Lord Langley Is Back in Town (40 page)

“They’ve got a king’s ransom in jewels stashed away,” Minerva was saying. “These diamonds of mine are nothing compared to what they have.”

“Is that true?” Adlington asked the pair, his pistol wavering between Sir George and Nottage.

“Aye, but it wasn’t my idea—it was his,” Sir Basil said, rising from his chair and taking a step away from Nottage. “It was all his idea. Stealing the jewels, shipping them to London. I merely used my contact in Strout’s office to make sure the jewels were removed before the crates were sent on to Langley’s house in the country. I did nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” Nottage scoffed. “You set Langley up to be arrested, you planted information in the reports that made him out to be a traitor, all so you could get him attained for treason and get his house and title, you
cit
bastard.”

“And my brother calls me a disgrace,” Jack muttered.

Sir Basil’s face grew bright red with rage. “It was all him,” he said, pointing at Nottage. “He forced me, he—”

Nottage moved so quickly, it was like a flash of lightning. He shoved Minerva into Adlington’s path then reached inside his coat, pulled out a pistol and shot Sir Basil, the man falling back in the chair. Then he turned to flee out the balcony, but what he met with was the full force of his former mentor, who tackled a shocked Nottage to the floor.

Langley had the advantage of surprise, and before the man could raise a hand, the baron planted a solid, well-aimed facer—full of every bit of anger and fury he possessed—knocking his former secretary out cold.

Meanwhile, Clifton and Parkerton broke through from the hall, but not before Minerva twisted in Adlington’s grasp and faced her old suitor.

“I have been waiting a long time to do this,” she said.

And then she brought her knee up as hard as she could and nailed him squarely in what she considered the area that had guided the wretched man all his adult life.

Gerald’s mouth opened in a wide O before he toppled over.

She kicked the gun out of his hand, and would have kicked him one more time for good measure if Langley hadn’t pulled her back.

“It is over,” he told her, cradling her close. “All over.”

B
ut it wasn’t.

For having seen the writing on the wall, Gerald made good his threats.

“She’s not Lady Standon. She’s naught but Maggie Owens, the old earl’s bastard. The man married her to Sterling instead of his own daughter. Her mother was the village whore. She’s not a lady. She’s nothing but an imposter.”

But if he thought he was going to be rewarded for sharing the truth, what he got was a gag over his mouth and his arms bound, and was left in a chair while the rest of the mess was sorted out.

Still, the damage was done, and Minerva felt the weight of all the eyes on her and the whispered speculation that now encircled her.

By morning she would be completely ruined.

Lucy came over and wrapped her arm around her friend, and then later, when it was time to move Sir Basil’s body, Clifton gathered them both up and took Minerva home, while Langley stayed behind.

The entire carriage ride no one said a word, and the heavy silence inside it weighed on Minerva as much as her broken heart did.

Why would Langley ever return to her now?

They found Mrs. Hutchinson passed out in Minerva’s room and the margravine missing.

Minerva took one glance at the empty wineglass and realized that her bosky housekeeper had drunk the wine intended for Langley.

“Serves her right,” Lucy said as she directed Clifton to return to Parkerton House with the news of the missing margravine, while she stayed with her friend.

Minerva collapsed onto the bed and cried as Lucy sat beside her and waited for the flood of tears to subside.

And when they did, Minerva asked, “Can you forgive me?”

Lucy blinked. “Whatever for?”

“For not being who I am supposed to be? For being so awful to you for all those years, acting like I was an earl’s daughter and you were—”

Staring across at her, Lucy pressed her lips together and then laughed aloud. “Good God, Minerva! Is that what’s bothering you?” She laughed again and then pulled her into a bear hug. “You are exactly who you are supposed to be, the most courageous and intelligent woman I have ever met. I am honored to have you as my friend. Best we leave the past behind us, for I had my fair share in our previous disagreements.”

Minerva wiped at the tears on her face. “Yes, I suppose you did.”

“And I’ll always be your friend, unless you start insisting that I not eavesdrop, like Elinor is always prattling on about.”

Her heart close to breaking, Minerva hugged her dear friend. “Oh, Lucy! I think we owe a debt of gratitude to the Duchess of Hollindrake for putting us all together.”

“Are you just saying that so I’ll stand by your side when she rings a peal over you for hiding her diamonds?”

They both laughed, and for a time they sat together, Minerva relating the events that led to her marriage—a story she had never told any other living soul—and Lucy, good friend that she was, listening.

Then Clifton returned to fetch his wife, but to Minerva’s pain, he had not come with Langley.

With nothing better to do, she sought her bed and lay there for some time, staring up at the painting of the crooked folly until she drifted off to sleep.

How long she slept, she knew not, but she was awakened when her window sash creaked open.

She sat bolt upright in bed and gaped as Lord Langley came climbing in her window.

“Ho, there, minx. Sorry to wake you up,” he said, leaning over and warming his hands at the fireplace grate. “The fellow you hired did an excellent job of repairing the drainpipe.”

“Whatever are you doing here?” she asked, feeling suddenly shy. “And whyever did you climb up the drainpipe?”

He grinned. “Because I still can.” He let out a big sigh. “You will be pleased to know that Nottage confessed to everything, but of course blamed it all on Sir Basil. Your excellent sleuthing and powers of deduction made it quite easy to lay all the evidence out to the Prime Minister—ah, it is good to have an old friend in high places—that, and the margravine arrived, with Brigid and Lucia in tow, and Lucia identified Lady Brownett’s rubies as the Borgia stones. Lady Brownett kicked up quite a fuss to be relieved of her jewels, and if old Brownie hadn’t been dead already, I think the old girl would have done him in herself.”

