Chapter 42
“A life for a life. An angry man had sought to take the life and livelihood she’d paid the ultimate price for, she could take his as well. She’d take every last farthing too.”
Adelaide
Sir Edward darted toward her as Noelle ran around Fitz’s large desk.
Sir Edward gave chase, close at her heels.
He nearly stepped on the hem of her unnecessarily wide skirts, but she dodged.
The corset and bodice constricted her movements, the straps cut painfully into the skin of her arms, but she had to keep moving.
Keep running, keep running, don’t slow down; chanted her pacing heart.
If she ran from the room, as Adelaide, she would reveal her identity to the partygoers, and squash Sir Edward’s attempt to steal her words.
But he was stronger and faster, he caught hold of her skirts as she fell onto the desk.
She stuck an arm out to brace herself, all her weight toppled and clashed with the weight of the desk.
The long bones of her arm sang with pain.
The man was atop her, the press of his body was unyielding and wrong.
The same man who conspired to steal her work and attach his own name to it.
The same man who conspired to rid her of the man she loved for his own personal gain.
Noelle didn’t think, instinctively she slipped the knife from its sheath inside the boning of her bodice.
When Sir Edward tightened his grip on her waist, she reached forward and sliced his hand with the knife.
It was a clean slice aimed between soft tissue and bones for maximum pain.
Was it wrong that the sight of it gave her some wild thrill?
The answering slither of dark red that pooled and ran down his arm still didn’t make her feel safe enough.
He pulled back from her, holding his hand with a handkerchief he seemed to have produced from nowhere. She kept the knife in her hand poised in his direction lest he try to respond in kind.
“You cut me!” he answered in outrage, putting pressure on the wound. His voice was a jagged rasp torn from his lips.
“Threaten me again and you’ll find out just how steady my hand is with a blade,” she replied, the blade of the pen knife glinting in the light of a candle, her voice laced with venom.
He swore. “You actually cut me!” The handkerchief was beginning to turn dark red. With a frustrated grunt, he lunged toward her. She slashed in his direction as he tried to grasp the knife from her hand. A slash rendered the sleeve of his formal dinner jacket.
“You will regret that!”
There was a sound on the other side of the door. Once she realized who had pounded on the door and then picked the lock, all she felt was relief. Maddening, dizzying, heart-pounding relief.
“Princess? Are you hurt?” His familiar cerulean eyes looked from Noelle to Sir Edward, trying to infer what had just happened.
She nodded, breathless, but holding her right arm.
He rushed to her, gathering her in his arms.
One bare, capable hand gently massaged the arm she’d been holding.
Her entire body, pyretic with anger and fear only moments before, abated with the coolness of his touch.
Noelle took the first deep breath in several minutes at the feel of his familiar, strong body.
“I see you have the situation well in hand,” Fitz motioned to the knife she had forgotten she still held, a dark and tempting smile conveying he was proud of her rather than taken aback by the sight of his future viscountess wielding a blade.
And she instantly felt her love for him swell past its original size.
“I trust you’ll take her well in hand, then,” Sir Edward said, gesturing to the small jeweled dagger and his bleeding wound. Fitz’s eyes were slits of blue ice as he scowled in the direction of Sir Edward, who apparently didn’t know what was good for him.
“To the contrary, I’d happily make the entire ton aware that Sir Edward Clarksdale tried to attack a gentlewoman in my home and then was handily trounced by said gentlewoman. My gentlewoman. After…I end you myself.”
Fitz’ hands grazed her slender, unwavering hands as he took the knife from her. If she wanted to stab the man again, he’d let her. He’d bloody cheer for her, but she’d fought her battle, and his, and now it was his turn.
Her back was straighter than any debutante in his ballroom and her beautiful eyes were murderous, but God she was burning up, practically vibrating with rage. He really was going to kill the bastard in his study.
“I didn’t attack her, she attacked me!” Sir Edward rebutted, still clutching his wound wrapped in a bloodied bundle of cloth.
“He threatened to take credit for Adelaide if I didn’t wed him.”
Fitz swore, low and sinful. He’d already sent one man to Scotland Yard tonight, his uncle, for his part in Fitz’s abduction and for poisoning the Dowager Viscountess. One more would certainly be a boon.
“You really should not have done that.”
And then he swung a punch at Sir Edward that leveled him to the ground.
