Chapter Eighteen

February 1, 1818

Baselton House

St. James Place

It had been eight days since that horrible night at the Earl of St. Vincent's ball when there had been so much drama and emotion, the night Vivian nearly lost her life while trying to save his. There was no other way to interpret her actions; it had been a symbolic gesture and meant the world to him, for who else would offer herself up in sacrifice than a woman driven by love?

"Well, aren't we a pair?" he said as he entered his wife's suite of rooms just as her maid put the finishing touches on Vivian's toilette. "You with your right arm in a sling and me with my left in the same?"

She met his gaze in the mirror of her vanity table and smiled. Dear God, he could die a happy man if she would always promise to smile like that. "I am glad your sense of humor is coming along nicely, Baselton."

"Indeed, it is." For the moment, he didn't wish to say anything else as the maid fussed with his wife's hair. So instead, he sat in one of the comfortable chairs with the mauve and gold brocade embroidery and thought about the last week.

By the time he and St. Vincent had transferred Vivian into a carriage that night, she'd lost copious amounts of blood, and he didn't know if she could be saved. The saving grace was the fact the ball went cleanly through without hitting arteries or nicking bone. Once at home, he'd rushed her upstairs her to bedchamber, sent various footmen for a surgeon, for a couple of rogues, for anyone he thought might help, then he ordered maids to bring him his doctor's satchel from the attics, bowls of boiling water, and a supply of fresh, clean rags.

Though he didn't remember ever being a surgeon in the war and he certainly didn't recollect how to perform any sort of surgery, that didn't stop him from performing the very same on his wife, whose life hung in the balance.

In short order, the wound had been cleaned and disinfected with whiskey. By the time his own doctor arrived at the house, Evan had completed the first round of stitches in Vivian's shoulder. He was thankful she'd already passed out from the pain; otherwise, the task would have been even more difficult, and he didn't trust laudanum. Stubborn until the last and despite the intense pain in his own shoulder, he ordered Vivian turned over onto her belly and then he calmly and effectively stitched up the exit wound as if he'd been doing the same his whole life.

Perhaps he had. Though he couldn't remember, instinct had kicked in and he just knew. With instructions to bind the wound tightly and thoroughly with clean rags and strips of linen, he then told the housekeeper to fashion a sling for her out of a cravat but if she woke, keep her sedated with laudanum, for she needed to rest. She'd lost copious amounts of blood, and she would either heal and regain her strength at that point or she wouldn't.

Truly, she was in God's hands.

Only then had he submitted himself to the doctor's care and once settled in his suite, he endured the pain and ordeal of having the ball dug out of his shoulder. It hurt like the devil and brought up all sorts of nightmares that flitted through his mind, but he kept an image of Vivian in his brain, concentrated on that as the doctor performed much the same surgery on him that he'd done to his wife.

For the next few days, they'd both been confined to their rooms and ordered to rest with the aid of laudanum.

Healing was slow, but improvement was there. Nightmares plagued him for the first couple of nights, and without his wife close, they had been difficult to endure, but he did so, because of her. That future she'd spoken about couldn't be achieved if he wasn't there to chase it. Various club members had come by to visit, but there had been no immediate word of what happened with Lord Starkington except the fact that he had, indeed, written that damning note and had it delivered to Evan.

Two days ago, both he and Vivian were able to move about the house, slowly. That ball had been traumatic for them, and it would take a bit to work through everything that had happened.

"I am finished here, my lady." The sound of the maid's voice brought Evan out of his musings. "The effect is spoiled by the sling, of course, but I'd much rather have you here and injured than the alternative."

"Put the worry from your mind," Vivian said as she rose to her feet and moved away from the vanity. "I am well and growing stronger each day. Besides, this is a dinner party, not a ball. There will be no strenuous activities like dancing."

Evan grinned with indulgence as he raked his gaze up and down his wife's form. Tonight, she'd chosen a lovely gown of red silk that skimmed over her curves and set off her décolletage to advantage. "I rather think the sling makes you more alluring," he said as the maid exited the room, leaving him alone with his wife. "Your maid is skilled with a needle, and she's made your sling match your gown." The young woman had used a length of extra fabric left over from the gown, and honestly, the effect was charming.

"Hush, you." As she came toward him, the rubies and diamonds about her neck and wrist glimmered like mad in the candlelight. She'd let on to him that when he'd come back into her life, she'd had all the jewelry he'd ever given her taken out of the safe and cleaned so she could wear it in the hopes he might remember. "She isn't the only one skilled with a needle. When my bandages were last changed, the doctor was impressed with your handiwork."

