Chapter Twelve #3
“I did whistle, but they was too quick for me. And anyway, I wanted to watch. I can’t learn nuffin’ if I don’t watch, can I? Besides, I needed to see if me lady was all right. You are, ain’t ya miss—I mean me lady?” He fixed her with an anxious gaze.
“Yes, thank you, Joey dear, I’m perfectly all right,” she assured him.
“It was really Joey who saved you.” Marcus said, and explained the lad’s role in leading them to her.
Tessa smiled down at the boy. “So, you were my guardian angel, Joey?” She bent and kissed him on the forehead. Blushing, the boy swelled with pride. Marcus tried not to feel jealous of a small scruffy boy. Tessa glanced up at him, squeezed his arm and added softly, “My other guardian angel.”
#
THEY RETURNED TO THE waiting carriage, where the coachman was brandishing his whip, holding off potential thieves.
Marcus helped Tessa in. Jackson and Simms decided to ride on the roof and Joey eagerly joined them.
Flynn would have too, but Marcus stopped him, saying, “No, please ride inside with Lady Hewitt and me. The least I can do is return you to your wife, who will be waiting anxiously.” Besides, in the short time he’d known the Irishman, he’d come to like him.
The carriage set off, and the inside passengers leaned back in relief.
It was over. Tessa was safe. Marcus, knowing she wouldn’t want a fuss, kept a subtle eye on her.
She must be badly shaken, but had too much pride to display her distress in front of others.
Not that he’d mind if she did need comforting.
He would be a whole lot happier if she was in his arms right now.
He could have lost her.
He’d never been so frightened in his life.
And it could have ended a great deal worse if it wasn’t for the intervention of the older Greeling brother. What a bizarre turn of events.
A small, muffled sound beside him made him turn to her. Her face was hidden, and her shoulders were shaking. She was weeping. The realization pierced him to the heart. He reached to draw her into his arms.
She looked up, and to his amazement it wasn’t tears he saw in her eyes; it was laughter.
“Their mother!” she said between giggles. “You should have seen your face when the slapping started.” She turned to Flynn. “And yours, sir—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Flynn,” he said. “Daisy Chance is my wife.”
“Oh, dear Daisy,” she said. “I hope we didn’t worry her too much.”
Flynn didn’t answer. He just shook his head and glanced at Marcus.
Tessa laughed again. “Such tough and ruthless men—and they were terribly ruthless, I could tell—but both in so much awe of their mother.”
Flynn shrugged. “A pretty ruthless mother, I would have said.”
“I think you will find that the correct term is Muvver,” Marcus said carefully, and they all laughed.
“What I would give to meet her,” Tessa said.
“Shall we invite her to our wedding?” Marcus suggested dryly, which sent her laughing again.
They fell silent again, but after a moment, Tessa turned to Marcus. “What are we going to do about Joey?”
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t let him continue spending so much time on the streets. He’s bound to get into trouble. When I think of him clinging to my kidnapper’s carriage . . .” She shuddered.
Marcus nodded. “I know. I’ll give it some thought.”
They reached the House of Chance and found Daisy pacing up and down in front of her shop.
The carriage had barely stopped when Flynn leapt down.
The worry wiped from her face, she raced to him and he immediately scooped her up.
Marcus wished he’d done the same with Tessa, but years of having gentlemanly behavior drummed into him had prevented him.
Besides he wasn’t sure that after all she’d been through she would appreciate being manhandled. Not by him, at any rate.
Peering over Flynn’s shoulder as he carried her into the shop, Daisy Chance called out, “Glad to see you’re all right, Lady Hewitt.” And Tessa waved back, smiling.
“A fond couple,” she said, and Marcus glanced at her. Was that wistfulness he heard in her voice. Should he scoop her up and carry her inside when they reached Alverleigh House?
But no, he was too stiff and proper for such a thing. He knew it, and he cursed his rigid upbringing, but she would probably be embarrassed by such a departure from his usual demeanor. No, he couldn’t be other than he was.
