One Step Behind

by Brianna Labuskes

  He knew he should start moving and get her away from the scene. Her reputation would be in tatters if anyone ever realized what had happened here. But he took another moment, his lips finding her damp cheeks. He kissed her there. Then at the corners of her eyes. Her forehead. The tip of her nose. Soothing her, yes, but also reassuring himself.

  He finally laid his lips against hers.

  She was alive.

  In that moment, something shifted deep in his soul. It was almost an audible click. An unlocking of something he hadn’t realized was locked up. And what rushed into the spaces was warm and light and chased away any darkness that lingered there.

  It was Gemma. It was always Gemma.

  Chapter Twenty

  Several days later, Lucas, Gemma, Beatrice, Harrington, and Roz sat around their breakfast table. Lucas had assured Roz of Gemma’s health and wellbeing, but they could only hold her at bay so long. And if any of the others found it odd that Harrington, who was technically an employee of the family, was seated at the table as well, it was not mentioned.

  Gemma recounted the story as her aunt and sister-in-law drank tea and her husband read over the post. Harrington simply watched her, neglecting the sausage in front of him.

  “Fascinating,” Roz murmured as Gemma detailed the sad tale that had brought Peterson to his maddened state.

  “And do not forget, he witnessed his mother’s gruesome murder before being shipped off to a dreadful orphanage,” Gemma reminded her.

  Lucas glanced up at that and raised an eyebrow at her. “Never say you are feeling sorry for the man. He would have killed you.”

  “Well, yes, that is true,” she conceded. “It just isn’t as black and white as one would expect. Rathburn was a terrible man as well.”

  “You are a heroine,” Beatrice breathed, watching Gemma with wide eyes.

  “Never say so,” Gemma protested. “I was terrified for my life the entire time. And my actions resulted in a man’s death.”

  “That you were scared makes it all the more impressive, to be sure,” Beatrice said, undeterred. “The press has gone wild with the story.”

  “They could not get a story right if it were written down for them,” Gemma said. She had seen the papers. They all declared Lord Winchester’s gallantry in saving his wife from ruin and torture at Peterson’s hands. Certainly none had said anything about the truth. “The truth is not quite so glamorous, I promise you.” Even days later she woke up screaming with nightmares. Lucas was always there to soothe away the terror, but she knew she would be facing them for some time. She still saw Peterson’s face right before his fall when she closed her eyes.

  “Well, I am just thankful you were able to escape unscathed,” Beatrice said. “Lucas, how on earth did you figure out it was the timid Mr. Peterson who was the villain?”

  He seemed to contemplate the question for a moment. “Harrington here helped with the final pieces,” he said with a nod at the man, who had not said much since she’d started the story. “He tracked down the old valet who gave us the tip about the boy in the orphanage in the Lake District. After that it was just a matter of connecting that to Peterson’s backstory of being from that area.”

  “I wanted to return to the original premise that we were encountering many of the same people throughout the case,” Harrington said. “I compiled a brief biography on each of the men who showed up on several of our lists.”

  Beatrice beamed at him. “So clever, sir,” she said, and Gemma smiled and wondered what Lucas thought of that match. Gemma thought they would suit quite well. Beatrice’s sunny enthusiasm and Mr. Harrington’s calm demeanor would complement each other. She watched as he smiled at her sister-in-law, his eyes gentle. It seemed it was a mutual affection brewing.

  “And Gemma, were you ever so shocked when it turned out to be Mr. Peterson was the killer?” Beatrice had turned back to her, eyes wide.

  “I was,” Gemma assured her. “I focused on that payment location because it was one used early in the case and the only place he used twice. He seemed to get sloppy when it came to the past. But you can tell, he learned quickly to direct his victims to more neutral locations.”

  “So you deduced that there was something particular about that address,” Roz filled in.

  “Yes,” Gemma said, turning toward her aunt. “But I had no idea who the killer would turn out to be until I recognized his voice on the way to the castle. It makes sense though, if you think about it. The one thing anyone would tell you about Peterson is that he is nondescript. He is the type of gentleman to skate by on guest lists because he can entertain matrons and wallflowers. You remember that all our witnesses could remember about him was blond hair?”

  “It was a running theme,” Beatrice said.

  “It was really quite ingenious,” Gemma mused. “And did not take much effort on his part, either.”

  “You are brilliant, Gemma,” Beatrice said.

  “You are all brilliant,” Roz corrected. “And justice has been served in all cases. I never liked Rathburn from the moment I met him. How he avoided a hint of scandal with all of this in his past is a mystery the ton should feel ashamed of missing.”

  “That is only one of the things I have been wondering about this case,” Gemma said, thoughtful. “An earl’s daughter was violated and left pregnant by a lord of the realm and then murdered years later by the same man. I wonder why the servants did not gossip.”

  “Perhaps the grandfather colluded with a doctor to tell the servants she died from her trauma. She was obviously bruised—to say she fell from a horse and broke her neck probably seemed logical. There would have been no reason not to believe him,” Lucas said.

