“No!” she screamed, rushing up to him as he weaved from side to side. She clutched his face when he fell forward onto his knees, her thumb sliding underneath his chin to search for a pulse. “No, no, no. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. Tobias, just look at me. Look at me, damn you!”
“You always were…bossy…Duchess.” A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. Then his eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed. Sobbing, Amelia grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him upright, but he was too heavy.
“Stand up,” her father commanded, towering over her. “I said stand up!”
“Charles, leave her alone!” Vanessa said shrilly. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
Ignoring his wife, the duke dragged his daughter to her feet and slammed her against the wall, black eyes filled with contempt as he jammed his forearm against her neck. She glared at him in defiance through her tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being afraid.
“Do what you want,” she spat. “I’m not going to beg.”
“Oh, but you will,” he breathed. “They always do.”
They?
Amelia’s stomach rolled. “This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to harm someone, is it?”
“No,” her father said simply, and Vanessa’s sharp intake of breath could be heard from across the room.
“Charles, that’s enough. Stop this at once. You-you’re frightening me!”
“Good.” Turning on his wife with all the ferocity of a rapid dog, the duke’s upper lip curled. “Because you’re next. All these years, all these women, and it’s you I always wanted. It was your blood I wanted to spill. Your life I wanted to watch drain from your eyes. But I was a good husband. A loyal husband. Which was why I kept you safe. I protected you. The others, they were meaningless. Oh, I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it.” A dreamy expression overtook his countenance. “I always did love hunting. The thrill of the chase and all that. But they were always leading up to you, my dear, darling, whore of a wife.”
Vanessa paled. “You said you forgave me. You said we could move on–”
“Move on? Move on?” His eyes wheeled inside of his head. Amelia gagged when the arm he had pressed against her throat tightened. She dug her nails frantically into his skin, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “You treacherous, lying, deceitful bitch. You spread your legs for another man. You bore his seed. And you thought I would forgive you?”
“Your Grace,” Tommens said sharply. “You’re hurting Lady Amelia.”
“Dear me.” Giggling like a child, the duke loosened his grip. “We wouldn’t want that, would we? At least not yet.”
Sputtering, choking, Amelia sagged weakly against the wall as dots of light danced in the corners of her vision. “You’re really not m-my father?” she panted.
“Your father was a poor soldier who returned to war rather than stay with your slut of a mother.”
“Good. Then I don’t feel bad doing this.” Abruptly straightening, she took the knife she’d been hiding behind her back – the knife she’d taken from Tobias when she crouched down beside his lifeless body – and drove it with all of her strength into the duke’s black heart.
For a moment his eyes registered only surprise. Then came the realization of what had happened, followed by pain, and finally – finally – a measure of sanity in the madness.
“Tell - tell Amelia I’m sorry.” He was dead before he hit the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing…just like all of his victims.
Chapter Twenty-One
Eight Days Later
Tobias didn’t die. Which was a good thing, because Amelia had no intention of marrying a corpse. He did slip in and out of consciousness for over a week as he battled back against infection and blood fever, but when he opened his eyes on the morning of the eighth day and reached out to grasp her hand, his skin was cool and his grip was steady.
“Amelia,” he said, his voice gravelly from disuse. “You’re here.”
“I never left,” she said simply before joy overtook her and she leapt into his arms. “Oh!” she cried, jumping back off the bed when he howled in pain. “Your injury. I completely forgot!”
“Says the woman who ran me over with a carriage. Twice.” Struggling to sit up, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Admit it, Duchess. You’ve been trying tae do me in since we first met.” Then his expression softened, and he patted the mattress beside him. “Come here, mo ghrá. I want to be close to you.”
“What does that mean?” she asked as she sat gingerly beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. He tucked a curl behind her ear, his hand lingering on the side of her neck where a line of bruises were slowly fading.
“My love.”
Amelia’s breath caught in her throat.
Since Tobias had come back to her, she’d wanted to believe…but she’d made herself wait until he woke to hear him say the words for himself, even though every day that passed had been a small agony.
The doctor said the small dagger hadn’t been long enough to pierce any major organs, but it had nicked a blood vessel. An artery, the doctor had called it, after he’d wrapped Tobias’ chest and told them the only thing they could do was wait and keep the bandaging as clean as possible.
There’d been nothing they could do for the Duke of Webley but remove his body and ready it for burial. Nothing but try to put the jagged pieces together in an attempt to understand why he’d done what he’d done. Seeing the questions in Tobias’ eyes, questions Amelia wasn’t certain she’d be able to answer, she took another deep breath and vowed to try her best.
Tobias deserved that, if nothing else. After all, her father – at least, the man she’d thought of as her father until eight days ago – had murdered his wife.
And countless others.
The morning after it had happened a small contingent of Bow Street Runners led by Captain Owen Steel had arrived at Webley Castle. They’d conducted a formal investigation, even though the duke had all but admitted his crimes before he died.
