The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 6

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Simon offered him a relatively clean handkerchief. "My wife would tell you never to rub an eye with soot in it. She worked at the clinic for women at Bethnal Green as a nurse, so she knows what she’s talking about."

  George paused mid-rub. "The Bethnal Green clinic?" Something sparked off in his head. Dr. Herriot. His assistant. The tarts at Bedlam. "She isn’t called Clarissa by any chance, is she?"

  "No, Gabrielle. She does have a friend called Clarissa, though. And her sister is Lucinda. That’s her baby you all helped to save. Thank you so much for all your help."

  George stood still as a stone, blinking his eyes, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. The other man was looking up the path in relief as Alexander and Jonathan now came riding up to make sure they had not been swallowed by the cataclysmic quake.

  "You two chaps all right? George? Simon?" Jonathan asked worriedly.

  Alexander had come down off his mount and now offered the child to the tall dark man with glinting gold eyes. Eyes which mirrored his own.

  "Your nephew, did you say?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he watched the chap cradle the baby against his chest in a tender way which was truly moving.

  "I did. My nephew Christopher."

  "Fine lad. Very fine." But it was the man that Alexander was now staring at.

  "My God," Jonathan breathed, staring now himself. "It’s not possible. And yet I see miracles happen every day."

  George felt a prickle up his spine, and broke out into a cold sweat. Miracles indeed, he thought, his heart hammering in his chest. Out of the three men standing with him in the clearing, he had thought he only knew Jonathan Deveril.

  Now he stood staring at the other two men who faced each other like mirror images. It was like looking into his own pierglass. He dragged at the dirt clogging the corners of his eyes impatiently, blinking to get a better look. His breath caught, and he leaned against a tree trunk, sure now that he was not imagining things. They really were there after all.

  The golden-eyed man had been preoccupied in cuddling the infant and looking him over for any sign of injury. He seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere in the group.

  "I’ll have to get Blake or Eswara to examine him," he said, soothing the infant as it let out a little snuffle. "Her home is closest. If you wouldn’t mind letting me borrow your mount, sir, I should be most grateful. Or I can swing up behind if you will continue to be so kind as to take him up with you and hold him a bit longer. And I must find my wife and sister-in-law, who was shot by that madman."

  "Of course, Brother. Whatever you need, you have only to ask."

  At last Simon looked up to meet a pair of brown eyes so pale as to be nearly gold, and another pair so dark as to be almost black.

  "My God," Jonathan said again. "I still can’t believe it."

  "Believe it," Alexander said. "I’ll be glad to ride along with you, Simon. You and my nephew now too, I believe."

  Simon frowned slightly. Then he looked harder. "Jason?" he gasped. "Jason?"

  "Alexander now. Alexander Deveril to most who know me hereabouts, Alexander Davenport during the war. But yes, Jason D'Ambois, a lifetime ago."

  George, utterly overwhelmed, began to weep, and all eyes turned to him. "Oh God, you have no idea. Jason, Simon. I’ve been looking for you for years, Jason. And you, Simon. When they told me you had been captured, I prayed like I’d never prayed before that one day I would see you again. Years of doing nothing but waiting, hoping, chasing shadows, and here you are. Here."

  "Georges? Georges?" Simon and Alexander both said simultaneously.

  "Aye, it’s me. I’m alive too. Alive, and no longer bitter and alone."

  The time for male stoicism was now at an end. They all began to weep in earnest, and hugged each other as though they would never let go.

  Jonathan certainly couldn’t manage to keep his eyes dry, but he was the only one not completely overcome with emotion. At length he said, "I think we need to get back to see what’s happened to Lucinda, and to reassure everyone that baby Christopher is fine and Oxnard can’t harm anyone any more.

  "Come, hand the baby here to me, and swing up behind. George and Alexander can share. We’ll be back in a trice. Then I think we need to adjourn to Lawrence’s house for a most joyful reunion and some much-needed explanations."

  Simon lifted Christopher. Jonathan grasped him firmly, before offering him an arm up. With one last embrace George hugged Alexander. Next they too mounted and returned to the clearing.

  Lucinda was sitting up, her shoulder and ankle bandaged, Sebastian and Eswara Jerome and her sister all attending upon her. She was alive and well, but completely in hysterics. She leapt to her feet and tried to run amid a flurry of petticoats as soon as she saw the kind vicar returning with her child. She nearly fell at the first step and only Sebastian's strong arms stopped her from falling face first. He swung her up easily into his arms and set her down on the small bench near the kitchen door at the back of the house.

  Jonathan handed the baby down to Sebastian, and he gave it gently to Lucinda, who seized him in sheer relief and began to smother the infant in kisses.

  The second mounted pair rode up now. Miranda gazed up at her husband in wonder, for never had she seen George so altered. He was almost, well, glowing. He looked as if all the cares in the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

  "Darling, are you all right?" she gasped as he leapt from the horse’s back. He ran his hands down the length of her body to make sure she was in one piece, and began to shower her face with kisses.

