Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

S he and Tristan had to sort out their future, but right then Savannah watched him speak with Dem about the magistrate and handing over these men to the proper authorities. She wanted to know why those two men had chosen their path. What reason could they have had for murdering the poorest of the poor women?

They hadn't talked when Tristan questioned them. They hadn't said a word when Dem threatened them, as they hadn't a reason. Savannah didn't believe that. Everyone had a reason for their actions.

Half the street had just watched Dem exert his control. Dem proclaimed they'd start their own Bow Street Runners to protect themselves, a proclamation that was met with cheers from the crowd. Savannah thought that a was good idea. But, more importantly, his speech offered her the opportunity to slip past, unseen.

Tristan held out his hand and she took it, smiling at his touch, at their future laid out before them. Ailene had returned to the house, Lyneé with her, Browne following them. Peters, Savannah knew, followed her.

"I don't understand," Savannah admitted. "Why did those two men choose here?"

"The magistrate will find out," Tristan promised. "I'll go round in the morning and see what's happened."

Still frowning, Savannah nodded. "I have a bad feeling that we were right about them, that it was a mere wager—the life of those women in exchange for something fleeting. Like money or prestige."

He didn't respond but pressed a kiss against her temple. They walked in silence for a few steps before he peered down at her with a grave, serious look that made her frown deepen. "Do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"The scandal." He sighed. "I should protect you from that, but all I seem capable of is creating more. I promised to protect you, then I kissed you in the middle of the street."

Savannah returned her head to his shoulder but only for a moment. "I never cared about scandal. Everything the Shaws do is scandalous. Buying the house in Grosvenor Square? Scandalous. Building the shipping business into an incredible empire? Scandalous. Not staying in our place?" She sighed as they moved around the crowd still listening to Dem. "Scandalous."

"No more scandal," he promised, pulling her again him just before the solid door of the house. "Well…" He kissed her softly. "Maybe one more."

Her need for him still buzzed beneath her skin. Her nipples hardened, and her body ached for his touch. Savannah pulled back, smoothing her hands down her gown.

"You always make me feel scandalous," she muttered. Standing outside, a sudden mist surrounding them like a curtain, Savannah felt as if they'd traveled back in time. To when they'd run off together, uncaring about what people thought. "But at least we didn't compound it."

Tristan laughed, unrepentant. "I'll scandalize everyone with the way I feel about you," he promised.

"What was that about Vauxhall?" she asked, remembering his offer.

"I want to take you to all the places we never managed to go before." He brushed his fingers along her cheek. "Vauxhall, Covent Garden. Hell, we can stroll Hyde Park if you like."

"Where else?" She tilted her head, unwilling to leave this moment.

"Where else do you want to go?"

"I don't know," she admitted as he tugged a lock of hair into place and fixed her comb. Savannah was shocked it'd survived the last hours. And Tristan's hands. "I never thought about it. I was always so focused on us, on the business, on—everything." She frowned at him, but he was focused on her hair. "I never thought much about pleasure."

"What was last night then?" he asked, affronted. Tristan picked up her hands and kissed the backs of both of them. "I probably have a mark on my shoulder from where you displayed your pleasure rather forcefully."

She laughed, even as a shiver of need tingled from where his lips had touched her skin. "I never said I didn't want you," she corrected with a sly grin.

She'd always wanted him. Even that first day, when he'd returned with Jiesha as a gift as if he hadn't disappeared from her life for three years. Now? Now, Savannah saw a future with him.

"Let's walk." She shook out her skirts. This wasn't the most ideal place for the conversation she wanted, but they were here, in the moment. One thing she'd learned was that she had to make her own future. "I'm afraid my skirts are a bit muddied." She sighed and smoothed them ineffectively. "First the cloak, and now this. Coyle might never forgive me."

"The cloak was hardly your fault." His tone heated with anger as hot as his passion.

"I know," she soothed. This was the moment where they stepped onto that new path. And that knowledge made her step lighter, her heart sing.

Before Tristan could say anything else, a laugh interrupted them. It startled her but didn't prickle over her skin in any kind of foreboding.

"The pair of you sure do pick the most unusual places for a courtship."

