“Mr. Stone has filled me in, Mr. Sinclair.” The two other men with the constable picked Martin off the floor. “We’ll take care of Mr. Godwick.”
“Murderer,” Mr. Stone hissed at Martin as he followed the men out.
Once the constable took Martin away, Hester’s legs started to shake. She sat down on the bed, unable to stop trembling. She’d been so afraid that her solicitor and his plans would succeed right up until the moment he was taken away.
“Hester.” Drew slipped an arm around her. “It’s over, love. I promise.”
She was not the sort of woman who dissolved into fits of weeping. Or fainted. Wailed. Carried on. It wasn’t in her nature. But enclosed in Drew’s arms, with his scent in her nostrils, a horrific sob came from her. She clutched at Drew’s coat, clinging to him as if she were a terrified child.
“He threatened to kill Mrs. Ebersole. Mary. Her sister had an accident,” she wept. “Martin caused it. How could I have not known he was dangerous?” She looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks. “I never encouraged him. Never, Drew.”
“No one guessed that Godwick was capable of such things. His father worried over his son’s behavior, as did Mr. Stone. But kidnapping? Murder?” Drew shook his head. “And as to his fixation on you—I can’t explain it. You cannot blame yourself, Hester. And I promise, he won’t hurt you or anyone else at Blackbird Heath.”
“You can’t promise that.” She sniffed.
“I can. I’m not leaving you. And I’m certain Godwick will never be free again to roam about.”
Hester’s heart swelled with hope. Yes, he’d rescued her. Apologized for his accusations. But Drew’s life was still in London, far from here. “You don’t like cabbage,” she murmured. “Or the country.”
“It was the only thing that grew at Dunnings, and I will always detest it.” Drew gave a little shiver. “Terrible, noxious odor. Only good for feeding the pigs.”
“But there’s Mr. Worthington and your partnership,” she protested. “You can’t—give that up for me and Blackbird Heath.”
“Oh, I won’t.” He kissed her gently. We will compromise, Mrs. Black. Live at Blackbird Heath and pay visits to London. That is, if you’ll have me.”
Hester nodded, sobbing louder as she pressed her face into Drew’s coat. “I’ll have you, you dandified charlatan.”
Drew chuckled, stroking her hair. “Exactly the sort of response I expected. I love you too.”
Epilogue
London was aterrifying experience.
Full of people, horses, and carriages of every size. Soot hanging in the air belched by factories Hester could only glimpse in the distance. The noise alone was deafening.
She took Drew’s hand, clasping his fingers.
Hester had never been further than Horncastle her entire life, or wished to ever leave Lincolnshire. But Drew had asked for a compromise and since Hester could no longer imagine her life without him, she agreed.
After what happened in the cabin, Drew had only left Hester’s side once, to return briefly to London for his sister’s wedding. Hester stayed behind, at her insistence. She was perfectly safe.
Martin Godwick had been committed to the Middlesex County Lunatic Asylum at Hanwell outside of London and would no longer be a threat to himself or anyone else. And, she reasoned with Drew, she couldn’t leave Blackbird Heath, not while there were crops, animals and the bees, requiring her attention. Reluctantly, he departed for London without her and stayed away only a week.
It felt to Hester like a lifetime.
Compromise, she acknowledged, was the key to a lasting relationship. Now it was her turn.
Mrs. Ebersole had helped Hester pack for their journey, exclaiming over the half-dozen new gowns Drew had purchased for her on their recent trip to Grantham. She’d protested the expense, but now, seeing the richly garbed ladies as their carriage rolled down the street, Hester was glad she’d allowed Drew to win that argument. Also, as he’d cheerily mentioned one morning as his mouth descended to tease one of her nipples, he was disgustingly wealthy.
Hester looked down at her gloved fingers, clasped tightly to Drew’s. The balm she’d purchased in Grantham had improved the appearance of her hands, but they would never be those of a lady. And Drew didn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t be nervous,” he pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. “None of them bite.” He tilted his chin. “At least not much.”
Compromise, Hester reminded herself, mainly to keep from leaping out of the carriage and running back to Lincolnshire.
“Ah, we’re here.” The carriage rolled to a stop before a stately home.
Hester’s eyes widened as she took in the Sinclair London residence. Blackbird Heath was no more than a pauper’s cottage compared to Emerson House.
