by Ava Stone
And then a pair of cool hands touched his brow. “Yes, yes,” came a familiar voice. “I believe the fever has broken, Lady Staveley.” Watts. What was the London doctor doing at Saddleworth? Or was he in London? Damn it all, why couldn’t Marc think straight? Why were all of his thoughts a jumbled mess?
Marc tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy and he ached so badly. He groaned again in defeat.
Then that pressure on his hand squeezed once more.
“You vowed you would never leave me, Marc,” Caroline said softly, her breath touching his cheek. “And you never lie to me. So I’m holding you to your word.”
He wasn’t leaving her, he just wanted…Well, he was so tired. “Need…to…sleep,” he managed to mutter before a heavy slumber took him again.
Caroline’s heart nearly stopped. Her gaze flew to Callie on the other side of Marc’s bed. “Did you hear that?”
And Callie nodded quickly. “He wants to…sleep?”
He’d been doing that very thing for days, but this was the first time he’d spoken aloud.
“I won’t give him any more laudanum,” Doctor Watts said, as he watched Marc’s chest rise and fall with breath. “See if that will help him come around.”
“But he’ll be in pain.” Caroline frowned at the doctor.
“He’s not a stranger to pain, my lady. And it may just wake him up.” Then he smiled at her kindly. “For what it’s worth, he might have the right idea. You could do with a bit of sleep yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Oh, she probably looked a fright, but Caroline wasn’t going anywhere. And no one in the world could make her. “Thank you for your concern, Doctor Watts, but I’m not ready to leave him.” And she never would be.
A veritable hoard had come though Marc’s chambers since Caroline and the girls had arrived the day before. Alex had left Livvie in Hampshire to spend a few hours by Marc’s side that morning. Lord Thurlstone had left his shipping offices to worry over his friend most of the afternoon. Clayworth, Simmons, Mr. Blackaby, even the Dowager Marchioness of Astwick stopped in to see how Marc was faring. And in between all of that, Luke was there, forcing her to nibble on bits of toast and threatening her with bodily harm if she didn’t drink enough tea to fill the Thames. He was wonderful, her brother, and she didn’t know what she’d do without him.
Marc opened his eyes into the darkness. A beeswax candle flickered in the corner of his chambers, making odd shapes dance across his walls. And…God in Heaven, he felt awful. There was a horrible ache pulsing in his back, it seemed to be coming from near his shoulder. His mind was so foggy. What the devil had happened to him?
And then a soft sigh from the chair beside his bed caught his ears, and Marc turned toward the sound. “Caroline?” he breathed out.
Her light brown head snapped to attention from where she had been resting it against the side of the chair and her eyes rounded in surprise. “Marc!” She leapt to her feet and hovered over him. “Are you really awake?”
“Unless we’re both dreaming.” He winced as his shoulder pulsed like the devil. “And I’ve never felt this awful when I’m asleep.” He shook his head trying to remember how he got there. “Did someone stab me?” Because that is what it felt like.
She swiped at her cheeks as though she’d been crying, but it was too dark to tell if she had for certain. “That awful St. George fellow.” She grasped his hand and squeezed him tightly. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”
St. George. Marc released a breath. Yes. He’d just arrived in London from Derbyshire with that codebook when St. George had come up behind him. His memory started filling in the pieces. “Blackaby was there,” he muttered to himself.
Caroline nodded quickly. “He fired his pistol and hit St. George, but Luke said the Home Office took the villain away.”
Who knew what the devil they were doing to him, then? Nothing the blackguard didn’t deserve, that Marc was certain of. He heaved a sigh and squeezed her hand back. “You asked me when the last time was someone came after me. Now you have an answer.”
Her lip trembled and Marc wished he could call those words back, but she needed to hear them. He loved her more than anything, but loving her wouldn’t be enough to protect her, not if someone truly meant to do her harm.
“You don’t have to throw your lot in with me, love. It’s not too late to walk away.” If she was having second thoughts, they could figure out something to do with the child. Callie was at Saddleworth, there was no reason he couldn’t care for this child in Yorkshire too.
But she shook her head. “Are you trying to get out of your promise, Marcus Gray?”
“Caroline, be reasonable.”
“I am perfectly reasonable,” she said. “I love you more than anything in the world, and I am not about to let you walk away from me.”
“I don’t think I can even walk at the moment.” He’d have to hobble and that would hardly make him appear as virile and masculine as he’d like.
“Perfect, then I’ll just keep you in that bed until you’re reasonable.”
“I would never complain about you keeping me in bed—” Marc started to laugh but stopped when it hurt too much “—but I’d like to feel more like myself before you do so.”
“Are you in so much pain?” she asked. “Doctor Watts said not to give you any more laudanum, but—”
“I don’t want to be unconscious again.” Then he patted the opposite side of the bed that was rather empty. “I know I’m not your lord and master yet, and I have no right to tell you anything, as you so eloquently informed me; but do climb into this bed with me. There’s more than enough room for both of us.”
She frowned slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—”
“I can’t hurt worse than I do, love, but at least with you beside me, I can find a bit of peace.”
