Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

R aven's Court was silent by the time Lucien and Simon returned. Lucien was mind-numbingly weary, and was certain his brother felt the same after the race through London's wintery streets and the confrontation at Pinchbeck's. The guard at the door informed them that magistrates had escorted Darragh Nolan to Newgate, and Lady Everdene had settled Moira and the Nolan children into rooms until they could be taken to Everdene.

"A Mr. O'Malley arrived an hour ago," the footman continued. "Her ladyship tended his wounds, then settled him in one of the bedchambers."

Lucien's throat felt tight. O'Malley had saved the lives of every guest at Raven's Court. He owed the Irishman more than he could ever repay. Lucien vowed to sit down with the man and the leaders of his movement, and listen to what they had to say. Hadn't Grace urged him to do the same thing before this night's treachery?

But there would be time for that tomorrow. Tonight, he needed to find his wife and hold her as if he would never let her go.

Lucien and Simon mounted the stairs, talking in low murmurs, Simon veering off toward his bedchamber to find Penelope who had taken Kit there as well, refusing to let the boy out of her sight.

He heard a muffled voice from his own bedchamber, someone calling his name. Cassandra. Despite his eagerness to find Grace, something in his sister's voice drew him. Something small. Something lost.

He entered the bedchamber, finding her sitting on the floor, her skirts pooled around her, the wooden chest where Lucien kept his most precious mementos open beside her. His heart lurched. The blue tin box was open on her lap, her long, slender fingers holding the ragged bit of cloth that box had contained for almost twenty years.

He dragged a hand over his face. He'd been dreading this moment for decades. Knew it would be like hauling himself over hot coals. He couldn't do this now. He needed Grace in his arms, needed to assure himself she was safe…

But Cassandra raised her gaze to his and what he saw there rooted him to the spot.

"You know I never could wait for surprises," she said. "When you mentioned this box, before you rode out for Seven Dials, I had to know what was in it."

She lifted the ragged cloth, running her fingers over what remained of embroidered pansies. "It's the bit of the blanket I loved so much as a child." Her eyes glistened and Lucien felt the regrets of a lifetime roll over him.

I can't talk about this now…I'm too damned tired, still too shaken… The words were on the tip of his tongue, but she looked vulnerable in a way he'd never seen before. His throat caught.

"However did you come by it?" she asked. "No one even knew I still had the scrap."

Fierce Cassandra, suddenly tender and easily bruised. He'd wounded her so many times in the past. She deserved this truth now. "I found it, snagged on a shrub, the day after you tried to run away. I thought you were coming back, then, so I hid it from Father."

"I'd stashed it in my pocket. After the servants caught me, it was gone. I was sure I'd lost it forever." She set the box aside and rose to her feet, peering down at the bit of cloth. "It's not the first time you saved this for me. You were the one who suggested I cut a strip from my blanket before Father burned it."

"Because I'd never forgotten how you lay your blanket over me when we had the measles. And…mother embroidered it for you." His lips curled and he wanted to tease even a hint of smile from her. "I was boiling hot, you know. And it made me itch."

Cassandra gave a watery chuckle. "Even when we tried to help each other, we never got it quite right, did we?"

He sobered. "I should have sent it to you in Italy once I realized you would not be coming home, but I found that I couldn't part with it."

"Why not?" she asked, her gaze searching his face.

"Because…it was the only piece of you I had left." Had he admitted that before? Even to himself?

She stared at the embroidery, her eyes shimmering in the firelight. "Oh, Lucien," she breathed, then finally looked up at him. "When did we lose each other?"

" We didn't," Lucien said."It was father. He drove a wedge between us on purpose." And so the earl had, forcing them apart with his words, lies, actions, both praise and scorn. "I just didn't recognize what was happening until…"

"It was too late…?"

He nodded, surprised by the guilt that laced her voice as well. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed. "Wishing I'd done something different. If I could go back to that night father took you away, I would." The memory of what happened came crashing back, the screams, the crying, the desperate pleas. "I didn't know Father planned to send you to Thornsby.He was quite the expert at making people believe his lies. I thought I was saving you from?—"

"From what?"

"I don't even know. I just thought I was doing the right thing. For you, for mother…I swear I had no idea what Father planned. By the time I discovered what had really happened, I was so ashamed of my part in it, I couldn't face myself in the mirror, let alone look you or Jane in the eye."

Silence fell between them, and he saw his own desolation echoed in Cassandra's eyes. Of anyone, she could understand the dark web they'd been trapped in.

What he didn't expect was her sudden show of support. "We were both victims of the earl's machinations. As such, we both took on the task of shielding our younger siblings. I, with Jane, and you with Simon."

