Henry felt bile rise in his throat, but he continued to stare at Serendipity, even as his vision began to blur. “I do not understand.”
“Come now, Henry, we are adults,” she replied, returning the figurine to the exact spot on the desk where she’d found it. “I knew you loved Cecelia. And when she accepted Afton’s proposal? Oh, I cried, knowing how much it must have upset you. I could have healed you, Henry. I waited for you to realize …” She paused, her gaze pinning him with sudden, startling clarity. “But you never did, you see. I knew that the only way we could be together was if Cecelia was gone. And so I had her killed. And I waited.”
Henry had never experienced an overwhelming need to harm a woman. Plenty of men, yes. Mostly criminals, though the occasional peer made himself a deserving candidate.
But now he felt a nearly uncontrollable rage to destroy.
Henry wanted to cut out Serendipity’s evil heart and throw it in the ocean, where it could not take root—could no longer do harm.
He wanted her to experience the same pain she’d inflicted upon Cecelia and Afton, Sophia, Dash, Nicholas, and Langdon. And every last victim of the Kingsmen.
Henry wanted his heart gone, too. He would not have to wait long. Cecelia’s death had taken half of the organ. And the realization that he’d played a part in her murder would do away with the rest.
“You waited in vain, Lady Serendipity.” His words held no inflection, his voice ice cold.
They seemed to break the spell she’d fallen into, though. Serendipity looked at him now with clear, lucid eyes. “And why is that?”
“I never loved you, Lady Serendipity. Nor would I ever have come to. Before today, you were nothing more to me than an acquaintance I had unwittingly upset. And now?” Henry stopped. He folded his hands in his lap and adopted an air of absolute indifference. “Now you are a criminal—one who will hang for your many crimes. That is all you will ever be to me.”
“You lie,” she hissed, her agitation visible. “After everything I have done for you?”
“Everything you have done for yourself, Lady Hatch,” he corrected her, choosing to use her proper name. “You are a selfish, unstable, wholly deceitful woman. Why you would have ever believed I could love you, I do not know. But I will tell you one more thing: you can stop waiting.”
Lady Serendipity opened her mouth as if to scream. No sound emerged, only a choked intake of breath.
“Beals,” Henry called to one of the Corinthians who waited outside the door.
The agent appeared just as Lady Serendipity grabbed the crystal figurine, smashed it against the desk, and lifted the jagged, broken edges toward her throat. He knocked it out of her grasp and yanked her upward, securing both of her hands behind her back.
“There was no simple path to release for your victims, Lady Hatch,” Carmichael told the woman, fighting to maintain his civility. “Nor will there be for you.”
Three weeks later
DEVON, ENGLAND
“May I open my eyes now?” Grace asked, pretending to lift a corner of the scarf from her eyes.
“Absolutely not,” Langdon answered with mock horror. “You will ruin the surprise!”
Truth be told, Grace had never been one for surprises—though the dramatic turn her life had taken since meeting Langdon could be called the greatest surprise of all time. It had been three weeks since they’d captured the Queen. The Corinthians were in the process of dismantling the Kingsmen and Langdon had written letters to Dash, Sophia, and Nicholas telling them what had happened.
Grace had moved out of Aylworth House and into the accepting arms of a formidable trio of women known as the Furies. The sisters were three women with such significant ties to the ton that no one, not even Langdon’s polite if distant mother, could question the appropriateness of Langdon and Grace’s marriage.
And word had arrived from Marcus. In no more than three sentences, he’d told Grace of his impending voyage to America where he would most surely find a wife to love and share his life with in time. He’d wished her all of life’s blessings and signed it, Your trusted friend, Marcus.
There were moments late at night when Grace would awaken in her bed and sit up, peering into the darkness in search of the landscape painting that had hung in her room at 3 Bedford Square. She had not found it yet, and was beginning to feel relatively confident she never would.