  "I couldn’t be better. Oxnard is dead and will never harm his wife and child again. Or you, my love. And I now have everything I’ve ever wanted in my life. And I have you to thank for it, my treasure."

  "Me? I don’t understand. What’s happened?" she gasped.

  Alexander had stepped down out of the saddle. Simon, who had also been busily and rather intimately ascertaining whether his own red-headed beloved was truly unharmed, now came forward with her.

  "My dearest Miranda," George said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion, "I would like you to meet my two brothers. Jason Alexander and Simon Andre D’Ambois."

  Miranda stared at George, wondering if all of the upset with Oxnard had taken a toll on his sanity. But as she looked around at the four men all looking moist-eyed and overjoyed, she realised with a lurch that he was telling the truth. She held out her hand.

  "So very delighted. Oh, you have no idea." Scattering all caution to the winds, the lovely young woman threw her arms around Alexander first, and Simon second. She even hugged the vicar for good measure as he beamed in delight.

  "And my wife Gabrielle, and her sister Lucinda, now officially a widow, for which we shall all thank the gods daily."

  "And I am therefore related to you all by marriage," Jonathan explained, "for Alexander here is married to my sister Sarah. Come, let’s go find Lawrence and tell him the remarkable news. Then I’m going to tell the other Rakehells what’s happened. Don’t worry, we wouldn’t wish to intrude—"

  "Intrude?" Miranda said with a laugh. "Lawrence is my brother-in-law, and Matthew my brother. Tell them to come."

  "Intrude?" Gabrielle said with a laugh. "Randall Avenel is my cousin, and so is Matthew’s wife Althea. We’re all one big family. You’ve always treated us like that, ever since Simon and I came here. It’s even more true now that we know the truth at last. Simon's wanted to look for you all for so long--"

  This brought another round of hugs for the three men which only broke off when Miranda urged, "Do please come up to the house. Juliet and Lawrence will be only too pleased, I promise."

  Thus the picnic moved indoors and a short time later, Eswara and her son Ash came with their spouses to join what looked to be a rather exciting Rakehell gathering, as the three brothers were reunited at last and gave an expurgated version of all they had been through since they had last seen each other, almost a decade before.

  "Well, I ha
ve to say everything you’ve told us is quite remarkable," Ash Paington said with a fond smile down at his lovely wife Ellen, a statuesque blonde who was swathed in a most elegant sapphire blue sari which made her blue eyes look enormous. "There’s only one more piece of information you might like to hear to put an end to this chapter in all your lives."

  "Oh, what’s that?" George asked with interest.

  "Ellen and I just heard it in Bath and came straight home to tell everyone the news."

  "Come on now, lad, out with it," his step-father Martin laughed.

  "All I can say is I hope you have champagne, Lawrence, for we shall all want to celebrate in earnest now. We shall toast to your good fortune, and Europe’s," Ash said with barely suppressed excitement.

  Philip Marshall came charging in at precisely that moment, and managed to upstage the handsome young man. "I say, everyone, you’re never going to believe what I just heard in Bristol!"

  Ash was nothing if not gracious, and didn’t mind when Philip, scarcely pausing for breath, said, "I was looking everywhere for all of you. The news just came to England from St. Helena. At long last, Napoleon is dead."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  One could have heard a pin drop after Philip Marshall’s remarkable announcement that Napoleon Bonaparte really was dead. The scourge of Europe for over two decades was no more. They would never have to fear invasion or another war again.

  "Oh, thank God," Jonathan said with equal parts of devotion and rancour.

  George concurred, and knew how heartfelt the vicar’s sentiments were. Three years in the army had convinced Jonathan that Napoleon was the Devil incarnate, though it had also shown him the road to salvation, and set him on his current career path as a vicar.

  "Are you sure? Really sure?" George rasped, feeling an incredible sense of unreality creep over him.

  Ash Paignton and his wife nodded.

  Philip confirmed it. "Certain. It’s in the official dispatches, signed and sealed. It's no mere false rumour, but fully confirmed. It’s all over, ladies and gentleman. The Emperor is no more. Long live the King, England, and the Rakehells."

  "Here, here!"

  "Hip, hip!

  "Hurrah!" everyone echoed, and then the hugging, kissing and weeping of joyful tears began in earnest. They drank toast after toast, sang, danced, and were numb with excitement and disbelief.

  George and Miranda were thrilled to be with their new family, and the brothers almost looked as though they didn’t want to let the others out of their sight.

  But soon the pressure of romance caused them to separate into three couples who crept out of the drawing room to share some deeper and more private emotions of their own.

  They went up to their chamber, and held each other tenderly, overwhelmed by the news.

  "It really is over at last?" Miranda asked George softly when he finally lifted his lips.

  "Over, and just beginning. I promise you, darling, I’m going to make the best life possible for all of us. I know it won’t be easy. The earldom is in complete disarray, and I have no idea what plans Simon or Jason, er, Alexander have, but I would want us to all be together as closely as possible."

