Chapter Twenty

I t had been three days since Ravenglass left to search for Montagne's messenger and, with all probability, Montagne himself, even though Thorne had told the bloody fool that he wished to be the one to deal with Montagne. Frustrated beyond measure, Thorne stared out the sitting room window from his seat at the large table and chairs that Cadwick and Mrs. Hartcastle had ordered carried up to his private suite of rooms, since he had yet to conquer the stairs and make it down to the dining room. The others, Serendipity, Fortuity, and Mother, would be up soon to join him and Blessing for breakfast.

"I am worried about him too." Blessing rested her hand on his arm. "I cannot imagine why we have not heard from him."

"Since I am managing well enough with a cane now and able to dress appropriately, I shall take to the streets and search for him myself."

"You cannot." She squeezed his arm and held it tightly as if determined to prevent him from leaving. "You walk with some difficulty, still have trouble with stairs, and tire easily. How the devil do you expect to survive a trip to Seven Dials, where they will surely club you and leave you in the gutter as soon as you figure out a way to stumble out of the carriage?"

"Ravenglass could be in the gutter as we speak."

"Then send Donnelly to find him." Eyes flashing, she hardened a fierce scowl at him. "I did not marry you just to become a widow three days later."

"Send Donnelly to find whom?" Serendipity asked as she and Fortuity entered the room.

"Ravenglass," Blessing said before Thorne could answer.

Lady Roslynn came through the door next, absent-mindedly picking cat hair off her dress as she toddled over to the table. "Still no word from him?"

"No." Thorne held up a hand as Cadwick started to pour him a cup of hot chocolate. "Coffee this morning, if you please."

"Of course, my lord." The butler nodded at the footman waiting by the trays that had been carried up and laid out to serve the elaborate breakfast. "And Lord Ravenglass took two of the men he employed as guards when he left in search of Lord Myrtlebourne's messenger."

"Then why the bloody hell have we not heard anything by now?" Thorne clenched his hands on either side of his plate, ready to roar and gnash his teeth over the current state of affairs. His best friend could very well be dead, he was trapped on the second floor of his home because those damnable stairs set his leg on fire, and he had yet to properly make love to his beautiful new wife. He hit the table with his fist. "Bloody, bloody hell!"

The room went still, and the ladies and servants alike stared at him.

He bowed his head, then scrubbed both hands down his face. "Forgive me. My patience with all the challenges of late grows quite thin."

"What is all this bellowing and cursing about?" Ravenglass asked as he strode into the room. He swept a look around and frowned. "And in front of these ladies, no less? I know your mother taught you better manners than that, Knightwood."

A surge of relief and thankfulness made Thorne shove his chair back, hoist himself to his feet, and, with his cane, unsteadily limp over to his friend. He caught hold of the viscount's shoulder and squeezed. "Where the devil have you been?"

"Sit back down, and I shall tell you." Ravenglass glanced over at the trays bearing covered dishes, teapots, and coffeepots. "And might I trouble you for a cup of tea and some breakfast?"

"That goes without saying." Thorne gave Cadwick a quick nod to fetch a chair and set another place at the table. He hobbled back to his seat and lowered himself into it with a strained grunt. "Now—as I said before, where the devil have you been? We have been worried sick."

The ladies hurried to shift and make room as a footman returned with a chair and placed it at the table.

Ravenglass seated himself and leaned back, looking a bit too dusty and worn around the edges for Thorne's liking. But at least the man was alive and appeared to be well.

"I found our man," the viscount said as he added cream and sugar to his tea and nodded for Cadwick to place a generous helping of coddled eggs, kippers, and fried bread upon his plate. He made a moue of distaste as he glanced around the table at the ladies. "However, I am none too sure I should go into the details in front of present company."

"You most certainly will go into detail here and now!" Lady Roslynn pointed at him with a knife coated in butter.

"Absolutely," Blessing echoed, and her sisters nodded their agreement as well.

"Get on with it, man." Thorne shifted in his chair, gripping its arms and bracing himself for Ravenglass's story. "They are as invested in this tale as I am, and stronger and more determined ladies do not exist in London."

"Very well, then." The viscount still did not appear comfortable about speaking about such things in front of the ladies, but he carried on nonetheless. "Montagne and the countess had moved from the room above the gin palace where Donnelly observed them after following the messenger the first time."

"Where did you find them?" Thorne leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table.

"My men and I discovered Montagne's messenger behind the gin palace." Ravenglass tightened his mouth into a flat line. "Someone relieved him of his life in a rather brutal manner that I will not describe."

"And he was our only lead to Montagne," Thorne said.

"That is why I was gone as long as I was." Ravenglass sipped his tea, then frowned down at his plate while nudging his food around with his fork. "But I did find him. Him and Lady Myrtlebourne both."