She navigated the foot of the bed and then climbed onto his four-poster. The movement on the mattress did actually hurt worse, but Marc wasn’t about to complain. Not when he was alive and he had her by his side. Caroline curled up next to him and rested her head on his good shoulder.
“That doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Reminds me I’m still alive,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “How are you feeling, love? Is the baby—”
“We’re fine. We’re both fine,” she told him. “Callie came with us to London. She wanted to see you.”
A staggered breath escaped Marc. “I don’t suppose I can get away with hiding her anymore, can I?”
“I hardly think it’s fair to her.”
Keeping her alive had always taken precedent over fairness. “When you said you wouldn’t live like her, hidden away from the world…any chance you’ve changed your mind on that? Saddleworth is a nice place to be hidden away.”
“Saddleworth is lovely,” she agreed. “And we shall be very happy there in the summer and winter months, I’m sure.”
“But you’re still going to insist on London?”
She sighed into the darkness. “Rachel will come out next Season, Marc. And Callie and Emma aren’t that far behind her. For them to navigate Society at some point, they have to live in it. We can’t keep them locked away like princesses in some fairy-tale tower.”
“They’re ten years old,” he said. “Fairy-tale towers are the perfect places for girls that age. And as for Rachel, it’s not too late to send her to that convent I know.”
Caroline laughed slightly against his chest. “Depending on how next Season goes, let’s keep that option open.”
Chapter 30
When Caroline was barely fifteen, she’d walked down the aisle at St. George’s Church in Hanover and was quite terrified about the idea of marrying a man she didn’t know at all. In the end, David Benton had been the mildest mannered gentleman of her acquaintance, and the idea that she’d ever been frightened of him had been quite laughable in the years that followed.
Now here she was at thirty-two, preparing to walk across th
e yellow parlor at Haversham House quite eager to marry a man with a dangerous reputation and from whom any other rational lady would run in the opposite direction. Things had definitely changed in her life and in her view of the world since she was fifteen.
And now she was going to be a mother again. That fact alone should terrify her, especially at her age and since her own mother had perished in childbirth. But she wasn’t afraid. And she wasn’t afraid of Marc’s past coming back to haunt them or anything of the like. Being afraid wouldn’t do her any good, or anyone else for that matter, so she simply refused to give any sort of credence to any of those thoughts, and instead she focused on the wonderful life they were going to share together.
She loved Marcus Gray with all her heart. Every arrogant, exasperating and…remarkable inch of him. He truly was her knight in tarnished armor, and she wanted the world to know how much she adored him.
Marc’s parlor was overflowing with their friends and family, more than she would have ever dared to hope for. Luke had been the most wonderful brother, as he’d ridden for Eton to make sure Adam could walk Caroline down the aisle, or across the room, so to speak. All of their collective children were in attendance, and Rachel even seemed happy for them. Emma and Callie were over the moon that they were to be sisters in reality. Luke and Juliet beamed at her from the far side of the parlor. And even Robert had abandoned his brood in Dorset to be there for her as well. There were so many smiling faces, she couldn’t even count them all, and Caroline couldn’t remember a time she’d ever been so happy.
“You’re sure about this, Mother?” her son Adam, Viscount Staveley, asked, glancing up at her from their spot in the threshold.
Caroline blinked back happy tears. “My darling, I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”
“All right, then.” Adam nodded once and then led her into the parlor, where Marc stood near the window, waiting for her with the clergyman, Mr. Bailey.
Marc smiled as she approached him, and he looked at her as though they were the only two people in the crowded parlor. Caroline almost stumbled from the promise, from the love and adoration she saw reflected in his light gaze.
And then she stood before him and his smile widened further. “Last chance to run, Caroline,” he said only loud enough for her to hear.
Ridiculous man. “I will never run from you,” she whispered as Adam relinquished his hold on her arm and then offered her hand to Marc.
Marc squeezed her fingers and Caroline grinned right back at him.
Mr. Bailey cleared his throat and said, “In Romans 12:10, we read, ‘Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.’ And it is quite easy for us all to see how devoted the two of you are to each other.”
“That we are,” Marc agreed, though his eyes never left Caroline, and she felt flush all of a sudden.
Heavens, they were really doing this.
“I hope you have many years of happiness,” the clergyman continued. “Now, do you Marcus Howard Charles Gray, Marquess of Haversham, Earl of Kirkburn, Baron Saddleworth-Gray take Caroline Elizabeth Beckford Staveley to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and cherish ‘til death do you part?”
“I will,” Marc said, squeezing her fingers once more, and there was such a promise in his touch.
“And do you, Caroline Elizabeth Beckford Staveley, take Marcus Howard Charles Gray, Marquess of Haversham, Earl of Kirkburn, Baron Saddleworth-Gray, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love, honor and obey ‘til death do you part?”
Marc’s brow went up at the word obey and Caroline narrowed her eyes slightly on him. Arrogant man. But she had no doubt, no reservations at all in her mind as she said, “I have and I will.”
“In that case, Lord Haversham, you may kiss your bride.”
