“He took the dare and jumped. He fell to his death.”
The bleak pain of his loss rippled over her in tangible currents and she mourned for the child who’d carried such a heavy burden of guilt and grief into adulthood. “Oh, Christian.” Tears burned her eyes.
“Mother never sang or smiled after that. Jared’s antics grew more and more reckless until about two months later, during a prank, someone got hurt—not seriously, but enough to cause concern. I ran for help. Father ... I’d never seen him so angry. He started beating Jared.” He swallowed. “I felt every blow as if I were getting beaten. I wished it were me instead of Jared. But I was so frightened, I did nothing. Cole interfered. It led to a terrible row. Cole and Jared left home that day. Cole joined the navy and Jared joined a privateer.” His voice shook.
Genevieve held him, silently weeping for the child bearing such grief, such loss.
“Grant never forgave me. He and Jason were the closest. Jason understood Grant. After Jason’s death, Grant barely spoke to me. A year later, he convinced Father to purchase a commission for him in the Army. In a matter of a year, my mother lost all her sons. Except me.” Self loathing dripped off those last two words.
Hoarsely, through her tears, she managed, “She’s lucky she had you.”
“I caused everything to go wrong. After Jason died, Mama’s health declined. I tried to make up for it. I did everything to try to make her happy, but she never recovered. Her death threw Father into a melancholy. That’s why we were in Bath the summer I met you, trying to revive his health. But his heart had already died when she did and I couldn’t make him want to live. It’s my fault Jason died, and it’s my fault my parents died.”
Tears traveled down her cheeks in rivers. “Oh, my love, of course it’s not your fault.”
“If I hadn’t been trying so hard to prove I was something I wasn’t—” His voice cracked. He coughed into his hand and cleared his throat.
She raised up, put a hand on either side of his face, and looked directly into his eyes. “You must stop blaming yourself. It was an accident—a horrible, terrible, tragic accident. You didn’t kill him, Christian. He was a boy, and boys do foolish things. Sometimes those foolish things cause tragedies.” Such fearful hope edged into his expression that a fresh wave of tears plowed her over. “I love you, Christian. You are the most honorable man I’ve ever met. Let go of all your guilt and stop punishing yourself.”
He blinked as if he couldn’t quite fathom the possibility. She wrapped her arms around him and guided his head to her shoulder. Leaning against her, he slid an arm behind her and wrapped her in a tight embrace.
She whispered, “Let it go.”
She sat holding Christian, wishing she could crawl inside and heal all his hurt. She’d had no idea when she married Wickburgh the full depths to which she’d hurt Christian. After all he’d already suffered, he must have thought himself truly undeserving of love. But he did deserve love. And so did she. She felt that in every inch of her heart.
She smoothed back his golden hair and kissed his brow. “You are good and honorable and kind. You love your family fiercely and loyally. You’re strong and courageous and you fight for what’s right. You are my Prince Charming. I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you and how amazing you really are.”
He let out his breath in a half laugh. “I look forward to that. I must say, though, that you are doing a fine job of it right now.”
“Good. Then I have a good start.”
“I don’t deserve you, but I do love you,” he said softly.
He kissed her then, pouring all the heat of his love into that kiss. Every brush of his lips, the pressure of his arms surrounding her, chased away the last vestiges of pain inflicted by Wickburgh. She was whole. She was home.
He broke the kiss and simply held her. His arms tightened as if he could not bear to let her go. They sat wrapped in their embrace while the world faded away. How much time passed, she could not guess, but no one disturbed them.
Christian’s hushed voice broke the silence. “I’m not as honorable as you think.”
“Oh?”
“I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t kiss you until you were free to be mine.”
“Mmm. I suppose it’s not your fault I’m such a tempting morsel.” She lifted her head and smiled at him.
He cupped her cheek, kissed her brow, and pulled her against him again. “I might break my word again before the day is through.”
Grant returned. “The Marshalls are not there.”
Genevieve lifted her head from Christian’s shoulder. “Where are they?”
“According to the servants, your parents received a visitor—their son-in-law—and they left with him. I stationed two men there to watch the house in case there’s any motion.”
Christian lips twitched sardonically. “How many men do you have at your disposal?”
