Chapter 21 #2
“What the hell kept you?” Gabriel said.
Mr Daventry grinned. “Timing is everything. And I could hear the conversation from the doorway. You’ve been in the dark too long. Now, you have the truth.”
Gabriel didn’t reply. He was already crossing the room, his eyes on no one but her.
She rushed to meet him, falling into his warm embrace, resting her head on his chest, relishing the feeling of being home.
“You’re so cold,” he said.
“I’m warm now you’re here.”
He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and held her so tight she could barely breathe. “Forgive me.”
She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision, emotion rising. “For what? You saved my life. You’ve saved my life again, Gabriel.”
He smoothed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “You’ve saved mine. You rescue me with every touch, every kiss.”
He ignored the raging Mrs Culpepper being dragged away in wrist shackles, and the grumbling Scotsman swearing he’d been misled and was only there to help a friend.
His mouth found hers, a kiss that curled her toes and turned her blood molten. He knew how to make a woman forget everything but the heat of his lips, the silken glide of his tongue, the hard press of him against her belly.
He broke away, his breath unsteady. “I’m in love with you. Desperately so. Forgive me if I failed to make that clear. If I left you in any doubt.”
She cupped his cheek. “I love you. I’m sorry if you thought I’d left Studland Park. Left you. It killed me, knowing you were lying there, waiting in the dark, wondering why I never came.”
He closed his eyes briefly, thumb brushing her jaw. “Don’t think I wasn’t half out of my mind. But you’re not the sort of woman to make an oath and break it.”
“I was coming to see you when Miss Bourne appeared in the corridor.” She touched the tender lump behind her ear. “A brute clubbed me with a cudgel, and I hit my cheek when I fell.”
He cursed under his breath. “No one will hurt you again.”
She wished she could promise the same, but he needed to hear the truth. “Mr Lovelace and Miss Bourne are—”
“Lovers. I know.”
“They’re married. Mr Lovelace took a beating because they caught him trying to help me escape.” She’d been forced to watch every cruel blow. To listen as he begged for his wife’s life. “There’s a trapdoor inside the mausoleum. In the tomb.”
“Yes. That’s how we found the tunnel. We followed a clue in your father’s poem.” He exhaled slowly. “I wish I’d known him. I think we’d have understood each other.”
She laid her hand on his chest. “He made a mistake. He tried to put it right with me, though I wish he’d made finding the evidence that bit easier.”
“Yes, I left Rutland at Studland Park, searching for swallows. Let’s hope he’s had some luck.” He glanced at the door, at the men gathered outside. “Daventry will need the evidence to help secure a conviction.”
She wondered how many people were involved. How long they’d been meddling in politics. Who had enough influence to escape a trial and the gallows.
“Perhaps we should keep the evidence when we find it, or at least some of it. To make sure the fraternity can’t hurt us again.”
Gabriel nodded. “Hopefully there’ll be enough information to confirm Sir Randall and Mrs Culpepper are the ringleaders.”
Mr Dalton returned, though she hadn’t noticed he’d left. “Daventry needs our statements but said it can wait until tomorrow. Though Mrs Culpepper is convinced she’ll be free by midday.”
“One has to admire her optimism,” she said.
“Did Daventry arrest Reverend Clay?”
“Yes, and the hired thugs.”
“What of Lovelace?”
The corner of Mr Dalton’s mouth twitched. “He escaped.”
Gabriel sighed. “Good. We’ll linger here, give him time to reach Studland Park. Daventry will want to know every detail. And then we’ve a call to make before we return home.”
Olivia frowned. “We do?”
He ran a hand down his face, weariness etched into every line. “Someone needs to tell the Countess of Berridge her brother isn’t dead.”
London was a hive of activity by the time they reached the Earl of Berridge’s townhouse on horseback. Carriages rattled past, hawkers called out their wares, and errand boys weaved between ladies with parasols and gentlemen in polished boots.
Olivia drew more than her share of stares. It wasn’t every day one saw the Marquess of Rothley riding in shirtsleeves, his wife nestled against him, wearing his coat over a nightgown and silk wrapper. At least she’d tied her hair in a braid.
But she kept her chin high, relieved she’d lived to see sunrise.
The butler answered promptly, welcoming them in as if they were expected. Then Olivia’s friends emerged from the dining room—the wives of Gabriel’s friends. Once assured their husbands were safe, the questions came in a breathless stream.
“Where have you been? We were so worried.”
“Why didn’t you confide in us?”
“Joanna said you married Lord Rothley. Is it true?”
Olivia clasped their hands in turn, though hers were cold. “I’ll explain everything when you visit Studland Park. For now, know I stayed silent to protect you.”
