She was unfazed by his teasing. 'You don't have to prove anything to me, James, but you do have to stop this conspiracy before it becomes the scandal of the century.'
'My lord, you seem to be taking this very calmly. I've just told you that a group of men are intending your demise, hoping to murder you. Do you have a plan already made?' Mr Haven asked.
James didn't answer but reached out and took her hand, carrying it to his lips, he pressed these against her knuckles sending heat waves to her nether regions. 'Don't look so worried, my darling, I give you my word that I'll come to no harm. Nobody is going to harm me or any of those I love and protect. However, I can assure you that I intend to ruin the men behind this plot. They're about to discover that making me an enemy was a very bad idea indeed.
She'd no doubt that he was a formidable enemy, that those who'd set this in motion would be unlikely to recover from the experience.
He got to his feet and Michael immediately followed him. 'Go to bed, my love, leave this to me. We've much to look forward to and no one is going to ruin things for us.'
She watched him go aware that whatever he was going to do she couldn't be part of it. Even being included as much as she had been would have been unheard of in most relationships. It seemed likely she'd be going alone to the warehouses and emporiums in the morning and she wondered, as she made her way up the staircase, if she'd actually become his wife tomorrow as planned.
*
James knew exactly who to contact in order to find and arrest those hoping to dispose of him. Major Jackson was a friend of his from Oxford and they'd stayed in contact over the years. Jackson had lost an arm fighting in France so was now in charge of the local militia.
The men under his command had been a ragbag of would-be gentlemen, some better than others, but under Jackson's command they'd become a decent fighting unit. The real soldiers were in France, the militia couldn't be sent overseas, they were just there to protect Britain in the event of a French invasion.
'Michael, there's nothing we can do tonight, go to bed and we'll reconvene in the morning.'
'Very well, my lord, and I thank you for your understanding and patience.'
James snapped his fingers and the footman standing outside the door came over. 'Take Mr Haven to his room and then find me in the library. I've work for you to do before you retire.'
There was paper, pen and ink on the desk and he quickly scribbled a letter to his friend. He asked Jackson to come at once, explained briefly the reason for the urgency, and signed his name with a flourish.
When the footmen appeared at the door he was just pressing his signet ring into the blob of molten wax that sealed the paper. Everybody knew where the militia barracks was in Bath, on the Bristol Road, so there was no need to do more than write the recipient's name on the front of the letter.
'Good man, this needs to be delivered to Major Jackson. It must be given to him personally even if it means getting him out of bed to do so. Can you ride?'
The young man nodded. 'Well enough, my lord, and I can saddle a horse. I've no need to find a groom. I'll take the message myself.'
James had half a crown in his hand and he tossed it to the footman. Probably too much for so small a task but worth the expense. He wasn't buying loyalty, he was reinforcing it.'
The acting butler met him in the entrance hall. 'Are you retiring, my lord? Is there anything you need before you go up?'
'No, but I'm expecting a visitor at dawn tomorrow. We'll need breakfast in the library.'
There was no need to carry a candle as half the wall sconces were left alight all night. Extravagant, but it meant the house was safe to negotiate not just for him and now Sofia, but also for the staff who had to get up before dawn to start their day.
He walked past his bedchamber and straight into the one that Sofia would be in. He didn't knock, to do so might have drawn attention to his whereabouts. He'd wanted to have her sleep in the room adjacent to his but decided against it. He closed the door quietly behind him. The room was quiet but his beloved wasn't asleep.
'James, you shouldn't be in here.'
'I know that, but the deed is done my darling and I'm not leaving.'
He couldn't see if she was sitting up in bed, her glorious dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, it was too dark, but what he intended to take place didn't require any illumination.
He knew roughly where the bed was and moved towards it. For some reason there was a chair between him and his quarry and he walked into it only maintaining his balance by grabbing at the back of it.
'I knew you'd come so have prepared to repel boarders, so to speak. I'd have locked the door but there was no bolt or key. Go away, my love, I've no intention of pre-empting my wedding vows.'
He righted the chair and straddled it. His eyes were adjusting to the gloom and he could just make out her shape in the bed. Her hair was neatly braided, she was wearing a long-sleeved high-necked nightgown. He laughed.
'I'm not going to apologise for wanting to make love to you, I've thought of little else for the past few hours. I suppose, as you've made your wishes clear on the subject, that I'll retreat in ignominy.'
'Good, patience is a virtue, my lord, and one that you need to cultivate. As you're here you can tell me what is going to happen tomorrow.'
'I've sent for the commander of the local militia, I'll know more when I've spoken to him.'
'If the law firm that you left so recently are involved in this then won't you have to involve the Bow Street runners? If the lawyers get wind of what's happening here, then they'll make sure they can't be implicated by destroying any evidence – or possibly running away.'
'I'm surprised that you even know about the runners, I thought you were a country miss, that your knowledge of the wider world was limited, but I'm obviously wrong.'
From the darkness he heard her laughing and then she clapped. 'I applaud your honesty, dearest James. I wonder if that's the first time in your entire life you've admitted you're wrong. Tomorrow I'll record this fact in my journal so I can remind you in the future that it's possible to admit you're not perfect as you've done it once before.'
'Enough, if I stay here and listen to you any longer, I'll forget my manners and join you in that bed.'
'Manners? What you wish to do is the very reverse of that word. Good night, darling James, I can't wait for tomorrow night.'
