I grabbed the weapon and showed him my father’s knife. It was a permanent fixture in my pocket.
“Keep it. You stay here with Lionel.”
“But I should go with you.”
“I married you to keep you protected, not to risk your safety. Now, that’s an order. Stay put.”
I wasn’t in agreement, but I saluted.
“Oh. I intend to come back to finish this conversation. A man needs to let his wife know how much he loves her, but after he slays her dragon.”
He tugged his shirt from the bedpost and slipped it on. Then, he took his sword and pushed his chair to the door.
His crutch remained by the bed table.
My son.
Lionel was in the other room. I blew open the compartment door, scooped him up, and put him in the basket. Then we went back into the master bedchamber.
At the side of our bed, I prayed like Busick to Jove, that my husband would be safe, that Markham wouldn’t hurt us anymore.
I stared at the latch, forcing my mind to repeat what Busick said about loving me as I chastised my cowardly lips for not saying the same.
CHAPTER 33
THEDIARYTELLSALL
Patience had said she loved Busick as she slept by his side last night. It was something she murmured between her well-wishes for Lionel and ingredients for a bread recipe.
Well, it sounded like bread.
Obviously, he was very high in importance to be ranked with her delightful baking. The woman was everything he needed, and she wanted Busick as he was, standing or not. Once he slayed this ugly dragon, nothing would stop them.
Their love was just beginning.
Curses and marching sounded below.
He looked over the balcony and saw the devil, old Markham, with flintlocks pointed at him. Busick rolled closer to the railing and clasped the newel post.
“Bring the skunk up here.”
“Repington, have your goons unhand me.”
“That is a colonel and a lieutenant. The only goon in Hamlin is you. You’re trespassing.”
Mrs. St. Maur came down from the third level halfway on those steep steps. “I heard noises.”
“We have a burglar, ma’am. Go back to your quarters.”
She curtsied and fled.
“You’ve rid the place of Mrs. Jordan and already have a new wench. You’re so predictable.”
“Well, I’ve always been popular. Unlike you, I don’t have to drug my women for friendship.”
Half up the stairs, Markham struggled but couldn’t tug free. “What are you talking about?”
“The belladonna you used on Nanny Kelly and on Mrs. Jordan. My friend Gantry had a long discussion with the butler-gardener fellow in the village. Seems the night Mrs. Jordan was sent to Bedlam, her eyes were yellow. A strange color for lovely topaz eyes. Did you think you could seduce her before locking her into Bedlam?”
