Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

L azarus stood with Mr. Nott in the Worsleys’ drawing room awaiting the arrival of Mrs. Worsley. He hadn’t accepted the butler’s response that she was not receiving. Rather, Lazarus had stalked inside, thrown his title at the butler, and said it was a matter of great import.

The butler had shown him to the drawing room with alacrity.

Nott stood off to the side looking even more nervous than he had when Lazarus had burst in on him earlier. “Is this where you met with Mrs. Worsley yesterday?” Lazarus asked.

“No,” Nott replied. “I am not a viscount. I was not permitted past the entrance hall. It took me far more persuasion to obtain an audience.”

Lazarus arched a brow. “Persuasion or threats?” He supposed it was the latter, else why would Mrs. Worsley have agreed to see him at all?

Nott looked down at the floor instead of responding.

Mrs. Worsley swept into the drawing room a moment later. Her gaze landed on Nott first. “What are you doing here again?” Then she saw Lazarus standing more toward the center of the room. “Did you come together?”

“We did,” Lazarus said benignly. “We had an informative chat earlier, and I invited him to accompany me. I do realize you paid him not to speak to me, but I paid him more.”

She sucked a breath, her cheeks flushing bright pink. “I can’t think why you would bring him here. Haven’t you come to propose to Melissa?”

“Absolutely not.” How Lazarus delighted in saying that. “I’m amused that you would think so given what Mr. Nott knows. Or did you think I’d brought him along for some other reason? Perhaps we’re friends.” He laughed and noted that Nott had to stifle a smirk.

Lazarus sobered as he gave in to his anger at this woman’s machinations and continued belligerence. “I am not here to propose marriage to your daughter, because I am not the father of her child. That man is a dancing master called Tremblay, a fact of which you are fully aware.”

She glared at him, but said nothing.

“Where is he?” Lazarus asked softly. “I and others have sought him out, but he is nowhere to be found.”

“I’m sure I don’t know. You’ve concocted this entire story. You say you paid this man. Did you pay him to lie and say this dancing master is the father of Melissa’s child?”

“I am weary of your schemes,” Lazarus said loudly, his patience razor thin. “You surely know that Mr. Nott here is—or was—Tremblay’s musician assistant. You are also, I hope, completely aware that Tremblay carried on an affair with your daughter while he was her dancing master.” He advanced on her. “I know you dismissed him and paid him to keep silent about what transpired between him and your daughter. What I don’t know is why you decided to pin the blame of your daughter’s circumstances on me.”

She opened her mouth, but Lazarus went on, “And don’t think to deny anything. Please recall that I have Mr. Nott as my witness, and he is prepared to tell your husband and your father, Lord Haverstock, the truth.”

The color drained from her face. “You would see my daughter ruined,” she whispered brokenly.

“I am not inconsiderate of your daughter’s troubles, Mrs. Worsley, but involving me was not the way to solve them.” Lazarus truly felt for the girl, especially with a calculating mother such as Mrs. Worsley. “I expect to not ever hear from you or her again. I do wish you all the best of luck.”

Lazarus inclined his head toward Nott and walked around Mrs. Worsley to the door. He did not look back as he made his way to the staircase.

“That was most impressive,” Nott said as they descended. “I didn’t even have to say anything.”

“Your presence alone was enough,” Lazarus said. “I owe you a letter.” Which he could not write without considerable effort. Dammit.

They moved from the staircase hall to the entrance hall, and Lazarus stopped short. Standing in the center was Gwen. Her lips curved in a happy smile upon seeing him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, moving toward her. He was so glad to see her and couldn’t wait to tell her that their path forward was entirely clear.

Well, he hoped it was clear. He wondered if she had news about her proposed marriage to Markwith.

“I came to speak with Miss Worsley,” Gwen replied. “I have just informed my parents that I will be marrying you, and it became apparent that I needed to remove the other obstacle in our way—Miss Worsley’s outrageous claim. I was hoping that if I tell her that you and I are in love, she will give up on her ploy.”

To Lazarus’s left, Nott sniffed. “That’s so lovely,” he murmured.

Lazarus smiled just as Mrs. Worsley yelled from behind him. “You will not be the ruin of my daughter!”

“Lazarus!” Gwen shrieked as she shoved him roughly.

The report of a pistol filled the hall, and Lazarus looked in horror as Gwen’s face registered shock. She grasped her right upper arm as she crumpled.

Lazarus somehow kept from falling himself—she’d pushed him very hard—and leapt toward her, catching her before she collapsed in a heap. “Gwen!”