While Mr Dalton was persuaded to take breakfast, Gabriel touched her gently on the back, his mouth close to her ear. “We must tell Joanna the truth. She’s in no condition to hear it from Daventry and his men.”
They were shown into the drawing room. Joanna sat curled beside her husband on the sofa, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her, one hand covering hers as she cradled their unborn child.
She looked up through teary eyes. “Gabriel.” She didn’t seem surprised to see Olivia in her nightgown. “Olivia. Thank heavens Miss Bourne saw sense and told Gabriel where to find you.”
One didn’t need the wisdom of Socrates to work out how she knew.
“Justin came here,” Gabriel said.
“You’ve just missed him.” Joanna gestured to the sofa opposite and urged them to sit. “Aaron gave him money, use of an unmarked carriage, and the suggestion he collect his wife and leave for the Americas. He has a man in Liverpool who can help.”
The earl sighed. “We agreed to keep the details to ourselves.”
“We can trust Gabriel. He’s like a brother.” Joanna met his gaze, hesitance in her eyes. “You’re not angry? Justin said you let him go. That you urged him to save his wife and leave London.”
“I’m not angry.” Gabriel sat beside Olivia on the sofa, his thigh solid against hers. Yet he took her hand, as if he needed help calming the storm inside him. “It was evident he was a pawn in Mrs Culpepper’s game.”
Joanna pursed her lips and swallowed hard. “He’s sorry for the pain he caused, Gabriel, that for the past decade, we’ve both lived with questions, never knowing if he was alive or dead.”
It was clear from her tone that she saw Gabriel as family. And when she looked at her husband, the love in her eyes was unmistakable. Fierce, enduring. The kind Olivia had found too, by some miraculous twist of fate.
She squeezed Gabriel’s hand gently, the weight of the past days finally beginning to lift. “All he’s ever wanted is answers. An end to the uncertainty.”
And all she wanted now was to go home with him, close the door on the world, and take comfort in the fact they were safe, together.
“We won’t see him again.” Joanna’s breath hitched. She looked at her husband, reached for him, drawing strength from his touch. “And perhaps that’s for the best.”
“What about his grave at St Michael’s?”
Joanna managed a smile. “The grave you refused to visit? Some poor soul is buried there. I’d rather not disturb him.”
The earl glanced at their clasped hands, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “And what will you do, now there are no ghosts left to chase?”
She felt the subtle twitch of his fingers and knew exactly what he planned to do once they returned home, aside from hunting for swallow wallpaper.
“Give my wife a thorough tour of the house,” he said smoothly. “Make a list of what we intend to do in every room.”
Heat crept up her neck. Two hundred rooms to explore. Two hundred days and nights where he would worship her, ruin her, love her completely.
“Make Studland Park a home again?” Joanna said hopefully.
“Indeed. It will be quite the undertaking.”
Olivia bit back a smile. “We’ll begin with Gabriel’s dressing room. There are things in there that need taking down.”
They stayed for tea and a late breakfast.
“At least allow us to lend you a coach,” Joanna said as they made to leave. “Olivia can’t ride all the way to Studland Park on horseback, especially not in her nightgown.”
Gabriel didn’t argue. She was already stifling a yawn, exhaustion setting in now that the danger had passed.
They sat together on the same seat. He drew her close as the carriage pulled away, tucking the blanket around her shoulders, his mouth brushing her temple.
“We’ll be home soon. Where you belong.”
She looked up at him. “That’s not the first time you’ve called Studland Park home. I remember how cold it was, walking into that grand hall. But now, the house feels warmer somehow.”
“You’ve changed everything.” The chill that had once haunted Studland Park was gone. With her, he saw more than shadows and stone. His heart was open now. And for the first time, the future looked glorious.
“I don’t suppose you remember our conversation about hope.”
He gave a dry snort. “Which one? We’ve had several.”
“When I said I’d rather our days be filled with hope than regret.” Her hand settled on his thigh. “You said—”
“I know what hope looks like to me,” he finished.
“What did it look like?”
He didn’t need to ponder the question. It was there at the forefront of his mind. “Hair like the burnished leaves of autumn. A mouth made for poetry, though I wasn’t thinking of verse. A heart so generous, mine longed to beat in time with it. That’s what hope looked like to me. You, Olivia.”
She sighed. “That’s very romantic.”
“I know. I surprise myself.”
“Mine falls terribly short now, no pun intended.”
He arched a brow. “Why do I suspect your version of hope will have me behaving like a lustful buck in our friends’ carriage?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it’s not very poetic.” She paused, letting the silence tease. “I rather hoped to catch you at the washstand—after you removed the towel.”