The Devil's Necklace (25 page)

Cradling the baby against her, Grace looked up at Ethan. “I didn’t think you would be able to find me. I was so frightened….”

He took hold of her hand, brought it to his lips. “I would have looked forever if I’d had to.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“The boy came to get us, the urchin who picked up the money. He must have seen us searching.”

The lad had materialized out of the shadows, his breeches ragged and torn, his hair unkempt. “Are ye lookin’ fer the pretty copper-haired lady?” the boy had asked, noticing the expensive cut of Ethan’s clothes.

Ethan caught his shoulders. “You’ve seen her, lad? Can you show us where to find her?”

“I swear, guvnor, I didn’t know they ’ad the babe. They just wanted me ta pick up the satchel. But the lady—she come for the child. They’ll ’urt her if ye don’t get there soon.”

Ethan’s whole body went tense. “Show me where she is.”

The boy led them to the ramshackle boardinghouse, in through the cellar and up the stairs to the first floor of the building.

“Up there,” he said, pointing to the second story. “The room at the end o’ the hall.”

Ethan caught the boy’s arm as he started to walk away. “I’m the marquess of Belford. Find me and I’ll see you are rewarded for the good deed you’ve done this day.”

“Aye, sir.”

Ethan shuddered at the memory of what might have occurred if it hadn’t been for the boy, and wrapped an arm around Grace and the baby. They had taken only a couple of steps toward the door when shots rang out in the other room. Pressing Grace and Andrew against the wall, Ethan shielded them with his body as he jerked his pistol from the pocket of his coat.

“Cord?” he called out. “Rafe, are you two all right?”

“We’re fine,” Cord drawled.

Rafe’s voice reached him next. “Unfortunately for Mr. Cox, he decided he would rather chance my pistol than face the three-legged mare.”

No, Cox wouldn’t be facing the gallows, Ethan saw as he stepped back into the shabby room. The man was dead, a small pearl-handled pistol gripped in his hand, his cold gray eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. Blood trick led from a wound in his chest. Rafe and Cord stood over him—Willard Cox, the last man Ethan would have guessed had stolen his son.

An instant later, the door leading in from the hall burst open and Victoria rushed into the room, holding a heavy length of wood out in front of her.

Cord reached over and gently plucked the makeshift weapon from her hands. “It’s all right, love, everyone is fine.”

Her slender shoulders relaxed. “Oh, thank God.”

Cord glared down at her. “I thought I told you to stay where you were put.”

“I heard gunshots. I was afraid you might be hurt.”

Cord gave up a sigh and dragged her into his arms. “If I weren’t so crazy about you, I would throttle you.”

Ethan flicked a glance toward the other room. “There’s another one in there.” His gaze softened as he looked at his wife. “He’s alive. I finished him off, but my wife had al ready pretty well done him in.”

Rafe’s mouth faintly curved. “I’ll take care of him.” Striding off, he disappeared into the other sleeping room. Ethan could hear the sound of the rags that had been in the corner being shredded into bonds, then a few grunts and groans as Rafe bound and gagged the man. The duke of Sheffield returned a few minutes later and Ethan caught the familiar gleam of the pearl-and-diamond necklace in his hand.

“I believe this is yours,” Rafe said.

“Yes…thank you.” Grace looked up at Ethan. “I thought I might need it to bargain with.”

“Apparently, it didn’t work,” Ethan said dryly, thinking of Grace’s fight with the kidnapper and ignoring an inward shot of fury at what had nearly occurred.

“Perhaps not.” Grace slipped the pearls back into her pocket. “Then again, we are all well and the baby is safe. Perhaps the necklace worked perfectly.”

Cord glanced down at Victoria and a look passed between them. Ethan didn’t know what that look meant, but it was easy to recognize the love in his cousin’s eyes as he gazed at his petite, dark-haired wife.

Ethan leaned down and pressed a kiss on the top of his son’s tiny head. He took hold of Grace’s hand. “Let’s go home, love.”

