by Kruger, Mary
“You’re not going to win this time.”
“Oh? Who will stop me?”
“I will.”
“I think not.” Edgewater pressed the gun harder against Cecily’s throat. “Not while I have her.”
“Coward.”
“Shut your trap!”
“Piker. Cad. Coward.”
“I said, shut your trap, or she gets it!”
“You’re sounding commoner by the moment.” Alex examined his fingernails, for all the world like an idle fop pretending boredom at a ball. “The great Marquess of Edgewater.”
“You’ll learn how great. I’ve waited for this day for a long, long time.”
“Pity you’re going to lose. Do you hear that carriage?”
“I hear it.” Indeed, they could hear individual hoofbeats now, the jingling of harness, the shouts of the coachmen. It was coming closer, closer.
“I’ll lay a wager it’s Liverpool. And then what do you do? Go after him, or us?”
“I’ll have you both!” Edgewater yelled. “Both, do you hear? You’ll pay, I’ll make you both pay, and then I’ll get him, I’ll complete my mission—”
“Over my dead body.”
“It may come to that, dear boy.”
“Best decide, Edgewater. You can’t have both. Liverpool, or us?”
For the first time, Edgewater looked uncertain, as again the wind brought the sound of the carriage closer than it really was. “I’ll have both! I’ll—”
“Fail. You’ve failed, Edgewater,” Alex taunted. “Failed. Lost. Been beaten—”
“Be quiet!”
“—and where are all your fine plans now? Oh, you’ve really shown everyone how superior you are, haven’t you, shielding yourself behind a woman—”
“I am superior! I’m better than everyone, and I can beat you—”
“Oh, really, Ted? Ted the toad—”
“Shut up!” It was a shriek. “Shut up or I swear she gets it right now—”
“Make up your mind, Toad—excuse me, Ted. You haven’t much time—”
“Damn you!” Edgewater shrieked again, just as the carriage swept around a curve in the lane.
Several things happened at once, then. Cecily, who had been too frightened to move, suddenly found courage as Edgewater’s hand wavered. She jammed her elbow hard into his midsection. His breath went out with a whoosh! and his hold slackened, enough for her to pull away, dropping instinctively to the ground. Alex was already in place; his pistol barked, just once, but Edgewater, with the reflexes of a cat, moved just in time, taking the ball in his arm. And then his own pistol spoke, and Alex fell to the ground.
“No! Alex!” Cecily screamed, scrambling to her feet. Behind her she was aware of the carriage speeding by, and that Edgewater was chasing after it, shouting. She didn’t care, he could have Liverpool if he wanted. All she was concerned about was Alex.
“Oh, God,” she sobbed, over and over, dropping to her knees beside him. “Oh, God, oh, God, don’t be dead, Alex, don’t be dead, not now, not when we’ve found each other.” But he lay ominously still, a stain of red quickly spreading across his shirt. “Oh, God. Alex, please!”
“Damn you!” Edgewater cried behind her, but not near. “Damn you, I’ll get you yet, now that I’ve had my revenge.”
Revenge. The word penetrated the panic in Cecily’s mind. Cold comfort, but it was all she had. Her fingers slipped into the pocket of her pelisse and curled around the grip of her pistol. She had never before shot a man, but that wouldn’t stop her. Alex was dead. Somebody had to pay for that.
With calm deliberation, she turned and crouched, raising the pistol and taking aim. Her hand was remarkably steady, she noted in a detached way. Strange. Just now she didn’t feel anything, except an overriding purpose. Revenge.
The carriage was long gone. Edgewater, muttering to himself, walked back towards her, his head down. “Edward,” Cecily said, gripping the pistol with both hands.
Edgewater raised his head, and stopped. For a moment he simply stared at her, and then began to laugh. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “You don’t have the nerve.”
“Try me.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to, my dear,” he said, walking towards her again, that mocking smile on his face. “Give me the gun.”
“You killed Alex.”