  "Well, the castle is big enough, but we need to let them make their own decisions. But I happen to know of a really excellent wine business which is for sale. And Lawrence has wanted you and Simon to work with him, so there’s no harm in asking if he’s still willing."

  "That’s right. Simon Drake."

  Her brows knit for a moment. "I think it was Isolde’s last name before she married Randall."

  "I think you’re right." He shook his head in wonder. "He was so close all along."

  "And Alexander got back last night apparently, from his mission in Ireland, and couldn’t resist a Rakehell picnic."

  "Thank the gods for it," he said fervently. "I have no idea what would have happened if Alexander hadn’t saved the baby from that madman, and Simon and I saved each other from the ravine."

  The reminder of how close she had come to losing him propelled her into his arms, and their frenzied lovemaking lasted for a considerable time.

  But at last he pulled her close to his side and said, "You have no excuse now. I’ve seduced and thoroughly ravished you, and now you’re just going to have to marry me."

  "Yes," she agreed simply.

  "When?"

  "As soon as your brothers can stand for you as groomsmen."

  George looked at her now. "You knew, didn’t you." It was a statement, not a question.

  "About Alexander, er, Jason, yes. But I had reason to think he was still working for Castlereagh, and so I wanted to be cautious, feel things out for you. He had very few memories of the war years, by all accounts. I didn’t want you to be hurt by some sort of rejection. And it turns out he never looked for you both because he was sure you were both dead."

  "Well, I’m very much alive, and about to prove it to you."

  She gasped. "I’m beginning to be sorry Ash and Eswara ever gave us those books and diagrams. I can’t be in an orgasmic frenzy every minute of the day."

  George laughed. "Oh, I don’t know. After all, I am. One look at you, one gaze from your gorgeous eyes, and I convulse. I love you so much, I’m always full to bursting. I just can’t believe my luck."

  "Nor I. You really are the most wonderful man. I know you adore your brothers, but surely no man can compare."

  "Ah, but you’re looking at me with the eyes of love. I’m a flawed man. I would have killed Oxnard with a song in my heart."

  Miranda kissed him on the cheek. "I’ve done and thought things I’m not exactly proud of, darling," she said with a small shudder as she recalled the ruthless way she had set up Castlereagh to be ruined. But having met Alexander and Simon at last, restored them to George and won their freedom from the yoke of spying, she decided she would do it again in a heartbeat.

  "I find that hard to believe. You’re my angel, as well as my sorceress. You bewitch and beguile me, but in all other respects you’re innocent."

  Miranda giggled and wiggled her fingers in several places designed for maximum gratification. "Innocent, eh?"

  "Lord in Heaven, marry me tomorrow. Make me yours forever!" he gasped as he flew into the abyss of pure raw passion.

  It wasn’t quite the next day, but as soon as all their friends and relatives were gathered en masse. And Simon did not stand for George as groomsman, for the simple reason that he was marrying his own love Gabrielle at last.

  This was not the only great occasion the three brothers shared, for almost nine months to the day after the double wedding, George and Simon both became fathers. Two little boys were born under the roof of the restored Ferncliffe Castle early in the morning, one with eyes of obsidian, the other with eyes of gold.

  Alexander and his wife Sarah helped Blake and Eswara with the deliveries, and Philip too stood at the ready in case George and Miranda should need him.

  "I did it for Juliet," Philip explained. "The least I can do is be here for the rest of the family."

  Miranda smiled at him, though she was very tired and hazy with pain. "Family. Yes, that we are. All the Rakehells. And the new generation after us. We can never thank you all enough for the gift of your friendship, but we’re going to spend the rest of our lives trying."

  Simon came in now to show off his new son. "Gabriel."

  George nodded. "Only fitting to name him after his mother."

  "And the archangel. I think half the host of heaven must have contributed to the miracle of our love, and restoring my family to me."

  "And yours?" Simon asked, peering in the cot with complete awe.

  "Dominic, after Papa."

  "Only fitting. You being the eldest, and as such carrying on the line."

  George shook his head. "We all carry on the line now. All equal. There’s no point in being a Radical earl in the House of Lords if you can’t shake up a few things."

  Simon laughed, though the expression in his eyes remained seri
ous. "You’re taking a big risk."

  "Thomas and Randall do it all the time. And I’m nothing if not a good actor. I’ll tread the boards of British politics and make them quake in their boots, see if I don’t."

  "And Castlereagh and Sidmouth?"

  Miranda shook her head. "They won’t dare touch George now. They’d be too fearful of everyone finding out just how a pimp and theatre owner ended up an Earl."

  George flashed his wife a smile. "It's because love transforms everything, and your beguilement has made this toad into a prince. Well, earl."

  Miranda gave him a warm kiss and reached for their son. "You were always a prince. You just playacted at being a frog. But you’re the best man I’ve ever known, though a few of your friends are pretty fine too. I love you always, George. Thank you for the gift of your love, and our son."