“I must confess, I am not normally fond of surprises,” Grace admitted to Langdon as the coach rolled to a slow stop. “Especially not after a rather long road trip.”
One day in a coach could make for an adventure. One week in a coach could drive a person mad. Mrs. Templeton had not even allowed Grace to know which coaching inns they were occupying, let alone where they might be going.
“Ah,” her friend sighed, then cleared her throat in an effort to mask the sound of … Of what, precisely?
“Are you pleased, Mrs. Templeton?” Grace asked, sitting up and leaning toward the woman who sat across from her. “Or disappointed? Because I would say pleased, but I cannot be sure.”
“You will know soon enough, my lady,” the dear woman answered mysteriously.
The sound of the coach door opening pricked Grace’s interest and she turned her head toward it as if staring blindly in the right direction would help her decipher her whereabouts.
Mrs. Templeton’s skirts rustled and the coach gently swayed, suggesting the woman had gotten out.
“Langdon?” Grace asked, turning her head to her left, where Langdon sat. Or had sat. She reached out and encountered his thigh. “Now may I take the blindfold off?”
She heard him chuckle.
Then she pinched him on either side of his knee, where she knew him to be terribly ticklish.
“All right,” he yelled, letting loose a charming and full-bodied laugh. “I promise you, it is almost time.”
The coach door shut once again and the wheels began to roll, gravel crunching beneath them.
“What have you done with Mrs. Templeton?” Grace asked, entirely confused by the woman’s departure.
The coach gently swung to the right as if taking a turn.
“You will see her soon.”
“I do not know that I will be able to see anything ever again,” Grace teased, sure they were now going down a gentle hill. “I’ve been a prisoner in the dark for such a long time now. Who is to say I haven’t been blinded by my ordeal?”
Langdon’s arm wound about her shoulders and he pulled her close, landing a sensual kiss on the shell of her ear. “Ordeal? Has it really been such an ordeal to travel with me? You seemed rather satisfied with the trip thus far when I visited your room last night.”
“Mmm …” It was all Grace could manage to utter as he conjured memories from their night together. She had been quite satisfied—three times, if she wasn’t mistaken.
The man had a rather good point.
“Shameless,” she muttered. “Absolutely shameless.”
“And rather enjoying it, if you must know,” Langdon replied, loosening her fichu. “Blast.”
Grace furrowed her brows in response to the odd turn in his tone. “I am sorry?”
“Oh, it is nothing,” Langdon assured her. “We are here, is all.”
Grace ripped herself from Langdon’s side, nearly falling back when the coach came to a stop. “Now?”
“Almost,” he replied, then pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. “All right, now.”
He unknotted the silk scarf and removed it from Grace’s eyes.
She opened them slowly, the bright sunlight pouring through the coach windows almost too much for her to bear.
Almost.
Somewhere between claiming she did not like surprises right before they dropped Mrs. Templeton off and now, Grace had developed something more than guarded curiosity. She was excited.
“Slowly, love,” Langdon urged.
The driver appeared and opened the coach door, blocking out the intense light. “My lady,
” he said in greeting, offering her his hand.
“Thank you,” Grace answered, taking advantage of the moment and opening her eyes a touch further. She put her hand in his and stepped down, using her right hand to shield her eyes.
“Wait for me,” Langdon said.
Grace could not. She released the driver’s hand and walked slowly toward what looked to be a cottage. A golden thatched roof sat atop the small stone structure. Two windows just below the eaves winked at the world, while four more were featured along the front of the main level. Snapdragons guarded the stone walkway and served to keep the tidy patches of grass in line. Beds of daisies and hollyhock, bluebells and poppies dipped back and forth in the pleasant breeze. Honeysuckle grew heavy and twined about the eaves of the home, as if it were delicate lace adorning a gift.
Langdon came up behind her and encircled her waist with his arms. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Do you like it?”
“What is it?” Grace countered with her own question as she stared at the perfectly situated cottage.