Grace just nodded. Ethan wondered if she could read the same love he had seen in Cord’s eyes in his eyes, as
well. He never thought it would happen. Not to him. He hoped Grace understood how much she meant to him. He had told her he loved her but he wasn’t sure she believed him.

In time, he would find a way to convince her.

I
t was nearly four in the morning by the time they got home. Rafe had volunteered to deliver the prisoner, Gillis, to the nearest gaol and inform the authorities of the dead man they would find in the boardinghouse off Gray’s Inn Lane.

Mr. Dory, the coachman, was waiting with the carriage when Grace and Ethan arrived, and it was easy to see the man’s relief.

“Ready to go home, my lord?”

“More than ready, Mr. Dory,” Ethan said, grateful his friends had their own way home.

Once they reached the town house, half the staff appeared downstairs as it became known that the baby was safe. Mrs. Swann cried when she saw little Andrew, a flood of fat, rolling tears she dabbed away with the sash of her heavy quilted wrapper.

“Such a sweet little boy,” she said. “Praise be to God for bringin’ ’im safely back ’ome.”

Grace and Mrs. Swann took the baby upstairs to the nursery. Grace changed him and Mrs. Swann fed
him, then Grace held him and rocked him until he fell asleep.

“’E’s content now that ’e’s ’ome,” Mrs. Swann said. “But ’e’s bound ta be tired. ’E’ll probably sleep for hours.” She looked over at Grace. “Ye need to get some rest yerself, milady.”

Grace just nodded. Mrs. Swann was right. She was so tired she could barely make her feet move down the hall. Ethan was equally tired, she knew, and she was sure that she would find him sleeping, but when she walked into the room they now shared, she saw him sitting in the corner in his dressing robe, staring anxiously toward the door.

It was warm in the room. Orange-and-yellow flames licked the grate and lit the chamber with a welcoming glow. Ethan came to his feet the moment she walked through the door. “How is he?”

“Sleeping. He’s exhausted. I think he’s glad to be home.”

The edge of his mouth faintly curved. “What about his mother?” He walked over, caught her shoulders and turned her back to him, and she felt his hands begin to work the buttons at the back of her dress.

“His mother is equally tired.”

“So is his father.” Ethan helped her remove her damp woolen gown, disappeared into the marchioness’s suite, then returned with a white cotton night rail. He removed Grace’s chemise and helped her pull the gown on over her head. Deftly, he tied the little pink bow at her throat, turned her around, and began to pull the pins from her hair.

“Shall I braid it?” he asked, combing his fingers through the heavy auburn curls.

Grace shook her head, too tired to bother. “I am
so tired, I don’t think I will move enough for it to get tangled.”

Ethan bent his head and very softly kissed her. “Come, love. Let’s get some sleep.”

Grace let him guide her over to the big four-poster bed, climbed between the covers, and Ethan settled himself beside her. As she lay in the crook of his arm, she could feel the heat of his body, the flex of muscles in his chest and shoulders, the long sinews in his legs as he shifted on the mattress. He had the most beautiful body, she thought, all lean muscle and smooth dark skin. Her thigh brushed his. She felt the subtle brush of coarse male hair and her body began to tingle. To her surprise, her exhaustion began to fade.

“I thought you would be sleeping by the time I got here,” she said into the quiet in the room.

“I wanted to make sure you and Andrew were all right.”

“Both of us are fine.” She ran a hand over the muscles across his chest, felt strands of curly black chest hair wrap around the tips of her fingers. “Are you certain that was the only reason?”

He released a weary sigh. “I felt restless. I am tired, but I don’t feel sleepy.”

Grace felt exactly the same. Perhaps the events of the night had left them too keyed up to sleep. Perhaps it was her terrible encounter with Cox and Gillis or her fear for the baby. Whatever it was, she leaned toward Ethan, pressed her lips against the skin over his chest, ran her tongue around a flat copper nipple. “Perhaps I can find a way to help you fall asleep.”

A deep sound of pleasure came from his throat as she kissed his neck, the line of his jaw, then settled her mouth over his and used her tongue to tease and taste him as
he had taught her. Rising from her side of the bed, she pulled her nightgown up to her waist and moved on top of him, straddling his narrow hips.