Before I killed him, Amelia thought with a shiver.
For as long as she lived she knew she would never forget the feeling of plunging a blade into someone’s chest. Into her father’s chest. For even though they weren’t connected by blood, he would always be the man who she had run to when she was a little girl. The man who had brought her treasures back from his trips abroad (trips she’d since learned were mostly lies; a cover used to disguise his nefarious activities in London). The man who had comforted her after she fought with her mother. A man who had by turns ignored her and made her feel like a princess.
She still couldn’t reconcile that man with the one who had done so many despicable things. Who had tried to kill her. Who had almost killed Tobias. She did not know if she’d ever be able to. But, as Aunt Constance said, she would eventually muddle her way through her feelings.
It would just take a little time.
“My father…the Duke of Webley…” Her throat seized. Twisting so she could look Tobias straight in the eye, she clasped his hand and squeezed it tightly, as if she could physically keep him from recoiling away from her once he learned the truth. “He murdered Hannah. He – he killed all those women. I had no idea. I never – never suspected. But he did. He did all of it. He was a monster.”
She didn’t realize she was crying until Tobias ran his thumb across her cheek and the pad came back damp with tears. Wrapping her in his arms he drew her carefully against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin as he began to rub her back in long, soothing strokes.
“I know, mo ghrá. Grant came in while you were sleeping. He told me everything. Including what you did.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she said honestly. “But I will be. Tobias, can you ever forgive–”
“You saved my life.”
“But my father–”
“You saved my life,” he repeated. Leaning against the headboard, he gently t
ilted her face up, and her heart stuttered when she saw the tenderness in his eyes. “You’re not responsible for the duke’s actions and there is no way you could have known. He was a sick man, Amelia. A very sick man. And he hurt a lot of women, yourself included. But it’s over now. It’s over, and ye need never fear or speak of him again.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “I know it’s probably not the right time to say it, but I do. I love you.”
“I love ye too, Duchess. I think a part of me always has.” He kissed her then. A soft, gentle, moving kiss that said more than words ever could and caused a torrent of fresh tears to spill over her lashes. Sniffling, she dashed them away.
“I never cry.”
“Aye,” he said gruffly. “Neither do I.”
Amelia flicked a startled glance at his eyes and the suspicious moisture within them. “Are you…are those…”
“No.”
They both looked at the door when it slowly creaked open.
“Do you mind if I come in?” Vanessa asked. “I was told Mr. Kent was awake and I would like a word, please. With both of you.”
Amelia felt Tobias stiffen. “Mother, now is really not a good–”
“Say what ye have to say,” he said, surprising her. “But know that whatever it is, nothing is going tae keep me away from your daughter. I was wrong to leave before, and I won’t be making the same mistake again.” He looked at Amelia. “Ever.”
“Good,” she nodded. “Because you’d be hard pressed to get rid of me.”
The skirts of Vanessa’s ebony gown rustled softly as she crossed the room and sat in a chair by the foot of the bed. Since her husband’s passing she’d taken to wearing all black, the usual mourning attire for a very unusual death.
She and Amelia had not spoken more than a handful of times since that night. After seeing to the duke’s funeral arrangements the Duchess of Webley had kept mostly out of sight while Amelia had only left Tobias’ side to eat and sleep.
“When we were married,” Vanessa began without preamble, “Charles set aside a settlement for me. It was comprised mostly of my dowry, which he had no need of given his own personal wealth, and a small estate in Devonshire I had inherited from an uncle. I would like you to have it.”
Amelia frowned. “I don’t need your charity, nor will it prevent me from marrying Tobias, if that was your plan.”
“You misunderstand me.” While Vanessa’s thin fingers trembled ever-so-slightly as she linked them together, her voice was steady. “I want both of you to have it. The settlement and the estate. It is by no means a fortune, but it should see you through for several years if you are mindful of your spending. The estate has been kept up and the land was once used to harvest crops and timber. I see no reason why it cannot be profitable again.”
Unsure of how Tobias would receive the offer, Amelia darted a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. His stoic expression revealed nothing of what he was thinking. Biting her lip, she looked back at her mother. “That’s very kind, but Tobias is a Runner. His life is on Bow Street. It would be impossible for us to–”
“Thank ye,” Tobias said quietly. “We accept.”
Amelia blinked. “We do?”
“Aye.” He gazed deeply into her eyes as a crooked half-smile lifted one side of his mouth. “My life is with you, Duchess.”
“If you’re sure…” she said uncertainly even as her heart threatened to burst with joy. It was more than she could have ever hoped for. Her love by her side. A home to make their own. A life filled with unfettered possibilities.
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “I already told Owen and Grant I wouldn’t be coming back. Bow Street was part of my past, mo ghrá. But you…you are the only future I need.”
“Excellent.” Vanessa stood up. “Then it’s decided.”
