The Earl's Complete Surrender

by Sophie Barnes

  It took another hour to have Hainsworth and the man Rothgate had hired apprehended and the dead bodies removed. “Thank you for your help,” James told the watchman who’d arranged for a guarded carriage to be brought around from Bow Street.

  The watchman nodded and tipped his hat. “Any time, my lord. Have a good night.”

  “The same to you,” James told him, closing the door and locking it firmly in place. He believed they were safe, but refused to take any chances, so he also secured the door to the parlor in case someone else decided to climb through the broken window in the study.

  “Is it finally over?” Lady Newbury asked from the foot of the stairs.

  “For now,” he told her with a sigh. “Tomorrow we call on the king.”

  “Not like this,” she said.

  Understanding her meaning, he went toward her. She might not think she looked presentable enough for an audience with King George, dressed as she was in the same gray gown that Mrs. Dunkin had given her, and perhaps she didn’t. There were stains on it now, both from blood and from dirt, but that didn’t stop James from thinking that she looked absolutely exquisite. He rather liked the disheveled departure from her otherwise pristine style. “Don’t worry,” he said, knowing how important her appearance was to her, “we’ll figure something out.”

  A tremulous smile captured her lips. “Thank you.” She started up the stairs, her footfalls heavy as she went.

  James followed her up. “I need to look at your wounds,” he said when they reached the landing.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, turning her back on him and heading for the door to the room she’d been using. “I’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what I told you when our roles were reversed, but you insisted on tending to me.” The thought of returning the favor was certainly a pleasant one. “The compresses helped. I’m sure they’ll do the same for you.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she said, her hand resting on the doorknob.

  “Perfectly so.” He managed a severe frown when she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Get undressed and lay on the bed. I’ll be back shortly.” Ignoring any further protests, he hurried back downstairs in search of a bowl, some water and a stack of towels.

  Chapter 22

  Chloe stared after his retreating form until the top of his head vanished from her line of vision. Her fingers still rested on the doorknob, the cool metal against her skin reminding her that this was real and not a dream. Dazed, she pulled the door open and entered the room that she’d been using, her eyes instinctively darting toward the spot where Hainsworth had stood just two hours earlier, his pistol trained at her chest. It could easily have been a dream. It was certainly hard to believe that she’d spent the last ­couple of weeks sneaking through secret passageways at a grand estate, being chased by criminals, watching men get killed, having her life threatened and falling in love.

  Love.

  It seemed so unlikely considering how reluctant she’d been to succumb to such emotion again. But not falling in love with the man who’d stood by her side through it all, would have been impossible. She knew that now. I can offer you nothing. His words resonated in her mind as she undid the buttons at the front of her gown. How ironic that she now wanted everything.

  Trying not to think too much about tomorrow, about a future without Woodford in it, Chloe set her mind to the present. He wanted to ease her aching body, and she had no intention of stopping him. Her heart was already his. With nothing left to protect, she might as well give herself up to the pleasure of his touch. One moment that would have to last a lifetime.

  Slipping the gown over her head, she removed her stays, her stockings, and finally her shift. Reaching to the back of her head, she removed the pins securing her hair and allowed the red locks to tumble over her shoulders. Her hand touched her thigh and she immediately groaned in response to the soreness there. A cool compress would certainly be welcome.

  With that in mind, she hobbled across to the bed, wincing a little as she climbed onto it and laid down, only just managing to do so when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in!” Her voice wasn’t as precise as she would have liked, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She listened, holding her breath as the door slowly opened. A ­couple of footsteps moved across the floor. There was a pause—­a lengthy one—­and then the sound of the door closing.

  “I have everything we need,” Woodford said, his voice low and warm as it had been when they’d first met. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet it was just a ­couple of weeks.

  “How does it look?” she asked.

  Another pause followed. She heard him shift about somewhere behind her, setting down the bowl of water and arranging whatever else he’d brought with him. “There’s an ugly bruise across your hip and thigh, but other than that . . .”

  She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Instead, she heard him approach the bed. He stood there for a moment, at the edge of it, and she imagined that he must be looking at her. Self-­consciousness made her skin prick with awareness. Only one man had ever seen her naked before, and he had been undeserving. With Woodford it was different. She trusted him to be good to her, to treat her kindly and to keep her safe. He wasn’t Newbury. Far from it.

  The mattress dipped and she released her breath, then gasped as a cool towel touched her skin. “This will help,” she heard him say as the fabric traveled down over her hip.

  She sucked in her breath, her pulse beating like raindrops falling at the beginning of a storm. His touch was gentle. Careful. Utterly wonderful. He pressed the towel against her thigh, holding it there while his other hand touched her elbow. “There’s a small graze here. I’ll clean it with some brandy so it might sting a little. Ready?”