Ethan hissed in a breath. “Gracie…love…”

She caught the hem of her nightgown and drew it off over her head, letting her hair tumble down around her bare shoulders. In the light from the glowing embers in the fire, she watched Ethan’s pale blue eyes roam over her, saw them darken as they fixed on her breasts.

“So beautiful…” One of his hands reached out to cup the fullness. His thumb grazed the end and her nipple tightened and began to throb. “I need you, Grace,” he whispered, sliding a hand behind her neck and dragging her mouth down to his for a deep, penetrating kiss.

He was fiercely aroused. She could feel the steel of his shaft between her thighs, trembled as his body went even harder. He kissed her long and thoroughly, trailed kisses along her throat and over her shoulders. He kissed each of her breasts, took each globe into his mouth and suckled, gently at first then more deeply.

A little whimper escaped at the feel of his lips and tongue, the graze of his teeth against her nipple. Desire tugged low in her belly and heat slid into her core. She was wet and slick as she began to ease down his shaft, taking his hard length inside her. She wanted that, wanted to be joined with him. It seemed important tonight, more important than ever before.

Ethan kissed her again, a wet, steamy kiss that had her breasts tingling and her body on fire, and Grace began to move. Lifting her hips, she slid up and then down, taking him deeper still, wanting as much of him as he could give her. Ethan hissed at the hot sensation, and the muscles across his chest flexed and tightened. Again and
again, she took him inside her, riding him hard, letting the tension build, heightening the pleasure.

She could feel his muscles straining as he worked to maintain his control. Grace plunged down, and with a growl low in his throat, Ethan gripped her bottom to hold her in place and drove himself wildly inside her.

With each deep thrust, pleasure rolled through her, heat and need and fierce sensation. She reached the pinnacle and soared. A few minutes later Ethan’s body tightened as he followed her to release.

Ethan eased Grace off him and she stretched like a drowsy cat on the mattress beside him. She fit him so perfectly, he thought, adjusting her into the crook of his arm. As she drifted off to sleep, he combed back strands of her glorious dark copper hair and pressed a kiss on her fore head.

Still, as content as he was, Ethan wasn’t yet sleepy. Something gnawed at him, something Grace had said to Jonas McPhee.

He dozed for a while and finally slept deeply. When he awakened, he knew what he had to do.

Lying in the big four-poster bed, Ethan stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Grace to stir. She opened her eyes and smiled at him softly. “Good morning.”

Turning onto his side, he ran a finger along her cheek. “Good morning.”

She scooted up in the bed, pulling the sheet up with her, propping her back against the headboard, and Ethan moved up beside her.

“We should probably get up,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I need to check on Andrew.”

“I’m already up,” he teased and she saw that he was and she blushed. His appetite for her was insatiable. Fortunately, it seemed to work both ways. But making love wasn’t going to happen this morning. “We’ll both go in and check on him in a minute. Before we do, there is something I wish to say.”

A hint of wariness crept into her face. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking about your father, about the story you told McPhee. I want Jonas to do a little more checking on the earl of Collingwood. When McPhee was here, you mentioned the earl as a possible suspect in Andrew’s kidnapping. You said your father believes he is the man who sold secrets to the French.”

“Yes…my father believes the earl may be the man who is guilty of the crime.”

“Last night, when I saw you in that filthy room, fighting to save our son, I realized revenge against your father was no longer important. I want to meet with him, Grace. I want to hear his side of the story.”

For an instant, Grace simply stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Then she let out a cry of joy and threw herself on top of him, hugging his neck and pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh, Ethan, I can scarcely believe it!” She sat back smiling. “I am certain—once you hear what my father has to say—you are going to know that he is innocent.”

“I said I would hear him out. I will listen to his side of the story and try to find out if it’s true. But I won’t make any more promises than that.”

She leaned over and very softly kissed him. “That is all I can ask. More than most men would do.”