Another shriek sounded, and Lazarus looked to see that Nott had taken the pistol from Mrs. Worsley and pointed it at her.

“There aren’t any more bullets,” she spat.

“I don’t care,” Nott said, his voice shaking. “This makes me feel better.”

There had been a footman near the door, but he’d hurried to help with Gwen. Lazarus looked at him. “Go and fetch a physician!”

“I’m fine,” Gwen said as Lazarus swept her into his arms. “It barely hurts.” Except she winced.

Lazarus glanced about for a place to take Gwen. “I need a room with a chaise or a long settee.”

“Just in here,” Miss Worsley said, leading them to a room to the left of the entrance hall. She must have arrived at some point.

“I don’t need to lie down,” Gwen said. “It’s only my arm.”

Lazarus carried Gwen to a settee and set her down carefully. She cradled her right arm with her left. Her sleeve was bright red with blood. Kneeling beside the settee, he loosened his cravat and stripped it away then gently wrapped it around her arm.

“We need to hold this against the wound,” he said softly, clasping her arm and feeling the warmth of her blood against his palm as it seeped through the cravat.

“Fetch water and bandages,” Miss Worsley said to someone. “Mother, come in here.”

A moment later, Mrs. Worsley staggered into the sitting room, her face ashen. Nott followed, still pointing the empty pistol at her.

“Sit,” Miss Worsley snapped at her mother.

The woman did as she was told, which Lazarus found surprising. “How could you bloody shoot my betrothed?” Lazarus roared.

“I was trying to shoot you ,” Mrs. Worsley mumbled.

“Mama!” Miss Worsley’s shoulders began to shake as soft sobs fell from her lips. “How could you do that?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Of course you did,” Gwen said, flinching as she settled herself against the back of the settee.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Lazarus said, pressing a kiss to Gwen’s temple. “What were you thinking pushing me out of the way?”

“I was thinking I still wanted to marry you, not bury you. If you hadn’t moved, her bullet would have hit you square in the back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you,” Gwen said darkly. Her features softened, and he thought she might cry. “I couldn’t lose you.”

“Nor can I lose you.” Lazarus brushed his lips over hers. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Worsley. “Why would you shoot at me?”

“Because you refused to marry Melissa. She must wed.”

“Then wed her to Tremblay,” Lazarus bit out.

“He wouldn’t marry me,” Melissa said quietly. “He didn’t love me the way I loved him. When my mother dismissed him at Haverstock Hall, I told her he would come back for me. But he didn’t. Because she paid him not to.”

Mrs. Worsley’s jaw was tightly clenched, the veins of her neck stark and visible.

“She also paid him not to say anything,” Nott added.

“Why did you involve me?” Lazarus asked.

Melissa met his gaze with tears in her eyes. “When I told my mother about the babe, it was March. I was already several months gone. I was stupid not to realize what was happening. Mama calculated the dates and, though it was a few weeks earlier than when the babe was conceived, decided someone at the fox-hunting party could be the father. She chose you because she’d seen you return very inebriated late one night. She said it would be easy to convince a man like you that the babe was yours.”

Lazarus narrowed his eyes at Mrs. Worsley. “How did you see me? Shefford and I returned near dawn.”

“She was stealing from her lover’s room,” Miss Worsley said bitterly, casting her mother an awful look. “But I am the immoral one.”

“What you did was despicable,” Gwen said, glaring at Mrs. Worsley.

“And where is Mr. Tremblay?” Lazarus asked. “Did you by chance shoot at him too?”

“No.” Mrs. Worsley tossed a sneer toward Nott. “After I paid him yesterday, I went to see Tremblay. I gave him more money to leave London immediately.”

“Who will I marry now, Mama?” Miss Worsley laughed, and Lazarus wondered if she was finally at her wit’s end.

“No one,” Mrs. Worsley snapped. “You’ll go the country and whelp the brat. Then you’ll return next Season. At least your condition is not widely known.” She looked toward Lazarus and Gwen. “Is it?”

“I haven’t said anything,” Lazarus replied. “I wouldn’t want to cause Miss Worsley further harm. Although, it will be difficult to keep the fact that you shot Miss Price from circulating.”

“Not if no one here says anything.” Mrs. Worsley narrowed her eyes in a thoroughly Machiavellian fashion.

“I think you should send for Bow Street,” Nott said to Lazarus.

“You mustn’t do that!” Mrs. Worsley cried.

