No Other Love (38 page)

“I was trying to protect you. You, of course, stubbornly refused protection, but—”

“You were trying to protect me?”

“Yes. I couldn’t let them arrest you, too, and you were without question aiding and abetting a criminal. I thought if I pretended that you had done it to betray me, the constable would think you were not one of us. I figured if I acted wounded and betrayed, Richard would so delight in it that he would back me up and pretend that you had indeed been in on the plan, just to make me suffer. That’s why I said the things I did. I hated the hurt on your face, but I couldn’t let you go to gaol. Nor could I let you ruin it all by coming to the gaol to visit me.”

Nicola stared at him for a long moment, tears welling in her eyes. “Then you believe me? You know?”

He nodded. “I finally got smart. I started listening with my heart, not my head, and I knew that I loved you. All I wanted was you, and if I hadn’t been so damned self-pitying, I could have cleared it all up years ago. It was I who kept us apart the last eight years, not Exmoor. Revenge didn’t matter, Exmoor didn’t matter, nothing mattered but you.”

“You love me?” Nicola repeated, a radiant smile breaking across her face.

“I love you.”

“Oh, Jack!” Nicola threw her arms around him. “I love you, too!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly to him. “Nicola, tell me you forgive me.”

“Of course I do. I love you.”

He bent, and their lips met in a long, sweet kiss. Nicola trembled in his arms, knowing that at last she was home with her love.

Finally he raised his head, giving her a brief kiss on the forehead, and relaxed his arms. He sighed. “You had best get back to the others.”

“Yes.” Nicola nodded, wiping away her tears. It was difficult to keep the wide smile from her face. “There will be ample time for this later. I expect Richard to come after me first. So I had better be ready for him.”

“I hate hiding and letting you face him!” Jack said explosively. “Maybe I—”

“Don’t be foolish,” Nicola told him, putting her hands on his arms and looking up earnestly into his eyes. “You cannot face him yourself. You will only prove that we helped you escape if you do that. The best thing you can do for any of us is to stay up here and not let them find you.”

He sighed, the muscles in his taut arms relaxing. “I know. I just feel so useless, sitting up here.”

“I will come back up as soon as I can,” she promised. “But now I have to hurry.”

“I know.”

She went on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. But his arms went around her tightly, pulling her to him for a long, deep kiss. “I love you,” he said huskily when at last he pulled back. “Oh, God, I was a fool for so long.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Nicola wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “All I care about is that you’re free. And I love you.”

Then, with a last brief kiss, she tore herself away from him and hurried out the door.

N
ICOLA RACED DOWN TO
P
ENELOPE’S
room. She had ridden over to the Dower House this evening in a carriage with Lambeth, Bucky and Lord Thorpe. They had all been wearing formal evening attire, as befitted their supposed dinner party. Once they got to the Dower House, they had all changed into their “working clothes,” and Nicola had left her elegant gown in Penelope’s room. The dress was still spread out on the bed where she had left it, along with a heap of petticoats. Swiftly she peeled off the boots and boy’s clothing she had worn for disguise.

The door opened, and she whirled around with a gasp. She went limp when she saw that it was only Marianne who had slipped inside the door. “Sorry to frighten you,” Marianne said. “I thought you could use some help dressing.”

“I could,” Nicola said with heartfelt relief. Buttoning the tiny row of buttons up the back of her gown was difficult to do by herself under any circumstances; with the pressure of time, it would have been nearly impossible.

With Marianne’s help she slipped into her petticoats and tied them, and Marianne lowered the green silk dress over her head. Quickly Marianne began to fasten the long row of pearl buttons.

“How is everything downstairs?”

“Confused,” Marianne replied succinctly. “But still polite. I can see that Aunt Ursula is going to begin hammering us with questions at any moment. The only thing that has saved us so far, I think, is the fact that she already thinks Bucky is such a fool that she isn’t surprised when what he says makes little sense. Then Alexandra and I bombarded her with our story, which rather distracted her. But when I left, I could see her frowning, and I think she is going over all the holes in our stories. As long as Penelope and Bucky don’t cave in, though, we can bluff our way through. Even
she
is reluctant to interrogate a future duke, and I rather think Thorpe scares her a little.”

“I didn’t think anyone scared her,” Nicola said as she smoothed her hair back into place, repinning the strands that had come loose beneath her hat.

“There. All done.” Marianne stood back and inspected Nicola.

“Do I look all right?”

“Lovely, as always. No one would guess that you hadn’t spent the evening in your parlor.”

“How is Lambeth?”

A shadow crossed Marianne’s face. “He looks perfectly all right, quite elegant and cool. But I think his arm hurts him. He favors it a bit—I’ve noticed that he keeps it resting on the chair arm. But at least the bandage was not bulky. It doesn’t show.”

