Chapter Eighteen
LORD DEVERELL AND Lord Crabb had not long turned onto the London Road when the unmistakable figure of Mr Marrowbone hove into view, riding a rotund pony that looked as enthusiastic as its master at the idea of hard work.
“Morning, my lords!” the constable called cheerfully, as they drew abreast. “Off to Long Acres, are we?”
He gave his pony a vague nudge, which it ignored entirely. Lucian and Crabb were both forced to pull on their reins, so their own mounts wouldn’t overtake the idle beast.
“What’s all the fuss about anyhow?” Mr Marrowbone continued, his genial smile fading a little.
“Only I was halfway through a pint when Anne—you know, Miss Hughes’s maid—came haring into the pub, saying I was to get to Long Acres quick as I could.
Something about Miss Hughes running off to confront Mrs Vickery.
Now, I know the baking contest gets competitive but it’s unseemly, ladies brawling over cakes. ”
Lucian’s breath caught in his throat. Sarah had gone to Long Acres alone?
He turned sharply to Lord Crabb, who had gone very still.
“Miss Hughes is already there?” Lucian asked, his voice low and cold.
Marrowbone blinked at the ice in his tone. “That’s what the girl said. She stormed in calling for the constable, like it wasn’t a Sunday; I need my day of rest like everyone else. Why do you ask? D’you think—”
But Lucian didn’t wait for the end of the question. He wheeled his horse around and set off at a gallop, the pounding of hooves matching the racing beat of his heart.
Behind him, he heard Crabb call for Marrowbone to keep up but Lucian paid no heed. He rode like a man possessed. The hedgerows blurred as he thundered down the lane, every muscle taut with fear.
If something was to happen to Sarah, Lucian wasn’t certain what he would do. He knew the pain of losing someone he loved. He had survived it once, but he could not bear it again.
God help him, he loved her.
The realisation broke over him as Long Acres came into view, spurring him on. He dug his heels into Brambles’ flanks, his thoughts filled only with Sarah.
As he neared a scream ripped through the air; high, sharp, female. Then a gunshot rang out from beyond the hedge, ricocheting off the stone pillar of the gate. As grit and debris rained down, a figure emerged onto the road.
"Sarah!” he called, and she turned to him.
In a flash, he made his decision. He spurred his horse toward her and, as he reached the gate, leaned down and extended his arm.
“Take my hand!”
She did not hesitate or question. She lifted her hand to meet his, and with a strength born of desperation, he hauled her up and into the saddle in front of him. She landed against his chest with a thud, breathless and frightened.
Lucian dropped one hand from the reins, to pull her securely against him. If it wasn’t for the imminent danger they were in, he might have allowed himself a moment to appreciate the feel of her pressed against him. Another time, he thought ruefully.
“Don’t stop, my lord,” Sarah whispered, turning to glance back at the gates of Long Acres. “She’s confessed to killing two men already; she’ll kill us both.”
Though the idea of riding off with Sarah into the sunset was tempting, Lucian shook his head.
“Crabb and Marrowbone are behind me,” he said, “I can’t leave them to walk into an ambush. I will leave you here to hide, and for the love of God—don’t move this time.”
She nodded meekly, her face pale.
“And for heaven’s sake, call me Lucian,” he added for good measure.
Once they had rounded the bend, Lucian lifted her down from the saddle. Her arms circled his neck as her feet touched the ground and, to his surprise, she pulled him toward her and kissed his lips.
“Promise you’ll come back to me, Lucian,” she whispered, tears welling in her beautiful blue eyes.
“You think I’d do something like go and die before I’ve married you?” Lucian grinned, “Have faith, Miss Hughes.”
He gave her a wink, turned his steed, and galloped back toward Long Acres. As he approached, he spotted Lord Crabb and Mr Marrowbone rounding the corner on the other side of the gate. Lucian took a deep breath, leaned low against the saddle, and kicked his heels.
Bramble galloped forward at speed. Just as Lucian reached the men on the other side, another shot rang out, this time hitting the other pillar and showering them with dust.
“Mrs Vickery is hosting a shooting party with us as the game,” Lucian said, by way of grim explanation.
“She’s deranged,” Crabb muttered, ducking instinctively as another shot rang out.