“Do that again!” his blood-thirsty little gothic pirate cheered.
At the sound of Sir Edward’s fall, the door opened, and Jasper rushed in.
“What the hell is going on?”
Fitz stopped his onslaught of the other man to turn in his direction, but Sir Edward rose first and attempted to tackle him from behind. Fitz barely missed colliding with a wooden table leg as he fell, taking Edward down with him.
“I’m defending your sister’s honor!” Fitz said as he grappled with the doomed man.
“Would you like some help?” Jasper was already rolling up his sleeves, his jacket neatly discarded on the back of a chair. Of course, Jasper would show up and insert himself now, but even injured Fitz intended to destroy the villain himself. Noelle was his to protect now.
“No!” Fitz answered stubbornly, not turning to look at him to answer as he fended off a blow from Clarksdale with a duck and then a punch to the other man’s abdomen.
Jasper shook his head. “That’s unfortunate. I was merely asking to be polite. I’m lending my aid anyway.”
Panting, Sir Edward placed several steps between himself and the two men before him, “For the love of God, I’m already injured! Do you want me to bleed all over the carpet?”
“Yes!” Jasper, Noelle, and Fitz agreed at the same time.
Miss Kelley came seemingly out of nowhere, absurdly taking Noelle in her arms in a protective stance as the three men fought. It was Jasper who cut through the violence, asserting as he held the conspirator to the ground, his arm penned behind him to his back:
“Clarksdale, the way I see it you have two options. There is an entire ballroom of people who now know of your conspiracy against Adelaide, so you can either retreat or you can face the mob.”
“What lies did you tell them, Pomfrey?” Sir Edward’s words came out muffled, his face pressed to the floor by Jasper’s grip and Fitz’ foot at his shoulder.
Fitz gave a dark humorless laugh. “I’ve evidence you were involved in my disappearance. I may have embellished some details, but I know of your scheme with my uncle to be rid of me and steal my bride. If you slip out the terrace door right now, there’s a chance the mob won’t catch you,
but not a very good one. It’s all the same to me. If it weren’t for the Earl, I’d dismember you right here in my study.”
Fitz went and opened a pocket door that led out onto the terrace.
Jasper released the other man, who looked at the two of them for a moment, and then took off running through the open door.
Fitz was sure the other man would not get far, maybe a few moments’ head start on the angry, finely-dressed mob.
Heaven help the man once the working class caught wind of his corruption.
Fitz sagged in relief, clutching his side. Noelle was next to him in an instant. She folded him into her arms and held him to her as though she’d never let him go now that they’d found one another. He could spend eternity letting her clutch him like that.
“Fitz! My god, did he hurt you?”
He suppressed a delighted smile and pressed his lips to her hair. This selfishly selfless act brought her heart up to her beautiful eyes.
He leaned against her protective embrace, “No, not just now, but…god, these last three days it’s like everyone’s been using me as a punching bag.”
He guided her to a settee; he winced as the pain in his ribs and shoulder heightened as he collided with the furniture. Jasper handed him a drink; he took it as he leaned his forearms against his thighs.
Noelle pushed his loose, blonde hair back from his face. Her hand came down to cup his cheek, he leaned into her touch like a man starved for touch and warmth.
“I’m so relieved you’re safe,” he breathed. “Thank, you, Westmoreland...I have no idea all that you’ve done, but I’m sure I’ve a lot to be grateful for.”
He draped an arm around her as the other man, and the governess disappeared from the room as swiftly as they’d both entered it. Turns out Westmoreland could take a hint after all.
Noelle hit him playfully in the chest, causing him to wince. The woman beside him was both terrifying and reassuring.“I wasn’t convinced that scheme of yours would work, Fitz…. but you were so-”
But the words, they’d never know, he stole them from her.
He imprinted her form tightly against his body, stealing her words, her very air with a kiss that conveyed to her just how much he cared for her.
She didn’t pull back, instead stealing him as if any space from him was another torment she could no longer bear.
“How did you-”
He stole the words again. Another soul-searing kiss. One hand came around her, to touch her face.
“Can I escort you home? We’ll talk there, not here.”
If they were to be spotted leaving together, Fitz and Adelaide, the gossip would be especially hideous; but he hadn’t come this far to let a thing like gossip pull her from his grasp.