Chapter Fifteen

T he soft gray morning mist floated across the meadow and puddled at the base of the hill like a down blanket meant to protect the wildflowers as they slept. The entire world was absent of color, caught in that time between night and day where the dark reluctantly let go and the light just as reluctantly crept from its bed to illuminate creation. And it was raining. Not a hard shower that would wash away the fog but an airy drizzling that merely fed it and made it all the more cloying.

Thorne sat in the carriage at the crest of the hill and pulled in a deep breath of the damp dreariness. Quite fitting, actually. It was a good morning to die, to be shot down by his past choices that had already killed whatever hope he had for his future. His main regret—for he had many—was not knowing the joy of seeing his precious Blessing one last time. But that would be selfish, and selfishness was what had brought him to this damnation he so rightly deserved.

"Montagne has been rumored to cheat," Ravenglass said, breaking the dismal silence of the carriage.

"I would expect no less of the brother of Myrtlebourne." Thorne squinted down at the long stretch of empty road winding below them, the only route to the hilltop. Where was the devil, anyway? "The grayness of the morning is growing lighter. I would have thought he would be here by now to prepare."

"As did I." Ravenglass twisted and peered out the window. "The physician is here, but still no sign of Montagne. Perhaps he has reconsidered and will send his second to inform us he realizes he spoke rashly, and formally apologizes to Lady Blessing for speaking so coarsely in front of her at Lady Burrastone's party."

"Surely not. The man would be deemed a coward if he backed out now."

"Not if we accepted his decision with grace and discretion." Ravenglass scowled at him. "Are you so determined to die?"

"At least I will die defending my lady love's honor. 'Tis a far cry from the way I lived."

Ravenglass snorted.

"What?" Thorne tore his gaze from the road below and glared at his friend.

"I never would have believed you capable of such nauseating depths of self-pity. You think yourself the only man in creation to be rejected by the woman he loves?" Ravenglass snorted again, louder this time. "You have become a pathetic shadow of the man I once called friend."

"Insulting me will not make me change my mind." Off in the distance, muffled by the weather, the faint crunch of carriage wheels and the steady thudding of hooves drew Thorne's attention back down to the roadway. After what felt like forever, a black brougham pulled by a pair of bays seemed to solidify out of the mist. "I believe Lord Montagne will soon be here," Thorne said, then rose and pushed open the carriage door. "Shall we?"

Without waiting for Ravenglass's response, he stepped down, then wondered at the fog still swirling in the wake of Montagne's carriage. Another pair of horses burst into view, pulling a middle-sized phaeton. He squinted harder at the driver, disbelief making his jaw drop.

Almost standing and leaning forward with racing intent, Blessing flipped the reins to urge her team to move faster and pass Montagne's rig in their climb up the hill.

An overwhelming surge of alarm and fear crackled through Thorne like lightning. "Gads! She's going to kill herself." He charged toward them, waving his arms to slow her. He bellowed, "Blessing, you must stop at once!"

Her two sisters, Serendipity and Fortuity, were seated behind her, holding on to the sides of the phaeton as it rocked from side to side. They squinted into the wind, shouting, "Faster, Essie! Faster!"

"Stop at once!" he roared as they careened into the lead and tore up the hillside.

" You will stop at once!" Blessing shouted at him as she pulled back on the reins and brought the team to a halt. Hair wild and tumbling down her back, cheeks red, and breathing hard, she gathered up her skirts in a most unladylike fashion and leapt down from the rig. She stabbed the air with her finger as she marched toward him, pointing at his carriage. "Get back in there and sit yourself down. There will be no dueling this day. I forbid it!"

"I am not a child, and you have no right to forbid me anything! Remember? You rejected me." Fighting the urge to yank her into his arms and kiss her until she realized she belonged with no one other than him, he strode toward her and pointed at her vehicle. "Go home, Blessing. This is no place for a lady."