  She nodded her head as best she could but was still surprised by the sharp pain that followed. Thankfully, it was brief. His hands returned to the compress he’d left on her thigh. Removing it, she listened as he dipped it into the bowl of water once more. Again she gasped the moment it touched her, cooler than it had been before. “It’s all right,” she heard him say. “You’re going to be fine.” Comforted by his reassurance, she allowed herself to relax, sighing as she sank deeper into the mattress.

  “I was wondering about Scarsdale,” she said after a moment. When Woodford said nothing, she continued. “He saw your memory as a threat and you mentioned at one point that you did not like him—­that the two of you had history. Will you tell me what happened between you?”

  She heard Woodford sigh. “It was a long time ago, but Viscount Grant came to me one day and asked me to make some discreet inquiries. As it turned out, his youngest daughter had been compromised—­impregnated by a scoundrel.”

  “Dear God,” Chloe murmured, knowing what he would probably say next.

  “It took months for me to get to the bottom of what had happened. The girl, Lady Susan, refused to say anything and was sent abroad to ‘visit relatives in Italy.’ She died there in childbed before I managed to discover the father’s identity. When it eventually became clear that an earl was involved, her father asked that the incident be forgotten. According to the papers, Lady Susan succumbed to fever.”

  “You should have told me,” Chloe said.

  “Perhaps, but you knew him far better than you knew me at that point. Who was I to intrude on your friendship? I had no idea of knowing how much you knew about Scarsdale’s character or if you would even believe me.”

  Looking back, Chloe saw that he was right. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of all the awful things that had happened lately. Allowing Woodford to comfort her certainly helped a great deal with that. His hand stayed on her thigh, holding the compress in place, while silence settled around them. She felt like she ought to say something more, but nothing came to mind.

  “Chloe,” he murmured after a while, her na
me as sweet as any caress, when spoken by him. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Another moment of silence followed, and then the faint touch of his thumb running down her side. Her skin quivered with delicious expectation as it passed over her waistline, continuing along her hip, down her thigh and then back up again.

  “Your body,” he whispered as if with reverence. “I have never seen a woman as tempting as you.”

  Heat washed over her, flushing her skin and tickling her insides as the implication of his words settled deeply within her conscience. The memory of what he’d looked like when she’d tended to him filled her mind and stirred her senses. Turning in his arms, she looked up at him, the wonderment brimming in his eyes almost stealing her breath.

  Without a word, he leaned closer, his mouth touching hers in a kiss that spoke not only of deep desire, but of something more as well. Her arms came around him, drawing him to her until he was flush against her body, his heart matching the rhythm of her own. Closing her eyes, she fought for both strength and courage, aware that the words forming in her mind, once spoken, could not be taken back and that they would likely change everything between them. She took a breath, surrendered herself to the certainty within her heart, and said, “I love you, Woodford, more than I have ever loved anyone.”

  He gazed down at her, his expression serious, and she instinctively turned her head away. It was unlikely that he felt the same way about her—­an unbearable thought. “Can we just pretend—­?”

  “I love you too. Have done so for some time.”

  “Truly?” She turned back to face him, her heart a funny little bouncy thing inside her chest.

  He smiled—­a proper smile that made her toes curl. “Truly,” he murmured. Leaning closer, he kissed her lips, the slope of her shoulder, and the curve of her breast. He kissed her until she had no doubt about his feelings, until the boundaries between them had been shed, and until their souls merged. Safe in his arms, Chloe reveled in the tender feel of his touch, the soft caress of skin against skin as their bodies joined—­an intimate connection that bound them together, allowing them to be as one.

  Later, as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms with moonlight spilling through the window and onto the bed, Chloe broke the hushed silence of their languid state by suddenly asking, “Is it true what you said? That you love me?”

  James looked into her eyes and saw the fear that lurched beneath the surface. “Is it true what you said, Chloe? About you loving me?”

  She nodded again. “I would never lie about something like that.”

  “Neither would I,” he told her honestly. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips to reassure her. “When this is completely over,” he added, “I intend to make you an offer—­one that I hope with all my heart that you will accept.”

  “An offer?” She could scarcely believe what he was saying.

  “Yes,” he told her simply. “I mean to marry you, Lady Newbury. If you will have me.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Perfectly serious.” The look in his eyes confirmed it. “I know you have reservations, but I’m hoping that with your recent declaration in mind, you will—­”

  “Yes,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m just surprised, that is all. You said you had no interest in marriage.”

  Relief eased the tension from his body and he exhaled deeply. “True. I did not. But then I met you and you stole my heart.” He squeezed her hand. “I have the greatest respect and admiration for you, Chloe. You’ve proven yourself to be honorable and loyal to a fault, not to mention caring, kind and incredibly brave. I was apprehensive about letting you help me with my mission, afraid you’d be a hindrance or that you might get hurt. Instead I discovered that you and I make an excellent team. These past few days . . . there’s no denying that what we’ve been through will bind us together forever in one way or another.” Releasing her hand, he placed his palm against her cheek, studying her closely while his fingertips traced her jawline. “And then of course there’s this undeniable attraction . . .” He kissed her again, more deeply this time. “I want you, Chloe, in every possible way—­mind, body and soul.”