“It was only a graze,” Nicola reassured her. “I am sure he will be fine, and I will put something on it after this is all over.”

Marianne nodded. “Yes, just so long as Richard doesn’t notice that he is weak in his arm.”

“We’ll just have to keep him distracted from it.” Nicola said firmly. “Well, shall we go down and face the dragon?”

“Aunt Ursula?”

“Who else?”

They linked arms and went downstairs, where they found the rest of the group in the formal drawing room. Sebastian stood next to the chair on which Alexandra sat, one elbow casually propped up on the mantel, and at the other end of the mantel, like a bookend, stood Lord Buckminster, gazing at his future mother-in-law with a hunted expression. That good woman, a middle-aged family tyrant dressed all in blue, with a bosom like the prow of a ship, was sitting several feet away, frowning at her daughter, who was on the other side of an elderly, regal-looking woman. The aged woman was the Countess of Exmoor, Lady Ursula’s mother and the grandmother of Marianne, Alexandra and Penelope. The Dowager Countess, who had obviously been quite a beauty in her day, was tall and slender and sat ramrod straight in her chair. There was the faintest line of worry etched into her forehead. Penelope sat with her hands clenching her fan, obviously waiting in dread. Slightly behind the others were Nicola’s sister, Deborah, and their aunt, Lady Buckminster, who looked faintly puzzled, which greatly increased her resemblance to her son. Beside them was an empty chair, and next to it, Lord Lambeth lounged, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

He sprang up when Marianne and Nicola entered, saying, “My dear. And Nicola. The wait was well worth it. You look lovely.” He swept them a bow.

“Always a handy one with a compliment, Justin,” Nicola retorted, smiling.

“There you are, Nicola,” Lady Ursula said. “You know, I cannot fathom why you went with Lambeth and Thorpe to look for the girls.”

“You know me, Lady Ursula,” Nicola said easily. “I never was one to sit at home and wait. How are you this evening? You are looking quite well.”

“Just what I was telling her,” Lambeth said easily. “If you get any younger-looking, Lady Castlereigh, you shall have people asking if Penelope is your sister, not your daughter.”

Lady Ursula could not help but smile at his remark, though she remarked with as much sternness as she could muster, “You
are
a flatterer, Lambeth. I shouldn’t wonder if you lead my niece quite a dance.”

“I am afraid it is the other way around, my lady.”

Nicola crossed the room to where her sister sat and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “I am glad you came, Deborah. I did not expect to see you.”

“I was a trifle surprised myself,” Deborah admitted, smiling a little wanly. “But when the Countess and Aunt Adelaide suggested it, I thought, well, why not? A game of cards or some conversation would be nice.”

Nicola smiled and made a pleasant reply, her mind elsewhere. Should they tell the Countess and the others everything, she wondered, and hope that family loyalty would keep them silent when Richard came to question them, as she was sure he and his Bow Street Runner would? The Countess, she knew, would never do or say anything that would aid Richard, and her family loyalty was well-known. And if she remained in ignorance of the night’s events, there was always the possibility of her saying something wrong inadvertently, especially because she did not know what was at stake. If it were only the Countess involved, Nicola thought that she would have told her everything without a second thought.

But Lady Ursula was another matter. One never knew what she might do or say. Anyone who badgered as sweet a person as her daughter Penelope had to be perverse, and everyone knew how much she had fought against believing that Alexandra was her long-dead brother’s child. On the other hand, she had no liking for Richard, either, and she had grudgingly admitted at last that Alexandra and, later, Marianne were her true nieces. Surely family loyalty and the fear of scandal should ensure that she not reveal that her nieces’ husband and fiancé; had been involved in a gaol break, but Nicola was a little afraid to rely on that.

Worst of all, she knew that she did not trust her own sister not to reveal their secret if she told her. Even though Deborah had left Richard’s house in bitter tears, vowing never to see him again, she was, after all, his wife. She had loved him and, for all Nicola knew, still loved him despite her pain and anger. He was also the father of her unborn child, a fact that weighed heavily with a woman. Nicola was not sure what Deborah would say if Richard wheedled her with sweet words to tell him what Nicola had done.

Nicola looked at Marianne. She wished she could talk to her and the others privately.

“It seems odd to me—” Lady Ursula began.

Alexandra cut into her words as if she had not heard her. “A game of cards does sound nice, Deborah,” she said, retrieving the thread of conversation Deborah had started. “Why don’t we repair to the card room? Sebastian? Marianne?”

“Yes, why don’t we?” Nicola agreed, thinking that perhaps they could snatch a bit of conversation together as they changed rooms. She stood up.

At that moment, the sound of loud voices came from the hallway beyond. Nicola tensed, and Lambeth rose to his feet, turning toward the door and starting forward, as did Sebastian, then Bucky.

