“I’m well. It’s over. Everything is fine now.”
“It is,” she managed to babble. “You are safe.” She abruptly pulled back to scan his body. “You are, right? You’re—”
“I’m fine. But you’re going to have to do a hard thing now. Do you think—”
“Just stay with me. I can do anything if you’re with me.”
He smiled at her and—just for a moment—traced his thumb down the side of her face. “I’ve never met a woman more capable than you.”
“Only with you,” she whispered. No, that wasn’t right. Even as she whispered the words, she knew that she was lying. She’d been capable of running a household, managing tenants, and even standing strong against Geoffrey before things became desperate. But she’d done all that inside a hard shell of non-emotion. She hadn’t felt much of anything until Lucas came back into her life. And now that he was here, she felt everything that she had denied before and with so much more intensity. Fear became terror. Worry was now crippling anxiety. And happiness had become giddy joy.
Because of that, she needed him by her side to remain strong. Without a numbing emptiness around her, she needed Lucas to ease her burdens, or she’d crumble beneath the strain.
“Stay with me,” she begged.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He helped her step onto the street.
Beside him stood the constable. She recognized him from the day Oscar had died, and he bowed to her with a gruff kind of grace.
“Sorry to bother you, mum, but I need the name of the man upstairs. I’ve got my thoughts, but I’d like you to state his name clear for an official record. If you know him, that is.”
“I understand.” She didn’t, but then she’d never focused on the machinery of England’s justice system.
“I have to warn you. It’s an upsetting sight.”
“Can Lord Chellam stay with me?” Her hand remained intertwined with Lucas’s, and she did not want to release him.
“So long as he stays quiet.”
She nodded, as did he. And so the three of them made their way through a small crowd of onlookers up to the top floor of a building. The air was thick, and there were many smells she wished she could avoid, but she clung tight to Lucas and steeled herself for what was to come.
It didn’t work. She wasn’t prepared for what she saw. She’d never seen violent death before, and this was horrible. The blood. The broken body.
“That’s my stepson, Geoffrey. He is…was…Lord Dunnamore.”
Then she turned away. She couldn’t look anymore. She focused instead on the smashed table and the scattered cards. There were pockmarks on the wall and someone else she recognized.
“Nathan?” she gasped. “Are you all right?” Lucas’s brother was sitting by the broken window, looking tired.
“Most excitement I’ve had my entire life,” he said. Then he mopped his brow. “I don’t recommend it.”
“No,” she murmured. “I can’t see how I would enjoy it either.”
“Really?” Lucas asked with a grin. “I find myself quite elated.” He turned back to her. “You’re safe now, Diana. He can’t hurt anyone again.”
She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. This isn’t how she wanted it to end, but she was so grateful that it was done. Perversely, she felt guilty for the relief that coursed through her body. So many complicated emotions. If Lucas weren’t there holding her hand, she feared she’d run screaming into the street just to get away from all the things she was feeling.
Meanwhile, a sweaty young man stepped forward. He had on the clothing of the Watch but the expression of a terrified boy. “I’m right sorry, mum,” he said. “So very sorry.”
“What?”
“It were me,” he blurted. “I came in here first, and he had his guns out. The only one with guns, mum. And he turned to face me.”
“Easy, son,” the constable said. “You did the right thing.”
“He pointed at me, mum. I didn’t know he’d spent his shot. I didn’t think. I just saw the pistols.”
Diana blinked. “You were the one who killed Geoffrey?”