"This is my place, you stubborn fool." She closed the distance between them and thumped him in the chest. "You will not do this. What about your mother?" She thumped him again, harder this time. "You cannot risk your life and toss it aside like a worn pair of shoes ready to be discarded. What about your friends? What about those who love you?"

The emotions storming in the blue of her eyes gave him pause and the merest sliver of hope. "Who loves me, Blessing? There is only one whose love I cannot live without. Only one whose love would make my life worth living."

She narrowed her eyes at him, threatening him with that look of hers that only made him love her all the more. "I am quite sure you are loved by many," she said. "Family. Dearest friends. I have no doubt you even have some servants who are quite fond of you."

"There is only one whose love I need like the air that I breathe." He stepped closer, clenching his fists to keep from taking hold of her and pulling her against him. "Only one." He adored the way her petite nostrils flared when she snorted, like the loveliest little disgruntled calf that thought itself grown into a bull.

"You are going to make me say it. Aren't you?" She glared at him harder.

"I am, my lady."

"Fine," she spat like she were ridding herself of a bad bite of food. "I love you, you fool. Are you happy now?"

"Somewhat."

"Somewhat?" she squeaked. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Essie!" Serendipity scolded from the carriage.

Blessing turned and shook her fist at her. "Not now, Seri." She turned back to him, her eyes flashing. "I repeat, sir. What the bloody hell is wrong with you? I told you I loved you. What more do you want?"

"There is the matter of your becoming my wife—preferably as quickly as possible. Either as soon as I can obtain a special license, or we can reach Gretna Green." He would not consider anything less, because as much as he wanted to believe her, what if she was purely driven by the intent to stop the duel and, once that was achieved, would refuse him yet again? Women could be sly, wicked beasties when they set their minds to something.

"Are we dueling or not?" Montagne called out from where he and his second stood beside his carriage.

Blessing jabbed a finger at him. "Silence, you! I will deal with you in a moment, and if you move, one of my sisters will shoot you."

Thorne jerked his attention back to Serendipity and Fortuity and was shocked to discover each lady holding a rifle steadied on the back of the driver's seat, aimed at Montagne.

"Papa taught us all how to shoot quite well," Serendipity said as she resettled her cheek against her firearm. "Fortuity here is the best of the six of us, but I have been known to bring down a pheasant or two."

"This is quite irregular," the physician said from where he stood beside Ravenglass.

Ravenglass grinned like a fool, his shoulders trembling with silent laughter.

Montagne, his mouth ajar, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then turned to his second, who shrugged and backed up a step to keep himself out of the line of fire.

"It appears the Broadmere family is overflowing with untold talents," Thorne said to Blessing. "But that still leaves the matter of our marriage, my treasure. Will it be Gretna Green, or special license so we might marry here with our families and friends?"

"I did not say I would marry you," she said, her pert chin jutting higher. "I said I loved you and did not want you to throw your life away in some ridiculous, and illegal, way."

His heart fell, and he blew out a heavy sigh. "Then the duel is on, my lady. To not only defend your honor but to also put me out of my misery." He took her hand, kissed it, then stared down at it. "I think I fell in love with you that first night we met, when you were spatting with your sister about having to put yourself on display for the Marriage Mart." He rubbed his thumb across the silk of her fingers, a sad smile coming to him as he realized it was more than a little scandalous for her to be out without her gloves. "I have never felt this way about anyone, Blessing. Not ever. And it both thrills and terrifies me." He lifted his gaze to hers, finding her eyes wide and gleaming with unshed tears. "How does one live a life with such powerful feelings?" he whispered. "Especially when those powerful feelings end in a hopelessness that aches and burns as though my heart has been rent from my chest." He swallowed hard and tugged her to him. "My past is just that—the past. I cannot change it, but I can swear that I will never repeat it. Please, Blessing—please give me a chance."

"Essie," she whispered, leaning in to rest a hand on his chest.

"What?"

"Since we are to be married, you may call me Essie."

Before she could change her mind and take it all back, he took her mouth with his and crushed her against him, pouring every ounce of relief, joy, and yearning that he felt into her. She tasted of hope and happiness and kissed him back with just as much hunger.