“What will you do?” Amelia turned to her mother. She knew they’d had their disagreements and their bond had been strained, but it wasn’t broken. It hurt her to know how many years her mother had suffered in silence, yearning for a love that would never return while being forced to remain with a man who never loved her.
In time, Amelia wanted to ask about her father. Her real father. But for now it was time to heal, and for that to happen maybe it was best if they let the matter alone.
“Your aunt and I are going to do some traveling.”
“Together?” Amelia said incredulously.
“Together,” Vanessa confirmed. “Then we’re going to use my entailment to purchase a modest townhouse in Mayfair. I always did prefer London. I hope you’ll come to visit me when you’re ready.”
“I’d like that.” She peeked at Tobias, who nodded. “We’d both like that.”
“Then I’ll take my leave.” Vanessa hesitated in the doorway. “I was wrong, you know. Love is not a fallacy. It’s the only real thing worth fighting for. And I’m glad you fought for it.”
She closed the door behind her, and Amelia and Tobias were once again alone.
“Are you really sure you want to leave Bow Street?” Amelia began. “Because you don’t have to. I know how much you like being a Runner, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”
Tobias traced the curve of her cheek. “You’re not taking anything away from me, Duchess. You’re giving me everything I could have ever wanted. Bow Street, that life, the violence it requires…it’s not good for me. It never was. But you are. Ye always have been. I just too obsessed with my desire for revenge to see it.” He ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of bemusement passing across his countenance. “Whoever would have thought I’d end up as a gentleman farmer? My brothers will have a good laugh at this.”
Amelia’s brow lifted. “You have brothers?”
“Aye, three of them. All older.”
“Your poor mother,” she murmured, only half jesting.
“Would ye like to meet them? My ma and da. My sister Maggie May. Patrick and the rest of my brothers. They’re a loud lot,” he warned. “But I know they’re going to love you.”
“I’m certain I will love them as well…”
“But?” Tobias asked when she paused.
“Well, it’s just…” She glanced down at her lap, then peered shyly at him through her lashes. “I’d like some time with you. Alone. If you know what I mean.”
His eyes gleamed. “I think I do.”
Amelia squealed when he tossed her flat on her back. “Your injury!” she gasped as he flipped up her gown and began to kiss his way up her thigh.
“Two carriages, Duchess,” he reminded her. “If I can survive that, a little knife wound isn’t going tae slow me down.”
She rolled her eyes. “For the last time, it was an accident.”
“Aye,” he said huskily. “The best accident that could have happened.”
“That’s it, then.” Owen cupped the back of his neck as he looked around the room at Scarlett, Grant, and Juliet. They’d returned to London that morning after concluding their investigation at Webley Castle, and were finishing their day with a much needed bottle of wine at Bow Street Headquarters. He’d sent the other Runners away a few hours ago, giving them all a rare evening off. “The end of the case.”
“The end of The Slasher,” Juliet added quietly.
No one smiled.
Death wasn’t something to celebrate, even when it was the death of an evil man.
“What do we do now?” Scarlett wondered.
“Now we go home,” said Owen, wrapping an arm around her waist. “And I kiss my wife.”
Her gray eyes darkened. “I quite like the sound of that.”
Grant and Juliet followed them out of the building, and they said their farewells before parting ways while several streets away another Runner made his way home.
Tucking the slab of ham wrapped in brown paper he’d just purchased under his arm, Ronan Hawke lumbered out of the butcher’s shop and onto the bustling pavement. It was a busy time of day in London, what with merchants trying to get in o
ne last sale before dark, governesses rushing to get their charges back before dinner, and randy young lords beginning to prowl the local pubs.
Ignoring everyone around him, Hawke walked with single-minded purpose, his stare unwavering from the path in front of him. Given his enormous height and width people almost always chose to get out of his way rather than risk being run over. Not that he would run them over. At least not on purpose.
Hawke may have been large as an ox on the outside, but in his heart he was gentle as a lamb. Which was why he stopped short when a young woman, her nose buried in a book, cut him off without so much as a ‘pardon me’.
Scowling, he glanced back at her over his shoulder as she continued right on past. There was something about her that felt vaguely familiar. Something that nagged at him until he was pressed to call out.
“You should watch where you’re going!” he shouted, his deep voice carrying easily through the crowd.
The woman stopped in her tracks. He could see her shoulders stiffen beneath the blue cloak she wore, and then she slowly turned to face him.
“I’m sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile as she lowered her book. “I was reading, and I didn’t see you there.”
Hawke stopped breathing. He blinked once, twice, then he rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing. Who he was seeing.
“I really am sorry,” she repeated. Then her smile slowly faded as she took note of his pallor and frozen expression. “Is – is something wrong?”
“S-Sophia?” he croaked in disbelief.
His wife – his dead wife – tilted her head. “Yes?” she said, puzzled. “Do I know you?”
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A Dangerous Temptation (Bow Street Brides Book 5) Page 22