“Oh, did I? How remiss of me. But he deserved it, you know. No one calls me ‘toad.’”
“Stay back!”
“I tire of this game, Cecily. Give me the gun.”
“No,” she said, but her arm was no longer steady. Now that the moment was here, she couldn’t do it. Perhaps someone else could fire at a man in cold blood, but she couldn’t. Not for herself. For the Prime Minister, though, who was still in danger, and for Alex, she could.
Alex. Cecily squeezed her eyes closed and fired.
Chapter Twenty-One
The sound of the shot was very loud in Cecily’s ears. Slowly she opened her eyes, and the pistol fell from her nerveless fingers. Edgewater was still standing, but a stain of red bloomed on his chest. “You,” he began. “You,” and then, with a look of almost comical surprise on his face, crumpled to the ground.
“Oh, God!” Cecily exclaimed, and with instinctive revulsion kicked the pistol away from her. What had she done, what had she done? “Oh, Alex, what have I done?”
There was a crackling sound, but Cecily had her head in her hands and didn’t look up until she heard a voice, to see Parsons, bending over Edgewater’s body. “Good shooting, my lord,” he said.
“Thank you,” another voice answered weakly from behind her, and Cecily whirled.
“Alex! You’re not dead!”
“No, not yet, little one.” He held out his hand to her as she crawled over to him, and on his face was a look of deep tenderness, and pride.
“Oh, thank God. Thank God.” She bent over him, unaware that her tears were falling onto his face, and he raised his hand to touch her cheek.
“That was very brave of you, little one.”
“Not brave. Oh, Alex, I killed him.”
“No, my lady,” Parsons said. “I was watching. Your shot went wide.”
“It did?” Cecily stared at Alex. “Then who—”
“I make it a practice to carry two guns.” He had done it. Thank God. When he had needed to, he had mastered his anger at Edgewater, and done what was necessary. The Prime Minister, and Cecily, were safe.
His gaze shifted to Parsons. “And where the hell were you?”
“Sorry, sir. Watching the house. I got here just as you both fired.”
“Edgewater?”
“Gone.”
“Good. Was it Liverpool’s carriage?”
“Yes, sir, and he’s safe. Where are you hurt?”
Alex grimaced. “Shoulder. Same place as last time.”
“Last time!” Cecily exclaimed. “That’s it. You’re retiring.”
“Yes, sweeting. Hurts damnably, but I’ll live.”
Parsons had stripped back Alex’s shirt and was expertly inspecting the wound. “Ball’s still in there. I’ll put something on it and then we’ll have to bring you back to the inn.”
“Where they’ve probably never seen anything like this. Cecily?”
“Yes, Alex, I’m here.” Cecily fell to her knees next to him, handing Parsons a pile of wadded cloths. “Here, Parsons, use this.”
Alex’s eyes glinted. “Your petticoat? Such a sacrifice, my dear.”
“Oh, hush!” Cecily’s cheeks were very pink. “Could you not be a gentleman, just this once?”
Alex grimaced as Parsons shifted him to knot the bandage securely. “Not with my reputation, my dear.”
“There, that ought to hold it for now,” Parsons said. “I’ll get Edgewater’s curricle. Can you drive, my lady?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll ride along with you to the inn.”
Alex grimaced again as Parsons left. “I didn’t want any of thi
s to touch you. But there goes your reputation.”
“I don’t care, not after today. There are other things that matter more.”
“So you don’t mind that I’ve compromised you beyond all hope?”
Cecily reached out to smooth his hair back from his face. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be compromised by.”
“Cecily.” His eyes were serious suddenly, and his hand clasped hers. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?”
Cecily opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment Parsons drove up in the curricle. She smiled down at Alex, and then set about the difficult task of helping Parsons get him into the carriage. Once he was settled she climbed in, taking up the ribbons with expert hands and turning the carriage on the narrow lane. She had often driven at Marlow, or in the park, but never under such circumstances. She wondered what society would say, were they to see her now.