  “And I want you,” she said, “but your work . . . your . . . your profession . . . You said yourself that you don’t want to risk putting others in danger by their association with you.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” His body tensed. “When Hainsworth was aiming that pistol at you, I thought my life might end.” He paused, took a breath and then revealed to her the recent thoughts he’d been having. “I have to finish what I’ve started, Chloe. I gave the king my word that I would uncover The Electors, and so I have, with your help. All that remains now is for me to debrief the king, which I will do tomorrow with you by my side. Once that’s done, I intend to retire.”

  “Because of me?” She looked incredulous, but she also looked happy.

  “Whatever it takes for me to be able to share my future with you.”

  “You are beyond a doubt the most extraordinary man I have ever known, and it will be my greatest honor to become your wife.”

  “You’re certain,” he asked, scarcely able to believe his good fortune or that she was so ready to accept. “I know you must have your reservations as well, given your past experience.”

  A shadow fell across her face and he immediately regretted bringing up her late husband.

  “Newbury never loved me, and that in itself makes a big difference. You, on the other hand . . . I believe that you and I will be very happy together.”

  “And I will do whatever it takes to make it so,” he said, sliding his hand along her hip and pulling her close. He kissed her shoulder and then her breast while she gave herself up to the blissful promise of what married life with him would have to offer.

  Chapter 23

  “I’m impressed,” King George said the following day when James had finished recounting all the events that had transpired since he’d seen him last.

  “Thank you,” James said. They were seated in the same audience room as when the king had first instructed James about his mission, but this time, Chloe was sitting beside him, dressed in the white muslin gown that she’d worn when they’d left Thorncliff. “As you must have concluded, I couldn’t have done it without Lady Newbury’s help.”

  The king smiled knowingly. “Then it is fortunate that you happened to cross paths with one another.”

  “It was . . . serendipitous, Your Majesty,” Lady Newbury said, her cheeks coloring with a pretty blush that warmed James’s heart.

  “Indeed.” The king’s eyes met James’s and his expression sobered. “Regarding Hainsworth, it pains me that it had to be like this.”

  “Not as much as it pains me,” James said.

  The king nodded. “I can only imagine.” He leaned back against his seat. “Regarding the other members of The Electors, guards have been sent out to apprehend them all and to search their homes for evidence. They will of course receive a just trial, but with Lady Newbury’s transcript of the Political Journal and the information that I hope will be revealed during the interrogation process, I daresay that justice will be served.” He studied James a moment before continuing. “There’s no doubt that you have excelled, Woodford. You’ve certainly proven your worth, and perhaps even saved my life. If you’re interested, I have another job in mind.”

  James heard Chloe take a sharp breath. She was clearly wondering if he might be tempted by such an offer. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Your Majesty, but I’ll be heading down a different path from now on. Please accept my immediate resignation.”

  The king frowned. “Is this your doing, Lady Newbury? Have you stolen my best agent from under my nose?”

  Chloe’s mouth dropped. “I . . . err . . . Your Majesty, I never meant to—­”

  The king held up his hand, silencing her. “I’m happy for
you,” he said. “For both of you, and I wish you well. But before you go, there are a ­couple of things that I would like to address. First, as a sign of my deepest gratitude toward your unfailing ser­vice, Lord Woodford, I dub you, Your Grace, the Duke of Stonegate.”

  It took James a moment to absorb what had just transpired. A duke! He stared at his king. Dumbfounded, he then cast a look in Chloe’s direction. His chest tightened with appreciation, his muscles flexing in response to her beauty. God, how he loved her—­the unhindered warmth of her smile, her interest in every aspect of the world around her, her willingness to face the uncertain and her constant faith in him. Not once had she waivered in her belief that they would somehow manage to overcome adversity together. There was a gentle tug in the pit of his belly, like the stirring of seawater right before a squall. It was almost as if his body meant to tell him that she was the one—­that he should wrap her in his arms and keep her there forever.

  Pure joy erupted inside Chloe’s chest and curved her lips even as her eyes watered with emotion. Nobody deserved the sort of recognition Woodford had just received as much as he did, and she was extremely pleased to be able to witness the moment. Never before had she been this proud of another person. He was without a doubt the most extraordinary man she’d ever known. “Congratulations,” she whispered, noting the look of surprise on his face.

  He nodded his thanks before addressing the king. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He sounded adorably befuddled.

  The king smiled. “Think nothing of it.” He looked at Chloe, then back at James again. “As to the second matter, I was wondering if you would like to make a request.”

  “A request?” James asked, frowning.

  “Within reason, of course.” The king looked pointedly in Chloe’s direction.