“Yours,” Langdon answered, releasing her waist and coming to stand in front of her. “It is all yours. Of course, I hope you’ll agree to share it with me. But if not, I believe there may be room in the main house.”
He pointed beyond Grace’s shoulder and she turned. A stately mansion stood off in the distance, a sea of rolling green hills and trees separating the two buildings.
“Audley Estate,” she breathed, remembering back to when she’d stayed the summer with her parents at the familial property. Her father had lost the home a short while after in a card game and they’d never returned.
She looked back at the cottage and narrowed her eyes, attempting to remember its existence. “Is this the groundskeeper’s cottage?”
“It was the groundskeeper’s cottage before I bought Audley and all of her lands and outbuildings,” Langdon answered, taking Grace’s hand in his and pulling her down the stone walkway. “Thankfully, some local craftsmen agreed to fix the old girl up—and in record time. And now she is yours. A simple cottage, tucked away in Devon. That is what you wanted, was it not?”
Langdon produced a key from his pocket and handed it to Grace.
“Not quite,” she said, stepping forward and grasping the doorknob. The key fit easily into the lock and the door opened wide.
Grace walked in first, slowly, as though she entered a holy place. She tugged Langdon in, too, and then closed the door behind him. “This—you,” she said, standing on her toes and kissing him on the mouth, “are what I want—are all that I need for the rest of my days.”
She kissed him a second time, deepening the exchange as her tongue searched for his.
Langdon responded in kind, teasing her until Grace could not stand for them to be clothed any longer.
“The bedroom?” she asked simply, too stirred for coyness.
Langdon unwrapped her arms from about his neck and stepped back until not one measure of his body touched hers. “This will have to wait.”
“What on earth for?” Grace asked, stunned by his statement.
“For after the wedding, my love.”
Grace suspected she would regret embracing surprises by the end of the day. “And when will this wedding take place?”
“Today,” Langdon answered rather sheepishly. “In less than two hours, actually. I cannot wait any longer for you to become my wife. Please do not be angry with me.”
“What am I to do for a dress?” Grace asked, dazed by the newly announced plan. “Won’t your mother be quite upset to miss the occasion? And I’ve yet—”
Langdon leaned in and kissed Grace quiet. “I have arranged everything. My mother is here, as is Mr. Templeton and Master Chow and his daughter. Your dress is upstairs and your ring is in my brother’s possession as we speak.”
“He is here?” she asked, pressure forming behind her eyes.
Langdon nodded. “I understand now, you see. Love, no matter what, will not be denied. And I will be eternally grateful to my brother and Sophia for having the courage to act on theirs. If they had not, I never would have met you. Marry me, Grace. Marry me today.”
Grace looked up through her tears at the man she loved. “I will.”
“Well, my work here is done.”
Langdon stood on the balcony situated off the back of Audley House, admiring the view. He stirred at the sound of his brother’s voice, a sense of sadness overtaking him. “And what work is that?”
Nicholas came to stand next to him. “Mother is absolutely frothing at the bit over this, and I quote, ‘slap-dash ceremony.’ Really, brother, you should have remembered that Mother always comes first.”
Langdon watched Nicholas from the corner of his eye. “You came.”
“Was there ever any doubt that I would?” his brother asked, staring out at the expansive lawns of Audley Estate.
“Doubt?”
Both brothers turned toward the house this time and found Sophia walking toward them, her steps slow but purposeful. “Nicholas would not have missed your wedding for anything in the world. Otherwise, he would have had me to answer to.”
Langdon smiled at Sophia as she came to stand next to Nicholas. He reached out and embraced her, then whispered, “For which I will always be eternally grateful.”
“As it should be,” Sophia subtly teased.
Langdon released her and chuckled. He filled his lungs with the fresh country air, and then expelled it slowly through his nose, contemplating his words. “I should not have kept you from pursuing the King. Actually, that bit made perfect sense. But I used it to punish both of you. And for that, I am truly sorry.”
