Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The Earl of Pembroke’s Town House

“ T he footmen are preparing the coach,” Pembroke said as he walked into the bedchamber.

Gemma groggily sat up and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping, but she was exhausted, and it was still the middle of the night. Apparently, Pembroke had decided to slip her from town under the cover of darkness.

She hoped if she acted compliant, he might treat her as if she were still his friend. She’d written the blasted note he’d demanded of her last night. And she’d done the only thing she could think to do, which was to spend an inordinate amount of time extolling the virtues of the countryside to Griffin. Griffin, of course, knew she detested the country. She could only hope her brother was wise enough to wonder what was wrong.

But she wasn’t counting on it. No. She’d made up her mind in the hours since Pembroke had taken that note. In the long hours sitting alone in this room, she realized that she might be able to hope that Griffin would come looking for her, but there was no guarantee her disappearance would be traced to Pembroke. For the first time in her life, no one was here to help her. Gemma would have to save herself. And the realization felt oddly…good.

And that wasn’t the only thing she’d realized as she’d stared out the darkened window. She’d made a great many discoveries tonight, actually. She was through with everyone else telling her how her life would be. She was a grown woman, and it was up to her to determine her destiny. As the youngest in the family, she’d been treated like a child by all of them. Mama and Griffin and even Meredith had looked after her during her debut. Griffin had chosen her husband and negotiated the contract. Meredith had informed her of the secrets of a wedding night. Her husband had left her for a year, never written her, and returned to try to tell her how their marriage would be. Everyone was eager to tell Gemma what to do and how to do it. But she was done with all of that. She was in control of her future from now on, and she’d be damned if she would allow another person, least of all Pembroke, to tell her how her life would be. She’d deal with her husband afterward.

And she did want to deal with Lucian, she realized. All those hours alone in the dark had given her plenty of time to replay their argument in her mind. She’d had no right to ask Mrs. Howard for the secrets of his childhood. If Lucian wanted her to know, he would tell her himself. And that was what she wanted too. She wanted him to open up to her. She wanted him to tell her how he felt. She wanted him to be honest and giving and loving and kind to her.

Because she knew he was capable of it.

He wasn’t a cold-hearted monster. He’d merely been startled when she had brought up his childhood and demanded a different life for their baby. No doubt he’d felt as if he were under attack. She’d threatened to call off their agreement.

If she was going to start acting like a grown woman, she needed to do it in every way. Which included not getting angry at Lucian for expressing his feelings. Lucian had the right to tell her he’d been angry when he learned she’d talked about his childhood with a servant. She may not have liked what he said, but she had signed a contract. She’d agreed to stay with him for two months. A grown woman honored her commitments and that meant her commitment to the marriage too.

And now she realized how much she wanted to stay in her marriage. At first, she had been scared witless. She’d been so worried she would discover that Lucian was as awful as his father that she’d accused him of it without even speaking to him. It was the exact thing he’d done to her after they’d married, when he’d refused to listen to her explanation of why she’d been looking for him in study. She’d been angry about that the entire time he’d been gone to India, yet she’d just done the same thing to him. She’d refused to give him a chance to explain himself.

She may not have liked how her husband reacted to knowing she’d been told about his childhood, but she owed it to him to discuss it with him. Not run away, demanding a divorce. Because the truth was that these last two weeks with Lucian had been the best of her life. She’d fallen in love with him. Truly. She’d seen beneath the facade he’d carefully crafted for the world and glimpsed the man who had missed his parents’ love but still had so much love to give. He’d been taught to be cool and indifferent. He’d been told it was the right way to act. But she knew him. She knew his heart, and she knew he was capable of the deep and lasting love they both deserved.

Lucian was a good man. A very good man. And she would tell him as much, just as soon as she got away from Pembroke.

“Where are we going?” she asked her captor as she pushed herself up on one elbow on the bed.

“I cannot tell you that. But it’s far from here,” Pembroke replied. “A place where I can have you all to myself.”

“Your country estate?” she ventured.

“That would be too obvious, don’t you think?” He laughed. “Now, be a good girl and prepare yourself. Use the convenience if you must. It’s a long journey, and we won’t be stopping often along the way. I’ll be back to fetch you shortly.”

The moment the door closed behind him, Gemma surged to her feet. Her nerves made her exhaustion disappear. She couldn’t go with him. Wherever he was taking her, it was far away and obviously somewhere no one would look for her. She had to escape before he got her out of London. It was her only hope.

She rushed over to one of the windows. Could she break the glass and jump? No. She’d already thought of that and discarded the notion. It was a three-story drop directly into an alley. She might well break her neck. And that was if she didn’t fatally cut herself on the glass first.