Ethan pulled her into his arms and just held her. He could feel her trembling and thought again how much she meant to him, how very much he loved her. Very
softly, he kissed her. He didn’t mean to do more, but suddenly she was kissing him back and he was inside her and Grace was moving beneath him, softly whispering his name.

They made love tenderly, but didn’t linger. They needed to see their son, to reassure themselves that he was all right. As soon as they finished dressing, Ethan took Grace’s hand and led her out the door to the nursery.

Mrs. Swann greeted Ethan at the nursery room door, giving him a respectful smile but focusing her attention on Grace.

“’E’s already been fed, milady. Poor little lamb is sound asleep again. ’E’s plumb wore out.”

Ethan walked Grace over to the cradle and he saw that the child slept peacefully on his side with his thumb in his mouth. Grace reached down and tenderly drew the blanket up over his tiny shoulders.

“Come get me, will you, Mrs. Swann, when he wakes up?”

“Aye, milady.”

Ethan led Grace out of the room and they went down to his study. As soon as the door was closed, he turned toward her.

“About your father, Grace… I meant what I said about meeting with him. Do you know how to find him?”

He caught a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Dammit, what would it take to make her trust him?

“This isn’t a trick, Grace. I wish to speak to him, nothing more. I’ll go alone and after I leave I won’t tell any one that I have seen him. I give you my word.”

The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. At least his word meant something.

“I can send him a message. I’ll tell him you want to
see him, but I’m going with you. I won’t send the note unless you agree.”

“Dammit, Grace, meeting with a man being hunted by the law might be dangerous.”

“Those are my terms,” she said, her chin inching up a bit. “I go or there is no meeting.”

He didn’t want to take her along, but he understood how important this was—and why she might be nervous. Since Ethan’s return to England, he had been the man most dedicated to seeing the viscount hang.

Ethan sighed. “All right, you can come.”

Grace relaxed. “Once my father receives the note, he’ll send word where the two of you should meet.”

Ethan didn’t press her further. He wanted to hear what the viscount had to say and for that to happen, he needed to guarantee the man safe passage once their meeting was over.

As soon as breakfast was finished, Ethan penned a note to Jonas McPhee. On their return to the house last night, a footman had been sent to Bow Street with a message in forming McPhee they had safely rescued the babe. Today’s message instructed the runner to continue looking into the affairs of the earl of Collingwood. Ethan asked McPhee to search for anything that might tie the earl to the theft of state secrets or connect him in some way to the French.

Later in the day, Grace informed him that she had sent a message to her father and now awaited a reply. The wheels had begun to turn. Ethan had vowed to find the traitor who had betrayed him and his men. He was ready to face the man he still felt certain was responsible, but he had begun to hope that he was wrong, that a miracle would occur and Grace’s father would be proved innocent of the crime.

For Grace’s sake, he had begun to hope that traitor was someone other than Harmon Jeffries.

Grace waited impatiently for the return note from her father to arrive. She wasn’t sure how often he checked for messages left for him at the Rose Tavern under the name Henry Jennings, but sooner or later, he would receive word of Ethan’s agreement to meet him.

She thought that he would be excited by the news. He was eager to prove his innocence. With the marquess of Belford’s aid, perhaps at last he would find a way.

Grace moved through the house, her nerves more frayed with each passing day. Though the rooms were draped with pine boughs and smelled of ever green, though clusters of candles warmly lit the house in the evenings, she was scarcely in the mood for the holidays ahead.

Across the drawing room, holly and berries decorated the mantel and mistletoe hung overhead as Christmastide drew near. The servants moved about with a bit more spirit in their step, but Grace felt tense and often on edge and she thought that Ethan felt that way, too.

Then, on Wednesday, the note Grace had been waiting for arrived. She read it herself before taking it into the study to give to Ethan.

Grace read the note and took a deep breath. Clutching it tightly in her hand, she made her way down the hall into Ethan’s study. He looked up as she walked in.

“What is it?”

“The note from my father has arrived.” She moved to ward the desk and handed him the message, which he quickly scanned.

“Tonight, then,” he said darkly.

Grace’s stomach tightened at the look on his face.
Dear God,
she prayed,
tell me I have done the right thing.