by Laura Landon
Carter Paxton staggered under the weight of what he heard. “Why, Father? Why didn’t you simply come to me?”
“What could you have done?”
“I could have stopped spending. I could have—”
“I didn’t want you to. I wanted you to enjoy your youth like you were doing. Like I never got to do because my father died when I was young and I had to assume responsibility for everything.”
“But I could have. I wouldn’t have minded.” There was a long silence when no one said anything. Finally, Carter Paxton raked his fingers through his hair, then turned his gaze to Quinn. “What’s to happen to us?”
“I suggest you send word to your lawyer to meet you and your father at the Metropolitan Police Office, then let your father make a full confession of what he is involved in.”
“No!”
Baron Paxton lifted the gun in his trembling hand. It was aimed at Quinn’s chest. But the bullet could easily miss and hit Nellie instead.
Quinn stepped to the side to shield her.
He staggered, and Nellie reached out to support him.
Quinn was weak and losing the battle to stay on his feet. Yet, he knew how close the baron was to losing control and firing his weapon. He knew he had to make at least one more attempt to ease the situation. Knew if he didn’t, any chance for a life with Nellie would be taken from him forever.
Quinn locked his gaze with Baron Paxton’s. “Don’t make things worse, my lord. Go with me to the authorities. Put this all behind you.”
Baron Paxton hesitated for what seemed an eternity, and Quinn was sure he was going to ignore his suggestion. He was sure he was going to keep up the fight to get out of this without going to the police. But finally, he lowered his arm that held the pistol. His expression fell, and Quinn realized he was looking at a desperate, defeated man. A man stripped of all pride and dignity. But a man who, although Quinn couldn’t explain why, appeared more dangerous than he’d been with a gun pointed at Quinn’s chest.
“All right.”
Quinn watched as Baron Paxton walked forward. His son remained at his side.
The hairs stood out on the back of Quinn’s neck as Paxton neared.
“Drop the gun, sir,” Quinn said quietly.
Something wasn’t right with what was happening. Quinn felt it in every nerve in his body.
“Drop it. Now.”
He watched the two come nearer. When he was within touching distance, Baron Paxton reached out and jerked Nellie away from Quinn. He held her in front of him and pressed his pistol beneath her chin.
“Father! No!”
“Oh, Carter. You’re a fool if you think I’m going to go to Police Headquarters like a lamb led to slaughter. I haven’t fought to keep this family afloat only to have everything destroyed now.”
Quinn felt his world collapse around him. He locked his gaze with Nellie’s and saw the fear and terror in her eyes. He prayed she knew he’d do everything in his power to save her. That he’d give up his own life to spare hers.
He’d meant what he’d said when he left her in the carriage. He loved her. Loved her more than life itself. Couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.
“Let her go, my lord. You’re free to walk away from here if you just let Miss Sutton go.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Walker? You Bedford Street investigators think you can thwart every crime. Save every damsel in distress. Well, this damsel is my ticket to freedom.”
“Father, no,” Carter Paxton pleaded. “Don’t do this.”
“I think you should listen to your son,” a voice said from behind them.
Baron Paxton turned and his eyes opened wide when he saw Mack and the four other investigators standing there with guns pointed at him.
“Let Miss Sutton go,” Mack ordered, or you’re a dead man.”
“Father, please. Let the woman go. I’m begging you.”
Baron Paxton exchanged looks with his son, then slowly slackened his grip on Nellie.
Nellie pulled out of Paxton’s arms and rushed to where Quinn stood.
Quinn nestled her to him as if she were a gem he’d lost and then recovered. Because she was. She was the most precious gem in the world and he’d nearly lost her.
He cocooned her against him and held her where she was shielded from danger.
Carter Paxton held out his hand. “Give me the gun, Father. Please.”
Baron Paxton hesitated several long moments, then gave the gun to his son.
Paxton’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he seemed to age several years in a matter of seconds. His haunted expression slowly turned to Quinn. “Why couldn’t you have left things be? Why did you have to get involved?”
“Because you accused an innocent man of a crime he didn’t commit. Because a father was about to be separated from his wife and children for years, if not forever. Can you imagine what it would be like to have your son taken from you when he was just a babe? What it would be like to leave your wife alone, without any means of support?”
Carter Paxton stepped nearer to his father and clasped him on the arm. “I’ll go with you to the police and explain what’s happened Father. Then, we’ll make sure Henry Dunston is released so he can be reunited with his family.”
Father and son looked at each other for several moments, then Baron Paxton nodded in agreement.
Mack took Baron Paxton’s arm and addressed the man’s son. “I will accompany you to the police and explain the steps you took to cooperate with us. I’m sure your assistance will influence any decision the police, as well as the courts, make.”
“Father and I would appreciate your help,” Carter Paxton answered.
The two walked to the door and into the cool night air. Jack went with them. Mack followed, but stopped in front of Quinn before he left the warehouse.
“You’re very fortunate I realized how impossible it would have been for me to remain behind, had the tables been turned. It was wrong of me to order you to do so. But you took a great risk by confronting Paxton by yourself.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Quinn said, holding Nellie closer.
