Thaddeus, walking backward, saluted, and then turned, skipping down the pathway toward the house.
The ruined towers of Ithwick Castle cast a long shadow across the lawn.
Chev envisioned the lives that had come before him—not just his rich and mighty ancestors—but those who toiled in the fields. The blacksmiths that fashioned both plow and sword.
He imagined the need that had pushed them all forward though good times and bad.
Need that joined with observation and led to innovation that created change.
It was the fearful, the haters, the hoarders that held everyone back.
He’d hated. He’d hoarded.
But he could choose another way.
Only, he couldn’t choose another way while keeping everything he treasured buried, nor while hiding behind a false name.
He must claim his place and his duchess.
Together, they’d make their mark...and permanently change Ithwick forever.
~~~
Penelope leaned against the carriage door as it rattled up the drive.
Plans for the competition were fully in motion. The vicar had cancelled the banns. He and his wife were to attend with Sir Jerold. She’d even extended an invitation to Madame LaVoie, who’d lingered on the stairs until Penelope had invited her to join them.
If all went well, most of the county would bear witness to Cheverley’s win.
And Anthony—the emperor without clothes—would have nowhere to run.
What had Cheverley quoted earlier?
Nothing could be better in this world than when two minds, husband and wife, are united in harmony and spirit, they bring grief to their enemies and happiness to their friends.
Not knowing if Chev had fully understood her intent, she could hardly wait to return to Ithwick and speak with him.
The carriage came to a stop, but when the door opened, it wasn’t the coachman that waited for her in the dusk, but Lord Thomas.
“Forget this competition,” Thomas said. “Marry me. We’ll take a ship tonight and then, once safely abroad, we’ll wed.”
“No.” Penelope avoided his hand and stepped down out of the carriage on her own.
The coachman drove the carriage toward the stables.
“I mean you no harm,” Thomas argued.
“Is that so?” She re-wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. “Anthony was the one who convinced you not to take Thaddeus away and send me to an asylum.”
“Did Anthony tell you that?” Thomas sucked in air through his teeth. “I had to tell himsomethingwhen I found out about the smuggling. I wouldn’t haveactuallysent you to Bedlam, just far enough beyond his reach to frustrate his plans. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
She frowned.
Should she believe Thomas?
Lord Thomas is a bad boy. He tells bad lies.
But Thomas didn’t look as if he was lying. He looked like a man at the very end of a short rope.