“A plethora. And yes, you’re paying dearly for them.”
Christian waved it off as if the money were meaningless. As a youngest son, he didn’t have the family wealth at his disposal, but in Bath he’d mentioned some investments he’d made. Perhaps those investments had paid off.
“How long ago did the Marshalls leave?” Christian asked.
“Early this morning.”
Genevieve pictured her parents at the mercy of Wickburgh. He was probably playing one of his cruel games with them. She leaped to his feet. “I must go. It’s the only way to learn where he’s holding them.”
Christian stood. “And deliver yourself to that madman? No.”
“She’s right,” Grant said. “We’ll have to play his game for now. But not by his rules.”
He and Christian exchanged a charged look. Christian nodded slowly. “He wants her to come alone. ‘Alone’ is a very relative term, don’t you think?”
“It’s too dangerous for a lady travel by horseback,” Grant agreed.
Christian nodded. “She’ll need to travel by coach. With a coachman and a footman.”
Genevieve caught their meaning. “And perhaps even an outrider or two?”
Grant’s brow raised and she had the impression she’d just passed some sort of test. “Precisely.”
Christian grinned darkly as if he were contemplating the worst sort of mayhem, which, really, seemed incongruous with the Christian she once knew. But the new Christian was more complex than the sweet dreamer she’d known before. Or maybe she hadn’t known him as well as she had first supposed. Still, she trusted him completely, perhaps even more so.
“Think any of the servants’ livery will fit us?” Christian asked Grant.
“There are some very strapping lads as footmen,” Grant said. “I’m sure we can find something.”
A dark gleam lit Christian’s eyes at the prospect of a coup, and his hand gripped a bulge in his coat roughly the size of a pistol. An even darker gleam lit Grant’s eyes. Genevieve almost smiled. She might not want to meet Grant in a dark alley, but he’d be a good man to have on their side as they faced the man who wanted her dead.
Christian grimly called out orders to the nearest guard, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. The guard dashed away to do his bidding. Christian glanced at her, and then his eyes darted around, narrowing as he looked toward the window. He grabbed her by the arm and moved her a few steps to her right. “Stay away from the window.”
She let him move her, her mind racing to her parents. She prayed Wickburgh would keep them alive and unharmed while he used them as bait. The moment they were of no use, he’d dispose of them.
CHAPTER 28
Wearing the coat and hat of a coachman, Christian stood next to the back door, pulled Genevieve into his arms, and tried not to crush her. Her soft body molded into his and his senses filled with her scent and her sweetness. Grant, dressed in the fine livery of footman, spoke quietly to one of the Runners.
If the situation weren’t so dangerous, Christian would rib Grant about his fancy attire. But Grant understood Christian needed the better disguise of the coachman or Wickburgh would recognize him if they were seen. The temptation to discard the plan and carry her off to France or Italy, somewhere she’d be safe—and where they could finally be together—sang through his veins. First, her insane husband had to be stopped. Otherwise, she would never be safe and neither would her parents. But for the moment, he’d enjoy this moment holding Genevieve.
“I’ll be right there with you,” he said huskily into her hair.
She buried her face into his shirtfront. “I know you will. I’m not afraid.”
Heaven help him, he loved this woman so much that it physically hurt. He drew back and held her at arm’s length. “Do you have your gun?”
She nodded. “It’s in my pocket.” She patted the front of her pelisse.
“And the dagger?”
She lifted her skirts to show her riding boots with the hilt peeping out from inside.
His blue gaze bathed her in intense light. “If anything goes wrong, run.”
She nodded.
He gripped her shoulders. “I mean, it, Genevieve; don’t stay and play heroine.”
“I know.” She looked up at him with trust shining in her eyes. She placed a cool, steady hand on his cheek. “All will be well.”
He wished he could share her optimism. With a man like Wickburgh, anything could happen. And their plan would probably go wrong at some point, so he’d have to make snap decisions. He clenched his fists. The idea of gambling with Genevieve’s life and the lives of her parents turned him to ice.
Grant glanced at him. “Our first priority is rescuing the hostages. If we lose Wickburgh, let him go. You can still challenge him another time.”
Genevieve’s mouth dropped open and disapproval lurked in her eyes. “Challenge? To a duel?”
