Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle

by Bronwyn Scott

  Philippa threw herself into his arms, her own arms going about his neck, and kissed him with all the emotion she owned. He met the kiss with his own intensity, his mouth pressing hard against hers, hungry and desperate, and yet somewhere in its depths was reassurance. In spite of all that had happened, their love still stood.

  ‘Val, I’ve missed you,’ Philippa gasped, touching his face as they drew apart, tracing the lines of his worry with her hands.

  ‘You’re well? And the baby?’ His hand dropped to her waist, framing her stomach with his fingers as if he could feel the baby already.

  ‘We’re well. There won’t be anything to see for a few months yet.’ Philippa gave a tremulous laugh.

  ‘I am so happy about it,’ Valerian whispered. ‘Promise me, you’ll keep the child safe. Don’t do anything foolish, Philippa, promise me.’ His voice was urgent, desperate to wring a vow from her.

  ‘I won’t need to. You’ll be free as soon as the committee makes their decision,’ Philippa said brightly.

  Valerian shook his head. ‘I think Montfort will buy a trial.’

  ‘Then I will go to Lucien. I have enough to sway him, I think,’ Philippa said, trying to be confident against Valerian’s dire words. She rapidly explained what she’d uncovered in the diaries.

  Valerian’s eyes filled with concern. ‘Philippa, you cannot toy with Lucien Canton. If you threaten him, it will be open war. Do not confront him alone. Take Beldon with you and the Watch if you must.’

  The guard banged on the door, Beldon’s charm having finally worn out. Philippa kissed him hard one last time. ‘I love you, Val. Nothing will change that.’

  Philippa clenched her fists in the folds of her skirt, using all her willpower not to chase after him or cry as the guard led him away. A terrible foreboding filled her as she watched Valerian stoically accept the handcuffs and was ushered down one of Whitehall’s many secret hallways. If he didn’t get out of Newgate tonight, he might not get out at all, at least not alive. It was time to act. In fact, she felt that she had little time to lose.

  Chapter Twenty

  Heavy booted footsteps pounded up the stone corridor of Newgate. Valerian heard them and was instantly on alert. It had only been four hours since the hearing. Surely they hadn’t made a decision already? He rose from the cot, tense and ready. It was too soon for a decision and slightly too early for Beldon to come with a supper basket. But the footsteps were definitely for him. They came to a stop outside his heavy, barred door. The jangle of keys sounded and then a thick metal key clunked in the lock.

  Valerian sprang behind the door. If Lucien had sent an assassin with a gun, he wouldn’t get a clear shot. That was Valerian’s greatest concern, that the assassin would come with a gun and he wouldn’t have a chance to fight for himself. The door would open, a shot would be fired before he even knew who was there.

  The door opened. A man dressed as a guard entered the room. Valerian didn’t recognise him. He was not one of the usual men who watched his room. ‘What do you want?’ Valerian growled. The man was burly with a barrel chest and nose that looked as if it was used to being broken. He looked a menace.

  ‘You’re free to go. Your release is in my pocket if you’re man enough to take it from me.’ A blade flashed in his hand from a concealed sheath in his sleeve. The sharp edge glinted dangerously.

  Valerian assessed the situation in an instant. The committee must have decided before Montfort could stand against them in full force. He was free, but Lucien couldn’t allow that to happen so this man had been sent to silence him once and for all. His small knife was hidden in his pallet, so he had no weapon to counter the knife, except his own brute strength. The man clearly looked to outweigh him. His best defence would be to disarm the man and seize control of the weapon.

  Valerian tensed into a fighter’s position, ready to take the impact of the man’s lunge. If the man wanted to fight, he’d have to make the first move. Valerian was not going to risk serious injury by launching himself at an armed combatant.

  They circled each other in half-crouches, the man making jabbing feints with the blade, emphasising just how small the room was. ‘I can walk all day,’ Valerian taunted as they completed another circle of each other. ‘Why don’t you come and do what you’ve been paid to do? What’s the going rate on killing viscounts these days? I hope it will be enough to start over in exile. Once Baron Pendennys arrives, you’ll be caught.’