She raced over to the door and tugged the handle as hard as she could. Still locked, of course. She lifted her slipper and kicked the handle as hard as she could. So forcefully an ungodly pain shot through her foot. It was no use. It was clearly bolted from the outside.

She turned around in a desperate circle. What else could she do? Pound on the door? Scream? Bring the household running?

Suddenly, loud voices sounded from far away. She guessed they were coming all the way from the foyer three stories below. Booming voices. And one that was…familiar. She’d know it anywhere.

Lucian? Could it be ? It seemed unlikely and yet…

A glimmer of hope kindled inside of her.

“Where is she, Pembroke?” Lucian demanded. He was about to smash this idiot into bits, but first he had to find out where he was keeping Gemma.

Pembroke clutched at his lapels and lifted his bony little chin in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please leave.” He pointed toward the door.

“I’m not leaving without my wife ,” Lucian snarled.

Pembroke pulled at his earlobe. He wouldn’t meet Lucian’s eyes. He was obviously lying. “Why would you think your wife was here?”

“I know she’s here,” Lucian replied. “I’m giving you the chance to tell me where before I begin smashing things, including your face .”

Gemma pulled the bellpull as hard as she could. She wasn’t about to wait around for Lucian to rescue her. But she would use his arrival as the distraction she needed to escape. She could only imagine that Pembroke was even now downstairs in the foyer, pretending as if he had no idea she was here. She had to get out of this room. Had to let Lucian know she was here.

A few minutes later, the voices were still booming downstairs, but there was a tentative one on the other side of the door. “Yes, me lady?” Louisa asked.

Gemma bit her lip. This had to work. “Please come in, Louisa. I need help.”

“His lordship told me to stay out, me lady,” Louisa replied, her voice shaking with what was clearly fright.

Gemma was frantic. She had to convince Louisa to open the door. Time was of the essence. What could she say to get the girl to open the door?

“Please, Louisa. I tried to break the window. I cut myself on the glass. My arm is bleeding…badly.”

“Oh, dear,” came Louisa’s response. “Let me go fetch some rags to?—”

“No!” Gemma nearly shouted. “Please. I need help immediately. I’ve already ripped apart the sheets.”

The moment the door inched open, Gemma breathed a sigh of relief. It worked. Her ploy had worked. She waited for the maid to step inside the room before she smashed the bedpan over her head. Poor Louisa crumpled to the ground in a heap.

“I’m quite sorry, and I hope you don’t have a large knot,” Gemma whispered to the girl as she stepped over her prone body. She couldn’t help but add, “Next time, you should listen when another woman tells you she’s in trouble.”

This time, there was no footman behind her, thank heavens. Limping, Gemma made her way into the hallway and down the corridor, toward the staircase in the front of the house, toward the raised voices. When she got there, she grabbed the balustrade with her free hand, leaned over it, and looked straight down. In the foyer below, three footmen were trying to bodily push Lucian out the front door. Meanwhile, Pembroke hovered against the wall nearby, cringing in fear. Despite the efforts of three grown men, Lucian was standing his ground.

“I will not leave without her,” Lucian thundered, his legs firmly braced apart while the footmen grabbed his arms.

Gemma’s heart clenched. He’d figured it out. He’d figured it out and was here for her. “Lucian!” she called. “I’m here!”

His head snapped up at the same moment that Pembroke gathered enough courage to punch him in the face. Not at all brave of him, given the fact that Lucian was being held by three men. Gemma went racing down the stairs toward the scene as Lucian shook off the punch and the three footmen to grab Pembroke by the collar. “I shall happily murder you now,” he bellowed.

By the time Gemma reached the foyer, Pembroke was a bloody mess who’d fallen to the marble floor. Lucian was still kicking him. In addition to the three footmen, a group of servants, including another maid and what looked like a butler, stood nearby, clearly with no intentions of intervening.

“Lucian, stop!” Gemma screamed as she flung herself into his arms. “He’s already stopped fighting.”

The hatred in Lucian’s eyes abated as he wrapped his arms around her. Another look entirely lit up his face. Relief . Relief and—dare she hope—love?

“Gemma.” His voice was rough. He tucked her head beneath his chin and squeezed her tight. “Gemma. Are you all right? Did that bastard hurt you?”

“I’m all right,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “I’m all right, Lucian.”

Still clutching her to his chest, Lucian glared at the servants. “Which of you knew about this? I’ll be returning with the constable.”

The servants all backed away and quickly scattered, disappearing into the bowels of the house.

“Take me home, Lucian,” Gemma whispered. “Please just take me home.”