Julian hovered over him. “I hope you hang, De Witte,” he snarled,through gritted teeth. “In fact, I’ll volunteer to pull the lever and watch you drop, you worthless piece of shit.”
From somewhere beyond the rush of blood in Julian’s ears came the sound of the door opening, followed by a familiar voice. “All right, Northcott, you’ve had your fun. Step away.”
“Thought you were a gentleman, Northcott.” Blooded spittle bubbled in the corners of De Witte’s mouth as he tried, and failed, to sit up. “Bad form to hit a shackled man.”
“Yet I feel not the slightest remorse.” Julian stepped back, clenching and unclenching his sore fist. “I want to be the one to tell him, Taggart.”
“Go on, then,” Taggart replied. “I’ll allow that.”
De Witte winced as he waggled his jaw and then managed a smile. “Tell me what?”
“That Karl Hoffman is alive,” Julian said, gratified to see the smile fade from the man’s face. “Alive and talking. We know how you got that scar.”
“Alive, eh?” Wincing again, De Witte propped himself up on an elbow. “Told you I didn’t kill him.”
“Attempted murder is still a hanging offense,” Julian replied.
De Witte huffed. “Not guilty.”
“It’ll be your word against his, you fool. And if asked, I’ll be happy to provide a statement. How you spied on us, threatened my wife more than once, and intruded upon our privacy today. By the time I’m finished, they’ll be throwing you into the hold of a transport ship.”
“Take a breath, Northcott,” Taggart muttered.
“Oh, I’m done here,” Julian replied, straightening. “He’s all yours. I’d appreciate it, however, if you’d keep me posted.”
“Will do.” Taggart cocked an eyebrow. “Feel better?”
“Much. Thank you, Inspector.”
“You’re welcome. Best get back to the party, or they’ll be thinking the groom’s done a runner.” Taggart touched the brim of his hat. “Give my regards to your lady wife.”
De Witte coughed and spat out some bloody phlegm. “And be sure to give her my love.”
Julian tilted his chin and gave the man a cold smile. “Go to Hell, De Witte.
*
Annie looked backas the carriage pulled away from Highfield Hall. Everyone, including the staff, had come outside to bid them farewell. Among them were those she had always loved and those she had recently come to love. And all of them standing in front of the remarkable old house that was now her home. She’d come to love that as well. It was an image she wanted to commit to memory, for in her mind it symbolized the end of a chapter. The first chapter of her life.
Today marked the beginning of the second one, and she could hardly wait to see where it led. As the carriage passed beneath the gatehouse, Annie turned and looked forward. As to their destination, she knew only that it was somewhere in England. A flutter arose in her stomach as she thought about their first night together. Of course, she was aware of what would take place. She wasn’t afraid, though admittedly a little nervous.
She fidgeted. A warm hand covered hers. No words spoken. Just a gentle squeeze, calming. Reassuring. Annie heaved a soft sigh and rested her head against Julian’s shoulder, assured of her place at his side. There was a lot to be said, she thought, for not having any doubts.
Epilogue
Firth House hadsat atop the Cumberland cliffs since Tudor times, its Gothic façade scrubbed and wind-worn by storms rolling in from the Irish Sea. Though not exactly a storm, it had rained solidly for the past three days; relentless, window-pelting drops that obscured the sea views and effectively trapped Julian and Annie indoors. Not that Julian was about to complain. Annie didn’t appear to be too bothered about it either. They’d kept themselves deliciously busy. Besides, the house, fully staffed and catered, was theirs for an entire month, so they had plenty of time yet for exploring beyond the Firth’s rather splendid grounds.
Though the letter offering them the private use of Firth House had been signed by His Grace, the Duke of Rothbury, Julian was sure Her Grace had been the influence behind it. He couldn’t help but wonder if Josiah had a hand in it, too.
No matter. It was a generous gift.
On this, their fourth night, a cozy fire cast shadows around the rather splendid bedchamber. Julian, wearing only his underpants, was reclining atop the bed, propped up against the pillows, watching Annie, who was seated at the dressing table, brushing her hair by candlelight.
“You do realize I’m about to mess it up again,” Julian said. “The minute you climb into this bed, in fact.”
Annie laughed, set the brush down, blew out the candle, andwandered over to him, her silk nightgown molding to her curves. Julian, partly erect, shifted slightly, drawing her into his arms as she settled at his side. She heaved a soft sigh and trailed an idle fingertip down his breastbone.
“You’re not tired of me yet, then,” she said, her fingertip halting at his belly button.