"Well, as you keep reminding me, I was a surgeon." When she settled on his lap, Evan wrapped his right arm about her, careful not to jostle her injury, yet even that contact sent interest shivering along his shaft. They hadn't been intimate since the afternoon of the ball, of course, and he missed being able to show her the depths of his regard.

"Yes, you were, and of some acclaim if the praise from your friends means anything." With a sigh, she laid her gloved palm against the side of his face. "Thank you."

He frowned. "For what? You were the one who saved my life. Twice." If she hadn't talked him down and out of his thoughts, he would have surely killed himself thanks to Starkington's interference.

"For being patient with me, for not holding it against me that I'd had a brief affair with Edward, for loving me enough to give me a future you thought would make me happy." When she smiled, the ruby earbobs sparkled. "And for being quite correct when you said life is messy. There is no simple answer on how to explain it."

Was there any wonder why he adored her? "That is only ever what I wanted for you—happiness. Whether it was with me or not didn't matter, but I'm glad you chose me."

"How could I not? You needed me."

"I still do." As he moved to cup her cheek, she winced slightly in pain. "Sorry." Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. "In truth, I don't know what would have become of me had that ball gone into your heart and killed you." He'd died a thousand deaths in the few seconds it had taken for her to lunge in front of him and be hit.

"Please don't say you would have taken a page from Shakespeare. I couldn't bear it if you'd turned that Drury Lane drama into a tragedy along the lines of Romeo and Juliet."

He chuckled, and it was the first genuine sound of mirth he'd uttered in far too long. "Though I might still struggle with my demons, you've taught me all too well there is much to live for, and I cannot wait to start. Not many women would have done what you did."

"Then those women don't understand what it is to love a man as deep and as tall as I do." Those exact emotions reflected in her expression. "I knew we would be all right when you told me that you loved me a second time even though I was dying, but now I'm quite certain." The delicate skin at the corners of her eyes crinkled with her smile. "But perhaps you should start with your dinner party. The thing cannot go off unless the host is present."

"Gorgeous as well as wise. I am quite the fortunate man."

"I assume that isn't something you will forget," she asked with an arched eyebrow.

Evan snorted. "I should say not." As his stomach rumbled, he chuckled again. "I suppose I haven't eaten as regularly as I should while recovering from being shot."

"How do you think I feel? I must muddle through by eating with my left hand." But she removed herself from his lap. "Perhaps we can spend some time together after dinner. I rather miss our talks."

"That sounds delightful, and as soon as the weather clears, we will resume our strolls in Hyde Park. I have missed those too." With a groan, he pushed out of the chair. "Come along, Lady Baselton. We have guests to entertain." And he had a brilliant wife to show off. Knowing he'd not only won her but also survived to tell the tale made him almost giddy with joy as well as gratitude, and he wouldn't waste this third chance.

Ten minutes later, Davis called them all into the dining room, and once the guests were seated around the table, Evan stood at the end and regarded those assembled with a contented smile.

The Duke of Edenthorpe and his duchess were there, as were Baron Twinsfield and his wife. Viscount Winteringham was there, and he sat next to the Duke of Strathfield. Rounding out the numbers were the Duke of Lockwood and his duchess. Vivian sat at the opposite end of the table with her lips slightly curved and a look of anticipation on her face.

"Thank you all for coming this evening. The last month was fraught with horrors and emotions." He pressed his lips together to compose himself. "I'm especially grateful that you have consented to come to dinner when the threat to the Rogue's Arcade members is still out there."

Edenthorpe nodded. "It is, indeed. In fact, from what we've managed to glean from Starkington is that the Countess of Stover is involved, and for whatever reason, she has put out orders to eliminate us all. Other than that, we know nothing."

From the opposite end of the table, Vivian softly cleared her throat. "And Viscount Rockwell? How does he fare?"

"My brother has recently returned to Town, and there has been much happening with his situation, though it is becoming more and more clear that someone is trying to take him down," the duke added with concern etched across his face.

Strathfield nodded. "We are all monitoring the situation. In two days, I'm hosting a ball where we hope to run an operation similar to that at the rout a week ago. We should have more information once that has been completed."

"And then we can act accordingly," the viscount said with grim determination in his voice. Candlelight turned his red hair molten. "The thought that someone or a group of someones could hate our club members so thoroughly that they wish us dead boggles the mind."

"But then, being former members of the military, we are sadly acquainted with the fact that there is always hate in this world and it moves as many men as coin does," Evan said as he regained control of the conversation. "That is not the spirit in which I've asked you here tonight." When he glanced down the table at his wife, her smile widened, and she nodded in encouragement.

"Will you arrive at the point soon, Baselton? We are hungry, and some of us have babes to return to, and as you alluded to, events from last month have made that time even more precious," St. Vincent said with much amusement in his voice.

Chuckles and murmurs of agreement went around the table.