And Marc wasted no time doing so. He slid his hand to her waist and drew her against him before pressing his lips to hers in front of the assembled crowd.
The room broke out in applause and a moment later, Marc lifted his head. “Lady Haversham, I look forward to many years of your obedience.”
Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. “I might have been crossing my fingers during that part.”
“Then the entire thing is null and void. Make Bailey do the whole thing again.”
She laughed even harder. “If you weren’t still recovering from a knife wound…”
“Yes?” His brow lifted. “Threatening your husband all ready? Is this how you mean to go on?”
“Indeed.” She nodded vigorously. “Are you surprised?”
“I’d be disappointed otherwise,” he said and then he kissed her once more.
There was nothing Marc would have liked more than to toss everyone from Haversham House and have his way with his wife. His wife. He still couldn’t quite believe she’d talked him into that, but he wasn’t unhappy about it. Not in the least.
Still, he couldn’t toss everyone out of the house and make love to his wife. Not because he cared what any of them would think about him. No. He couldn’t toss half of London out of his house because the hole in his back still ached like the bloody devil. So he smiled at her friends and family and resisted the urge to send her oldest brother sailing through the air when he threatened Marc’s life should he ever do anything to hurt Caroline.
But as everyone was about to head over to Astwick House for a wedding breakfast celebration, Marc tugged Caroline toward him and said, “I’ll meet you at Astwick’s in time for dessert.”
“Where are you going?” She frowned.
“Whitehall,” he said softly so no one else could overhear him. “This morning I looked in my valise and realized I still have that damned codebook. The sooner I deliver it to Galloway, the sooner we can put them all from our lives.”
“You really want to miss our wedding breakfast that badly?” she asked.
She did know him well. “All those people love you, sweetheart. They won’t care if I’m not there.” In fact, most of them would probably prefer him to miss it all together, dessert included.
“I’ll care.”
She was the only one who ever truly did. He kissed her softly. “I’ll make it up to you later.” And delivering that damn book was in the interest of her safety. It had to come before any sort of celebratory breakfast.
Marc muttered a few goodbyes to those in his path and then he went directly to his study to retrieve the book in question and then headed for Whitehall.
Being back at Whitehall made Marc’s skin nearly crawl. The sooner he delivered the damn codebook and left, the happier he’d be.
Thomas Galloway’s office was in exactly the same spot it always had been, which made it easy to find. Marc strode straight into the spymaster’s office, without even bothering to knock.
And he was not surprised in the least to find that damned Earl of Peasemore sitting in a chair opposite the Under Secretary’s desk. If Marc was the altruistic sort, he’d warn Peasemore away from his current path, but there was no point, really. When Marc was younger, when he was idealistic, he wouldn’t have listened to anyone who’d try to warn him away. Odds were Peasemore would react the same way.
And he hadn’t come to Whitehall to deal with Peasemore. He’d come to deal with Galloway.
“It is customary to knock,” the Under Secretary said.
“Yes, well, I am not customary as you’re well aware,” Marc returned. Then he slapped Staveley’s damn codebook on the man’s desk, and added, “If I even suspect for a moment that you have any agents glancing in my wife’s direction, I will kill every operative you’ve got.” He tilted his head toward the earl. “Starting with him.”
Galloway was unmoved by that threat and he frowned at the book. “What is that?”
“That is what you’ve terrorizing my wife over. Breaking into Staveley House, Benton Park, and being, quite hone
stly, a thorn in my bloody side for months.”
“Staveley’s book?” Galloway smirked. “My lord, you are too late. St. George gave us everything we needed to squash that little conspiracy right after we took him into custody. Feel free to keep it, if you’d like, a souvenir of sorts for your troubles.”
Souvenir for his troubles? Marc had the overwhelming urge to smash the man’s face right into his desk, but his back did still hurt like the dickens. “Then burn it for all I care. I don’t need any reminders of the Home Office other than the ones I live with on a daily basis.”
“Yes, how is your back?” Galloway asked. “I see you’re walking around so…”
But Marc was not about to pretend to have a genteel conversation with the spymaster, disingenuous bastard that he was. “You will stay away from my wife, from my family. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Agents never really retire, my lord. Look how you found that book for me even after all these years.” Galloway cast him the smuggest of smiles.
“Approach me again, you won’t live to see the sunset. And if you even glance in my wife’s direction, you will regret the day you were born.”
“Yes, you have made yourself quite clear,” Galloway said as he picked up that codebook and dropped it into a rubbish bin under his desk.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” Peasemore said. “I wish you both the best of luck. And I do apologize for any anguish my actions may have caused Lady Sta—Lady Haversham.”
So perhaps Marc might be a bit altruistic. “If you don’t want to be me in a dozen years, Peasemore, you should get out of all this at your earliest convenience.”
Then he made his way back to Mayfair and all the way to Astwick House, just in time to have dessert with his wife.
Epilogue
Vauxhall Gardens, London – March 1818
Caroline tipped her head back to watch the balloon overhead and cupped a hand over her brow to see them better in the waning light.