“No, you can’t,” Gwen agreed. She reached over and touched Lazarus’s arm with her uninjured appendage, whispering, “Think of Miss Worsley. She will already suffer great consequences for her actions. I would hate for her to suffer for her mother’s actions too. I will say I was wounded by a falling book. Or something.” She gave him a faint smile.

“You are kinder than I,” he murmured, kissing her brow. “But I can’t disagree that Miss Worsley will already endure enough.” He turned his head toward Mrs. Worsley. “We will leave Bow Street out of this for your daughter’s sake. Not yours,” he added sharply.

“Are you certain you wish to do that?” Nott asked. “The woman is a menace.”

“My betrothed and I don’t wish to cause Miss Worsley additional heartache.” He fixed his narrowed gaze on Mrs. Worsley once more. “However, if you come anywhere near my wife in the future, you will regret doing so. I advise you to disappear into the country with your daughter for a good, long time.”

Mrs. Worsley nodded, but did not look pleased about it.

“Thank you, my lord,” Miss Worsley said. “I greatly appreciate your kindness.”

Gwen looked up at Miss Worsley. “I am sorry you got tangled up with a true rogue. There are rules for that. I’m going to give you a copy for future reference.”

Miss Worsley appeared confused.

“She’ll explain later,” Lazarus said.

The physician arrived shortly and set a dozen stitches into Gwen’s torn upper arm. He prescribed laudanum or strong alcohol for the pain and bade her to keep her arm elevated for the next day.

When he was gone, Gwen addressed Miss Worsley. “I will tell people that I called on you after meeting you at the ball the other night so we could become better acquainted. While here, you were kind enough to show me your library—do you have a library?” At Miss Worsley’s nod, Gwen went on. “When I tried to pull a book from a high shelf, I dislodged a few, and they fell onto my arm. No one will see that I have a wound that doesn’t match that description.”

“You would go to that trouble for me?” Miss Worsley asked somewhat incredulously. “After what I tried to do to your betrothed?”

“I understand you were desperate and that you were trying to please your mother. I know what it’s like to want to make our parents proud. While it is a meaningful endeavor, in the end, I think it’s more important to have pride in yourself and the choices you make.”

“I have little pride in my actions the past several months,” Miss Worsley said softly, but with a sharp bitterness.

“You can start anew,” Gwen said. “Your past behavior needn’t dictate your future.” She glanced toward Lazarus, and his chest constricted. How had he been so lucky to find a woman like her, let alone receive her love?

“Let us go, my love,” Lazarus said. “I’ll carry you to the coach.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“It absolutely is.” He picked her up gently and carried her outside. Nott followed them, and Lazarus offered him a ride.

“Thank you, but I’ll grab a hack,” Nott said with a smile.

“I do owe you that letter,” Lazarus said. “And probably more money.”

“Not at all. I was very glad to help.” Nott looked at Gwen nestled in Lazarus’s arms. “I do hope you will be well, miss. And may I apologize for Mr. Tremblay’s behavior and my lack of interference?”

“Mr. Tremblay’s behavior is not yours to apologize for,” Gwen said warmly. “But I will accept the other one. Thank you.”

Lazarus carried her to the coach and gently set her inside on the seat. She grimaced faintly, but she’d had a shot of rum while the physician was preparing to sew her up, which Miss Worsley had provided along with a small glass for herself.

“What am I going to tell my parents?” Gwen asked as the coach started forward.

“You probably shouldn’t tell them you were shot. They will be horrified.”

“Nicked by a bullet,” Gwen corrected. “I can’t, in good faith, call this a true gunshot wound.” She met his gaze with worry, however, and the smile fell from his face. “My parents are horrified—that we’re getting married. They’re certain you will break my heart, though I assured them you would not.”

“I would never,” he vowed. “Our hearts are now one, and if yours breaks, so too shall mine.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “Now, you sound like a romantic poet.”

“You certainly make me want to spout words of love and beauty.” He kissed her temple. “If you’d rather wait to get married so your parents can become accustomed, I don’t mind.”

“No!” The vehemence of her response shocked him.

“Careful, or you’ll upset the physician’s needlework,” Lazarus said.

“We are getting married as soon as possible. When can that be exactly?”

“I can purchase the license tomorrow. I don’t want to leave your side today.”

“I would argue that you must get it immediately, but I can’t say I mind you wanting to stay with me. Shall we set the ceremony for Wednesday?”

While that would be best since he didn’t need to be in the Lords—which was where he should be going shortly but would not—he knew his mother would be devastated if she couldn’t be here for the wedding. She was going to be shocked enough that he was getting married. She would not want to miss it.