When he touched her cheek, he discovered it wet with tears. He pulled back with dread clenching his chest. "Why do you weep, my treasure? Pray, tell me it is from happiness."

"It is," she said with a shy smile, but then caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "And perhaps a little fear. I swore I would never marry."

"So did I, and yet here we are."

"And yet here we are," Montagne repeated in a rude, singsong voice. "I assumed we would duel with pistols, not witness the nauseating spectacle of you begging the woman to accept you."

"May I shoot him now, Essie?" Fortuity asked. "Not to kill him, mind you. Just to give him something else to think about."

"You wouldn't dare!" Montagne growled.

Serendipity rose to her feet and aimed. "If she wouldn't, I would."

"You will leave from here and forget this ridiculous duel," Blessing told him. "Or I shall file a report with the Bow Street Runners that you colluded with your sister-in-law to kill your brother so you could have not only her but the title as well."

"That is ridiculous," Montagne said. "I am the one who urged them to investigate my brother's murder and pointed them to my brother's wife."

"What better way to make yourself look innocent?" Blessing winked at Thorne, then turned to her sisters. "Tell him what you found out, Seri."

"Several of your brother's servants are now in our employ," Serendipity said while keeping the rifle aimed at the man and ready to fire. "And they are willing to sign affidavits regarding your regular visits to Lady Myrtlebourne that made the term looking after your brother's wife take on an extremely immoral meaning."

Even though Montagne huffed and rolled his eyes as if he couldn't care less, his face flashed to a deeper red and sweat peppered his forehead. "I daresay the Bow Street Runners will be more likely to accept my word over that of a few servants. After all, the title is mine now."

The longer Thorne studied the man, the more certain he was that the greedy cove had rid himself of his brother to get the title. Montagne had also probably decided that Constance could not be trusted, and the attending physician could not be silenced, so he had artfully accused her of the murder.

Montagne sneered at the rifle-bearing sisters. "An earl always trumps a commoner."

Serendipity gave Montagne a condescending smile. "Beg your pardon, my lord, but our solicitor, Mr. Sutherland, has also obtained signed statements from two ladies—not commoners— who shall remain anonymous until their statements are needed, but I believe you know them. In the biblical sense, in fact—as in the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. You and Lady Myrtlebourne often invited them to join you in your…uhm… visits , shall we say?"

"They would not dare," Montagne sputtered.

"They already have dared, my lord," Serendipity replied. "After all, they do not wish to be considered accessories in the murder."

Thorne lifted both his brows at Blessing. "How does she discover these things?" he whispered.

Blessing shrugged. "I have often wondered the same, but she refuses to reveal her sources."

Montagne glared at Serendipity, then shifted his scowl to Blessing. "What do you intend to do?"

"I have yet to decide." Blessing tipped her head to one side, eyeing him thoughtfully. "All I know for certain is that you will cease any and all hostilities against Lord Knightwood. After all, our solicitor has this information. So if anything happens to him or ourselves, you will be the prime suspect."

"You intend to hold this over my head—blackmail me with this information?"

Blessing nodded. "Exactly. For as long as necessary." Her smile turned wicked, sending a surge of pure, unadulterated lust burning through Thorne. "You might consider leaving London, Lord Montagne. Permanently. Settle yourself on the Continent and start over. Small price to pay for murdering your brother. Wouldn't you say?"

Sweat streamed down the sides of Montagne's face. He fisted his hands, bared his teeth, and trembled as though stricken with the beginnings of apoplexy. "Leave London?"

"Did I not speak clearly?" Blessing asked Thorne with a feigned expression of befuddlement.

"Quite clearly, my love." He kissed her hand and kept her tucked against his side, reveling in her closeness. "Leave London, Montagne, and never return, or go to the gallows with Constance. Your choice. I feel certain the Broadmere solicitor will be happy to keep the evidence safe and locked away should you ever attempt to return—and surely you cannot expect Constance to go to her death quietly."