He twisted the signet ring on his finger, speaking in hushed tones. "Do you know, I went to the docks with Mother and Simon, the day you arrived in London? But at the last minute, I made an excuse. Claimed some business for the Crown. And left to supposedly see an ambassador newly arrived."

"You are a very important man." There was a note in her voice that was almost teasing, the way they'd done once upon a time.

"But a coward, to be sure. I watched you and Jane from the window in the Custom's House. You were wearing a pale-blue frock and a scarlet cloak. Your bonnet had cream colored streamers, and it almost blew away. Simon caught it."

"Spying?"

Was that actually a smile on his sister's face? Deciding it was, he continued, "You deserved to enjoy your reunion. Being the last person you'd wish to see,I would only have cast a shadow over your homecoming. Considering your reaction when we did meet, I was right."

"Father did this. Set us against each other. Lied to us…" Her face darkened. "I hate him. I wish he would die."

Lucien winced at the fierceness in her voice. "Father said that the painting of Holofernes was a warning to me as well."

"That was before I saw…how far you were willing to go to make amends." She moved toward him. "Your vow not to live at Everdene Hall could have destroyed your marriage. And even then, I think you loved Grace."

"Who could help it?" Lucien said.

"You want to make things right between us?"

"Yes."

"Take Grace to Everdene Hall. Be happy , Lucien. Be the father we never had."

He swallowed hard, reaching for a life he could never have imagined. A sweetness that humbled him. Awed him. "I will," he vowed. "Please tell me you will stay at Everdene, too."

"I don't know. I have been angry for so long. What will be left of me after that is gone?"

He wanted to sooth her with a hug, but they had never been that sort…Instead, he squeezed her hand, the scrap of their childhood between them. He felt it slip through his fingers as she disappeared out his door.

Grace felt a poignant sting as she settled the Nolan children in the nursery Lucien and his siblings had once shared. The four little beds lined up in military precision, the shelves of toys untouched for twenty years.

Tonight, a whirlwind of activity had transformed the room, Penelope, Cassandra and Jane joining Grace in wrestling filthy clothes off little bodies and scrubbing skin that hadn't seen a bathtub in months—if ever.

Finished at last, maids hauled off the tub and the children's clothes to be laundered, while her sisters-in-law retired to their own rooms.

Grace lingered, grateful for any distraction that kept her from obsessing over what was happening at the Pinchbecks' soiree. Sibby Rose and Scrap bounced from wonder to wonder like India rubber balls, awed by dolls in exquisite dresses, a Noah's ark and stuffed animals.

Grace could hardly blame them for having a hard time calming down after what they'd witnessed tonight. Her own nerves were stretched just as tight.

"Perhaps you could choose something from the shelf to help you sleep," Grace suggested, and Sibby Rose raced to pick up a doll, while Scrap hugged a stuffed dog.

She looked at Robert, but the boy scowled with affronted dignity.

"Don't need some baby toy t' go t' sleep," he declared and Grace felt a sudden wave of loneliness. He reminded her of Avery.

"Well, if you change your mind later…" She let her voice trail off.

"Only thing I need," Robert grumbled, "is one night free from bein' poked by pointy elbows an' daft buggers puttin' cold feet on me."

"Aren't you in luck, then?" Grace suppressed a smile as she tucked each little Nolan into their own bed and watched them fling their arms and legs wide. "Now I must go check to see if there is any word from Lord Everdene," she said, her heart racing. "I promise to come back as soon as I can," she said, gently untangling Scrap's fingers.

"Don't go," Sibby pleaded, and Scrap grabbed a handful of Grace's skirt.

"Better stay," Robert said, his voice wavering just a little. "For the wee'uns."

Grace hesitated, feeling torn. "Shall I leave the lamp burning? My brothers always liked that best."

Robert rose up on his elbow, looking at her with interest. "You have brothers?"

"Four. And I miss them terribly," she confessed, wondering when she'd see them again. She wanted nothing more than to go downstairs, wait for Lucien's return. But she took a deep breath and turned back to the children. "Shall I tell you the story of when they put a toad in my stepmother's sugar bowl?" she asked Robert.

He nodded, and the other two scurried from their beds into his, Sibby saying, "It's how our ma tells us stories." They snuggled in on either side of their big brother, all three watching her as she began.

"Once upon a time there was a toad named Trevor…" She didn't even make it to the ladies' shrieks, when all three Nolan children drifted off to sleep.

Grace tiptoed out of the room, thinking of Lucien, Simon, Jane and Cassandra, innocent and vulnerable as her own brothers, but at the mercy of the cruel Earl of Ravenscroft.

They'd survived so much—the Harcourt siblings—yet there was so much healing to be done. Especially between Cassandra and Lucien.

"Please God, give them the chance…," she whispered, picturing Lucien in Pinchbeck's townhouse. Simon is with him, she told herself. Other men were as well. But Pinchbeck and Freyne had shown themselves ruthless enough to stoop to any evil.