  “I do remember the tale now,” Roz said. “It was all very tragic. She was his only child. But there was never a whisper of anything scandalous.”

  “That may be true, but why did she let the man responsible for her fate back into her life?” Gemma asked.

  “I was curious as to that, as well,” Beatrice chimed in. “He destroyed all that she was, and then she welcomed him back. She ultimately paid the price with her life.”

  “Women take drastic measures when their children are involved, though,” Roz said.

  “I might be able to help here,” Lucas said, walking from the room to return a moment later with the old diary in hand. Gemma had not looked through it, as she hadn’t wanted to violate the dead woman’s privacy. She let Lucas read it and tell her anything relevant. “It does seem he lied to us, and he was actually paying Claire a small stipend every month since she’d come to the city. She was dismissed from the milliner’s shop when was found to be pregnant out of wedlock. After Rathburn turned her away the first time, she started sending him letters. Telling him that she’d have her father force a marriage, or ruin Rathburn’s fortune. I am guessing she was bluffing, but he doesn’t seem to have been willing to take that bet. He was still young, remember.

  “He left her mostly alone for a few years after Collin was born,” he continued. “Then he began coming around, asking for favors in return for his ‘investment.’ His word.”

  “He was despicable,” Gemma interjected.

  “Indubitably,” Roz confirmed with gusto.

  Lucas raised an eyebrow at both of them and continued. “She didn’t want him to have any interaction with Collin, so she always had him hide in the closet whenever Rathburn came around. She knew he was capable of evil from what he did to her, but she couldn’t lose her source of support. The assistant’s position did not pay enough to feed and clothe her and her son. Without Rathburn she might have lost Collin to an orphanage. He was very young then.”

  “Does she say what set him off in the end?” Roz asked.

  “She seemed to have been trying to break free,” Lucas said. “She knew about the women, she told him. Only a few actually died from their wounds, but that was enough. Society was abuzz about a potential madman roaming the streets, and here he was in her rooms. She was terrified to do it, she
writes, but she was terrified not to. If she could blackmail him for enough money to leave the country, she would be free. If she did not, she was certain she would wind up dead anyway. She had to at least try, she writes. For Collin.”

  “How tragic,” Gemma said on a sigh. Poor Claire, she thought. Her life had been one disaster after another. “It is interesting to me that no one ever noticed that Peterson came from nothing. I was always informed that he came from a small holding in the north. Not rich as Croesus, but not a church mouse, either. How he managed to infiltrate the ton will be a lingering mystery we may not solve.”

  “Well, you know better than most that the ton is easy to fool,” Roz said with a meaningful look. “It often sees what it wants to. And when he turned up claiming a distant relation to a marquis in the borderlands, I think the mamas were simply thrilled to have a well-mannered gentleman to dance with their wallflowers. But this scandal will live on for years, Gemma. Society thrives on tearing imposters and frauds down to size.”

  “Indeed,” Gemma said. “I believe I am quite over living amongst them.”

  Roz threw her a sharp look before her glance slid to Lucas. She stood then, without much to do. “I need to make my rounds. I am in high demand now, you know,” she said with some irony.

  Gemma stood and hugged her aunt. “Thank you for checking in on me, and for helping me with the case. You were invaluable to the investigation.”

  Roz patted her back. “Of course, dear, of course. And now you can move on past your beloved cousin’s death. It is a tragedy, but now you have answers, and the villain who was responsible has paid with his life.”

  Roz bumped Beatrice’s shoulder with her hip and then sailed out of the room to deliver every juicy tidbit to the waiting wolves.

  Beatrice tracked Roz out of the room and then put down her teacup with deliberate nonchalance. “Mr. Harrington, I believe I require a bit of fresh air after all this talk,” she said turning to the man in question.

  He smiled and pushed back from the table. “It is getting quite a bit stuffy in here, is it not? Nothing like a brisk walk in the park to start the day.” He held out an arm to her, and she laid a hand on it, smiling up into his eyes. Gemma’s heart melted a bit.

  He escorted her to the door, but just before walking out, Beatrice turned and rushed back to Lucas to wrap her arms around his shoulders from behind his chair. His face looked pained. “Thank you again for finding my diary. You have saved me my happiness once more.”

  “You have already thanked me,” Lucas said gruffly, but reached up to squeeze her hand.

  “I just want tell you both, Mr. Harrington knows the full truth of it all,” she said. Gemma glanced approvingly at Harrington, who looked amused by the entire scene. “And he loves me anyway. No, this isn’t the time for that,” she said when Lucas started to speak. “We shall talk about settlements and such later.” With that proclamation, she turned back to her beau and they breezed out the door. Together.

  Gemma glanced at Lucas, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It died as she met his watchful gaze. He seemed so serious.

  “Would you join me in the study?” he asked, rising from his place at the table. The familiar clutch of panic began in her belly as he formally offered her his arm. She rested a trembling hand on his sleeve, and they walked across the hallway in silence, although she was certain he could hear the frantic thumping of her heart. Now that the case was over, was there anything left to keep them together?

