back and lifted her down. They stood like that for several seconds, his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. Staring up into his face, she was barely aware of the groom approaching to take care of their mount. She could see the tumult of emotion in Brantford’s eyes as he gazed down at her and she braced herself, expecting to be chastised for her reckless behavior. It was what she deserved, after all. She never should have thought she knew their situation better than he.
She opened her mouth to offer an apology, but he gave a small shake of his head. Grasping her hand, he led her into the inn without a word.
When they reached their room, she wasn’t surprised to see
one of his men stationed outside the door. What’s more, she was actually happy to see him there. His presence meant Standish hadn’t escaped and that he wasn’t hiding in their room, waiting for them. She wondered how long it would take for her to stop expecting him to jump out at her from the shadows.
The burly man stepped aside, and Brantford led them into the room. She wanted to cling to him again, but he hadn’t closed the door.
“I need to apprise the men about what has happened. I’ll only be a few minutes. Lock this door behind me.”
Rose nodded as she struggled with the urge to beg him not to leave. This was what Brantford did, after all. Given how quickly he had taken Standish down, it was apparent that he dealt with such men all the time. Why else would he be so skilled in physical combat?
She locked the door as soon as he closed it, then turned to stare at the sparse room. Feeling silly given the fact that their room was now being guarded, she nonetheless moved to look behind the screen that set off a small dressing area in the corner of the room. Then she bent to look underneath the bed. Finally, squaring her shoulders, she yanked open the wardrobe door. It was blessedly empty save for the few garments a maid had hung up the day before.
Sagging, she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. It was only then that she realized she was shaking. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths as she tried to think of the good that would come of this. If Brantford could get a confession from Standish, it was possible her father would soon be free. She pictured that reunion, imagining the joy her parents would feel at finally being able to resume their lives. Hopefully, once everyone learned that her father had only confessed to protect his family, they’d finally be allowed back into society. She knew how much it meant to her mother to be able to hold her head high while among her peers.
The fact that Rose had married the elusive Earl of Brantford would probably go a long way toward achieving that end. As for Rose, she would never forgive all those who had turned their back on her family in their hour of need. But at least she had Catherine and, by extension, her family. They had been nothing but kind and supportive to her.
A quick knock at the door surprised her. When she heard Brantford’s voice announcing it was him, she flew across the room and unlocked the door. She waited only until he closed the door behind him before throwing herself into his arms.
The tears came then, much as she tried to hold them back. Brantford wouldn’t appreciate a weepy wife, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
The world shifted, and she realized he was carrying her to the bed. He sat, holding her in his lap, and her tears only increased.
“Shh,” he said, stroking her hair. “You’ve had a shock. Let it all out. Everything will be fine now.” His other arm tightened around her waist as she tried to burrow farther into him.
When her crying finally slowed, she pulled back and gazed up at her husband. She should have been embarrassed about losing control so completely, especially in front of him, but instead all she could feel was a sense of wonder as she saw the concern in Brantford’s eyes.
“I expected you to box my ears for going against your instructions. Instead, I find this mysteriously compassionate man has taken possession of my husband’s body.”
A corner of his mouth lifted at her attempt at humor, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “I am equal parts torn between turning you over my knee and giving you a lesson you won’t soon forget or holding you close and never letting go of you again.”
“If I’m to have a choice in the matter, I’d prefer the latter.”
He cupped her face, his thumb stroking against her lower lip, and a shiver of awareness went through her. “You frightened me half to death today.”
“Only half? My heart almost stopped when Lord Standish grabbed me. If you hadn’t been there…” A shudder wracked her body. “How did you know I was there? You were going somewhere else.”
“That’s what Standish intended,” Brantford replied, his eyes narrowing a fraction. “But I’ve always been a firm believer in trusting my instincts, and something didn’t seem right. I sent someone in my stead and came back to make sure you were safe. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were gone.”
She winced at the censure in his voice. “In my defense, I never imagined the house would be empty. I still don’t know how he emptied it of all the servants.” She hesitated as she remembered the glee in Lord Standish’s voice when he’d mentioned that they wouldn’t be interrupted. “Do you think he hurt them?”