“My mother will want to be here,” Lazarus said. “If I send word to her immediately, she could be here perhaps Wednesday afternoon. She is still in Kent with my middle sister.”

“The one who had the baby recently,” Gwen said with a nod. “Yes, we must wait for your mother. Should we say Friday just to be safe?”

“Thursday should be fine.” Though that was the day he was giving his speech. They could get married in the morning, as they would be required to do. Perhaps it would bring him luck.

She sucked in a breath, and he worried she was in terrible pain. However, she said, “You’re delivering your speech that day. We should wait until Friday.”

He kissed her. “No. Thursday is perfect.”

“Have you memorized the entire speech?” she asked.

“I think so, but I confess it hasn’t been a priority the past few days.”

“Then we will make it so, starting today,” she declared firmly.

“You think your parents are going to let me linger in your company that long?”

“They will if they want to attend our wedding ceremony.” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

He put his hand to his chest. “My darling almost wife, you can be quite savage.”

She used her free hand to cup his head. “When it comes to you, I will do whatever is necessary in whatever manner is required.”

He gave her a sly smile. “How I love this commanding side of you.”

Her eyes glittered with promise. “I know.” She glanced out the window. “We have arrived, unfortunately. Let us go deliver the second-most shocking news of the day.”

Lazarus laughed. “I love you, my sweet Gwen.”

“I hope you never stop.”

He kissed her fast but deep, then locking his eyes on hers, fiercely vowed, “I will never.”

L azarus stepped out of the carriage and held his arms up. “I’m ready.”

Gwen shook her head. “You are not carrying me into the house. That will send my mother into a complete upset. You may escort me.”

He frowned. Deeply. “I don’t care what your mother thinks or does.”

“Honestly, I don’t need you to carry me,” Gwen said. “As delightful as that is. Please just let me walk? If I feel faint at all, I will tell you at once.”

Exhaling, he lowered his arms. “Fine. But I dissent.”

Gwen couldn’t keep from smiling. “Noted.” She gave him the hand of her uninjured left arm and allowed him to basically lift her from the coach.

He put his arm around her waist and supported her as they moved toward the door. “All right?”

“Quite.” There was a steady pain in her arm, but it wasn’t terrible. The rum had likely helped. She didn’t particularly want to take the laudanum the physician had given her, so she would see what liquor her father could provide.

Lake opened the door and immediately gasped, his bushy gray brows drawing together. “My heavens, Miss Price! What has happened?”

“Just a minor injury,” she said with a smile.

“She does need to rest,” Lazarus said.

Gwen removed her hat and handed it to Lake. “Please inform my parents that I will be resting in my chamber. If they would like to visit, they may do so.”

“Has Gwen returned?” Her mother’s voice carried into the entrance hall just before she moved into it. Her gasp was louder than Lake’s, and her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes goggled. “What happened?” She glanced toward Lazarus.

“I’m fine, Mama,” Gwen said, having little patience after their earlier conversation. “Lazarus is going to help me up to my chamber, where he will sit with me for as long as I require. Tomorrow morning, he will obtain our license to wed.”

“Congratulations, miss,” Lake said, his gaze warm.

“Thank you, Lake,” Gwen said, happy to have someone’s support. “Lazarus, let us go up.”

He helped her to the staircase at the back of the entrance hall and they ascended slowly. Gwen’s mother followed behind. “Lake, fetch Mr. Price, please. Gwen, what happened?”

In the coach, they’d decided to tell her parents the truth. Gwen didn’t want to lie to them. “It’s a rather sordid tale, but all has ended well. I am safe and whole, and Lazarus and I will be wed on Thursday.”

“Thursday?” her mother sputtered.

When they reached the landing, Gwen asked Lazarus for a brief respite, adding, “Just one more story.”

“The hell with it,” he muttered as he swept her into his arms and carried her up the next set of stairs.

Gwen held her right arm over her middle and directed him to her chamber. Once inside, he set her on the edge of the bed. “Thank you.” She met his gaze, giddy with love and the love she saw reflected in them.

Lazarus began unlacing her walking boots as her mother stared at him.

“Gwen’s maid can do that,” her mother said, appearing aghast.

“Her maid is not present at the moment,” Lazarus said pleasantly. “As her almost husband, I don’t mind performing the task.” He sent a wicked look toward Gwen, and she dearly wished her mother wasn’t there.

“What is this I hear of an injury and a wedding?” Gwen’s father’s voice boomed as he strode into the bedchamber.

