Ethan arched an arrogant eyebrow. “So what do you want, Collins? You expect me to pay money for this folly? And you, Thatcher. Perhaps you’re another one of Collins’s reluctant conquests. Welcome to the club, I understand there are more like us. Phillip Edmonton, Beauvais Morton, Henry Fentress, and many others.”
“Buggery?” Thatcher’s brows drew down in horror. Alice gathered that in Thatcher’s personal hierarchy of felons, the baron’s predilections placed him well below a mere kidnapper of children, horse thief, or raper of women.
And there Ethan stood, facing the one who’d done him such violence.
Behind her, Jeremiah tightened his arms more, as if he were tensing—
When Collins swung to face Thatcher, Ethan threw up both arms and charged Argus, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Jeremiah added to the commotion by similarly hollering at the top of his lungs then wrenching himself over Waltzer’s side, dragging Alice off the horse with him. Bishop, apparently at his wits’ end with the morning’s doings, reared until his burden fell from his back. As Argus shied violently, the baron toppled from the saddle then rose to his feet, aiming his pistol directly at Ethan.
“Get back, Grey, or I’ll shoot!”
Ethan charged him, grabbing the gun barrel and forcing it aside. Ethan was larger than Collins and likely in better condition, but Alice suspected meanness also gave a man strength. They grappled over the gun while Jeremiah struggled to undo Alice’s bonds.
As the binding on Alice’s wrists gave way, Ethan’s knee came up into Collins’s groin with savage force. Collins dropped like a stone into the dirt while Ethan held the gun on him.
“Heathgate,” Ethan called. “Show yourself.”
The marquis emerged from the trees, leading both his chestnut and a gray mare Alice did not recognize. He tied up the mares and headed for Collins’s prone form as Jeremiah pelted across the clearing into his father’s body.
“We did it!” Jeremiah crowed. “We sent the bloody blighters packing! Wait ’til I tell Joshua. Papa, you were wonderful, and I got it, didn’t I? I’m a pismire pony!”
“You are brilliant.” Ethan picked his son up and hugged the child tightly. “You saved the day, and likely Miss Alice as well.”
Both of them turned radiant smiles on Alice where she sat with no dignity whatsoever on the hard ground.
“Alice?” Ethan knelt beside her, Jeremiah standing at her shoulder. “Sweetheart, is something amiss?”
Now he called her sweetheart, before the child and with the marquis hovering nearby. Alice closed her eyes and swallowed. “Something’s wrong with my back or my shoulder.”
Or both and everything in between. She did not want to cry before Jeremiah, did not want to diminish the heroics of the moment, but she could hardly draw breath for the pain.
“Hurts?” Ethan asked quietly.
“Hurts badly.” Alice tried to nod but abandoned the movement. Even swallowing somehow hurt her shoulder, and now—how marvelous!—the marquis was glowering down at her too.
“It’s probably dislocated,” Ethan hazarded. “We’ll fetch Fairly, and he can have a look at you. Can you sit up?” She did, but only with Ethan’s assistance, and she felt a cold sweat on her forehead before they were finished.
“Is Miss Alice going to die?” Jeremiah asked quietly.
“I am not.” Alice winced as Ethan set her on her feet. “Though you are growing rather substantial, Jeremiah, and I don’t think my shoulder was quite up to breaking your fall and mine.”
“Sorry.” Jeremiah looked distressed. “That man was going to shoot you to shoot me.”
“He was,” Ethan said, expression grave, “and Miss Alice was willing to protect you at the cost of her own life. You did the right thing, Jeremiah, and we’ll soon put Miss Alice to rights. Fetch the mare for me, lad.”
Before Jeremiah had taken a step, Alice saw that Collins had managed to drag himself to his feet.
“Ethan, he’s getting away!”
Heathgate moved first, while Ethan put himself between Alice and Collins. The marquis was lethally quick for such a big man, but Collins was desperate. He caught up Argus’s reins and grunted his way into the saddle. With a vicious jab of his spurs into the gelding’s sides, Collins took off at a gallop for the woods.
“Horse thievery,” Heathgate spat over the sound of retreating hooves. “As the local magistrate, I am happy to report this is a hanging felony.”