Something about his friend's voice told Thorne that the two were no longer a problem. "Go on."

"On the far side of the Dials, I came upon a trio of ladies fighting over…" Ravenglass paused and looked around the table again. After a deep breath, he locked eyes with Thorne. "They were fighting about who was responsible for paying for the removal of a pair of bodies from their establishment."

"What happened to them?" Thorne knew Ravenglass was talking about Montagne and Lady Myrtlebourne without having to ask.

The viscount puckered another sour face as if unable to rid himself of a very bad taste. "The ladies of the establishment said the two constantly fought, creating quite a disturbance. After a day of the room being extremely quiet, they went up to discover Lady Myrtlebourne with her neck broken and Montagne hanged."

"How awful." Blessing pressed a napkin to her mouth and bowed her head.

"Surely you did not leave them there?" Fortuity asked as she pushed her plate away.

"No, my lady," Ravenglass said. "I notified Montagne's solicitor and the Bow Street Runners so they could close the case regarding Lady Myrtlebourne's escape from prison."

"You did well," Lady Roslynn told him. "I am sure you will struggle to forget that unpleasantness, but I thank you for protecting my son and daughter-in-law."

"Daughter-in-law?" Ravenglass arched a brow first at Blessing and then at Thorne.

"Indeed. The very day you disappeared without a word is the day we married." Thorne leveled a hard glare on his friend and took on a rebuking tone, pouring all of his frustration and worry about the man into his voice. "Had you been here, you could have been a witness. Stood at my side. An honor I would have thankfully bestowed upon you." He jutted his chin higher. "Instead, you made me worry about whether you were alive or dead."

"Well, not too worried, I wager, since you survived the day by making the lovely Lady Blessing your wife."

"Had I not been crippled—"

"Had you not been crippled by your wounds," Ravenglass interrupted, "you more than likely would have gotten yourself shot again. A risk I was not willing to take. I do not have many whom I consider close friends. Feel honored that you are one of them."

"Stop fighting!" Blessing smacked the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle. "What matters now is that Lord Ravenglass is home safe, Thorne is mending well, and we no longer have to worry about Montagne or Lady Myrtlebourne—and thank heavens none of us were forced to soil our hands with their blood. May God have mercy on their souls."

"God rest their souls," everyone at the table hurried to say.

"And as soon as my fine brother-in-law is healed enough to attend," Lady Serendipity said, "Chance insists we throw the celebration of the Season at Broadmere House."

Blessing closed her eyes and groaned. Ravenglass stared at her in bewilderment, and Thorne threw back his head and laughed, feeling happier and more contented than he had in a very long while. He reached over and took Blessing's hand. "Surely we can bear one soiree for the sake of your brother?"

"One?" She snorted. "Surely you jest. He still has six more sisters to marry off to gain his inheritance. We shall have to hide in the country to avoid all his plotting." She narrowed her eyes at Ravenglass. "You appear to be a good man, my lord, albeit a bit foolhardy. And quite single. How do you feel about marriage?"

Ravenglass jumped up from his seat and bowed. "I do beg your pardon, but I hear my horse calling. Forgive me, but I really must see to him." He darted from the room before any of them could argue.

"Essie." Thorne patted her hand. "You should not tease old Ravenglass so. Especially not when he has just returned to us."

She hiked a brow at him. "Who said I was teasing?"

*

Blessing rolled off Thorne, exhausted, breathless, and so limp with satisfaction she was boneless. "You were so right, my love." She draped an arm across his heaving chest, her leg across his middle, and snuggled against him. "We should never leave this bed. Stay in it always and make love forever."

Thorne rumbled against her with a low, throaty chuckle. "It is good to be right and have one's wife agree."

She tickled a finger through his chest hairs and down the dark midline where the hairs swept together and ran downward. "Did you know your hairs form a trail that points to your manly bits?"

He chuckled again. "I cannot say that I ever realized that, my love."

She ran her fingertip down the trail and took hold of his heavy member that was slowly but ever so surely reawakening. "See? Straight as an arrow—right to the pot of gold."

"The pot of gold, eh?" He rolled her over and settled between her legs.

She glared at him with a scolding look. "The last time we tried that position, you said it hurt your shoulder."

"That was yesterday. I feel the need to try again."

"Do you now?" She gently stroked his warm, muscular back, taking care to avoid his sore shoulder and the healing wound just below his right buttock. "I have often wondered if Montagne was trying to shoot you in the arse."

"That is a subject for another time, and is that the sort of word my beloved wife should use?"

"What word?"

"Arse."

"I use that word and many more." She couldn't resist a wicked grin as his rock-hard length nudging her confirmed that her wonderful rogue of a husband was fully restored and ready to go again. She rocked her hips against him. "Come inside, my love. I am where you belong."

"Indeed, you are, my treasure," he groaned as he thrust into her. "Indeed, you are."