The special license confirmed their legal union. Staring at the dark smudges along the edges, Gigi knew what they were. Even more than his shaky signature, Thomas Mulligan’s fingerprints, inked in his own blood, told of what he’d sacrificed for love.
He should have never gone off by himself. We should have been together—protecting one another. I failed to trust our love, to keep him safe…and now it is too late.
Certainty blazed through Gigi, vanquishing doubt and fear. She wouldn’t make the same mistake as Rose. She believed in her love and would do whatever it took to protect him.
“Owen.” She turned to her brother. “I have another favor to ask.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Late that afternoon, Gigi, accompanied by her brother, arrived at Conrad’s London town house. It was an imposing Palladian in an excellent square not far from her parents’ residence. The butler seated her and Owen in the drawing room, which was as fashionable as the exterior and decorated in rich jewel shades.
Conrad strode in. “Gigi?”
Seeing her lover looking robust and handsome in his shirtsleeves and a grey double-breasted waistcoat, a neckcloth of celadon silk knotted beneath his chin, she let go of the anxious breath that had been trapped inside her since the dream. If they were alone, she would have run into his arms. She had to settle for his possessive grip as he took her hand and kissed it.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “But what the devil are you doing here?”
“I had to see you,” she said tremulously. “I convinced Owen to bring me.”
“I am obliged, sir.” Conrad extended a hand to her brother.
After a moment, Owen shook it.
“It wasn’t my idea,” Owen said. “If I didn’t escort her, Gigi threatened to come alone.”
“Let us sit,” Conrad said. “I’ll ring for refreshment, and you’ll tell me what this is all about.”
Given the day of traveling, Gigi was famished. So was Owen, for he wolfed down several plates of the sweet and savory teatime delicacies the butler brought in. Conrad sat, tea untouched, as she told him about the pawn ticket. True to her word, she kept the identity of her source anonymous, merely noting that the suspect who went by “John Brown” had seduced an innocent girl.
Conrad studied the slip before looking up at her with warm eyes. “Clever and resourceful, like I said. No one should ever underestimate you, Gi—I mean, my lady.”
Gigi beamed at the compliment. And the fact that he was trying to make a good impression. Not that Owen noticed—he was busy inhaling a selection of Gunter’s delectable iced cakes.
“Do you think the pawn ticket will lead us to John or whatever his name is?”
“With this clue, my investigators will track him down.” Conrad paused. “But you could have sent the ticket and spared yourself the trouble. Your parents?—”
“Won’t even know we came,” Gigi assured him. “Owen and I plan to return to Chuddums immediately. But I had to see you—to make sure all was well.”
“I’m fine, duchess. Now that you are here.”
Conrad’s intense regard sent pleasant tingles over her nape.
“Owen, would you mind giving us a few moments?” she asked.
Her brother frowned. “Even I know that’s not proper.”
“Please,” she beseeched. “Just a few minutes?”
“One would think I would be immune to your wheedling by now.” Sighing, Owen rose, brushing crumbs from his trousers. “You have ten minutes and not a minute more.”
The instant the door closed behind him, Conrad pulled Gigi into his arms.
“Christ, I’ve missed you,” he said.
He sealed his mouth over hers, and his kiss was more expressive than words. With hammering joy, she tasted his hunger and desire for her. Yet it was more than lust. His tender grip on her jaw, as if he were holding something infinitely precious, made her melt against his hard length. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sharing all the love in her heart.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