“Papa,” Jeremiah said worriedly, “Argus is bolting.”
Jeremiah had the right of it. While Alice watched, Argus flattened from a gallop into a dead run. The horse’s ears were plastered to his head, and Collins was sawing frantically at the reins.
Ethan shifted so Jeremiah’s face was hidden against his father’s side, but over Ethan’s shoulder, Alice saw Argus thunder beneath a low-hanging branch, the rider flopping to the ground like a rag doll.
Justice, Alice thought without a shred of remorse. She’d been dragged and lamed by a horse, thanks to Collins, her sister had been emotionally lamed, and apparently others—Ethan included—had suffered at the man’s vile hands as well. The pain of that knowledge rivaled the throbbing in her shoulder.
“I’ll see to him,” Heathgate said, striding off in the direction of the fallen baron.
How long Alice stood there in Ethan’s embrace, her hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder, she did not know. The morning was crisp and sunny, the birds were singing, and nothing but the hurt felt real.
“Neck broken,” Heathgate reported when he returned. “He didn’t suffer, which is a great injustice, though the Crown might get its hands on his private holdings. I suppose that’s something.”
Because Alice was leaning directly against Ethan, she watched his expression shift from consternation to, not resignation, exactly, but acceptance.
“Ethan!” Nick’s call was followed by his appearance through the trees with Fairly at his side. They were riding bareback, mounted on matching chestnut draft horses. “All’s well?”
“Hullo, Uncle Nick,” Jeremiah called. “Hullo, Doctor Lordship. Miss Alice is hurt, but she’s not crying.”
“Always a good sign,” Fairly said as he slid off his horse. “Any bleeding?” he asked as he approached Alice.
“I’m not bleeding,” Alice said. “It’s my shoulder.” Fairly did not reach out and touch her shoulder, he walked around her, gesturing to Ethan to drop the arm he had around her waist.
“Dislocated,” Fairly said briskly. “Easily fixed, but more than a bit uncomfortable.”
“Will she cry?” Jeremiah asked.
Fairly smiled slightly at the child. “I might cry. Grey, take the lady in your arms as if you’ve the honor of a very friendly dance. Miss Alice, let Mr. Grey support you, and close your eyes.” Alice obeyed, letting Ethan’s embrace and the warmth and scent of him sink past the pain. She felt Fairly’s hands on her back, then on her neck, finally on her shoulder.
“We’re going to do this on the count of five,” Fairly said, taking a firmer hold of Alice’s shoulder. “Deep breath, Miss Alice, then let it out and hold onto Mr. Grey tightly. One, two, three, four, five.”
Except on “three,” Fairly had deftly wrenched her shoulder, putting it back in place with an audible click. Alice saw stars and would literally have been felled by the pain except for Ethan’s hold on her.
“Catch your breath.” Fairly’s gaze was sympathetic. “When you can see straight, have a nip of this.” He tucked a silver flask into Ethan’s pocket. “You’ll be sore for a few days, and you shouldn’t lift anything substantial until the soreness passes.”
“My marchioness would be more than willing to have you recover with us,” Heathgate said. He’d bound Thatcher’s hands and left the man sitting on the ground. “Fairly will be in residence at Willowdale, if he knows what’s good for him,” Heathgate added with a sardonic smile. “You could be spoiled and attended by your personal physician.”
When Alice might have demurred, might h
ave expected Ethan to intercede, Nick came stomping over.
“Ethan?” Nick called. “Argus won’t let me near him. We’ve too damned many horses, and something will have to be done with Collins.”
* * *
The next few minutes were spent organizing the ride back to Tydings, and all the while, Ethan wanted to tell his friends, his neighbor, his brother, and even his son to take themselves off so he could speak with Alice.
And yet, he dreaded what they might say to each other.
When all was sorted out, Collins’s body was draped over the back of one draft horse, Thatcher sat bound on the other, Nick was up on Bishop, Fairly on Waltzer, each towing a draft horse. Heathgate had Alice up before him, while Ethan put Jeremiah up before him on a perfectly composed Argus and gave Jeremiah the reins to Fairly’s mare.