“She’s a find, Quinn. If you’re smart, you’ll ask her to marry you so you always have her with you.”
Quinn watched Mack walk away from them, then turned to Nellie. He laughed at the blush that darkened her cheeks. “He’s right, you know.”
“Don’t, Quinn. I didn’t take Mack’s words seriously.”
Quinn took note of the other Bedford Street investigators rounding up Paxton’s men, and led Nellie to a corner. When they reached a point where they couldn’t be overheard, he sat beside her on a stack of opium bundles.
He knew this wasn’t the time, nor the place, but she needed to know how things were with them. He needed her to know that he cared for her more than anything, or anyone, on earth.
“You may not have taken Mack’s words seriously, but I did. I love you, Nellie. Marry me. Take my name and grow old with me. Have my children and make your home with me.”
Quinn watched as tears filled Nellie’s eyes. For a moment he feared her tears meant she didn’t love him as desperately as he loved her. He feared she’d refuse his proposal.
“Nellie,” Quinn whispered, taking her hands in his. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the first day I walked into Fletcher’s Bakery several years ago. If not the first, then the second. And I will always love you. With my whole heart.”
Quinn wiped away a tear that spilled from her eye. “I’ll always love you, Nellie. Always. Can you bring yourself to love me at least a little?”
“Oh, Quinn.” Nellie wrapped her arms around him. “I know the exact day I fell in love with you. It was the first day you walked into the bakery. I knew then that I could never love anyone but you. Never.”
“Then you will marry me?”
Nellie smiled through her tears. “Of course I will. How could I refuse you when you’ve brought me to such a romantic place?” She la
ughed as she patted the bale of opium they sat on.
Quinn blanched, and she reached for his face with both hands. “Oh, Quinn, dear Quinn, don’t you know I could never refuse you? How could I when you already possess my heart?”
Quinn wrapped his arm around her, then brought his lips to hers. This is how he wanted his life to be always and forever.
EPILOGUE
Quinn looked around the room and smiled. His bride stood next to her sister Eileen, alongside Mack’s wife Cora, and Daisy Fletcher, who owned the bakery where he and Nellie had first met.
Nellie was beautiful. As beautiful as any bride had ever been. And he reminded himself for the hundredth time today that he was the luckiest man on the face of the earth.
“If you don’t stop looking at your wife that way, we might take the hint that you want us to leave.”
Quinn turned to Mack Wallace and the rest of the Bedford Street investigators—Jack, Hugh, Briggs, and Roarke, and smiled. His new brother-in-law was with them.
“If I haven’t done so before, I want to thank all of you for everything you did for me,” Henry Dunstan said.
Mack spoke first. “I’m just glad things turned out the way they did.”
“Things couldn’t be better. I still have my position at Paxton Import, and so does Phineas. Carter Paxton has turned out to be an exemplary employer, and manages the business as if he’d done it forever. Paxton Import seems to be turning an even larger profit than before. And by shipping legal goods.”
“What about his father? How is Baron Paxton holding up?”
“He’s doing well. He’s been ordered to remain in the country at Paxton Estate, but his son says he’s content. He realizes how lucky he is to have avoided gaol. Or worse.” Henry Dunston cast a glance at Quinn and Mack. “Mr. Paxton wanted me to tell you that he owes all of you, especially you, Mr. Wallace, and you, Quinn, a great deal for coming to his father’s defense.”
“Tell him it was our pleasure,” Mack said.
Quinn nodded his agreement.
“But now we need to continue our celebration,” Henry said. “I will send another tray of drinks over. Enjoy yourselves. We truly have cause to celebrate.”
“I’ll let you continue your celebration here,” Quinn said to his friends. “But I intend to find my bride and tell her again how lucky I am that she agreed to be my wife.”
His friends let him leave amidst laughter and comments that he was totally besotted. Which he was.
When he reached his bride, he looked into Nellie’s eyes. They were filled with love. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Then he kissed her again. “Are you happy?”
“Happier than I ever thought I could be.”
“Good,” Quinn answered. “That’s the way I intend to keep you. For the rest of our lives. Always and forever.”
CHAPTER 1
Briggs Murdock jumped into the carriage when it stopped in front of Number 8 Newton Street. When he relaxed against the squabs, his Bedford Street mates, Hugh Baxter and Roarke Livingston, gave sharp whistles.
“I know Mack said this was a formal dinner,” Roarke said with raised eyebrows, “but I doubt he intended we’d be dining with the Queen.”
“Very funny.”
Briggs pulled at the sleeves of his pristine white shirt beneath his black dress jacket, then adjusted his lapels to make sure they were straight. “Do either of you know what this command performance is about?” he asked when he was sure everything was perfect.
“Quinn said it must be important because there will be more than the six of us there,” Hugh said.
By Quinn he meant Quinn Walker. And by us he meant the men who made up the Bedford Street Brigade, an elite group of investigators. There were six of them: Mack Wallace—the mastermind behind the Brigade—Quinn Walker, Jack Conway, Hugh Baxter, Roarke Livingston, and himself.
“How many more?” Briggs asked. “And who?”
