Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

J asper paced the hall outside Octavia's chamber, feeling like a damned creature in a menagerie cage. Barnaby, Motley, and Drunkard followed him each step, aware that something was amiss and on guard, their protective instincts aroused.

He was nearly out of his mind with worry. He'd returned to his greatest fear. Octavia wounded, a house in an uproar. He had carried her in his arms himself to the room and had held a cloth to her wound as they waited for the surgeon to arrive.

"Going to wear a hole in the floor," Rafe told him as he approached from the opposite end of the hall, having reached the top of the staircase.

"I don't give a damn if I do," he shot back. "My wife is being sewn back together as we speak."

"The surgeon said the wound ain't deep," Rafe reminded him.

That was true. But it also didn't mean Jasper wasn't out of his damned mind with worry and fear. His wife had been attacked. She had been cut. The sight of her, pale and bleeding, had nearly brought him to his knees.

"I won't stop pacing until I can see and touch Octavia."

Rafe clapped him on the shoulder. "She'll be fine."

No amount of reassurance would convince Jasper of that. He longed to cry and rage, to hit something with his fists. But that would solve nothing.

"The girls?" he asked his brother, for the mayhem in the house had roused everyone from their beds.

"Doing well under the care of Miss Wren," Rafe said.

Jasper paced the length of the hall once more. "And what of Tess?"

"The charleys took ‘er away," his brother responded.

"Did you find any answers about the man who saved Octavia?" he asked next, trying to distract himself from his intense worry over the length of time the surgeon was taking to stitch his wife's wound.

"Butler says ‘e appeared out of nowhere," Rafe said. "Like a ghost. Looked like you. Shot Tess when she was coming after Octavia, and then disappeared same way ‘e came."

A ghost who looked like him.

Jasper refused to believe it.

"It must have been one of the servants," he said.

"Or it was Loge," Rafe offered. "Think on it, Jasper."

"Ghosts ain't real," he snapped.

What was real, however, was that Tess had attacked Octavia. She had deliberately led him away to The Sinner's Palace, determined to murder his wife. He would never forgive himself for falling into her trap. Nor for failing to see the threat she represented to those he loved. It had been Tess who started the fire that burned The Sinner's Palace II, Tess who had been attempting to hire someone to kill Octavia in the delusional belief that doing so would bring Anne and Elizabeth back to her. And then, she had decided to take matters into her own hands.

She was a madwoman. But thankfully, she could do no more harm to anyone he loved.

"I swear to you that I saw ‘im," Rafe pressed.

Before Jasper could respond, the door to the chamber opened at last, and the surgeon stepped into the hall. Jasper ordered his dogs to sit and stay, and they did, Barnaby offering a sneeze and Motley a whine in protest. Drunkard barked. They had been sleeping in the nursery when Octavia had been attacked, but they had been as desperate as he was to be by her side ever since she had been taken from their sight.

"You may see Mrs. Sutton now," the surgeon announced. "I've administered some laudanum to ease the pain, but she is awake."

Jasper was already moving past him. Crossing the threshold and traveling as fast as his legs would allow.

Not stopping until he was there at her side.

She was pale, but she offered him a wan smile. The wound on her neck had been bandaged. Alive. Thank Christ she was alive.

He sank onto the bed at her side, resisting the urge to haul her into his arms for fear he would cause her further pain. "Octavia."

"Jasper." She sounded tired, and her eyes were heavy-lidded, but otherwise very much like herself. She reached for his hand.

Her touch was a balm to the agonizing fear and worry which had been eating him alive. She had survived the attack. She was still here, still with him.

He bowed his head, pressed a reverent kiss to the soft skin of her wrist above where her pulse beat, steady and sure. "Thank God you are alive."

"She wanted to kill me, Jasper."

He closed his eyes against a stinging rush of agony. "I know. I am so sorry I left you alone. If I'd known, I never would?—"

"Hush," she interrupted. "Of course you did not know."