“Argus was a good boy.” Jeremiah thumped the gelding on his golden neck. “He remembered the falling-off game even when the baron was riding him.”
“He did.” Ethan sneaked a kiss to his son’s crown. “And so did you.”
“I’m glad Collins is dead,” Jeremiah said on a sigh. “I’m glad Argus killed him. He was mean and nasty to everybody. Worse than a bad dragon.”
“Much worse.” Ethan glanced over at Alice where she rode on Constantina. He’d overheard what Collins had said to her, about knowing her sister and Alice being unable to help her sister. And Alice had overheard him, admitting he’d been one of Collins’s victims too.
Was that why she wouldn’t look at him now?
Even had he the courage, Ethan didn’t have the opportunity to confront her. Collins’s body had to be dealt with, Heathgate as local magistrate had to take statements, and Thatcher needed to be dispatched to the back room of the local tavern, which served as a makeshift gaol.
When Ethan saw Alice put into the most comfortable coach he had for the trip to Willowdale, it was close to noon.
“So, now what?” Nick asked as they trudged through the gardens.
“I want to see Joshua,” Ethan said. “I expect you do too.”
Nick turned his head to regard Ethan levelly. “You don’t have to be that generous, Ethan. I’m a big boy. When you swive another man’s wife, you don’t have a claim on the progeny, particularly if your brother is generous enough to obscure the issue of paternity.”
“Don’t be an ass. You didn’t intend to swive my wife, as you so vulgarly insist on putting it, and the progeny you refer to is a little boy who thinks his uncle is—God help you—capital.”
“I may not be his bloody uncle, and if you weren’t so busy trying to out-decent the Pope over having my bas—”
He never finished the word, because Ethan tackled him from the side and sent them rolling across the back gardens. They wrestled, as they hadn’t since boyhood, elbows, knees, arms, and legs tussling, first this one in a hold, then that one, until they were both panting with the exertion.
“Joshua Nicholas Grey is not a bastard,” Ethan hissed, his arm around Nick’s thick throat. He hauled up, the result intended to be brutally uncomfortable but not quite dangerous.
“Joshua Nicholas Grey is not a bastard,” Nick grunted. When Ethan relented, and the fight should have been over, Nick moved, quick as lightning, to reverse their positions, putting Ethan’s arm behind his back and kneeling over him.
“Ethan Grey is not a bastard,” Nick rasped in his brother’s ear. “Say it, you stubborn ass.” He tugged up for good measure. Ethan struggled fiercely beneath him, but Nick wouldn’t give quarter.
“Ethan Grey is not a bastard,” Nick insisted, voice hoarse. “Say it, or I’ll break both your arms, Ethan. I swear I will.”
Ethan renewed his efforts to break Nick’s hold, but Nick had several inches and two stone on him.
“Ethan! You are not a bastard. Say it!”
Ethan went still, Nick’s point finally becoming clear. “Ethan Grey,” he said softly, firmly, “is no longer a victim.”
“No.” Nick shifted off of him. “He’s not. You’re not.” He regarded Ethan, who’d pushed up on all fours and then sat back on his haunches, lungs heaving. “You’re not. Come here. God, you’re stubborn.” Nick draped an arm across Ethan’s shoulders and gave his brother one hell of a squeeze. “I have missed you until I’m crazy with it, and all this time, you were just ashamed, Ethan?”
Nick withdrew his arm, and Ethan could breathe again.
“Just ashamed.” Ethan said the words as one might say, “mere plague.”
“I could kill Papa,” Nick whispered. “How could he leave you at Stoneham? How could he have sent you there?”
“I don’t think he knew anything, Nick.” Ethan sighed, settling in the grass beside his brother. “And I don’t care. It’s over. Now it’s well and truly over.”
Nick slugged Ethan on the shoulder. “Call me bloodthirsty, but like Jeremiah, I’m glad Collins is dead.”
“So am I,” Ethan admitted, because to Nick, he could admit such a thing. “Now will you come see the boys with me?”
“How can I face them, Ethan?” Nick plucked at the grass idly. “I am a disgrace. In their eyes, I will be a disgrace, and I can only imagine what Leah will think of this.”