“Neither of us blamed you,” Nicholas replied, carefully keeping his eyes on the horizon. “You’d been hurt by two of the people you care most about in the world. Some men would not have showed such restraint.”
Langdon could see Grace’s cottage from where he stood, the cozy thatched roof showing yellow in the summer sun. “I did not realize what it meant to be in love, you see. I could not understand why you two would sacrifice so much in order to be together.”
“And now?” Sophia asked, the familiar, soothing sound of her voice pleasing to his ears.
“I loved you—still do,” Langdon began, resting his palms against the stone railing. “But as a dear friend. My feelings for you are nothing compared to what I feel for Grace. The difference is something you can only comprehend after having found the one person in the world who makes you whole.”
“Rather romantic for you, isn’t it?” Nicholas teased, nudging Langdon in the ribs with his elbow.
“Do not dismiss what I have to say simply because it makes you uncomfortable,” Langdon said to his brother. “I see it in your eyes, Nicholas. You are a changed man.”
“Let us hope so,” Sophia added, elbowing Nicholas in the ribs this time.
Langdon turned and sat down on the stone railing, facing his brother and Sophia. “Sophia found you—the true you. Not the man you wished the world to believe was the real Nicholas. They ate it right up, though, did they not? Your antics and devil-may-care attitude supplied endless entertainment for the ton. But she knew better—did all along, I suspect. She unearthed that little boy and his broken heart. And she has put you back together, as no one else ever could. She loves you beyond measure—scars and all. You are the man you always thought she deserved.”
“You are meant to make your bloody bride cry on the wedding day,” Nicholas replied dryly then swiped at his eyes, “not your brother.”
“Well, yes, it is my wedding day. Therefore I am making the rules,” Langdon replied, his own emotions threatening to get the better of him.
“You always loved me beyond measure, too—even more with the scars, I would venture to guess,” Nicholas muttered as he looked down at the toes of his boots. “Do not think that I’ve forgotten that. And I will spend the rest of my days living up to yours and Sophia’s expectations for me—because I know now that I can. She is
my other half, Langdon. Just as Grace is yours.”
Sophia took Nicholas’s hand and brought it to her mouth, placing a loving kiss on his palm before releasing it.
“Look at us,” Langdon said, offering his hand to his brother. “Two of the luckiest bastards in all of England. Who would have imagined that?”
Nicholas refused his brother’s hand and instead hugged Langdon, thumping him on the back. “No one, I can assure you.”
“This is where you three are hiding, is it?”
Nicholas released Langdon and turned to face the house.
“You are attempting to evade our mother, aren’t you?” Langdon asked Dash as the man stalked toward them.
Dash offered his dear friends an impish grin. “Of course I am. She came quite close to discovering me in the library. Damned shame, too, as Audley House is packed to the rafters with a veritable treasure trove of priceless books. Poorly organized, though, so let us do our best to keep Elena occupied or we may be here far longer than I’d originally planned. Such disorganization would prove too irresistible a challenge for my dear wife.”
Langdon laughed at Dash’s warning, happiness washing over him. He and his brother understood each other now in a way they’d never managed before. It had taken trial and tribulation, anger and resentment to remind them of their unbreakable bond.
And in a short while, Langdon would marry Grace in front of him and their dearest friends.
“Langdon Lucius!”
And his mother, of course.
“Lucius?” Dash exclaimed, then burst out laughing. “No wonder you refused to tell me your middle name when we were young. I would have teased you relentlessly.”
“Laugh if you will,” Langdon warned his friend as he stood up. “I am a grown man now. Such teasing would not bother me at all, I assure you.”
Dash turned to Nicholas and Sophia, confusion creasing his brow. “Tell me, what rhymes with Lucius? Does anything come to mind?”
The Wicked Widow Meets Her Match Page 23