A Convenient Bride (44 page)

“Clive came out of the darkness and slammed me into a wall. I think my shoulder is out of joint.”

“Let me have a look.” Jace probed the area with his fingers. Richard winced. After a moment, Jace nodded. “I can fix it if you promise not to scream too shrilly.”

He was rewarded with a scowl. “I’ll do my best.”

Jace instructed Richard to brace himself against the wall with his good hand. He moved the arm this way and that until he was satisfied with its position. Without warning, he jerked the arm. Hard. It popped. Richard cursed Jace, his mother for birthing him, and his entire family tree.

However, there was not one shrill scream. Brenna smiled.

“Well done, Jace, Richard,” she said. Richard moved the
arm around, his teeth gritted and his face screwed up. Once she was satisfied he was able to use the arm, she walked into the hallway. “I’m going home to our son. Are you coming?”

The two men followed her down the stairs and out of the abbey. When they reached the road, they met up with several Runners. Jace stayed behind to clear up matters at the abbey. Brenna just wanted to get home.

J
ames was sleeping peacefully when they returned. Nanny explained, “When you did not return, he was inconsolable. Mrs. Beal sent for Mrs. Cookson, and she happily fed him. She said it was the very least she could do for you, after your kindness toward her family.”

Brenna blinked, her eyes filling as she stared down at her contented son. “I shall thank her when I see her.”

With all her jests about living with the sheep, she did not realize until just that moment how deeply attached she had become to the hall and the residents who lived within.

She tried to imagine her life, had she never gotten with child and decided her marriage was worth saving.

And no one would take this away from her. Not ever.

A
ndrew’s wound was tended to, and the physician sewed him up. Barring infection, he had survived his first bullet wound and now had a tale to tell his children someday about his harrowing experience with a killer.

It was nearing dusk when Jace and Mister Freemont returned to the hall, dirty, exhausted, and needing food. Brenna ordered baths prepared and trays to be brought up, wanting both men settled with all the comforts the hall could provide.

Brenna left Jace’s room and saw Lucy catch up with a maid who was carrying the tray toward Mister Freemont’s room. She took the tray from the startled girl.

Lucy lifted her nose as she and Brenna passed in the hall. “I have decided Mister Freemont is not as uninteresting as I first thought,” she said, shrugging. “I think I might give him a chance to woo me.”

Laughing, Brenna shook her head. “Poor Mister Freemont.”

The next few days were a whirl. The Harringtons—Walter and Kathleen; Simon and Laura; Eva, Nicholas, and baby Catherine; and Noelle and Gavin—had all came to the hall en masse to assure themselves that Brenna, Richard, and little James had not come to harm.

Once the Bow Street Runners concluded their investigation, it would take some time to put the clues together. Clive’s crimes were spread over many years. Brenna suspected that George had been correct. Clive had killed the maid in Dover, when George was there, and Clara, here, to make it look as though George had done the murders. That way, he could keep George under his control.

Much about Clive’s life, and his connection to George, would always remain a mystery.

There’d been some worry that the caretaker, Mister Crane, had been done in by Clive, but he was found to have been visiting a certain widow two villages over and thus had missed the turmoil of the investigation.

George was sent back to his family to be buried. At Brenna’s insistence, his death was determined to be accidental. Clive was arrested and sent to London for trial. With the gallery of witnesses against him, there would be no doubt of the outcome. He would be executed for his crimes.

“There you are,” Richard said. Brenna looked up from the crib and placed a finger to her lips. James had been fussing, and it had taken almost an hour to get him to sleep.

She led Richard into the sitting room. “Did you get Miriam settled?” It was determined that Miriam had been duped by Clive. When she became suspicious of his activities, he’d kidnapped and intended to kill her. Once she’d recovered her sensibilities, Richard, with her in agreement, decided she would best be suited for a pious life.

“She is not certain she will become a nun but should find peace at Newbury Abbey,” Richard said. “She will work in the kitchen until her injuries fully heal.”

“I wish her well.” Brenna slipped into his arms. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

“You have now,” Richard said. He looked deep into her eyes. “I love you as well. Who knew our marriage of convenience would turn into a love match?”

Brenna ran her hand down his chest. “I knew.” She smiled and brushed her lips over his. “I am happy to have our lives settled. I look forward to returning to our quiet existence here, among the sheep.”

Richard lowered his head and nuzzled her ear. “It will be quiet once I run off your family. They are a raucous lot.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Brenna scolded, laughing softly. She reached back to remove his hand from her right buttock. “You will have to wait until later to slake your needs. I am expected downstairs to ride with Mother, Laura, and Noelle into the village.”

He grumbled against her neck. “We’ve had very little time alone over the last few days. Everywhere I turn, I trip over a Harrington. How can I seduce my wife when she tends to everyone’s needs but my own?”

Brenna eased out of his grip and gently slapped away his exploring hands. “Then you must get creative, love. I am positive there are dark corners somewhere in this manor for private romantic trysts with your wife.”

She flounced away, leaving the challenge lingering in his mind. She wanted seduction, too. However, between James and her family, she usually dropped exhausted into bed at night.

Romance had fallen aside, in favor of sleep.