She seemed remarkably calm after her ordeal—even making jokes and laughing.
Marcus was stunned by how calm she seemed.
Most women would fall apart after such an experience.
“Weren’t you terrified?” he asked her. He certainly had been, terrified on her behalf.
Even now, after it was all over, he wanted to sweep her into his arms and hold her tight.
But she sat in the coach, looking out quite calmly at the passing scene, not shaking or shivering and with no sign of tears at all.
She shook her head. “No, I was angry, more than anything, especially when one of them kicked me.”
“He kicked you?” Rage swamped Marcus. How dare that swine kick her! He wished now that he’d given him a greater hiding than he had.
“Yes, but I thought he was Edgar. Or one of his men.”
“You thought he was Edgar?” he echoed.
She shrugged. “Edgar could be violent when he was angry. And he’d been severely thwarted, you know, by your rescuing me from that wedding and spiriting me away so he couldn’t find me. I knew he’d be furious.”
Marcus wished he’d beaten Edgar to a pulp as well.
“So, because I thought the kidnappers were Edgar’s men, I was more angry than frightened. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not really. I knew he would have needed me for some plot or other.”
“I see.” It helped to know she hadn’t been truly frightened, but that not really still angered him.
“So, was Oliver Greeling correct?” she asked after a moment. “That you were the one who sent Edgar to America?”
He’d hoped she’d missed that, but it was time to admit the truth. “Yes, I got rid of him. I thought it was best.”
“I kept wondering why he hadn’t come after me. It was very unlike Edgar, so I thought something drastic must have happened. You didn’t kill him, did you?” There was a faint note of doubt in her voice.
“Of course not,” he said, shocked that she might think it of him, even for a minute. “I merely got him out of your hair.”
“How?”
“I bribed him, gave him a ticket to America and a small sum of money to start him off.”
“And of course he took it.”
He nodded. She didn’t need to know how eager her brother was to take the money and abandon her. “The fact that the Greelings were searching for him was an added inducement.”
“So you sent him away. Trussed like a fowl, the elder Greeling said.”
Marcus shrugged. “Apparently he resisted.”
She laughed. “Oh, how I wish I’d seen that. And you’re sure he won’t be back?”
He shook his head. “Even if young Albert doesn’t find him, the Greelings will be waiting for Edgar if he ever returns to England. He’s a fool if he does.”
There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of the wheels rattling over cobbles and the noise of street hawkers calling their wares. “Why didn’t you tell me what you’d done?” she asked.
“I thought it would upset you, knowing I was responsible. He is, after all, your brother and only living relative.” And she was a very loyal person.
“Blood isn’t everything,” she said tightly.
“Edgar lost the right to my love and loyalty a long time ago. He showed none to me. Quite the contrary.” She slipped a small cold hand into his and added, “And I’m not at all upset.
In fact, it’s a relief to know he’s so far away.
For a long time I expected him to pounce on me any minute.
Every time we went out riding or walking in the park.
So when I was kidnapped, I naturally assumed it was Edgar. ”
He squeezed her hand. It was small and soft. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have. I’m very grateful to you for it, but I’ve had quite enough of secrets. I would prefer it if there were none between us in future.” She looked up at him. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he said. Again, he wished he could just pull her into his arms and hold her, but somehow, while she sat beside him, so quiet and composed, he just couldn’t. He was the Earl of Alverleigh, and rectitude was his middle name. Dammit.
When they reached his house, he politely helped her down from the carriage and escorted her inside—no carrying her off romantically like Flynn had of his wife.
So very proper and dull of him, he thought in disgust as his aunt surged forward and embraced Tessa warmly, exclaiming over her horrid adventure and demanding to know all the details.
Talking non-stop, she led Tessa into the sitting room, leaving it to Marcus to arrange tea, refreshments and brandy.
He also ordered a bath for Tessa to be ready as soon as his aunt had finished interrogating her. He knew she’d want one.