Savannah stared in surprise as Mr. Shilby appeared in the middle of Denmark Street. She'd believed Tristan when he said the man was there, of course, but hadn't thought Shilby would return. Why would he? Yet now he stood before them. If she believed in such things, Savannah would've said their words had conjured him.

"Shilby." Tristan nodded. "Out for another enjoyable walk through rubbish-covered streets?"

"I'm here to see to the men you found." His voice hardened, no longer the affable, almost foppish tone she remembered. He smiled at her, bowing slightly. "Miss Savannah."

She returned the greeting with a quick curtsey, then cursed herself. This wasn't the place for such pleasantries or formality.

"How did you know about those men?" she asked, surprised at this turn of events.

Shilby stepped closer, eyes serious. He glanced around the area, but people had already wandered off now that the initial excitement had dissipated. "I wasn't here for the scenery," he said, tone slightly mocking.

"Well, I know there isn't a garden," Savannah snapped, testily. She cared about these people. "But the place isn't that bad."

Shilby bowed again, face losing some of its hardness. "My apologies. I simply meant I searched for something else."

"The man who was shot with a rifle?" Tristan asked but they'd already figured as much, even if they had no proof.

Shilby didn't look surprised at Tristan's deduction. "Clever."

"It was the rifle," Tristan continued, sorting through what they'd started to figure out last night. "Unusual for the area."

Again, Shilby nodded, his gaze wandering over the area. "He was a hired man, no one of consequence."

Savannah snorted, but it was Tristan who said, "Enough of a consequence that a peer of the realm ventured here."

Shrugging that off, Shilby stepped closer. Clearly, he didn't want anyone overhearing their conversation. Savannah wondered why. He was dressed in older clothes, not new ones forcibly worn to make them look old. Truly frayed clothing.

"However, the knife was my fault." He bowed low again in her direction, eyes holding hers. "I do apologize for that, Miss Savannah. I aimed for him, but someone shot him first."

"You—apology accepted," she said, quite at a loss with this new information. "Why did you aim at him?"

"Are you familiar with Mr. Wilcox?" he asked.

Savannah shook her head. "I've never heard the name."

"No," Tristan admitted slowly. "In what context?"

"I believe he's the man who murdered my parents." Shilby's gaze, hard as flint now, belied the ease with which he uttered those words.

"And you think you found him here?" Savannah asked.

"No, I found Jeffers." He nodded at Tristan. "The man who was shot beside you, Miss Savannah."

She wanted to crow that she'd been right all along, that that man's murder had nothing to do with her. Savannah did not. This wasn't a moment for levity.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I hadn't realized that—please accept my deepest condolences."

Shilby nodded, light blue eyes softening. "Thank you." He stepped back, a mischievous grin on his face now, erasing the anger and grief that had bled through his tight control. "I still say Vauxhall Gardens is a better place for a courtship!"

Savannah watched Shilby disappear into the crowd, blending as seamlessly as if he'd always lived on this street. "The world continues to surprise me," she admitted.

"Indeed," Tristan muttered. Then he shook his head and looked down the street, but Dem continued holding court.

"It occurs to me," she said, bringing his attention back to her, "that in all our time together, we never made love outside." She kissed him softly. "Whatever happens in the future, I want to make love in a field of flowers."

"Your wish is my command, my lady." His hands were warm and sure against her back as he held her close.

"Definitely a meadow of flowers," she managed, willing her heart to slow and her breath to even out.

"I love you, Savannah Shaw."

She grinned, her heart light. "And I love you, Tristan Conrad." She turned from him, intent on letting her sister know she was safe. That they should probably all leave before something else happened. Instead, hand on the door handle, she turned back to Tristan. "I want a future with you."

"Good." He grinned. "I very much want one with you." He lifted her hand. "Will you marry me, Savannah?"

"Yes." If she thought her heart was light just moment ago, now it soared. "Yes, I will."

"I'll marry you next Tuesday if you want. Though I suppose I should at least give my parents and your grandmother time to travel to London, give me a proper tongue-lashing for leaving the way I did and a suitable congratulations on our upcoming nuptials."

"It only seems proper," she agreed with mock solemnity.

"Or we can elope to Gretna Green." He knocked on the door, alerting those inside that they had returned.

"I wouldn't mind, but after all this?" She shook her head as Lyneé opened the door, dagger at the ready. "I think a proper ceremony would be best."