Brenna was on the stoop, awaiting the other women, when she heard the sound of pounding hoofbeats coming around the house. On the back of a chestnut gelding, bedecked in a dusty coat and carrying a pair of pistols in his waistband, Richard tore up the drive, scattering dust as he came, and drew the horse to a skittering stop before her.

She gasped and waved away a cloud of dust, her heart skipping a beat. He looked exactly the way he’d looked when they’d met: handsome and dangerous.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked.

“Some months ago, a highwayman was propositioned by a tart-tongued chit with green eyes, who asked him to compromise her.” He sent Brenna a salacious grin. “I think it long past the time when he should take her up on her offer.”

Brenna’s lips parted, and her eyes danced. The women could find their way around the village without her today. She stepped forward, taking his outstretched hand. “Certainly you do not intend to take me here, in the mud, Milord highwayman.”

“I do not.” He swung her up behind him. “I know a much better place for a compromise than a muddy drive.”

With carefree laughter and a heart full of love for her dashing highwayman, Brenna clung to Richard’s coat as he spun the horse around and kneed him in the direction of the dower house.

And Brenna’s very thorough compromising.

S
arah squelched the scream racing up the back of her throat. The man standing before her was unshaven, dressed in some sort of fringed garment, and was so dusty that he looked as if bathing was an unknown concept. However, what truly made her knees knock and her body tremble was the fact that he loomed over her like some mythical beast.

The man could easily crush her with just his two hands.

She instinctively knew to show no fear. Alone in the cottage, with neighbors too distant to summon for help, she’d be vulnerable should he attempt something nefarious. So, as calmly as she could manage, she reached toward the hook beside the door where her hat hung and fingered the item until she found the hatpin. Then very carefully, so as not to give away her intention, she clasped the pin between her thumb and forefinger. She was about to slide the weapon free when he spoke.

“You are Sarah Louise Palmer?” he asked, the harsh timbre of his voice giving her no ease. When she did not, or rather could not answer, he stared. “Albert did not tell me you were mute.”

Albert? Her lips parted and what came out was a breathless gasp. Knowing that she’d just all but confirmed his assessment that she
was
mute, she shook her head to clear her mind and regain some control of herself.

“How do you know my brother?” she asked, and slowly let loose the hatpin. She could not imagine any circles in which Albert and this man would ever converge.

He pulled off his rumpled hat and ran a hand through his abused brown locks. “We are, or were, friends.” He drew in his breath and twisted the hat. “It is sad tidings I bring you, Miss Palmer. Your brother is dead.”

Sarah frowned. “You are a bit late with the news, sir.” She tried to imagine her brother friendly with this unkempt savage. The idea was absurd. “I have known of his death for over a year.”

“How? I came here straightaway.”

“By way of the moon?” she asked, sharper than she’d intended. The pain of her brother’s death was still fresh, despite the passage of many months. “He has been dead since a year ago last January.” She scanned his bearded face. “I thank you for coming to tell me this, and do not mean to be rude, sir, but I have a pot of stew on the stove and I fear it may be burning.”

She intended to close the door, but a scuffed boot stopped it in mid swing.

“Your stew will have to wait,” he said, and placed a flat hand on the panel. With a firm push, he slowly eased the door wide open.

Heart thudding, Sarah stepped back and darted a quick glance at the hatpin. It was still within reach on the hook by the door. Thankfully, the man remained on the stoop.

“There is more for us to discuss than Albert’s death. You see, as he lay dying, he made me promise to take care of you. That is a vow I intend to keep.”

Sarah stared. “My brother has been away for ten years, with only a few letters to assure me he was alive. Now he decides on his death bed that he should show me some brotherly concern?” Her sadness dissipated and a fire burned in her chest. She’d loved her brother dearly, but he had not been the best caretaker for her. “I release you from your vow, Mister—?”

“Harrington. Gabriel Harrington.”

“Mister Harrington.” She stepped fully into the opening lest he see how shabby her living conditions were. After her aunt died two years ago and her tiny pension was cut off,
Sarah’s funds had dwindled to an alarming degree. She was within weeks of being penniless. Still, her pride would not allow her to accept help from a stranger. “I am quite capable of seeing to my own needs.”

“As I can see,” he said, peering over her head.

Sarah’s spine straightened and her neck prickled. “I do not care if you and Albert were as close as brothers, I do not need your help. Please go.”

He grumbled under his breath and his face became a blank mask, as if he was pondering his next argument. Then he said, “I am more than Albert’s friend.” He sighed deeply. “I am your fiancé.”

G
abriel watched her pretty mouth pop open. As quickly as he’d spoken the lie, he wished he could take it back. Guilt raced through his bones. He
had
promised to care for the chit. He had not promised to marry her.

Find her a vicar or farmer to marry and care for her, Gabe
, Albert had said.
Keep her safe from rogues like us. She deserves a far better life than what I have provided.

A second wave of guilt followed. Albert had been correct. Gabe
was
a woman-loving, adventure-seeking, irresponsible rogue; he didn’t have the stability to care for a wife. He was wrong to offer to marry Sarah. Albert would never allow the wedding if he were alive.