His Sunshine did not need saving.
She had saved herself.
Relief hit him with such violent force, his knees trembled.
“Thank God.”
Scotland Yard detectives poured into the room around them, Stone at their helm.
“Help!” Croydon cried. “Mrs. Shaw punched me in the nose. She has gone mad!”
“I am the Duchess of Northwich,” Pippa informed the nursemaid, steel in her voice, “and I will punch you again if I must.” To Roland and the Scotland Yard detectives, she said, “Croydon had a pistol. I hit her with my pillow and fell to the floor as she fired at me, but I was able to knock it from her hands and push it beneath the bed.”
She astounded him. Pippa may have been dainty and small, but she was fierce.
Brava, my brazen warrior duchess. Brava.
“You are fortunate indeed, Your Grace,” Stone told Pippa.
“She is brave,” Roland corrected, pride and gratitude and love pouring forth.
He was a shattered wreck of emotions and he did not give a damn who saw it. All he did care about was his wife. She was safe. Miraculously, no harm had come to her.
Croydon began to wail.
Roland moved forward, giving Pippa a hand and helping her to her feet. The detectives stepped in, hauling the bleeding nursemaid to her feet as she howled and stomped and complained to anyone who would listen that Pippa had attacked her, and that she was a madwoman.
Pippa clung to Roland, trembling, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair to inhale deeply. Belatedly, it occurred to him that she was dressed in nothing more than a chemise and stockings. She must have been napping when Croydon entered her chamber, intent upon murder.
“There is only one madwoman here,” Pippa said, her voice belying the way she shook in his arms in the aftermath of her ordeal. “And it is Croydon. She confessed to poisoning George, Chief Inspector Stone. She told me she was going to murder me and then kill herself, but I stopped her before she could do so.”
Roland reeled at her revelations.My God.The nursemaid had been beneath Pippa’s roof this entire time. She had been tending to Char-char. Such depraved evil, so near. Waiting to strike.
Unless…
His blood ran cold once again as he pulled Pippa back to see her face. “Where is Charlotte?”
Pippa’s face was pale and drawn, terror flashing in her eyes as a mother’s greatest fear no doubt hit her. “She was meant to be with the chamber maid from Wylde Park. Rawlings!”
Roland and Stone exchanged a worried look.
“I will check on the girl in the nursery,” he told Pippa and Stone simultaneously. To Pippa, he added, “You remain here.”
If Croydon had harmed Char-char…Roland could not bear for Pippa to have to witness it. His stomach revolted at the notion. But he knew he had to be strong.
Pippa clutched at his arms frantically. “We will go together. I cannot let you go without me.”
“You are dressed in your chemise,” he said calmly, hoping to avoid the true reason why he wished to attend the nursery alone.
“I do not care! Roland, I need to see her!” In her furor, her nails were digging into the tender flesh of his arms.
He was scarcely aware of the detectives milling about the room around them, securing the bleeding, hysterical Croydon and taking her from the room. He searched Pippa’s eyes and knew that she would not allow him to go alone.
He gave a jerky nod. “We will go together.”
“My men have Mrs. Croydon controlled,” Stone said, grimmer than ever. “I will accompany the both of you.”
The three of them passed down the hall and up the staircase to where the nursery was located. Pippa’s hand in his was colder than ice, their fingers entwined so tightly, it was painful. With each step they took, he said a prayer, both to the spirits his mother had told him about as a lad and to all the gods who would listen.
