Chapter 41
Forty-One
April entered the drawing room to find Eugenia seated beneath the soft glow of morning light, her embroidery frame resting in her lap. Tulip slumbered by her feet, as always indifferent to the world.
Eugenia looked up at once. “My dear, what has happened?”
April halted mid-stride. There was no sense in pretending. The lie she might have spun would wither at once under Eugenia’s eyes.
She took a slow breath and crossed to the chair beside her aunt. “He said we were a marriage of convenience. That he was done indulging me.”
Eugenia blinked. “Theodore said that?”
April nodded. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, staring at the curve of her knuckles, her voice low and even.
“But as I repeat the words aloud,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, “they ring false. His voice trembled. His jaw was tight with something. Fear, perhaps. And the way he looked at Gregory…” She trailed off, brows drawing together.
“It was not the look of a man addressing kin. It was… something darker. A storm barely kept at bay.”
Eugenia’s fingers stilled on her stitching. “That boy has never loved before. Not once. Not truly. But he loves you. That I know.”
April’s breath caught.
Then why would he say it? Why would he wound me like that? Unless—
She stood abruptly. “He did it to protect me. Something’s happened. Gregory must be the one. The suspect. It all makes sense.”
Eugenia nodded once. “Go, child. Quickly.”
April’s pulse raced. “I have to save my husband.”
She turned and swept out of the drawing room, skirts rustling like waves in a storm. Her feet barely touched the floor as she flew down the hallway toward the foyer and glanced about, her heart hammering like a war drum.
“Redmond?” she called.
He wasn’t there.
A nearby footman turned. “I believe he went toward the kitchens, Your Grace.”
She thanked him quickly and hurried toward the east wing. The scent of baking bread and the clatter of pans announced the kitchen’s bustle before she reached the door.
Inside, Redmond stood with two younger footmen, speaking in low tones. The moment he saw her, he broke off.
“Your Grace,” he said, stepping forward with a bow.
“Where did the Duke go? I must know at once.”
Redmond hesitated, eyes flickering toward the kitchen staff. He motioned her aside, toward the quiet of the pantry hallway.
“His Grace instructed me not to inform you, but… given the nature of things, I believe I must.”
April exhaled slowly. “Please, Redmond.”
“He left with Mr. Roth not long ago. I sent word to Mr. Elderman, the Bow Street Runner His Grace has been working with. We shall depart shortly to follow.”
April’s eyes widened. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“Your Grace, that would be highly unwise—”
“Do not waste breath objecting. I am your mistress, and I am going.”
Without another word, she hurried up to her chambers to snatch her shawl and a beaded reticule before rejoining the men. Outside, horses were being prepared. A third rider had already arrived and dismounted. He stepped forward.
“Your Grace,” Redmond said, coming up beside her, “this is Mr. Elderman.”
“I am going with you,” she declared.
The man bowed crisply. “I must ask you to reconsider, Your Grace. It is a dangerous path.”
“Do not bother,” April said. “Lead on.”
They mounted swiftly, urgency pounding in her ears. April felt her heart thudding beneath her bodice, wild and unyielding.
Let him be safe. Let me not be too late.
As they rode, April noticed red carriage tracks. “What is that?”
“To ensure we could track them,” Redmond replied, “I had the coachman fasten a pouch of red paint beneath the rear axle. The turn of the wheel split it open, leaving a mark behind.”
The trail was clear, splashed across rutted dirt like a wound. They galloped fast, the horses’ hooves striking the earth with the fury of thunder.
They rode through forest and meadow, passing a stone bridge and a thicket that narrowed into shadow. The path turned southward, and up ahead the trees broke suddenly.
Elderman slowed his mount and raised an arm. April followed his gaze.
The carriage stood there, awkwardly set off the road, nestled among the trees like a forgotten relic.
A cry escaped her lips. Relief.
But no driver. No horses. No movement.
Redmond dismounted first and hurried to the door. When he opened it, they found it empty.
April’s stomach lurched, nausea rising to her throat.
Elderman crouched beside the foliage, studying the soft earth. “There are tracks. Two men. Walking. There.”
He pointed to a path threading deeper into the woods.
He rose and signaled to the others. “Come.”
April nodded and followed without hesitation.
Theo, please. Hold on. Hold on.
“You realize,” Gregory said, his lip curling as he held the pistol with a steady arm, “that was a perfectly good shot wasted in that blasted carriage.”
Theo stood a few paces away, his arms loose at his sides, though every muscle in his body was tensed like drawn wire. “My heart bleeds for the bullet.”