The doors to the hallway were flung open, and the Earl of Exmoor barged in, followed by his Runner, Stone, then by the constable and the magistrate, Squire Halsey, wringing his hands and protesting in a useless way. After them came the butler, saying, “My lord! You cannot—”

“Don’t tell me what I cannot do,” Exmoor snarled at the man. He turned to face the occupants of the room. Behind them, Nicola could now see several other men, all carrying muskets. She recognized none of their faces, and she supposed that they must be the men Richard had hired to help him capture Jack.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Sebastian snapped as he, Lambeth and Buckminster moved to stand between Richard and the women in the room.

“Oh!” Squire Halsey groaned. “Lord Thorpe. Buckminster. Lord Lambeth…so sorry to intrude. Really, Exmoor, we cannot just accost innocent people.”

“Especially not when they will be dukes one day?” Richard asked bitingly. “Buck up, man, grow a spine. You have a legal right to be here.”

“I dispute that, Exmoor,” Lambeth said coldly. “I know of no right that you or the Squire has to burst into the Countess’s home and frighten her guests. I would suggest that you leave at once.”

“We want only to talk to her.” Richard turned, fixing his gaze on Nicola. “The rest of you I have no quarrel with.”

“Oh, but I am afraid you do,” Thorpe said in a silky tone. “If you think that I am going to allow you to drag a lady from this house and browbeat her, then you are more of a fool than I took you for.”

“Richard.” The Countess’s voice cut across the room, as icy as a winter’s day. All eyes turned toward her. She had stood up, a tall, regal figure, her elegant white hair crowning her head, and she looked at Richard with a cool imperiousness that was guaranteed to make any man feel like an errant schoolboy. “You dare to come into my home with armed men?”

Even Richard had the grace to flush at her words. “It is nothing to do with you, my lady. We seek—”

“Nothing to do with me?” The Countess’s eyes flashed blue fire. “You come in here, dragging the Squire along with you, bringing your company of men to invade my home, and you say it has nothing to do with me?” She turned her gaze to the magistrate, who gulped audibly and took a step backward. “Why are you here, Squire? Have you come to arrest me? Or are you content, as Richard said, with merely harassing those under my protection?”

“Countess…my lady…”

“Yes?”

“We mean no disrespect to you, my lady,” the Squire said feebly, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief.

“Perhaps you do not mean any,” the Countess allowed graciously. “But that is what you have demonstrated, nevertheless. Did you think you could troop in here and treat my guests and me as if we were common criminals and not give offense? Send your men out, and perhaps we can discuss this matter like civilized people. Otherwise, I am afraid that you will hear nothing from anyone in this house. Even if you drag us out and haul us down to gaol.”

“My lady!” The Squire looked striken. “Oh, no, goodness gracious. This is awful. Awful.” He turned toward Richard. “Lord Exmoor, send your men out. You have no authority here. This is trespass, and I told you that it was not proper—”

“Stop blubbering, Halsey,” Richard said with contempt.

“I will send my men outside. They can stop anyone leaving well enough from there. But I am not leaving here until I get some answers.”

He turned and barked an order at Stone, who turned and left the room, gesturing to the men in the hall to follow him. The Countess looked at Richard with contempt.

“You shame the name of Exmoor,” she said bluntly, and for the first time emotion tinged her elegant voice with a tremor.

“Oh, Grandmama…” Penelope cried out in sympathy, rushing to her side and taking her arm.

“Have you not harmed her enough already?” Alexandra asked, her lip curling. “Must you come in here and—”

“No, no!” the Squire said, wringing his hands in distress. “We mean no harm to the Countess. Not at all. It’s the escaped prisoner we are chasing. That is all we want.”

“And precisely why would you come to the Countess’s house looking for a
prisoner?
” Lady Ursula asked bitingly. “Eh? Speak up, man, and tell me that.”

“It is Nicola,” Richard said once again, looking at Nicola.

“Nicola Falcourt?” Lady Ursula repeated in tones of amazement. “The girl has always been a trifle odd, I will admit, but I can assure you that she is
not
a prisoner. Do you have bats in the belfry, man? Halsey, how can you be such a fool as to listen to this?”

“No, no, Miss Falcourt is not a prisoner, my lady,” the Squire hastened to assure her.

“At least not yet,” Richard said.

“Then what in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Lady Buckminster asked, speaking up for the first time. “You do realize, Squire, that you are talking about my niece?”

“That’s right,” Bucky agreed, adding, “I would watch my step if I were you, sir, before I went slandering my cousin.”

“Oh, no. My lord—my lady—I would never—I did not mean—”

“Do shut up, Halsey,” Richard interposed. “They are trying to distract you. Everyone knows that Nicola was not a prisoner. It is the highwayman we are after.”

“The highwayman?” Penelope asked, looking puzzled and supremely innocent.