"Right. Pardon me for being long-winded." Once more, he sent a look at the people gathered in his dining room. "Ever since my return to London three months ago, I have struggled with many things. Among them was a sense of purpose. I didn't know why fate would give me that chance if I couldn't remember anything of my past beyond the life I had in Cornwall as a woodworker." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Quite frankly, I despaired of ever finding that purpose or place again, for my life is very different than it apparently was before."

Vivian made a soft sound. "But you are doing a marvelous job of finding your way."

"Perhaps I am, thanks to all of you." If he wasn't careful, emotion would overcome him, and that had been happening far too much of late. "I suppose when it comes down to brass tacks, I fought every battle I've been handed—am still fighting some of them—for one reason only, and that is my family. I continue to struggle with my nightmares, fight against the people who wish ill of us, fought in the military for the same… for my brothers-in-arms, for the people who saved my life then and now; you men are my found family, have stood by me where my blood relatives have long ago left this mortal coil."

A low murmur of agreement came from the men sitting around the table.

Evan nodded. "I also fight for my wife. Without Vivian, I'm not certain I would have had the will to continue on when things are at their lowest point. Through her, living with her, coming to know her all over again, I have learned that there is always something to grasp onto and keep going for, because life is what we make of it. We can either wallow in our circumstances or we can make them better."

She dabbed at the corner of one eye. "You would have come to those same conclusions yourself, Baselton," she said in a soft voice.

Some of the ladies had also teared up.

"I don't know, but what I do know is this. Together, we are strong, Vivy. Stronger than anything can throw at us, stronger than those who would tear us apart. I cannot say what the future holds, but we must believe that good will triumph over evil. And if we are fortunate to have a family of our own however fate deems that, I wish to pass on those values to the next generation." He paused, for moisture welled in his eyes, and he left it there, unashamed, for a man was not weak for the showing of emotion. Life was difficult, and sometimes a person broke. "Vivian, sweeting, if you are willing, I would very much like to marry you again."

"What?" She stared at him with confusion while murmurs circulated through the room. "We are already wed."

"Yes, but I don't have those memories, and from what you have told me, our union was arranged by our parents anyway. This time, I wish to marry you from love, because that has been the one thing which had guided me all the while."

The duchess of Edenthorpe brushed tears from her face with her linen napkin, and everyone in the room looked at Vivian.

"I think that is a lovely sentiment, Baselton, and I would be happy to marry you again," his wife said in a choked whisper as a tear fell to her cheek.

"Good, and I would like the ceremony to be in that spot of Hyde Park where we go when we walk. It will tie my past with my future."

Lockwood cleared his throat. "It seems that many here will soon become watering pots since you have suddenly become a sentimental romantic, Baselton." But he grinned. "I shall assist you in the paperwork needed to procure a license or at least explain to the church why this is needed."

"Thank you." Evan allowed himself a grin, for he truly was a fortunate man. "And I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt. I may not remember much of my life, but every moment that I'm with you Vivian, every time I share a conversation with my fellow club members, each time I do something that feels familiar but is still a mystery, I know that I have found home, and that I am finally at peace, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for never giving up on me when you had every right to do so."

"You would do the same for any of us, Baselton," Edenthorpe responded, and though his own voice was graveled with emotion, he grinned. "However, you have the right of it. We are more than a club or a group of men who fought beside each other in the war. We are a family, and our lives are intricately connected, and will be, until we die."

"Of natural causes, let us hope," Twinsfield tossed in, much to the amusement of everyone.

"Indeed." Then Evan only had eyes for his wife as she left her chair and joined him at the head of the table. "Shall we begin the dinner, sweeting?"

"Absolutely, but first, there is this." Apparently not caring that they had guests, she closed the distance, wrapped her good hand about his nape, and pulled him down for a kiss that sent heady awareness through every nerve ending in his body. When she stepped away, there were many hoots and grins from the company. "There is much to look forward to, I think. For all of us," she said and smiled at each person in attendance.

"Agreed." Evan raised his wineglass. "To us all. May we remember what truly matters in life and strive to keep fighting for it."

"Hear, hear!" Everyone at the table lifted their own glasses in toast.

Winteringham cleared his throat. "Will there be food, soon? Though I am not romantically attached, I can understand your new commitment, but I am rather ravenous, for you did promise a feast."

Laughter circled around the room while Vivian returned to her chair.

"You will not be disappointed." Evan gestured at the butler, who then supervised the footmen in serving the first course. As he resumed his seat, he couldn't help but grin, for life was indeed interesting, and full of surprises. There would always be obstacles to overcome and horrors to navigate, but there was also happiness and joy and long stretches of contentment.

The key was to live for those days, for they made everything worth living.