He glanced around the room and spotted the tray left over from earlier, picking up a piece of bread and cheese and munching happily. “Oh, I daresay I am famished.”

“So is it all over?” she asked.

He nodded. “I am still under attainder for the time being—that demmed Sir Basil had it filed earlier today. But no matter, I will be cleared before long. The Prime Minister has promised to gain me a king’s pardon, perhaps even an elevation—though not for a few years. We’ll have to wait for the scandal to die down a bit. Still, I have you to thank for all of it.”

Minerva couldn’t find the words to say anything, for she was still in shock that he was here. With her.

Dear God. Had he just said “we”?

And before she could manage to find the nerve to ask what he meant, he continued, “And you will never believe this, the margravine would only sign her statement if she could take Adlington with her when she left London. She wouldn’t go without him, and he thinks he’s found his boon.” Langley shuddered. “Poor stupid fellow. Well, he’ll learn soon enough when he finds himself manacled to her bed.” He glanced over at her, “Not that I was ever—”

Minerva waved her hand at him, for clearly she’d heard enough. Besides, this was all great news—save perhaps the part about the margravine and Adlington—and it was only after a deep breath and when he paused long enough for her to find her wherewithal that she was able to ask, “Langley, whatever are you doing here?”

“Where else would I go?” He shrugged off his jacket and sat down on the edge of the bed to tug off his boots.

“But you know the truth now,” she persisted. “You know who I am, and yet you are still here.”

He paused for a long moment, and then glanced over at her, “I love you, Minerva. You. Not your name. Not who Gerald Adlington thinks you are. I love
you
.” With that said, he simply went back to pulling off his boots.

Minerva shivered. Had she truly heard him correctly? He loved her? “But I am not Lady Standon.”

“Of course you are. It matters not who you were before you married Philip Sterling. But once you married him, you became his marchioness. For better or worse. Though not for much longer,” he told her, his eyes alight with a passionate mischief. “I think you will make a much better baroness.” He reached out and pulled her close.

Minerva pushed him back. “Langley! I am not a lady. I am not even a proper Lady Standon.”

“And I am still being examined for treason,” he teased back. “Simply put, we make an excellent pair. I think we should be married immediately and capitalize on our notoriety.”

“Married?” Minerva couldn’t believe her ears. Or her heart—for it hammered in her chest with a wild cadence. He truly wanted to marry her.

She gazed into his eyes and found nothing but serious intent mirrored there. No teasing, no mischief, just a burning passion for her and her alone.

“You’ve loved princesses, and duchesses, and real ladies. Whyever would you want me?”

He huffed a sigh and sat up. “First of all, you are decidedly wrong about all of that. I never loved any of them. I didn’t know what it meant to love until I met you.”

“But I am not a lady,” she told him.

“That is where you are wrong,” he said, leaning over and searching in the drawer of the nightstand. He pulled out a velvet pouch and drew out of it a gorgeous emerald necklace.

Silently, he put it around her neck, then sat back and admired his handiwork. “I knew emeralds would suit you much better than diamonds.”

Minerva’s fingers went to the stones and then she looked up at him. “Where did these come from?”

“Langley House,” he told her. “I fetched them while you and Mrs. Harrow were admiring her garden. I knew then that I would need them.”

Minerva’s brow furrowed. “Then? Why that was before we’d—” She came to a stop and blushed.
Before they’d made love.

“Not for me,” he told her. “I might not have been able to say it, but I knew then I loved you and that our betrothal was not in vain.” He paused and looked at her. “Will you have me, my dearest, beloved Minerva Sterling?”

And even before she could say yes, he caught her in his arms and began to make love to her.

And very soon she was saying “Yes!”

Several times over.

Epilogue

London, 1825

“A
re you going to tell Papa and Minerva about what you found inside that painting?” Thalia, Baroness Larken, asked as she tipped onto her toes to catch a better look at the ship coming into the Southwark dock.

“Whatever do you mean?” Felicity, the Duchess of Hollindrake, asked, nose tucked in the air.

Her twin was hardly fooled. “That wretched painting of the folly. What you found inside?” Tally raised her brows and gave her sister a hard stare.

It had no effect on Felicity. “If I hadn’t gone to the trouble of having the house on Brook Street redone for them, that painting would still be on the wall and no one would be the wiser.”

“But that painting came from Papa’s private collection, and he most likely knows who those sapphires belong to.”

Felicity shrugged and went back to watching the ship draw closer. She’d recently had the painting taken down, and when it was, the frame fell apart and with it a velvet pouch containing a sapphire necklace.

“Wasn’t there some fuss with Nanny Helga all those years ago and her missing sapphires?” Tally mused. “You don’t think those might be—”

“Thalia Langley!” her sister said, all indignation and mock horror. “You have the most rampant imagination, and at your age! Whatever would Papa have been doing with Nanny Helga’s sapphires? ’Tis scandalous to even suggest such a thing. It is just a very odd coincidence, nothing more.”

Tally thought it no such thing, but said nothing.

“You aren’t going to mention them, are you?” Felicity asked as the ship began to turn into the dock.

“No, but I have to imagine you are keeping them a secret because you haven’t forgiven Minerva for not telling you about the Sterling diamonds,” Tally replied.

“I have so,” Felicity shot back. “But it only seems fair that I wait a bit before I inform her and Papa about them. Besides, they have been gone all these years in China, and I hardly want to burden their happy homecoming by dragging up past peccadilloes.”

Tally pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh out loud. Her sister was as incorrigible as ever.

“Can you imagine it? Papa is finally home,” Felicity said, letting out a contented sigh. “He wrote of looking forward to hearing the sound of laughter filling Langley House.” The duchess glanced over at her four children. “I suppose that means he will wish for all of us to visit and visit often.”