Gregory gave a dry laugh. “No matter. I have another pistol. One should be enough to kill a misbegotten heir.” He raised the pistol a touch higher. “Out here in the woods, no one will know. No one will care. And it’s fitting, is it not? That you should vanish as easily as your parents did.”
Theo tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp and voice unnervingly calm. “Before you do something you will not live to regret, at least tell me why. Why did you do it? My parents. My sister. Nathaniel. All of them.”
Gregory’s smile thinned to a sneer. “Because the title was squandered on your side of the family. Because your mother was a merchant’s daughter, an heiress from trade.
Not even a lady in name. Her blood—filthy, common—sullied the Stone line.
You were never meant to inherit. It should have been me.
I was born of the proper branch. The old blood. Yours is corruption in a velvet coat.”
Theo’s mouth quirked. “You truly do not want to do this, Gregory.”
“Oh, I do.”
“It’s your funeral.”
Theo heard a faint crunch behind him. A footfall? The rustle of underbrush? He didn’t dare turn his head. That has to be Redmond. Or Elderman. Perhaps both. Hold the moment.
“Why April?” Theo asked, keeping his voice neutral. “Why try to kill her?”
Gregory shrugged, as though the matter bored him.
“I didn’t have to lift a finger. Loretta—bless her venomous little heart—offered herself.
She despises April, and rightfully so, for I promised her the title would be hers when I proposed rather hastily.
Best to strike before you saddle yourself with an heir, and it is easier to remove her now than deal with a brat later. ”
Theo’s blood surged. A part of him—wild, primal—wanted to lunge forward and end this. Not yet. Not until April is safe.
“Why did you propose hastily to Loretta?” Theo asked with a slight title of his head. He wanted to understand more of Loretta’s motive.
“Since you are a dead man, I suppose I can tell you. She got with child while we were courting.”
Theo felt his brow rise. “Yours?”
“Who else’s?” Gregory snapped.
“Perhaps you should really look into it. Would be a shame if the Stone title passed on to an undeserving son.”
Gregory’s hand that was aiming the pistol at him trembled slightly. “I would be very careful if I were you, Theo.”
A bush shifted just over Gregory’s shoulder. There, Redmond’s form slid silently through the shadows.
Theo kept talking. “The Mercies are caught,” he said. “They’ve named names—yours among them. If you kill me now, the law will still find you. You cannot run forever.”
Gregory’s brow twitched. Just a flicker. But it was enough. His jaw clenched. He hesitated.
“You devil!”
A blur flew through the air and struck Gregory’s head with a thwack. His arm jerked, pistol misaligned—
Two shots cracked into the silence.
Theo dropped to a knee, the ringing in his ears blocking all else. Smoke drifted across the clearing. His vision cleared just enough to see Gregory collapsing, howling in pain, clutching his bleeding shin.
A beaded reticule lay in the dirt beside him.
Theo’s heart leapt. April.
She was running through the trees, breathless and furious, skirts tangled around her boots.
Redmond and Elderman were already on Gregory, disarming him, forcing him flat against the earth.
Theo surged forward and caught April in his arms, pulling her tightly against him.
“You bloody stubborn woman,” he said, his voice rough with relief, pressing kisses to her brow, her cheeks, her mouth. “No sense of danger. Absolutely none. Do you know what you’ve done to me?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as though she might never let go.
“You are the most maddening, golden, reckless ball of sunshine I cannot—will not—live without.”
He kissed her again, deeply, hungrily. “I didn’t mean a single word of what I said back there,” he whispered against her skin. “Not a syllable. I only needed you safe. I thought if I broke your heart, you’d stay behind.”
She drew back slowly. Her face was impassive.
“Nothing,” he said again, more desperate. “You are not convenience. You are not obligation. You are everything.”
She said nothing.
“I will do anything to see you smile again,” he pleaded. “Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
“Even let me get a dog like Tulip?”
He blinked. “Yes.”
“A cat?”
“Yes.”
“A parrot?”
He exhaled. “Even a parrot.”
She smiled then. It was bright enough to break him.
He leaned in once more, about to kiss her, when someone cleared their throat.
They turned. Gregory lay on the ground, wrists and ankles bound, face pale from blood loss. Elderman stood over him.
“We’ll take him from here, Your Grace,” Elderman said. “The law will have him now. Smuggling, murder, attempted murder—it’s enough to see him hang thrice.”
Theo nodded, his gaze still fixed on April. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Elderman tipped his hat and signaled the others.
As they disappeared into the trees, Theo turned back to her.
“I love you, April,” he whispered.
She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I love you, Theo.”
This is the end of the war, Theo thought. And the beginning of everything that matters.