Ethan found a long blade of grass and split it with his thumbnail. “Firstly, children do not uniformly approve of their parents, nor we of them. This is not in the contract, so to speak. We love each other, and that suffices. Secondly, Leah knew you were a tomcat and will not hold this against you. Thirdly, you need to know these children. They will fall to your care should anything happen to me.”
“That’s right. You did that even before Papa died, didn’t you?” Nick pounced on this realization with palpable relish as he pushed to his feet.
“I did it the day I knew Barbara had conceived,” Ethan said, accepting a hand up. “Joshua’s situation only makes it all the more imperative you make his acquaintance.”
“But, Ethan, do we have to tell him?” Nick sounded so uncertain, it nearly broke Ethan’s heart.
“Not now, Nick,” Ethan said gently as they moved off toward the house. “Soon, so it doesn’t strike them as a big, dirty secret rife with sexual connotations an adolescent blows out of all proportion. You and I are half brothers. Joshua and Jeremiah can adjust to being possible half brothers too.”
“You’re so matter-of-fact about this,” Nick said as they gained the back hallway.
“I’ve had seven years to adjust to it, and you’ve had less than a few hours.”
“True, and in all this commotion, I’ve not told you Hazlit’s latest information.”
“Which would be?” Ethan led them in through the kitchen, then to the back stairs.
“You are not a bastard,” Nick said, humor lacing his voice. “He’s confirmed your mother was still married to Colonel Markham when you were born, but the story is almost sweet.”
Ethan paused on the narrow stairs to peer down at Nick on the step behind him. “Almost sweet?”
“They were lifelong friends,” Nick said, “and he wanted his commission. She wanted to leave her parents’ house and was good friends with his sisters. They married, and he used her dowry to buy his commission. She went to live with his sisters, and she kept up a lively correspondence with him, though they were never intimate. Your mother was faithful to my father once she met him, though they weren’t fated to have much time together. She was married at the time of your birth, though, so technically, you are not a bastard.”
“And she couldn’t marry the earl, lest bigamy rear its head. Almost sweet.”
“The earl paid a great deal of money to the solicitors to keep her adultery quiet,” Nick went on as they gained the stairs. “Damned silly of him, if you ask me, but he was protective of her memory.”
Ethan shrugged. “I wish he’d protected me more and her memory less.” It felt odd to say such a thing out loud, except Nick was the one person to whom he could make such a disclosure.
“You and me both.” Nick huffed out his dis
gust. “We’re not sending our sons anywhere but Eton, are we?”
“And maybe not even there,” Ethan said. He tapped once on the door to the nursery and opened it, finding both boys wreathed in smiles, sitting side by side on Joshua’s bed.
* * *
“You need to rest.” Felicity, Marchioness of Heathgate, frowned at Alice with maternal concern. “You are pale, you have shadows under your eyes, and you aren’t using your right hand to lift even a teacup.”
Alice reminded herself that this soft-spoken, pretty redhead held the keys to the marquis’s kingdom, and to his heart as well. Formidable was a polite term for the lady’s determination when a guest’s welfare was at stake.
“I will rest.” Alice sipped her tea, an excellent hearty black that should have been fortifying. “It’s difficult when every time you move, the pain jars you awake.”
Her ladyship’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I am so thoughtless. Of course your shoulder hurts. You’re sure you don’t want some laudanum? You don’t want me to fetch Fairly?”
As if a physician or the poppy would cure what truly ailed Alice.
She set her teacup down. “I think I’ll go upstairs now, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll walk you to your room. Once Heathgate and Fairly start talking commerce, you’d think there were no other acceptable topics. Lord and Lady Greymoor will come for dinner, because it’s been an age since we’ve seen Fairly.”
“He’s a very kind man,” Alice said as they made their way up the steps.
“Too kind, sometimes,” Felicity said with a sister’s asperity, for the physician was brother to her and Lady Greymoor. “He and Letty are perfect for each other. I suspect she inveigled him into traveling with Nick, knowing that would earn us a visit with him as well.”
“You are fortunate in your family.” Even coming up with clichés was an effort.
“As are you. I’ve met your brother Benjamin, you know. Heathgate respects him, and his lordship’s respect is not easily given.”
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