Neville gave her no time to ask the dozen questions racing through her head. “Let’s go. Cross will be more than cross when he discovers we have double crossed him.”
The constable swore at him.
“If you have half the wits you believe you do,” Neville said coolly, “you will come with us at top speed. I don’t know what the justice of the peace will do with you, but I do know that Cross will show neither of you any mercy.”
Priscilla leaned her forehead against Neville’s back. This was not the way she had thought the murders would be resolved, but he was right. Justice was now in Mr. Goodman’s hands. Neville waited until Agatha and Edgar helped their prisoners mount. As soon as Edgar and Agatha were on the other horses, holding the reins of the constable and Miss Verlyn’s horses, he led the way toward the justice of the peace’s house.
Mr. Goodman showed no emotion when he answered the door and saw who waited in his garden. When they had all dismounted, he listened to Neville’s explanation, then ordered the prisoners brought inside. Agatha and Edgar followed, and Priscilla was unsure if they wanted to keep an eye on the constable and Miss Verlyn or if they hoped even Cross would not be bold enough to attack the house belonging to the justice of the peace.
Stuttman glanced at Neville, then said, “The carriage is about a mile from here. I shall retrieve it and bring it to Rossington Hall, if you would like, Sir Neville.”
“An excellent idea.” Neville clapped his coachman on the shoulder. “I am glad to see you alive and well.”
“And I am glad to be alive and well.” He mounted, then raced out of the garden.
Neville swung back into the saddle. He offered his hand again to Priscilla, this time seating her in front of him on his firm thighs. His arm tightened around her as he turned the horse’s head in the opposite direction from where Stuttman had gone.
She reached up, curving her hand behind his nape. “Let the honeymoon begin,” she murmured in the moment before their lips met.
Epilogue
PRISCILLA CAME to her feet when Neville entered the room at the inn. They had not returned to Rossington Hall after the constable and Miss Verlyn were handed over to the justice of the peace. Aunt Cordelia and the children had stopped at the inn before continuing on their interrupted journey, so that Aunt Cordelia could dress Priscilla down for putting the children and her aunt in such danger . . . again.
“If you wish to be foolish,” Aunt Cordelia said in her most chiding voice, “it appears I cannot change your mind. However, if you continue to allow that husband of yours to draw you into involvement with the lowest possible element, you will ruin all of us.”
“Do not sound like Lord Rossington and his wife.” Priscilla, tired and aching and so very sad that the constable she had come to respect had been ready to slay them as he had so many others, did not curb her tongue. “They concern themselves so much with their reputation that they fail to see that it has already been destroyed by their son.”
“And now Miss Verlyn.”
As she had then, Priscilla sighed again as she thought of the moments in the field when Neville had warned them to hurry before Cross found them. Miss Verlyn had burst into tears. For a moment, Priscilla had thought the constable would scold her. Then he had nudged her closer and let her weep against his chest, and Priscilla knew that the love they shared—no matter how it had twisted their minds and their lives—was a true one.
So sad. So very sad.
Now, when she saw the strained lines gouged into Neville’s face, she put down the book she had not been able to read and took his hands. “What was decided?”
“They will not be tried or hanged.”
She closed her eyes. “Because their victims were highwaymen?”
“Yes.”
“So they will suffer no punishment?”
“I did not say that.” The lines seemed to deepen across his brow. “Kenyon has agreed to enlist in the army in a unit bound for the Peninsula. The way the war is going, he may not live longer than he would if tried and convicted of murder. On the other hand, he may come home a hero.”
“And Miss Verlyn?”
“Her parents have arranged a quick marriage for her, so any hint of disgrace will be smothered.”
“To whom?”
“Goodman. It seems the justice of the peace is in the need of a wife to oversee his household, and he likes the connection to Rossington Hall.”
She looked down at their tightly clasped hands. “Mayhap it would have been less cruel to hand them over to the hangman.”
“Once Kenyon accepted Rossington’s offer, Miss Verlyn had no choice but to agree. To protest would mean seeing her beloved hang.” He ran his fingers along her cheek. “Pris, they both have a chance for life, more than they offered their victims.”
“And Mr. Cross?”
“He is, so Edgar told me, exalting in his coup.”
“Coup?”
“He apparently is skipping over a few details such as how we hoodwinked him. Cross believes that there will be a festival of attacks along the road until a new constable is appointed in a few weeks.” He gave her a fleeting smile as he sat on the bed. “Neither Agatha nor Edgar will correct the tales he is telling.”
“Will they remain in the Order?”
“No. Neither will Mrs. Betts. They have learned to think for themselves and see that the Polite World is not as Cross has described it. All three will remain at Rossington Hall until I can send for them to work at our country house in Cornwall.”
“I still am amazed that Edgar and Agatha were there to pretend to hold the constable and Miss Verlyn for Cross.”
He smiled as he reached up and withdrew pins from her hair. As it fell to her shoulders, he said, “Agatha asked me to apologize to you. She knew she should have stopped you, but when she could not persuade you to wait, she went for Edgar. They gave chase, acting as if they wanted to help Cross. They waited only long enough to free Stuttman and the carriage, so he could assist them.”
She sat next to him and put her arms around him. When he leaned her back into the mattress, she savored his lean body over her.
“One more thing,” he whispered, sprinkling kisses across her face.
“And what is that?”
“Edgar and Agatha plan to marry. They would like us to come to the ceremony.”
She laughed. “What does one buy as a wedding gift for a pair of conveyancers?”
“I will let you know after I give my wedding gift to you, sweetheart.”
Again she laughed, but the sound became a soft sigh of desire the moment his lips touched hers. They had waited so long for this moment. As he deepened the kiss, releasing the passion they had kept in check, she knew that at long last their honeymoon—and their lives together as man and wife—had begun. And she knew it would be worth the wait.
The End
Gentleman's Master Page 23