  He deposited her at one of her favorite chairs in the study and went to stand by the window. He clasped his hands behind his back, the light casting him in shadow. She knew the stance and location were deliberate, to put him at an advantage with the speaker. She’d witnessed him do it many times. She wondered why he felt the need to do so with her.

  “I do not wear my father’s ring,” he said. Gemma nodded. She had noticed, but had not wanted to ask. “The ring. It is odd that it became a central piece of the investigation. My mother hated it, and though I did not know why at the time, I now suspect it was because it was associated with those men. She met him when they were both young, and I believe she linked it with his wild days. I began to resent it as well.”

  He paused, rolling his shoulders. “My parents did not have a happy marriage. It was not an unusual one, and he was not cruel, but they were both unhappy their whole lives because of it. My father took many mistresses, as is common, and my mother dosed herself with laudanum so she would not have to face the cruel negligence.”

  Oh, Lucas.

  Gemma wanted to go to him and slide her arms around his waist and rest her face on his broad back. She wanted to hug the sadness out of him. But instead, she sat as if paralyzed and said nothing, her only movement the throbbing of the blood in her temples.

  “When he gave me the ring, he told me it was my responsibility to find a suitable wife so the earldom would have an heir. I was to give the ring to my son, as a representation of that duty. I promised myself that day I would not end up like them, and locked the ring away.”

  Her heart sank. Was he telling her that he had married her because of a sense of duty? After all they had been through?

  She ached for the little boy he had been, trapped with two miserable, battling adults. That was no way to grow up.

  But she ached for herself as well. They weren’t his parents. He had the chance to have something different. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he realize that what they had between them was rare and precious and not something that would break easily.

  She wanted to rail at him, shake him, make him see sense. But something held her back, and she realized maybe she wasn’t as brave or sure of herself as she wished she were.

  They remained in silence for a few moments.

  “Do you regret now being stuck with me, Gemma?” he finally asked. His voice was quiet and devoid of emotion.

  “How could you ask that?” she said.

  “You married me under intense circumstances. One could even say I persuaded you into the union over your protests. It seems perfectly reasonable that you would feel trapped in this marriage now that the excitement and danger have passed. You did not wish to marry in the first place, and now we are wed for life,” he said.

  She gaped at him, stunned. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been obvious in her utter devotion to him. But then she thought back. Had she let him know how she’d felt? She realized she’d been so worried about pressuring him that she’d kept her feelings hidden, locking them away so they wouldn’t be a burden to him.

  Or maybe you were scared to be vulnerable.

  She studied his face and was amazed to see anxiety there. He honestly didn’t know how she felt. Now was not the time for fear. She nibbled her lip, trying to find the right words.

  “When I went to live with Uncle Artie, it was the first time I could remember actually feeling as if I were part of a family,” she began hesitantly. He gazed down into her eyes. She could not read the expression in his. “I am sure my parents loved me, but I was so young when they died I do not have memories of it. I only have memories of being unwanted by those around me. Uncle Artie convinced me I was loved, but I never stopped feeling like a responsibility to him. He had to give up so many of his desires to care for me. I was not hesitant about marrying you, my lord. I did not want to be just another burden to you, though. I did not want it to be that way for us. I could not stand to live that way when I…”

  She trailed off, meeting his eyes. The hope she saw there gave her the last bit of courage needed to push her over the edge. “I could not stand to live that way when I love you so dearly.”

  In that moment, all of her fears evaporated into wisps of smoke. Lucas, who had been tense and withdrawn, immediately came to life. Surprise, relief, joy all chased each other across his face, and she felt like she’d just handed him the most precious gift in the world.

  Why had she waited so long to tell him? She laughed because she couldn’t contain the emotio
ns that scraped at the back of her throat. It was either that or give in to foolish, happy tears, and then she’d be an absolute mess.

  He crossed the room in three strides, and her laughter died on her lips as he crushed his mouth to hers.

  When he finally pulled back, he stroked a thumb over her cheekbone. “You could never be a burden to me, Gemma. I love you. I love you more than I have loved anything in my life.”

  He took her hand and placed it on his chest over his heart, before covering it with his own. The beat was strong and steady. “I feel you here. Your heart in my heart.”

  Her breath hitched. “Lucas.”

  “When you were missing…” His voice was thick with emotion, and he had to pause to clear his throat. “When I didn’t know if you were safe or not, I was in hell. I thought I would go mad with worry. Because if you had died that night, a part of me would never have recovered.”

  She swiped at the dampness on her cheeks. “You saved me that night.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t get to you in time.”

  She placed a trembling finger against his lips, silencing his protests. “You don’t understand. You saved me. I was so scared. So scared. And I wanted to give in to it. But then I thought of you. All I thought of was you. You would want me to fight. So I did. It was that simple.”

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she knew she wasn’t the only one fighting back the tears. “My brave Gemma.”

  “I knew that if I didn’t fight I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you how much I loved you,” she admitted.

  “You will get the chance to tell me every day of the rest of our lives,” he promised. “And I will never let you forget how much I love you. You will grow tired of me telling you.”

  “Oh, that could never happen,” she said.

  “Every minute of the day?”