"This is my fault." Jasper shook his head. "She came to me before we married, and she was cup-shot. My own father was a tosspot, and when ‘e drank…" He trailed off as unwanted memories surged, all the beatings he had received at the hands of his father. "It wasn't good for my ma or me. I couldn't allow Anne and Elizabeth to suffer as I did. I told ‘er she couldn't see them until she stopped drowning ‘erself in poison. If I'd realized she would go after you…"

"Oh, Jasper. You couldn't have known. She's mad." She paused, tears gathering in her eyes and clinging to her lashes before trailing down her cheeks. "Your father beat you and your mother?"

Even after the attack, the doctor stitching her back together, the laudanum, her first tears were for him.

How humbled he was to have this woman as his wife. To have her love.

"Don't cry for me, love." Tenderly, he caught the tears with his thumb. "I did what I could to take the beatings for ‘er, to keep ‘im away from my brothers and sisters. And I did what I could to protect our girls. If I'd supposed for a moment that she would try to murder you…"

He shuddered, unable to complete the sentence. It was too terrible to contemplate, and the guilt he felt for having brought Octavia, albeit unwittingly, into so much evil would never fade. If he had lost her… No, he could not think of it. Could not bear to contemplate his life without this wonderful woman in it.

"She is ill," Octavia said, her voice growing softer, her eyelids lowering. "Stay with me, Jasper. I'm so tired, and I want to sleep, but I want to feel you here."

He laced their fingers together, then brushed a stray tendril of hair from her forehead. "Of course. I'll not be leaving your side for the foreseeable future, minx. I love you." The three words that had seemed so terrifying earlier in the day, which had remained daunting and unspoken, burning inside him for so long, were surprisingly easy to say. He kissed her brow, the tip of her nose, careful not to jostle her too much. Said them again. "I love you so damned much, Octavia. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I should've done. I shouldn't have bloody well waited until now to tell you what's been in my heart all along."

Her smile was faint but beautiful. "I love you, too."

Jasper stayed where he was, pressed to her side, newly grateful for her every breath.

Octavia woke to early morning light filtering in the curtains at her bedchamber window, feeling fuzzy-headed and confused.

For a moment, terror filled her as memories of what had happened returned, and she jerked in a visceral reaction to the fear. The movement sent pain shooting through her, the stitches the surgeon had painstakingly placed the night before pulling until she recalled herself and stilled.

It was over.

She was safe.

At her side, still dressed in his clothes, Jasper stirred awake, instantly alert. "What is it, love? Is something wrong?"

She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, feeling the anxiety dissipate. "Nothing is wrong."

Everything was right.

Jasper's words returned to her, chasing all the terrible memories. He loved her.

She'd known he did, of course. His actions had shown it. But hearing it from his lips was priceless. In the time she had known him, he had changed so much. The icy, all-powerful rogue's walls had fallen down. He was no longer an impenetrable bastion.

"Are you in pain, darling?" he asked next. "The surgeon left some laudanum."

She was, but she did not want more laudanum; it left her feeling so tired and strange. "I am fine."

"You look beautiful," he said, his warm hazel gaze traveling over her.

She sincerely doubted she could. She was wearing a bloodstained chemise, there was a bandage on her neck, and her curls were likely in ten thousand little knots. But she was alive, and he made her feel as if she was the loveliest woman he had ever beheld, and that was all that mattered.

She smiled at him, allowing her eyes to make a similar tour of his disheveled form. His cravat, jacket, and waistcoat were gone, the three buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it at least a dozen times. He was wickedly handsome, and he was hers.

"Thank you for staying with me."

"As if I would be anywhere else," he said.

Something occurred to her then. Another memory, coming to the fore like a splinter. A strange man coming to her aid, the fiery blast of a pistol.

She frowned. "Someone helped me last night. Who was it?"

Jasper's jaw tensed. "Did you see the man?"

"He looked quite a bit like you," she remembered through the haze. "But he was not you. He was taller than you, I think, and his shoulders were a bit broader."

