“No!Benedict!”
He tore his arm loosefrom her hold.
“No!” She scrambled for him, but it was already too late. Kenilworth’s lower body had slipped over the edge. He was clawing at Benedict, holding on with every last vestige of his strength, mere seconds from falling to his death. In that last instant, Benedict’s dark eyes met hers, and Georgiana saw a world of love shining in their depths.
There was a shout—Clara’s voice—and a flurry of activity beside Georgiana, and then Kenilworth was gone, tumbling over the edge with a terrified cry. Georgiana’s howl of anguish followed, torn from the very depths of her soul, and she squeezed her eyes closed, unable to watch, unable to bear seeingBenedict fall…
Except incredibly, Benedict’s arms were wrapped around her. Somehow, he was there beside her, on his back, tangled in a panel of the heavy silk drapery from Lord Draven’s canopy.
He gathered her against his chest, blood still gushing from his wounds, but alive—somehow, impossibly, he was alive and holding her close, his voice hoarse as he whispered in her ear.
It’s all right. I’ve got you. We’re safe. I love you…
He said those words over and over, his hands in her hair and his lips at her temple. At last the anguish, the unthinkable anguish of losing him faded, and Georgiana, overwhelmed with love and gratitude, buried her face in his chest, and sobbed.
* * * *
Clara Beauchamp was as accomplished a nurse as Mrs. Ellery had said she was.
The slash on Benedict’s arm still throbbed, the cut on his forehead still burned, and his knee ached like the very devil even after Clara’s ministrations, but he didn’t give a damn.
He didn’t give a damn about anything but Georgiana, who was safely pressed against him, her arm around his waist and his wrapped protectively around her shoulders. What he really wanted was to take her back to the gamekeeper’s cottage where they might have some privacy, but there were, er…a few details to bemanaged first.
Like the dead duke on the front drive of Draven House.
The magistrate was on his way, and would no doubt demand a detailed explanation as to why the Duke of Kenilworth was lying under a shattered window witha broken neck.
As for Benedict, try as he might, he couldn’t work up any regret on Kenilworth’s behalf. The man was a monster, and Benedict felt only relief knowing Jane and Freddy were freeof him forever.
“More tea, Lord Haslemere?” Mrs. Ellery had been fluttering around them for the past hour, pressing cup after cup of tea on them and doing her best to stuff them with scones and cakes. “The best cure for a shock, mylord, is food.”
“More tea would be delightful, Mrs. Ellery. Thank you.” Benedict would have preferred a few stiff fingers of brandy, but Mrs. Ellery had suffered a shock of her own, and he couldn’t bearto refuse her.
She and Martha, the other housemaid, had been bound and gagged and shoved into a cupboard in the stillroom by Kenilworth after he’d attacked Peter in the stables. There’d been no one here to protect them, so he’d made quick enough work ofthe two women.
Benedict shuddered to think what might have happened to them—and to Clara and Draven—if he and Georgiana hadn’t come alongwhen they did.
As it was, Peter had been sent home to rest and recover from his injuries. Martha had declared the country a “wicked, horrible place” and begged to return to London at once—a request Lord Draven had quickly granted.
As for Draven, he’d been ordered to bed by his fair-haired nurse, her dark wig now discarded, and he’d succumbed to her commands with the air of a man who’d be pleased to have her order him about for the rest of his life. Clara had disappeared to his bedchamber with him, but now she’d reappeared again, just in time to save Benedict from another cup of Mrs. Ellery’s tea.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Ellery. Lord Draven would like to speak to Lord Haslemere and Miss Harley, if you can spare them.”
“Yes, yes. Go on, then.” Mrs. Ellery waved the tea cloth at them in a motherly gesture. “I’ll keep the tea hot for you, Lord Haslemere.”
“Er, that’s kind of you, Mrs. Ellery.” Benedict nodded his thanks, then he and Georgiana followed Clara up the stairs to see Lord Draven. The earl had been moved to another bedchamber, and was seated before the fire, waiting for them. He looked pale and exhausted and much too thin, but his lips curved in a smile when he saw Clara.
“Well Haslemere, Miss Harley.” He raised an eyebrow as Georgiana and Benedict sat on the settee across from him. Clara settled herself beside him and took his hand in hers. “I don’t know how you two got tangled up in this business, but I’m damnedglad you did.”
Benedict looked at Georgiana, then back at Lord Draven. “It’s a long story, Draven. I’d be pleased to tell it to you sometime, but perhaps for now I’ll simply say we did it to help my sister, Jane, without having the least bloody idea what we were getting ourselves into.”
Lord Draven chuckled. “It’s a web with many threads, all of them hopelessly tangled. I’ve no idea how you managed to sort them all out, but we’ll always be tremendously grateful to you both.”
“We had our suspicions, my lord, but it was Kenilworth himself who untangled the final threads.” Georgiana’s gaze drifted to Clara. “You were married to the Duke of Kenilworth, Miss Beauchamp, and you have ason together?”
“Yes. His name is Augustus. He’ll be seven years old in September.” Clara gave Benedict an uneasy glance. “I realize you havea nephew who—”
“It’s all right, Miss Beauchamp. I’m aware Freddy isn’t the heir to the dukedom. I care only that my sister, Jane, and Freddy are safe. The title and fortune are your son’s by right. You’ll get no trouble from my family.”