“She’s armed and desperate,” Lucian said, as he clutched hard on the reins—even Bramble was getting nervous. “Miss Hughes confronted her and she’s confessed to both murders. She’s trying to shoot her way to freedom, we’ll have to think of a plan.”
To Lucian’s surprise, it was Mr Marrowbone who dismounted first.
“All I need is a good vantage point,” the constable said, hoisting his shotgun and eyeing the nearest tree. Before they could stop him, he had trundled over and begun climbing with remarkable agility for a man of his bulk.
“Marrowbone!” Crabb hissed, aghast. “Get down at once. We don’t need to add you to the list of the fallen.”
The constable, now perched on the crook of a sturdy limb, gave a cheerful wave with his free hand.
“I was a sniper in the Flanders campaign under Wellington,” he called lazily. “Which no one seems to recall. Musket ball to the buttock put an end to my glory days.”
Lucian stared up at him. “You were in the army?”
“For three whole months,” Mr Marrowbone called back. “Until my backside gave in to the pressure.”
With a grin, he cocked the barrel of his shotgun and took aim. A moment later, a sharp report cracked through the air, followed by a startled, furious howl from beyond the gate.
“Winged her,” Marrowbone called with satisfaction. “She won’t be shooting at anyone else for a long time. Now, shall we go collect our murderer? I don’t know about you two but I’d like to get this wrapped up quickly so I can get back to my pint.”
The constable began his descent from his perch, a little slower than the ascent, but no less impressive for a man of fifty-odd years.
“I’ll assist Mr Marrowbone,” Lord Crabb told Lucian firmly as they awaited his return to earth. “You fetch Miss Hughes and take her back home. Send reinforcements, I feel that shot is the only work we’ll get out of Marrowbone for the day.”
“The man deserves a year of rest after it,” Lucian admitted grudgingly.
“Indeed,” the viscount looked pained. “Just don’t tell him that or he’ll take it as a command.”
With a grin, Lucian gave Crabb a hearty slap on the shoulder, called congratulations to Marrowbone, then took off to find Sarah. He could not bring himself to glance up the driveway of Long Acres as he passed, though he could well imagine the grisly scene.
Lucian found Sarah where he had left her, standing in the shelter of the hedgerow, her arms wrapped tight about herself. At the sight of him, she gave a cry and hurried forward, but he was already off the horse and striding toward her.
Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, his whole body alive with relief and joy . She clung to him, one hand resting on his chest, above his heart. It seemed to Lucian that she needed to be reassured it still beat within.
It beat for her now, Lucian knew.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, glad to say it aloud.
There was a short pause, during which Lucian questioned everything he thought he knew about women, including the woman standing before him. He also managed to fit in a few epithets directed Mrs Mifford’s way, before she replied.
“I love you too,” she said, her voice soft but sure—halting Lucian’s tumble into doubt.
Lucian heaved a sigh of relief as his fears evaporated. There was nothing like putting one’s heart in someone else’s hands to bring on a momentary lapse in confidence.
He then drew her close again, just because he could. His lips found hers, soft with need and desire. His hand crept to the small of her back and he pulled her against him, at last safe enough to enjoy the feel of her warm body pressed against his.
When he realised he was enjoying the moment a little too much to be proper, he reluctantly let her go.
He pressed a kiss to her brow, stepped back just far enough to lift her into the saddle, then swung himself up behind her.
“I’m taking you home,” he said, his voice full of purpose as he gathered the reins. “And tomorrow, I’m riding to town for a special license.”
“There’s no rush,” Sarah laughed as she leaned back against him. “And there’s someone we need to ask permission of first.”
“Ah, yes, your father,” Lucian groaned a little. “He of the bone-crushing handshakes and suspicious glares.”
“He was only suspicious your motives weren’t honourable,” she thwacked him gently on the arm. “I doubt he’ll argue much against an earl wanting to marry his daughter.”
“My title brings little respect in Plumpton, I’m afraid,” Lucian’s voice was rueful from experience.
“And it’s not his permission we need to ask,” Sarah continued, turning to look him nervously in the eye.
“Rowan,” Lucian guessed, to which she nodded somberly.
She looked so nervous, that Lucian’s heart ached for her.
“If he’s anything like his father, he’ll love you at first sight,” he assured her.
Then he pulled her close against him and they rode contentedly into the afternoon sun.