  The man snarled, ‘Then I better make short work of you.’ He lunged, the knife making a downward slashing motion intended to catch Valerian in the shoulder. Valerian was ready for it, his arm going up in instant reflex and his hand gripping the wrist of the knife hand with the full force of his strength. Valerian grunted and used his power to push the man back to the wall, banging the knife hand against the stone, in hopes of shaking the knife free from his grip.

  The man kicked out, catching Valerian in the shins, but the kick had very little impact since they were locked so closely together. Valerian gave a final pound and the knife clattered to the floor. He landed a jab to the man’s stomach and dived for the blade.

  His assailant was faster than he’d anticipated. He’d no sooner got his hand around the knife handle than the man jumped him from behind. He had no time to roll over and slash with the knife. He was effectively imprisoned underneath. A kidney punch caused him to cry out, followed by another. He could not lie there and do nothing.

  The man’s weight was formidable, but Valerian found the strength to heave himself up to his knees, slashing blindly with the knife to distract the man. He had some luck. The blade met with muscle and his attacker cried out, loosening his hold on Valerian long enough for Valerian to fling him off and regain his feet. He came up fast, ready to fight, ready to kill. The man rushed him, sensing his chance for victory slipping away.

  Valerian felt a stinging sensation travel down his arm, cloth ripped. A red stain spread on the material. The bastard had another knife! He could see blood on the other man now, at his thigh where his blade had made contact. The man slashed at his face, Valerian reached out and grabbed the knife hand with his left. In the moment he held the assassin’s blade at bay, he drove his own blade home. The man gasped and collapsed, hatred and disbelief frozen on his fading features. The fight was over.

  ‘I guess I was man enough,’ Valerian snarled, the rage of the fight starting to ebb from him. He straddled the man’s form and rooted in his pocket for the release. He found it sealed and tied with a red ribbon. He tore it open, hardly daring to believe it was over.

  ‘Val!’ Beldon rushed into the room, dropping the dinner basket he carried. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m free.’ Valerian felt himself shudder from the shock. ‘Now we can deal with Canton. He sent his man with the message. I wasn’t supposed to leave here.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Philippa won’t have to do anything foolish.’

  ‘I am afraid it’s too late for that,’ Beldon said, realisation starting to dawn. ‘She doesn’t know you’re free. She’s gone to see Canton, to bargain with him.’

  Philippa faced Lucien Canton over the walnut desk in his town-house study. ‘Lucien, I have come to bargain with you for Valerian’s freedom.’

  Lucien’s mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘Bargain or beg, my dear? I can’t imagine what you have to bargain with. Your body, perhaps?’ His gaze raked her form in a slow, deliberate perusal. ‘If so, I am not interested in used goods.’

  Philippa refused to be cowed by coarse innuendo. ‘I have something better, I think. An even exchange. Your freedom for his.’

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’ His voice protested innocence, but his narrow gaze suggested he was concerned.

  Philippa took her courage in both hands. ‘I am talking about how you plotted to kill Cambourne. There was no real accident in the mine. It was deliberately sabotaged and you planned it, right down to outlining it in your personal diary.’

  ‘Do you have the
books, then? It’s quite intrepid of you to break into my home and steal from me, but anything for love, eh, Philippa?’ Lucien said coldly. ‘Still, your threat is empty and your bravado is desperate. St Just got in my way. I will not tolerate his interference. He is going to pay. It’s too late to change that. I expect any minute my hired assassin will be paying him a visit, if he hasn’t already. The man’s formidable. St Just doesn’t stand a chance. The irony is that the committee dropped the charges. St Just’s release is in my man’s pocket. He may be dead already.’ Lucien sighed with mock pity. ‘But you, Philippa, I could still save and we can forget about your little foray into thievery.’

  Lucien reached into the top drawer of his desk and drew out a sheaf of papers. ‘This is from when I had a more optimistic outlook on our relationship. Perhaps I became cynical too soon? Now, I have a deal for you. This is a marriage contract. Marry me, sign over the mines and save your social respectability and your social standing. You will not be dragged down by Valerian’s scandal. I doubt anyone will much care to have the political backing of a suspected traitor’s wife. It would be a shame to see all your hard work with mining schools and mining reform fall into ignominy simply because you made a poor decision in marriage. We were friends once—I am confident we can be again.’