Their arrival at the inn was greeted with consternation and sidelong looks, making Cecily acutely aware of her bedraggled state, and the strangeness of the situation. It was Diana, oddly enough, who rescued her. “Cece! I was getting worried,” she said, coming out of the parlor and taking Cecily’s arm. “Come inside and tell me all.”
Cecily looked helplessly towards the stairs, where Alex was being carried. “But—”
“Come inside.” Diana tugged at her arm, and Cecily, suddenly exhausted, gave in. Only when the door had been closed behind them did Diana allow her to speak.
“My word, Cece!” she said when Cecily had finished her tale. “Such things as you do get into!”
Cecily raised a shaky hand to push back her hair. “I didn’t expect this. I thought we’d find you and bring you back to London, and that would be that. And now—I’m sorry, Diana. Now your reputation is ruined, too.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, Cece. Do you know who lives near here? Lady Throckmorton.”
“Aunt Caroline?” Hope flared within Cecily. Lady Caroline Throckmorton was a distant connection, somewhat of an eccentric, who enjoyed living near enough to town to hear all the gossip, but who rarely left her estate. She was also possessed of an impeccable reputation. If they claimed they had paid a call on her and had lost track of time, forcing them to stay overnight, they would be saved. “Oh, Di, do you think she’ll take us in?”
“Of course she will, silly! She’d die to hear a story like yours.”
“But I must know whether Alex is all right before we go.”
“Yes, I agree.” Diana studied her. “Cecily, are you going to marry him?”
Cecily colored, remembering certain moments in the woods, and what Alex had hinted at. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, I do hope you do! He’s so romantic.”
“Diana, haven’t you learned anything after today?”
“Yes. Never trust a man who cares more for his clothes than he does you.”
Cecily laughed, but in a few moments the laughter turned to tears. In her sister’s arms she sobbed away all the fears and the upsets of the day, leaving her feeling weak and curiously at peace. The future would take care of itself. She could wait, now that she knew that Alex would be all right. And if he thought he was going to get away from her, he’d soon learn differently!
The sun was shining almost horizontally through the trees when Cecily rode into the park through the Grosvenor Gate. Summer was here, and Parliament had nearly finished its session. People were already leaving town, some for such fashionable watering places as Brighton, others to their estates. Cecily’s family soon would be returning to Marlow, something she usually looked forward to. Not this year, however. Not when she, and her future, were both still unsettled.
Nearly a week had passed since the adventure near Lord Milford’s estate. She and Diana had both escaped with their reputations intact, though there was a rumor going about that Alex and Edgewater had fought a duel over Cecily. As if nothing had happened, they had taken up their lives again, though Cecily was, for the first time, finding the social round stifling and dull. She was not the same girl she had been at the beginning of the season. Perhaps she was, as Alex had said, something of an adventuress.
Alex. At the thought of him, Cecily glanced around, but of course he was nowhere to be seen. He had returned to town a few days ago and had sent her a note saying he was doing well, but other than that, she hadn’t heard from him. Society, and prudence, dictated that she not go to him, though she wanted to. She would have to wait for him to make the next move, if he ever did. The closeness they had shared in the woods seemed very far away.
She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear the clop of hoofbeats until they were nearly upon her. When she did, she started, and turned to see who it was. “Alex!” she exclaimed, staring at him, momentarily speechless. He simply stared back, grinning. Mounted on Azrael, he looked much as usual, except that his left arm was in a sling, and his face was thinner.
“I thought I might find you here.” His grin widened as his eyes leisurely perused her. “In breeches, too.”
Ridiculously, Cecily blushed. “But what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be riding, not with your shoulder.”
“Azrael is a well-mannered old nag,” he said, easily. “But I don’t think I’ll try a gallop yet.” He fell into step beside her. “I got damn tired—excuse me—of waiting to get better.”
“Well, I think you’re being remarkably foolish,” she said, but her eyes sparkled.
“Do you, little one?” he answered, with such warmth that she looked away, her cheeks going pink again. “I do like it when you blush.”
