Constance was ready with her own weapon, and when Sir Isaacson spun around upon their entry, she dared to wink at him. “Did you miss me, darling?” she cooed sweetly.
The baronet’s fists clenched and his face turned a mottled red. “You good for nothing wh—”
“If you finish that sentence, I can’t account for the consequences.” Devin gestured to the pistol in his grip. “My trigger finger tends to get a bit twitchy when the woman I love is slandered.”
The baronet dared to laugh. “You’re a fool if you think she’s ever going to return your affection. She doesn’t know the true meaning of the word.”
“Don’t I?” Constance dared to step out from behind Devin. “I beg to differ.” She tilted her head to the side. “You seem to be the only man in this room who doesn’t know what it is to truly care for someone.”
“Why should I waste my time with those who are beneath me?” he sneered. “I’m a baronet!”
He nearly screeched the title and Constance realized how unhinged he was. His madness had gone on so long that he imagined he spoke the truth. If she didn’t detest him so, she might actually feel sorry for him. His view of the world would never change and he would die a pitiful, lonely man who had never known love.
“Yes, you are,” Devin spoke up. “And one that is about to go back into custody. And stay there this time, because I know where to find the proof that will ensure your permanent tenure. At least, until your sentence is declared, and I am finally free of the sight of you.”
The baronet’s lip curved back from his teeth. “I won’t be defeated.”
“You already are,” Constance returned evenly.
Without warning, Brooks dove for a pistol that had been lying nearby, unnoticed until that point. However, when he brought it up and pointed it directly at Devin, he growled, “Then I might as well finish what Granelli started?”
He didn’t hesitate but pulled the trigger.
“Noooooo!” Constance screamed and dove in front of Devin, intending to shield him with her body, but right before Brooks discharged his weapon, a knife came sailing through the air and struck the butt of the gun, causing the single bullet in the barrel to go astray. It struck the plaster ceiling and rained down bits of debris on top of them, the only extent of the damage. After that, everything was still.
Devin held Constance tightly against his chest as he returned fire on Sir Isaacson. His aim was steady and true, the silver ball landing exactly where he wanted it to—in the center of his enemy’s chest. The force, along with the shock of the wound, sent the baronet pinwheeling backward toward a window. His momentum sent him against the glass, shattering it as he fell.
There was the sound of a distant woman’s scream as the baronet’s body fell to the ground outside, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of a whistle as the alarm was sounded.
Constance finally turned toward the door where she expected to see Luke standing there with a pleased look on his face for offering his assistance with the knife that made the bullet go astray, but it was Brutus there in the opening. He didn’t pause to say anything, but merely nodded at Devin as he turned and walked away. Seeing that the danger had passed, Luke followed suit.
For the first time in years, the damp moisture of tears began sliding down Constance’s cheeks. She had never allowed herself to give in to the emotion, believing that it was a weakness she couldn’t afford. But knowing that Devin was safe and the nightmare that had surrounded them both for so long was finally over, filled her with so many feelings that she couldn’t contain them all.
Not only that, but the last turn of the key inside of her heart finally unlocked, freeing Madame Corressa for good. The lady sauntered off with a saucy wave and a sway of her hips before dissolving into the mist.
“I love you.”
Devin grabbed her shoulders and set her back from him. His throat worked for several moments. “What did you say?” he breathed.
The droplets were falling completely unchecked now. “I said, I love you.” She smiled broadly and exclaimed, “I love you! I love you! I love you!”
Devin’s eyes softened to the color of molten chocolate. “Since you already know that I love you too, I suppose there’s only one thing left for us to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Marry me, of course.” He lifted a brow. “Unless you don’t like the idea of being wed to a former thief who—”
She tackled him with a kiss that left them both breathless. “How’s that for an answer?”
He nodded his head. “Perfect.”
Chapter 25
Constance read the paper two days later and exhaled with relief.
The Times had printed an article about the death of Sir Isaacson and the upcoming execution of Granelli, and with the evidence they had recovered from Montfree’s, Devin’s name was cleared. It turned out that Annalise had blamed all of Devin’s prior thievery on Granelli, so it hadn’t taken long for a jury to decide his fate, and with the rest of the criminal activity exposed from the baronet, he would no longer be a concern.
She noticed that Devin had been oddly quiet when he’d uncovered the Countess of Tyne’s confession exactly where the maid had said it would be. Constance knew that even though Devin had dealt with her murderer, he would always be troubled by her death and the sense of guilt that went along with it. But Constance intended to ensure that she was there to comfort him when those melancholy days crept up on him.