Her husband shook his head slowly. "It can't be."

"What cannot be?" Octavia was lost, attempting to understand his words and his reaction. Or, for that matter, who it was that had come to her aid. It had not been one of the servants. She would have recognized such a face. "Is he someone you know?"

"Maybe." Jasper pressed his fingers into his temples and rubbed, as if the thoughts in his mind were giving him pain. "It seems damned unlikely, and yet…"

"And yet?" she pressed.

"The man you've described sounds very much like my brother, Logan."

"A brother I have yet to meet?" The news surprised her; she had believed there were only seven Suttons.

"He's dead," Jasper said. "At least, that's what I've believed. Disappeared one day over a year ago, nary a word."

"That's terrible," she murmured, struggling to make sense of this latest revelation. "But…do you think it possible your brother is alive and that he is the man who came to my rescue yesterday?"

Jasper shook his head, his frown deepening. "I don't know, love. For now, it shall remain a mystery for another day. All that matters is that whoever the man was, he arrived at the right moment and struck down Tess before she could do you any more harm. I'll be forever in his debt."

As would she.

He had likely saved her life, only to disappear. How curious.

A knock sounded at the door, taking Jasper from the bed just before it flew open and Anne and Elizabeth raced over the threshold, accompanied by three eager dogs.

"Mama," the girls cried as one, rushing to her side and throwing their arms around her with so much enthusiasm she could not help but to wince as a sharp tug of pain went through her.

"You must take care with Mama," Jasper chided. "She's been injured."

"I am not so injured that I cannot hug my sweet girls," she said, holding them to her with the arm that did not cause the skin around her wound to tighten. "How are you this morning, and where is Miss Wren?"

"Uncle Rafe said Miss Wren's sleeping," Anne announced.

"Uncle Rafe said we shouldn't tell," Elizabeth added.

Oh dear. Rafe had a good heart, but he was a dreadful rakehell. And Miss Wren an undeniably lovely young woman.

"Uncle Rafe?" Octavia met her husband's eyes over the heads of their daughters.

He had paused in the act of scratching Barnaby's head. "Perhaps I should investigate. Uncle Rafe accompanied me here last night when I returned from The Sinner's Palace."

"Uncle Rafe said to tell you he's a gentleman," Anne said.

"And then Arsehole started barking," Elizabeth concluded.

"Motley," Octavia and Jasper reminded in unison. "His name is Motley ."

Upon hearing his true name, the dog in question wagged his tail and barked.

Octavia bit back a smile. It was not humorous, and yet, it was. Perhaps it was the relief after last night's terror. Perhaps it was all the happiness swarming her in the wake of Jasper admitting he loved her. Whatever the reason, she felt light and happy, and she would fret over her daughters' appalling vocabulary later.

"Before you do your investigating of Uncle Rafe, come here," she told Jasper, wanting him near to her again. "It is rare I have everyone I love in this room with me in the morning, and I wish to savor the moment."

Smiling tenderly, he did as she asked, settling in at her side. Without warning, all three dogs promptly leapt onto the bed as well, each struggling to get as close to Octavia as possible. Barnaby and Drunkard were lying on her legs, and Motley was in her lap, trying to lick her nose.

"Down, Motley," Jasper ordered, and the pup settled.

Anne and Elizabeth lay on her other side, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"We love you Mama," they said.

"We all love you," Jasper told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"And I love you all as well," she returned, happier than she had ever imagined she could be.

At her feet, Barnaby sneezed.

Drunkard gave a small bark.

Motley shifted on her lap and began chewing on the counterpane.

"Arsehole," Jasper muttered under his breath, leaning forward to pull the blankets from the dog's sharp teeth.

"We heard that," Anne said.

"His name is Motley," Elizabeth corrected.

Octavia gave him a pointed look. "I am beginning to understand where the girls truly learned such words."

He grinned unrepentantly. "Well, you did marry a scoundrel, Mrs. Sutton. What else would you expect?"

What else, indeed?