Suzanne Robinson (28 page)

“What?” Georgiana cried.

The pistol jabbed in Nick’s direction. “Everyone thinks I’m too absorbed in my studies to notice anything, but I saw how he looked at you. I’ve seen you together—in the grotto, here, that day on the lawn when Aunt Augusta tried to shoot you.” Ludwig glared at Georgiana. “Uncle told me what was going on, but I didn’t believe him until I saw for myself, and then I realized you would give up our glorious studies for him, a common thief.”

Shaking her head, Georgiana tried to make sense of Ludwig’s ramblings. “You poisoned poor dear Threshfield to keep the collection.”

“It’s mine!” Ludwig shouted. “I take care of it. I
keep it safe. I study the objects. He had no right to threaten to give it away. When he did, I realized it would never be safe until he was dead.” He stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket. “And I once thought we were twin souls in our love of scholarship, but now you’ve ruined everything. You were going to find out about the belladonna in the rabbit stew, and then I might have been accused of murder. If that happened, I couldn’t take care of my collection. I couldn’t be separated from my collection. Oh, my heart, no.”

As Ludwig spoke, Georgiana felt Nick’s hand clasp hers. It was warm and steady, while hers was cold and trembling. Nick had managed to put them in a position at the corner of the sarcophagus. His left leg was partially hidden by the stone container, and she felt it move surreptitiously. She sneaked a glance and saw his boot edging the discarded hammer toward them.

“I don’t want to fire a gun in here,” Ludwig was saying. “The bullets might damage my tomb paintings, but I don’t suppose either of you will drink any wine.”

“You put belladonna in it,” Georgiana said.

Ludwig nodded. “I thought surely you noticed the passage on nightshade in the book on Egyptian medicine. Since you won’t have any wine now, I’ll have to shoot both of you. We’re too far away to be heard by anyone in the rest of the house, and I’ll just have you kneel so that I can aim down.” He brightened and smiled at her. “And then I’ll be able to replicate the embalming ritual. I have the natron salts ready to dry the bodies, and the tools.”

“Holy bleeding hell,” Nick said in a hushed voice. “The lunatic is going to wrap us up like them
mummies and stuff us in there.” He pointed to the mummy cases.

“Yes,” Georgiana said, her voice shaking. “That’s why he had to lengthen the coffin, to fit you. It’s a clever idea.”

Ludwig was beaming now. “I knew you’d appreciate it. Please kneel, both of you.”

Nick thrust Georgiana farther behind him. “Leave her alone. She won’t say anything.”

“I’m not the fool you think,” Ludwig said. “Once I killed you, she would never rest until she destroyed me.”

Georgiana escaped Nick’s grip and slipped around to his side. “You’re right, Ludwig dear, but there’s no need to kill either of us. We won’t reveal your secret.”

“I’m sorry, dear Georgiana, but I don’t believe you. Please kneel.”

While Ludwig continued to ramble on about his plans, an odd scraping sound had caught Georgiana’s attention. Evidently his own voice had concealed the noise from Ludwig. She glanced at Nick, whose eyes were fixed on the source of the scraping. Lady Augusta stood just inside the doorway, clad in an elaborate lace-and-lawn robe and cap. She was tamping down a charge in her musket with a ramrod. Nick drew in his breath as Augusta raised the weapon.

Ludwig pointed the pistol straight at Nick’s heart. Georgiana’s gaze fixed on the finger curled around the trigger. She saw it move. Nick cried out and tried to push her out of the way. At the same time, Georgiana threw herself between Ludwig and Nick so that Nick missed when he tried to shove her. The report nearly deafened her as Georgiana hit the floor. She felt a
sting in her side, but it vanished before Nick’s body plummeted on top of her.