"She has already leveled accusations against me," Montagne said, looking defeated and miserable. "Repeatedly and in writing. It has taken a great deal of blunt to have those accusations ignored."

"Apparently not enough blunt," Serendipity told him. "Our Mr. Sutherland obtained a copy of her confession and her accusations. He will safeguard those for us as well."

"Well, isn't that just bloody wonderful?" Montagne sent a malicious sneer Thorne's way. "You win, you rutting bastard. I shall be gone from London by nightfall."

Thorne accepted the coarse announcement with a curt nod. "I would wish you Godspeed, but, somehow, that seems inappropriate."

"To the devil with you." Montagne launched himself up into his carriage. His second joined him, then the door slammed shut, and a hard thump from inside signaled the driver to take them away.

"Now I wonder if we should not have turned him over to the authorities." Her expression one of concern, Blessing squeezed Thorne's arm. "Should we have? Was it wrong to let him go?"

"If we knew for certain he would hang, there would be no question about giving him over to the gallows." Thorne hated discussing such unpleasantness with her. She should not have to worry about such things. "But many a peer has escaped justice with the aid of contacts and a fat purse, and then he would be our problem all over again, and with all our ammunition spent." He smoothed the furrow of worry creasing her brow. "You and your sisters made the wisest choice in this game of risk, I think."

Ravenglass approached them, grinning like a fool. He bowed to Blessing, then clapped Thorne on the back. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, old friend, and also the first to remind you that if you do not keep this wonderful lady happy, I shall make you regret it more than you have ever regretted anything in your life."

Thorne gazed into Blessing's eyes, his chest about to burst with everything he felt for her. "Fear not—this lady's happiness shall be my utmost priority from this day forward."

Leaning into him, she laughed—a joyous, effervescent sound of which he would never tire. "You may regret saying that, my lord. I can sometimes be quite fractious."

"Indeed, she can," Serendipity and Fortuity said in unison as they alit from the phaeton and hurried over to join everyone.

"So, what shall it be, my darling?" he asked Blessing after kissing her hand again. "Gretna Green or special license?"

"Gretna Green is an average of four days from London," she said with a smugness that made her smile quite teasing.

"Special license it is, then, my treasure." He cupped her face between his hands and sealed the promise with a heated kiss that had Serendipity clearing her throat more than once, and Fortuity telling her sister to hush it. He smiled against Blessing's mouth as she pressed tighter to him with even more ardor and made him wish everyone would go away so he could lower her onto the soft, grassy hillside and consummate their union in advance.

With a great deal of reluctance, he broke their bond and lifted his head. "I shall have the special license before the day is out. We shall marry tomorrow—agreed?"

She smiled up at him and touched his cheek with such tenderness that he wanted to roar to the world that this incomparable woman was his. "Tomorrow," she said softly, "In my observatory."

"The perfect place. Your stars and my moon can bless our union, because as you taught me, just because it is daytime, it does not mean they are not there."

"You remembered." She rewarded him with another of her teasing smiles, then saddened him by stepping away. He missed her warmth immediately.

"I should go," she said. "There is much to be done if I am to become a married woman tomorrow."

"Indeed," Serendipity echoed while holding up her fingers to count off the tasks. "Cook must be alerted to plan a wedding luncheon. Mrs. Flackney must give the staff their instructions. You must decide which gown to wear, and everything else must be packed. And—"

Fortuity grabbed hold of her hand and tugged her toward the carriage. "Come along, Seri. Leave them to another proper kiss, and then I am sure Essie will join us."

Thorne almost groaned as Blessing stepped back into his embrace, slid her hands up his chest, and hugged her arms around his neck. He caught hold of her and pulled her tight against him. "Until tomorrow, my treasure."

She tortured him with a slow kiss and a teasing flick of her tongue to his. "Until tomorrow," she whispered, then tore away, ran to the carriage, and hopped into it with such grace and agility that he drowned in admiration of her.

"Until tomorrow," he repeated under his breath, knowing he would count the hours until he held her as his wife.