“I’m not sure, but Quinn overheard Mack say Viscount Palmerston and his wife would be there, along with Sir Richard Mayne and his wife, and several members of the House of Lords.”
“Bloody hell,” Briggs said on growl. “Are you sure the Queen isn’t coming, too?”
Roarke and Hugh laughed, then stopped.
“What do you suppose this is about?” Briggs asked.
“Jack thinks they’re looking us over,” Hugh said.
“Why?” Briggs asked.
Hugh leaned forward. “Rumor has it there are some problems in the police force and they’re trying to reform the department.”
“What has that got to do with us?”
“Jack said Mayne intends to let a number of his investigators go, and approached Mack to see about the Bedford Street Brigade investigators filling in. For a fee, of course.”
Briggs lifted his brows. Being asked to assist the Metropolitan Police Department was quite a coup.
He looked out the window and saw they’d reached Mack’s house. “Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough. We’re here now.”
“Time to put on your charm, Briggs,” Hugh teased.
“No problem with that,” Briggs said flashing him his brightest grin. “You’re the one who’ll have to hunt up a smile. You haven’t used one for so long I doubt you know where you last put it.”
Hugh gave Briggs a friendly shove, then reached for the door the minute the carriage stopped. “Not all of us can be as suave and charming as you,” Hugh said before he jumped to the ground.
“Well, if either of you have problems in the charm department,” he said returning Hugh’s nudge, “just follow my lead.”
Roarke bellowed a hearty laugh as they made their way up the short steps that led to Mack Wallace’s house.
Mack met them at the door and they followed him inside.
The room was crowded, but not overly so. Not so crowded that Briggs didn’t notice a number of important guests in attendance. He was even more impressed when Mack took the three of them around the room and introduced them to several of the men.
That’s when he saw her.
She stood on the other side of the room in a circle of women who had no doubt accompanied their husbands. Except Briggs couldn’t imagine who she might have come with. There wasn’t another man here young enough to be her husband.
When he could separate himself from Mack, he stepped where he wouldn’t be noticed. He watched her for several long moments, taking in every detail about her.
She was beautiful. She wasn’t short, nor was she tall. She was…perfect.
She wore a gown of the most remarkable emerald green. The neckline left her creamy shoulders bare, then dipped low enough to cause his blood to heat. Enough to cause a stirring inside him he’d never felt before.
Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He was acting like this was the first time he’d ever seen a beautiful woman.
He let his gaze travel back to her face. To her high cheekbones and creamy complexion. To her lush lips and upturned nose. Then higher still, to the most glorious golden blonde hair he’d ever seen.
She wore her hair pulled loosely back from her heart-shaped face. Several gilt locks framed her lovely cheeks, while dozens of emerald green, ribbon-laced curls hung down her back.
But it wasn’t her golden hair, or her delicate features, or even her pert, upturned nose that caught his attention. It was the glow in her beautiful blue eyes that captured him. Held him. Mesmerized him.
Her eyes were the most vibrant midnight blue he’d ever seen. They sparkled with life when she spoke. They bubbled with happiness when she laughed. The whole room seemed brighter just because she was in it.
Briggs tried to look away, but he found himself reluctant to tear his gaze away from her. He couldn’t seem to break the hold she had on him.
He realized he was acting like a fool, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never seen anyone like her. Never cast eyes on anyone so lovely.
As if someone announced that he was watching her, she turned
her head and looked at him.
The corners of her lush lips turned upward, then she graced him with the most magnificent smile he’d ever seen.
He returned her smile, then felt his heart soar when a delicate blush darkened her cheeks. In less than an instant she’d captured his heart and held it in her safekeeping.
With a demure smile, she lowered her gaze. The spell was broken but that didn’t erase the mark she’d left on him.
Briggs scanned the room again, wondering which lucky man she belonged to.
“She’s quite a beauty, isn’t she?”
Briggs turned to find Cora Wallace standing next to him.
Cora was Mack Wallace’s wife. Protecting her had been the reason the six investigators had originally worked together. Forming the Bedford Street Brigade had been her—and Mack’s—idea. Cora was special to each of the Brigadesmen.
“Yes, she is.” Briggs looked back to where the girl stood. She’d moved enough so she was separated from the other women, and stood in front of the window.
“Come,” Cora said, hooking her arm through his. “Let me introduce you.”
She led him across the room and stopped near enough that Briggs could smell the light scent of roses the object of his unexpected interest wore.
“Lady Pauline Jordan, allow me to present one of my husband’s Brigadesmen. Mr. Briggs Murdock. Briggs, the Lady Pauline Jordan.”
“Lady Pauline,” Briggs said, executing a polite bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you. I’ve heard much about you.”
Briggs lifted his eyebrows, and Lady Pauline chuckled. The sound was heavenly.
“Well, not you, exactly. But the investigators in the Bedford Street Brigade.”
“And what have you heard?”
“That you are all courageous and daring. And fearless in the face of danger. That you are all larger than life, and valiantly heroic.” She took a breath that seemed to quiver with awe and wonder. “That you are like Olympian gods and have come down to help us mere mortals when we are in peril. And that you never give up until your case is solved.”