  Philippa picked up the contract. ‘You were never my friend.’ She tore the contract in half and threw it on the desk. ‘I would rather be dead than see myself married to the likes of you, since that’s what you had planned all along.’

  The rashness of her words was punctuated by the ominous click of a pistol’s cocking motion. ‘That can be arranged. Since you know about that little addendum to my plan, I am left with no choices, Philippa.’ Lucien raised a small silver pistol from behind the desk. It was pointed at her. ‘I had rather hoped this would come later instead of sooner.’

  Philippa forced herself to breathe deeply and to stay calm. She couldn’t think about the baby, about Valerian, or about Valerian’s warning that she not confront Lucien alone. She could only allow herself to think about Lucien and what she could do to stay alive.

  She managed a believable laugh. ‘Are you going to shoot a woman in your town house and expect to get away with it? It’s still daylight. You’re usually cleverer than that. Besides, if I die, you can’t find the diaries. Only I and one other know where they are.’

  ‘I don’t have to shoot you. I’d rather not. Murder is rather drastic.’ Lucien waved the pistol towards a chair. ‘Have a seat. I have another contract here. This one is a bill of sale between you and me. It’s for the mines. The price is fair, at least for the record. You and I know what the real price is. That money will never show up in your bank account, but I will let you walk out of here.’

  Philippa stared at the documents. She’d not thought to bring a weapon. She’d thought her threat would be enough.

  ‘Here’s a pen.’ Lucien handed her the instrument, towering over her. ‘I’ve been generous with you out of a sense of misplaced affection.’

  Philippa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Your affection has never been misplaced.’ Perhaps she ought to take the deal and live to fight another day. But then she thought of Beldon’s words the time she’d suggested giving Lucien the mines. She thought of Valerian’s honour and all that he’d risked over the years to live by his code. It gave her the strength to stand up, toe to toe with Lucien Canton.

  ‘I won’t sign the bill of sale. I won’t give you permission to take what isn’t yours. Nor will I give you permission to start a career of blackmail. This won’t end until you possess every mining asset Cambourne ever owned. I see your game and I won’t play.’

  ‘You’re beautiful in a temper, my dear. Perhaps there’s another game you’d play to save your mortal soul?’ Lucien whispered, his eyes going to her lips. ‘I’d play that game with you.’

  Philippa lowered her eyelids to hide her thoughts, trying not to flinch at Lucien’s hands on her waist, trying not to think about the gun he held laxly in one hand as he began a lazy seduction. This was her chance, a chance to grab the gun, a chance to flee out of the door and into the street. If only she could make Lucien believe.

  ‘Open your mouth, darling.’ Lucien whispered, but they were not love words, they were commands. She did, trying to guess what he wanted. His kiss was rough, bruising against her mouth. Reflexively, her body tensed in resistance at the hard pressure of his member against her. He held her tightly, aroused by her instinctive struggle.

  ‘Oh, yes, don’t make it too easy,’ he moaned, his eyes dangerous glints of malicious desire. ‘I like a challenge.’

  He had her against the edge of the desk, the hard wood biting into her back. Her resistance was real and it seemed to inflame him further. With one arm, he swept the desk clear of ledgers, laying the gun on the corner of the desk to force her on to the surface. Philippa saw it out of the corner of her eye, not daring to look at it fully lest she give away her intentions. She let him lay her back on the surface. The gun was closer now, her fingers could almost stretch out and claim it. She wriggled, hoping to inch closer to it.

  Lucien’s hips pressed into hers, grinding out his rising desire. She fought back the urge to give into tears. She’d been so foolish to think a man capable of Lucien’s evil could be stopped by the threat of blackmail. That was his speciality, not hers.

  His lips were on hers, hard and unrelenting, his body stretched over her, his hands in her hair, painfully pulling it free. She reached out her hand and found success. Philippa closed her hand over the gun and brought it up with a sickening thud against Lucien’s head.