Just one well-aimed pistol shot…She bit her lip, aware just how fragile life was.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, tears trickling from her eyes when she heard the low rumble of a voice behind her. "Grace."

She stifled a cry with her hand, spun and saw Lucien hastening toward her. In a heartbeat she was in his arms. "You're back…safe. Oh, thank God!" she whispered. "I kept imagining the most awful things. Those men would stop at nothing to silence you."

"They would hardly shoot me in the middle of a soiree, my love," he murmured into her hair. "It would have been considered very bad ton."

Was he smiling? She could feel it against the side of her face.

"It is over," he soothed.

She felt tears burning in her eyes, the stress of the night, the fear finally overwhelming her.

"We managed to set off an explosion of a different sort at Pinchbeck's soiree. Freyne and Pinchbeck are in custody We have witnesses to testify against them. Lord Russell was there from the Home Office. Moreover, your friend, Alice put the final nail into the case, in front of half of London, telling how Freyne had used her to get the kegs into the ballroom. She knew nothing of the explosives."

"Poor Alice. How could he have done such a thing to her?"

"They were announcing their betrothal tonight. But that is a conversation best left for later." Lucien hesitated, looking at the nursery door. "Who have you tucked in the nursery?"

"Sibby Rose and her brothers." Grace felt a momentary shyness. "I hope it is all right that I put them here. Penelope is keeping little Kit with her and after all the Nolan children have been through, I thought…such a cheery room might comfort them."

He drew back, cupping her face in his broad palms. "It's perfect. But then, you always do know how to make people feel safe. It is a gift, Grace. Greater than you will ever know. Will I wake them?"

"No."

He opened the door and slipped inside. "But why are they all in one bed?"

"At first, they were thrilled to have their own beds, but then…when I was telling them a story, they cuddled together like puppies. I think they sleep better, holding on to each other."

A child softly moaned, and Robert thrashed a bit. One long, scabbed leg thrust out from under the coverlet, pale white in the light of the candle she'd left burning. Lucien released her and crossed to the child's side. Grace's throat felt tight at the poignant expression on his face as he lifted Robert's small leg back onto the mattress.

"I spoke to Cassandra before I came to find you," he said, smoothing the blanket over the boy. "I think we have made peace at last."

"Truly?"

"Do you remember the tin box? The blue one you saw?"

She nodded.

"I will tell you about it sometime. But for now…" His hand curled around her fingers, so warm and strong as he led her from the room. "What matters is that I can keep my promise to you," he said. "We can go home to Everdene Hall. Our child can grow up running the same green fields we did. You can be close to your brothers as you hoped."

"Oh, Lucien!" She blinked back tears, her happiness almost too great to hold.

He drew her down the stairs to their own bedchamber, the room where they'd shared so much passion. Once the door was closed, he faced her. She needed to reassure herself that he was safe, that he was well, that he was hers. She ran her fingertips over his face, the bristles of his beard darkening his strong jaw, his mask of cool restraint gone. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"Well, I'm not. I worried about you every second you were gone. It's bad enough that Pinchbeck was involved. I can't believe that Neville was part of this."

"I can't even imagine how horrible Alice must feel. Why would he do this? And single you out? It's all so very strange."

"Not so strange. If he was to succeed in his plan to start a war against the reformers, he needed to convince his peers that the danger was real. And what better target than the man who stole the woman he wanted?"

"But he didn't want me. He was the one who jilted me."

"He'd secured the cotton resources with his American wife. After she conveniently died, he saw you as the perfect match. With Lady Barbara Elliot's daughter on his arm, he would have access to the most powerful men in the land."

"Where I would have decried everything he stands for! Enslaved people and children in his factories."

Pride shone in Lucien's smile. "If he believed for an instant he doused the fire in my fierce crusader just because she wears a bonnet, he was a fool."

"I'm not sure how you managed not to throttle the man right there, and save the Crown the trouble of hanging him!"

"The thought crossed my mind. But I had something far more pressing to do," he insisted, his voice rough with emotion. "Get home to the woman I love." He pressed his cheek to hers, and she felt a tremor go through him. "The day you came back into my life was the day I began to awaken. I didn't want to. I fought it. I'd spent so much of my life concealing who I was, any tenderness or weakness. Even when I began to love you, I resisted the truth."

"What truth?" she asked softly.

"In my haste to put you between my shoulder and my shield, protect you from any pain or danger, I didn't realize that I was the one locked in a tower of my own making and you held the key. You were— are my north star." He took her hand in his, looked down at her, his heart in his eyes. "I'm not a man who trusts easily. But I love you, Grace. Until my last breath, I will be yours. And you…my beautiful, brave love. Will you be my countess of stars? The light that leads me home."