“You are the most difficult man.”
“I try.” They rode in silence for a little while. “Have you heard anything from the government?”
“Yes. Lord Liverpool spoke with Papa. Oh, was he angry!”
“Liverpool?”
“No, Papa. He was so angry at what I did that he wanted to send me to Marlow early. Diana, too. Fortunately Mama convinced him that would only cause a scandal.” She smiled. “He’s been giving me the oddest looks. I’m not sure he really believes it.”
“Sometimes I don’t believe it, either. The worst moment of my life was when Edgewater grabbed you.”
“The worst of mine was when I thought you were dead.” She stopped, turning and touching his arm. “You will retire, won’t you?”
“Why, Cecily. Dare I hope you care?”
“Don’t be more foolish than you can help! What will all the ladies do without their favorite rake?”
Alex looked at her for a moment. “Find someone else, I imagine. I’ve been offered a position at the Home Office, by the by. No, not spying, little one. Those days are behind me at last. Thanks to you.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded breathless. “Won’t you miss it?”
“Perhaps, but now that the Continent is open again we can always travel. After all, a rake and an adventuress need some excitement in their lives.”
Cecily stopped. “We?”
“Yes. We. You and I.”
“Alex—”
“I love you, Cecily,” he said, so simply that she stared at him, whatever it was she had been about to say flown from her head. “And that’s not something I say easily. No matter what else I’ve done, I’ve never said that to any woman. Do you believe me?”
“Oh, Alex.” She reached up to touch his cheek, her eyes brimming. “Of course I do. I trust you. You see,” she swallowed, hard, “I love you, too. I think I always have.”
“Do you?” He caught her hand in his good one, and brought it to his mouth. “God’s teeth, but I am a lucky man. I don’t deserve you, Cecily.”
“Who says you have me?”
“What—”
“Isn’t there a certain question you’d like to ask?”
“Minx.” He grinned at her. “Last time I asked it I nearly had my head snapped off. But, oh, very well. Shall I go down on my knees?”
“No, silly, you might wrinkle the knees of your pantalo
ons.”
Alex looked startled, and then laughed. “Very well, then, on horseback, it will be. Cecily.” His face grew serious, his voice deep. “Will you marry me?”
Cecily tilted her head to the side. “Well, I don’t know, sir. Are you thoroughly reformed?”
“Yes. Thoroughly.”
“Well, in that case—Alex, you can’t kiss me here, someone might see!”
“To hell with them,” he growled, gripping her about the waist with his good arm and pulling her close for a long, and most satisfactory, kiss. When at last it ended, Cecily rested her head against his shoulder.
“Mm.” She raised her head to look at him, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I see what I must do.”
“What is that, little one?”
“To make sure you stay reformed. I shall just have to keep you happy at home.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed.”
A stylishly dressed couple, up unfashionably early, were riding at a sedate pace when they were brought up short by the sight of Viscount St. Clair kissing Lady Cecily Randall, clothed, most surprisingly, in breeches. “Well!” the lady exclaimed, in mingled outrage and fascination. “How scandalous!”
“Quite,” agreed her companion, but he was wondering how to start a fashion of women wearing breeches in such an enchanting way. Neither averted their eyes as they rode by; this was too delicious a tit-bit to ignore.
Neither Cecily nor Alex noticed the presence of anyone else, nor would they have particularly cared. They were far too interested in other things. For, in Alex’s arms, Cecily had found her future, the one man who accepted her as she was, loved her as she was. And, in Cecily’s arms, Alex had found something much more, love, trust, a world he hadn’t been sure existed. The former rake had, at last, gained his reward.
The End
Mary Kingsley is the author of many Regency and historical romances, including the RITA nominated The Rake’s Reward, and the Regency novella “The Runaway Duchess,” winner of the New Jersey Romance Writers’ Golden Leaf Award. As Mary Kruger she is also the author of the Gilded Age mystery series, and two knitting mysteries.