The viscount ordered the three prisoners bound over to the assizes for trial. The likelihood was that none of them would ever see Nether Abbas again. Marshall and the grooms would transport them to jail in Dorchester to await the judge.
Lady Tavernash sat as if made out of marble, moving only to hush her very confused son a few times while Viscount Clavering stared at her, pondering, or so he said.
When he spoke at last, Mia was certain he would let the woman off, convinced he would believe that a gentleman did not put a titled lady on trial. She was wrong.
“Lady Tavernash, you are a disgrace to your husband’s title. I’m ordering you held under house arrest at my home, Selwyn Court, until trial can be arranged.”
“This is an outrage!” Lady Tavernash shouted.
“Poor Selina,” Mia murmured.
“Quiet!” Uncle Selwyn said. “I further declare that there being no evidence tying Felton Tavernash to any of these crimes, he is free to go. I do, however, order him to leave Woodglen immediately and not come back.”
“But I’m the heir,” Felton Tavernash whined, turning this way and that as the prisoners were led away.
“If, God forbid, evidence should come to light that the duke is dead, you may press your case in Lords. Until then, stay away.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sated and atpeace, Mia curled around her husband’s warm body, careful to avoid the side with the splinted injury. “You continue to astonish me, Gideon. I had no idea what a miraculous lover you could be one-handed.”
He smiled contentedly without opening his drowsy eyes and kissed the top of her head, twirling bits of her hair with his free hand.
“As wonderful as this was, however, I will disown you if you do something that boneheaded again,” she said.
His eyes snapped open. “You will what?”
“Dis—”
Lightning fast, he had her under him, his injured arm carefully to the side, his mouth devouring hers. “Never,” he whispered against her mouth.
“I was terrified,” she said when she was able. “They might have killed you.”
He kissed across her cheek to her ear before raising his head to reply. “You’ve no desire to be a wealthy widow?”
She pushed against him then. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. It isn’t funny. I love you. I couldn’t bear it.”
A feral smile formed on his lips. “You do?” He kissed her neck. “I’m glad.” He kissed his way lower. “Because I love you, too.”
She opened her mouth to demand his promise he would never put himself in that sort of danger again, but his words and his busy mouth pushed all coherent thought from her mind.
Sometime later, she snuggled close again and sighed. “Is it really over? Can we go home now?”
“Home?”
“To Wales. Helen wishes it. Jessica says she needs more time in the stables.”
“What about Daniel?” Gideon asked.
“He wants another chance to slide across the ballroom floor when Fillmore isn’t looking.”
She could feel his laughter rumble through his chest. “I long to go home, but we have some loose ends to tie up.” He kissed her again.
“What loose ends?” she asked.
“Ask me in the morning,” he said, kissing her in earnest.
*