His arm came around her and he rolled, bringing her with him so that they ended up behind the sarcophagus. Nick grabbed the hammer and jumped up to peer over the sarcophagus and coffin. Georgiana sprang to her feet beside him in time to see Ludwig whirl around to point the pistol at Augusta. There was a loud crack. Smoke curled from the musket, and Ludwig dropped with a hole in his head. Georgiana’s vision filled with the sight of blood and bone. Her knees felt weak, and she heard herself whimper. Nick slipped his arm around her. They exchanged stunned glances, then turned to peer at Augusta.

The old lady hooked her arm around her musket and glared at Ludwig’s body. “I told you to kill the spy, not Wellington.” She spun around and marched out the door. “Daft young rotter.”

Nick slipped his arm around her waist, and they emerged from the protection of the sarcophagus to stand over Ludwig’s body. Georgiana glanced at the spattered blood, then looked away. Nick placed his body between her and the dead man. His fingers lifted her chin. She raised her eyes to find him looking at her with a gaze of wondering gentleness. His burnished hair gleamed in the candlelight. His eyes glowed like indigo fire.

“You put yourself in front of a bullet meant for me.”

Her gaze wavered. “Dukes’ daughters are taught to be brave.”

“Do they always risk their lives for common thieves?” His voice was growing even softer, which increased her alarm.

“Constantly,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

She cleared her throat. “Poor Ludwig.”

“Sod poor Ludwig. He tried to kill us.” Nick began to approach her.

Georgiana backed away. “Do you think madness runs in the Threshfield family?”

“I’d make a bet on it.”

No matter how much she avoided him, Nick kept coming toward her. Georgiana backed all the way to the wall, where she bumped her head and tried to slide sideways. His arm blocked her. She slid the other way; his other arm came up to bar her escape. He bent down so that his lips were almost touching hers.

“Say it, love,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Say why you risked your life for mine.”

She was surrounded by him. Her breath was his, her skin tingled with his heat.

“Why?” he whispered. He touched his tongue to her earlobe.

Georgiana gasped and blurted out, “I couldn’t let you die! Please, Nick, I want to get out of this horrible place.”

“Not until you tell me why.”

The blood, the thought that he almost died, drove her to cry out, “I love you! There. Are you satisfied? I love you, now let me go.”

She thrust against him with both arms, hard. That was when she noticed the pain. She cried out again and clasped her side. Nick stood back, and they both looked at the blood that soaked the bodice of her gown. Georgiana glanced up to meet his alarmed stare. She smiled weakly.

“Oh, my.”

Nick grabbed her as her legs buckled. She felt her body sail into the air. Dizziness forced her to close her eyes. Her head dropped to his shoulder, and she could hear him swearing as he hurried from the tomb chamber. She could still hear his voice, as if at a distance, while she floated in some undefined space filled with pain and nausea.

“Hang on, love. Hang on.”

Hang on, hang on
. Those two words chased each other inside his head as Nick carried Georgiana upstairs to the workroom. She had taken a shot meant for him. Deliberately. She’d risked her life, which meant she valued his before her own.

He’d never been so confused, for no one had ever done such a thing. Always in the past he’d been the one to save people—his mother, his sister, even Jocelin. Now Georgiana had saved him, and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

Sweeping books and papers from the table in the workroom, he lowered her carefully and grabbed one of the candelabra for light. He set the stand beside Georgiana, who pressed a hand to her wound. She lay still, biting her lower lip, her eyes closed.

“Hang on, love. Move your hand so I can see.”

He eased her hand away from the wound. Swallowing back dread at what he might find, Nick lifted the torn edges of her bodice. The bullet had sliced through her flesh between two ribs, but the injury was
shallow. The bleeding had already begun to slow. Relief flooded through him as he took out his handkerchief and gently placed it over the wound.

“Is it terrible?” came Georgiana’s shaky inquiry.

“No, love. Just a nick.” He bent over her and kissed her lips, causing her to open her eyes. They were brilliant with unshed tears.

She winced. “A nick. How appropriate.”

“You don’t look too good, love. Rest a moment, and then I’ll carry you to your room and get a doctor.”

