Chapter 36
Ivy jounced in the carriage, her palm finding Owen’s knee across from her as she steadied herself. The curtains were pulled aside even though the temperature was chilly enough that she needed a warm cloak, but both of them wanted the fresh air.
Beside her, on the velvet cushion, lay that morning’s newspaper.
The writer had detailed Mr. Oscar Forsythe’s treachery in depth, and there would be many a nobleman at their breakfast table feeling quite foolish for having fallen victim to the scheme.
When the deputy commissioner had searched Oscar’s home, he had found various concoctions of poisons, as well as evidence that Oscar had discovered the perfect level of arsenic for his fabric by experimenting on streetwalkers and orphans, resulting in a number of deaths.
Davies had also found a tattered shawl on Oscar’s bed that had once belonged to the late Lady Brackley.
Owen had not said anything, but Ivy was afraid they both suspected it was the shawl she had been buried in.
Oscar Forsythe would soon stand trial, and there was little doubt he would be executed.
Ivy nodded to the paper. “Do you think the public will stop wearing clothing dyed with arsenic?”
Owen made a noise of disgust. “I am certain no one will touch parrot green again, but as for the rest of the green dyes? They care too much for the color and fashion. It is in gowns, in wallpaper, and in gloves. Someday they will realize that even the smaller doses are toxic. I grieve for the number of people who will have to succumb to ill health in order for things to change.”
Sadly, Ivy agreed with him. “I received a message from the Dove before we left.”
Owen arched a brow and waited.
“She congratulated us on exposing Oscar. She wants me to start teaching her governesses defensive techniques next month.”
She waited to see what he would say. They had received a special license and were on their way to Brackley Estate to exchange their vows with the girls at their sides.
Soon she would be the Viscountess Brackley, but she knew Owen did not enjoy the city, and would likely not want to return to London for the eight weeks she would be teaching.
He smiled at her—a full-fledged smile—not the reluctant one she usually coaxed out of him. “I am proud of you, Sunshine. The Dove is fortunate to have you.”
“Will you miss me?”
“I suppose I would if I were not coming with you.”
“But what about your horses?”
“I promised the girls a stay in London, and I have a lot of damage to smooth over now, courtesy of my brother. Besides, I do not think I could spend eight weeks apart from you. Somehow you have worked your way into my very blood, and I would no sooner separate myself from my own heart than I would the woman I love.”
“How much do you love me?” she asked, sliding over to his side of the carriage.
He was large and took up most of the cushion, but he shifted so that she would have room.
She leaned inward and kissed his chin. “Do you love me this much?” She kissed his cheek next.
“Or this much?” Her soft lips planted on his while her hand drifted to the front of his trousers and closed over his hardness. “Or this much?”
He grasped her wrist and spun lithely off the cushion so that he was kneeling before her on the carriage floor. “I will show you how much I love you. Happily. Every day, for the rest of our lives,” he promised as he inched the hem of her dress upward.
And he did.