“Some of my men are on the way right now. I imagine he did nothing more than restrain them and lock them in a room.”
She wanted to believe that was true. “How did you know I’d gone to the house?”
“Where else would you have gone? There was no sign of a struggle here, and despite the ease with which you seem to have slipped away, I like to think that at least one of the men would have noticed if you’d been dragged off.” His jaw tightened as he struggled with his emotions. “I’ll confess I was worried that you’d been waylaid somewhere en route. And when I realized you were in the study with Standish…” He gave his head a sharp shake. “I don’t know how I didn’t kill him for laying his hands on you. If he’d gone further—”
She placed a hand over his mouth to stop him. “He didn’t. You arrived in time, thank heaven.” Her heart was so full at that moment, she couldn’t stop the next words that tumbled from her lips. “I love you, Lucien. I’ve loved you since before we were married. I never imagined then that my ill-conceived infatuation would lead to our being married. And even if you don’t love me in return—”
He took her mouth in a short but thorough kiss before pulling back. “I was jealous of Kerrick when he was courting you, even though I knew he really cared for Catherine.”
“What?” She must have misheard him. “You scarce knew I existed. If you weren’t investigating my father’s activities, you wouldn’t have even known I was alive.”
“Never doubt that I noticed you. Every man with a set of eyes has noticed you.”
“Lucien,” she said with a mock frown. “Why did you go through that whole charade of asking Kerrick to court me? Poor Catherine was so heartbroken.”
“Because, my dear temptress, I wanted you too much. Which meant I had to keep you at a distance.”
“Of course,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. “Heaven forbid the Unaffected Earl admit his attraction to a woman.”
“Oh, I’ve been attracted to plenty of women, but none of them ever posed a danger to my heart.”
Her breath caught and she barely managed her next words. “What are you saying?”
He cupped the back of her head with one hand and used the other to bring her flush against him. “I’m saying that I love you too.”
Tears threatened to spill at his confession. Even though she’d come to suspect that he cared for her, she’d never imagined he would ever admit as much. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask. But that would have to wait until later because Brantford kissed her then, and she never wanted him to stop.
Epilogue
July 1807
After her maid pinned the last curl in place, Rose left her bedroom and rushed to join her husband downstairs.
Brantford had done it. Lord Standish had confessed to being the mastermind behind the scheme to frame her father for treason, and now Papa was free. Her parents had arrived at their estate in Surrey earlier that day and were resting before coming down for dinner.
Brantford had found the evidence that Standish had been selling secrets to the French for some time locked away at the man’s estate. Faced with the knowledge that he’d soon be hanged for his crimes, he’d taken one final swipe at her father. She’d feared he would remain mute and that she’d also see her father hanged, but apparently Standish’s pride had him revealing his whole scheme. How he’d tricked her father into spilling what he knew about the movements of the Royal Navy by getting him thorough
ly foxed first. And how he’d deposited money into her father’s bank account to make it appear as though he were complicit in the entire scheme.
Her father’s reputation had taken a blow when the details came out, but better to be thought foolish and easily misled than to be branded a traitor.
Rose hurried into the drawing room, relieved when she saw she’d made it downstairs before her parents. Her husband, of course, was as immaculate as ever, dressed in dark colors, every strand of fair hair lying exactly where it should. He put down the book he was reading and stood, greeting her with a quick kiss.
“I can scarce believe we have finally arrived at this point. Not that I doubted you, Lucien, but it seemed too much to hope for.”
“I haven’t quite forgiven your father for putting all of you in danger in the first place.”
Rose brushed off the criticism. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
“We never would have wed otherwise since you were so determined to ignore me. I’m not sure if I should forgive you either for that. I spent many a night pining after the handsome earl who never glanced my way.”
Brantford made a soft sound that made it clear he didn’t believe her. “I’m amazed you could see me beyond the crowd of men surrounding you.”
She tilted her head, amused that he still seemed so annoyed about her popularity during the past season. “It wasn’t their attention I wanted.”
“You did nothing to forestall it.”
“Yes, well, I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I was trying to make you notice me. I thought that perhaps curiosity would have you seeking to at least speak to me. But you never did.”
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