  He jerked back howling, dizzy with surprise and pain. ‘What the hell!’ Philippa shoved with all her might, sending him toppling to the floor. She sprang up from the desk and ran for the door. But Lucien was not done.

  He grabbed a handful of her skirt as she sprinted past. She tripped, half-falling, then half-running to put the sofa between them as a barrier. Lucien grabbed up a vase and threw it at her. Philippa screamed, ducking as crystal shattered against the wall.

  Like a miracle, she heard someone call her name. She screamed again. This time the door burst open, cracking against the wall so hard it fell off its hinges. Valerian was there, followed by a half dozen members of the Watch, and Beldon.

  ‘Stop where you are, sir!’ the captain yelled. ‘Is that the man?’ He turned to Valerian for identification, who nodded. ‘Mr Canton, you are under arrest for the murder of the Duke of Cambourne and for attempted blackmail.’

  Lucien went rabid. ‘You have no proof. Those are not easy accusations.’

  ‘We have diaries, supplied by the Dowager Duchess of Cambourne, that are written in your hand, outlining your premeditation of the crime and your intention to swindle the Duchess out of her holdings, either through marriage or blackmail, and also including over-exaggerating charges of treason against Viscount St Just.’

  Lucien paled. Then he roared and lunged for Philippa over the sofa. ‘Bitch!’ She was no match for his angry strength and she went down beneath him, the gun sliding out of her hand and beyond her reach.

  She heard Valerian yelling, ‘Get off her!’ And then Lucien’s crushing weight was lifted from her. Valerian and Lucien fell to the ground, wrestling, punching. They were too closely engaged for anyone to intervene. Valerian had the advantage, landing punch after punch, but, in one desperate move, Lucien had the gun.

  Philippa screamed a warning. Valerian’s arm reached out with lightning speed and grappled with the gun hand. But the gun was cocked and volatile. It fired and both men lay unmoving. ‘Help me! Someone help me!’ Philippa was down next to Valerian in an instant, shoving him away from Lucien’s body. ‘No, no, no, no.’ There was blood everywhere, on his shirt, his face—she couldn’t be sure it was not all his. ‘Val, please wake up.’

  ‘I’m awake,’ Valerian groaned.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ She started searching his body through his clothes, frantic over what she might find.

  ‘Mis
s, it’s the other one,’ the captain said quietly, motioning for men to join him at Lucien’s still form. ‘He took the bullet.’ The captain shook his head. ‘He’s gone.’

  Valerian struggled to sit up. ‘Are you all right, Philippa?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we’re both all right,’ she said but she was shaking and she couldn’t hold back her tears. It was all suddenly too much. Lucien had died in front of her. One moment, he’d been living among them; the next, he’d simply ceased to be. It could just have easily been Valerian. Valerian’s arms were about her and he cradled her to him, murmuring reassurances.

  The captain was efficient, but it still took the better part of the evening to wrap up loose ends and make statements. At nine o’clock the captain shut his notebook. ‘We have all we need, my lord. Thank you for your patience. You may all go home. I’m sure it’s been a very trying day. We will let you know if anything further is required.’

  Philippa let Valerian lead her to his coach, which had stood waiting for them. The afternoon and early evening had been a blur of repeating stories and events. She was only just now able to shut out the horrors and appreciate the joys of the day. Valerian was free. The last threat that had stood in the way of their happiness had been removed.

  She snuggled against Valerian’s shoulder. ‘What shall we do now? After all this excitement?’

  Valerian looked down at her, a smile starting in his green eyes. ‘We go home.’

  ‘I’ve waited a long time to hear that.’

  ‘Just as long as I’ve waited to say it, my love.’ Valerian pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her close. They might be days from Roseland, but Philippa knew she was home already.

  Epilogue

  1 January 1831

  Valerian Inglemoore, the Viscount St Just, had a secret, a joyful secret that caused him to smile unceasingly as he stood with his wife and four-week-old son in front of the assembled congregation of St Justus’s for the baptism of his child. He was desperately in love with his wife and she was in love with him.