Christian met her gaze without apology. “One way or another, this ends.” If things got rough and Wickburgh got shot, no one would mourn his passing.
She nodded slowly, eyeing him as if she’d never seen him before.
“What is it?” Christian asked.
“He probably deserves whatever he gets, but I don’t want you to become something that would ….” She trailed off.
He touched her arm. “Tell me.”
“I just never thought you ruthless enough to duel someone.”
He stiffened. “Ruthless? Dueling is a matter of honor and I will do whatever I must to protect you.”
“I know, it just seems so close to murder. And you aren’t cold blooded.”
“No, I assure you, my blood is very hot right now. But I vow to keep a cool head. We’ll apprehend him and bring him before the authorities, if possible.”
She nodded again, her forehead creasing. Then she lifted her chin and put a hand on his chest right over his heart. “I trust you, Christian. Be careful. I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt.”
Pride and love swelled his chest and softened the hard edge forming around him. It reminded him of his true goal to protect Genevieve and rescue her parents—not kill Wickburgh. She was right; he wasn’t cold blooded enough to kill a man. They’d subdue Wickburgh and let the Runners take him to the magistrate where he’d face the law for his crimes. No punishment would be too harsh for that monster.
Voices boomed through the great hall from the front door. Christian’s ears perked. Those voices sounded like Cole and Jared. He paused, listening.
A second later, the eldest two Amesbury brothers strode in dressed in riding clothes, looking so much alike that many people mistook them for twins. Their flushed faces and glittering eyes reminded Christian of wolves on the hunt.
Cole grinned. “Chris!”
“Having an adventure without us?” Jared grinned gleefully.
Cole’s gazed flitted over Christian and Grant, no doubt taking in their odd state of dress. “If you are, I’m insulted.” He turned to Jared. “Are you insulted?”
Jared nodded. “Oh, absolutely.”
Cole made an imperious wave. “We’re insulted. We demand satisfaction.”
“But first, we’re going with you to defeat your foes,” Jared added helpfully. “Then we’ll demand satisfaction.”
Christian’s head spun at the way they fired off their ridiculous comments.
Jared’s eyes gleamed as he gazed at Genevieve and his grin broadened. “Belay that. You must introduce me to this ethereal goddess at once.”
The sudden urge to plant a fist in the middle of Jared’s fool mouth seized Christian. “You aren’t going with us. I thought you were still in France with your
wife
.”
Jared ignored him. Instead he took Genevieve’s hand and raised it to his lips. “Dear lady, I am Christian’s favorite brother, Jared Amesbury, at your service.” He kissed her hand again. “I cannot understand what you see in him—too perfect by half for all of us—but it’s certainly clear what he sees in you.”
Christian shouldered him aside and pried him off Genevieve’s hand. “Stop slobbering on her, you great oaf. Go away, both of you.” He made a shooing motion to Cole and Jared.
“And miss out on a lark?” Cole opened his mouth and eyes in mock horror, looking more like a fish than an earl.
“Not a chance,” Jared said.
“Then stop squawking like a couple of hens,” Grant snarled from the corner.
Cole cocked a brow at Christian. “Yes, quite. What is your plan?”
Christian sighed. Secretly, he appreciated their offer to come to his aid. But he hated the idea that they thought he couldn’t handle himself. Still, with a madman like Wickburgh, and Genevieve’s life on the line, he’d be foolish to turn them away. “Very well. You can take the place of our outriders.”
“How soon do we leave?” Cole asked.
“Immediately.” Christian glanced at Genevieve. “She’s expected for tea and it’s about a two-hour drive from here.”
Rachel arrived. “Cole! Jared!” She threw her arms around them and kissed them both soundly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Christian turned to her. “We’re leaving one of Grant’s men here to protect you.”
Rachel pointed to a gun tucked into a belt around her waist. “Maybe I’ll protect myself.”
“Don’t get overly confident.”
She put her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry about me. You be careful. And come back whole.”
“That’s the idea.” He hugged his sister and released her quickly.
Grant handed Christian a bag grimly. “Real men’s clothes. I plan to change, if possible, after we learn where Wickburgh is keeping the Marshalls.”