“I will explain,” Gwen said as Lazarus lifted her legs onto the bed and positioned pillows behind her so she could sit up against the headboard. She then launched into a detailed narrative of the Worsleys’ attempt to force Lazarus into marriage. When she arrived at the part about Tremblay being the father of the baby, Gwen’s mother had to sit down in a chair near the hearth.

“Wasn’t that your dancing master?” Gwen’s father asked.

“Briefly,” Gwen said. “However, I didn’t care for his demeanor, and I told Mama I didn’t wish to see him again.”

“I should have listened to you after the first lesson,” Mama said, her face nearly gray.

Gwen looked at Lazarus standing beside the bed, his hand resting next to her uninjured arm on the coverlet. “You can sit, if you like,” she said to him softly, inclining her head toward a chair that he could pull close to the bed.

“When they leave,” he whispered with a wink.

“You still haven’t explained your injury,” her father noted with a stern frown.

“Will you allow me to share this part?” Lazarus asked Gwen. “I think your heroism will shine more with my telling.”

Gwen grinned. “By all means.”

Lazarus detailed his visit to Tremblay’s musician assistant, which was new to Gwen. She had wondered why the man was there, but there hadn’t been time to ask about that. Then Lazarus explained how he’d informed Mrs. Worsley that he would not be marrying her daughter. She’d been upset, but Lazarus had never imagined she might become violent. Then he told of how he encountered Gwen and what happened after with Mrs. Worsley shooting at them.

Gwen worried her father’s head was going to burst. She’d never seen his face so red. And was he shaking?

“What were you thinking, putting yourself in danger like that?” he asked angrily.

“I did ask her the same thing,” Lazarus said.

“Good,” her father grunted.

“Papa, I am sure you would have done the same for Mama. We don’t think when we see the person we love most in harm’s way. We just act.” She lifted her shoulders in a light shrug, then winced as pain shot up her right arm.

“Oh, my poor dear, you must rest,” her mother said urgently.

“We need to send for a physician.” Her father started toward the door.

“That isn’t necessary,” Lazarus said. “She has already been seen, stitched, and dosed with rum.”

“Stitches?” her mother asked faintly.

“I am fine, Mama. Truly. It barely hurts.”

Lazarus looked down at Gwen. “You need to rest.” Then he lifted his head to address her parents. “We decided not to notify Bow Street. No one wants a scandal, and Miss Worsley has already suffered a great deal.”

“She tried to force you into marriage,” Gwen’s father said. “I would not be so charitable.”

Gwen looked to her father. “Papa, we would just like to put this behind us. We just want to focus on our upcoming nuptials.”

Lazarus looked squarely at her father. “We do hope you will be happy for us.”

Her father glowered at Lazarus. “I expect you to make her happy, and not just in the short term before you lose interest.”

Gwen felt Lazarus tense and saw his pulse ticking rapidly in his neck. “Papa, that isn’t going to happen.”

“On my life, it is not,” Lazarus vowed. “I love Gwen with everything that I am. I could never have imagined I would find someone as wonderful as her, but I will spend my days working to deserve her love.”

Gwen’s mother smiled, then she sniffed. Her father’s frown lessened.

“Mama, will you please make the arrangements for the wedding ceremony on Thursday morning? We won’t be able to have a breakfast as Lazarus has an important speech in the Lords that day. We can have a dinner or other celebration another time.” Gwen knew that would be important to her.

Rising, her mother nodded. “I’ll take care of everything, including a new gown.”

“Mama, I don’t need a new gown,” Gwen said, trying not to roll her eyes.

“Of course you do. It’s your wedding.” Her mother came around the other side of the bed and leaned over it to kiss Gwen’s forehead. She looked over at Lazarus with gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of our daughter.”

“It is now my primary purpose in life.”

“We couldn’t ask for anything more,” her mother said. She glanced toward Gwen’s father, and he gave an imperceptible nod.

They left a moment later, and Gwen briefly closed her eyes. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. Looking up at Lazarus, she added, “I worried there would be a scene.”

“I’m glad there was not—for your sake.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Before I go, I should tell you that I do need to write a letter of recommendation for Nott. He is relocating to Bath and will be seeking a position there. It was part of how I persuaded him to accompany me to see Mrs. Worsley. However, after his assistance today, I am quite happy to provide it.”

“But you are concerned about the writing of it,” Gwen said, taking his hand. “I will help you, though I can’t write it either, because of my arm. At least not today. You must write it yourself.”

“There you go, ordering me about again.” He grinned. “Please don’t ever stop.”