He didn’t like the way she’d lost all color in her face. When she began to cry silently, he grew alarmed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Poor, poor Ludwig. Poor Threshfield. If only he hadn’t made up that tale about giving away the collection, neither of them would have—would have …”

“Bleeding hell, that lying old skeleton should have known better, and Ludwig almost killed us!”

“Where is Lady Augusta?”

“Scarpered, love. Now, be quiet.”

She had gotten control of her tears, but she grimaced again as she said, “You were right all along.”

“About what?”

“The balcony railing, the hansom cab. Neither was an accident.”

“Right, love, but we may never know if Ludwig had a hand in either. Me, I still think Evelyn bloody Hyde has got to answer for those little incidents. Which means there’s nothing to worry about now that the bastard has his title.”

Biting her lip, Georgiana fought back a sob. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Here! You keep quiet like I said. You’re just upsetting yourself more with all this talk.”

Nick squeezed her hand. Then he found a pitcher of water, tasted it just in case Ludwig had put something in it as well as in the wine, and brought a glass to Georgiana. He helped her raise her head and held the glass to her lips. She took a few sips, then pushed the glass away and lowered her lashes so that he couldn’t see her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Ross. I’m not going to take advantage of you. You won’t have to sacrifice yourself simply because I was foolish enough to get shot.”

His brows drew together as he set the glass down. “What do you mean, sacrifice myself?”

“By having to marry me,” she whispered.

He said nothing while he absorbed yet another shock. Georgiana thought he didn’t want her. Had she felt this way all along, and how could she think such a thing?

“But you thought I wasn’t good enough for you, my being from St. Giles and all.”

Georgiana’s eyes flew open, revealing astonishment and pain. His arm still cradled her head. She tried to sit up but fell back, gasping.

“You fool,” she said, and she fainted.

A week after Ludwig was killed, Nick rode into the hills that formed one of the borders of the Threshfield estate, with Pertwee in attendance. Their destination was a rotunda, a gleaming white stone pavilion open to the air and set on a rise overlooking the house, park, and woods. Slender columns rose to support a high domed ceiling upon which was set a statue of
winged Mercury. Beneath the dome sat a telescope intended for the enjoyment of the earl’s guests.

Nick walked his horse up the slope and cast a morose glance back at his valet. Pertwee had badgered him into coming there, saying he’d spent the whole week slouching about the house, casting even more melancholy upon an already beleaguered family. Nick didn’t care where he went.

After he had taken Georgiana to her room and seen her cared for by the Threshfield doctor, Nick had been plunged into the furor of the inquiry into Ludwig’s death. He’d answered questions from constables, a justice of the peace, a coroner, and even a queen’s counsel and a home secretary. During it all he had been subjected to the arrogant assumption that since he was the one of low birth, he must have been responsible for Ludwig’s death.

Georgiana had set them all straight in a gallant, pale-faced appearance in the drawing room before the queen’s counsel. Then she’d vanished into her rooms, pleading illness from her wound. She refused to see him or anyone, except Lady Lavinia. Alarmed messages arrived from her father demanding explanations and the return of his daughter.

Lady Augusta was remanded into the permanent care of a staff of nurses whose business was to watch her day and night. Finally the aristocratic queen’s counsel sent a lowly constable to tell Nick that Ludwig’s death would be ruled an accident—to spare Lady Georgiana and Lady Augusta. No one cared if Nick was spared.

In all the confusion Nick had longed to talk to Georgiana, but she didn’t seem to want to talk to him. He asked several times to be allowed to visit her and
was refused. He was left to suffer in his confusion. He still couldn’t believe she loved him, or that she loved him enough to defy Society and marry him. He was afraid to ask her and receive the answer he knew she must give. In any case, nothing had changed. He couldn’t dishonor her and Jocelin.

Dismounting at the summit of the hill, Nick handed his reins to Pertwee and walked slowly to the rotunda. Beneath the dome near the telescope were wrought-iron chairs and a table. Nick sank into a chair and propped his boots on the table, crossed his arms, and sank his chin to his chest.