A Good Rake is Hard to Find (35 page)

As she turned, a draft—for what else could it be?—skimmed across her cheeks, as gentle as a kiss.

*   *   *

It was quite late by the time Freddy returned to the Craven town house that evening.

In addition to making sure that Archer's curricle was in top condition, he'd also seen his man of business about making sure that if by some twist of fate his cousin managed to fatally injure him in the course of tomorrow's race, Leonora would be well cared for.

He knew she had a sizable dowry coming to her for when she married, but if she wished never to wed, she could depend on Freddy's bequest.

It was a sobering meeting. In large part because despite her insistence that she would never be able to have children, he couldn't shake the feeling that even now she might be carrying their child.

Her revelation earlier had sent all his hopes for the future crashing down around him.

It wasn't that she had lain with another man. Though given the chance he'd cross oceans to find the blackguard who tempted Leonora into giving him her virginity then ran off when she told him about the child he'd fathered.

How could a man do such a thing? It was unfathomable to Freddie who, for all his rakish reputation, had wanted only one woman in the last half decade. And the idea of leaving her frightened and alone with a baby on the way was simply not possible.

Stretching his shoulders, he climbed the stairs up to the bedchamber he'd been given, on the other end of the hall from Leonora's, and was relieved to see his valet had taken him at his word and gone to bed.

He unwound his neckcloth as he crossed to the writing table near the window. He could have sworn it was empty when he left that afternoon, but in the dim light of the lamp, he saw a few papers scattered over it.

Sure enough, there on the gleaming mahogany surface were three ledger pages. At the top of each page were names Freddy recognized: Gerard, Lord Payne, Lord Darleigh, and others from the rolls of the Lords of Anarchy.

Scanning the columns, he saw that the bottom of each of the three pages there boasted an eye-poppingly large positive number. And across the top of the first page, a name which any
Times
reader would recognize.

It was all here. And maybe the best and most permanent way to remove Sir Gerard Fincher from their lives forever.

“I realized what his plan must have been tonight,” Leonora said from behind him. “When Father and I were going over the things we'd learned about Sir Gerard, I said something about the safe that had been stolen and Papa reminded me that Jonny had been keeping his important papers in the safe in the study.”

“And there they were?” Freddy asked, tossing his neckcloth to the side.

“There they were.”

Her hair was down, and she wore a perfectly sensible cotton nightdress. And to Freddy's eyes she'd never been more beautiful.

Wordlessly he pulled her into his arms. And they stood together, heat against heat.

“It is a clever plan,” she said against his lawn shirt. “But he was too much the gentleman to go through with it.”

“I think it's highly likely my cousin threatened to hurt you,” Freddy said, breathing in the sweet lilac scent of her. “Or someone else he cared about.”

“But he might have been able to destroy Gerard before he had the chance to hurt me,” she said, sounding sad but resigned.

“It was a gamble.” Freddy smoothed a hand over her hair. “And I have a feeling your brother wasn't willing to risk your life in exchange for his.”

“I certainly hope you don't plan to make the same mistake,” she said with a sharp look.

“No.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “I plan on sending those papers to Irish Jack first thing in the morning. And another note to my cousin. I thought it would be only cricket to give him a running start.”

Leonora nodded. “What do you think your cousin will do?” she asked.

“I imagine he'll get himself on the first ship bound for India, or the Americas. Really, anywhere out of Irish Jack's reach. Which can be quite far, I'm told, when he's got his back up.”

“All that death,” she said. “I wonder if Lord and Lady Darleigh might have been saved if I'd spoken to Father earlier.” He could see in her eyes that she blamed herself.

“I think it is safe to tell you this now,” Freddy said gravely, “because my cousin will be leaving town soon. But please keep this information to yourself for right now.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled letter.

She unfolded it, and as her eyes scanned the page, she squealed. “They're alive? But how?”

“It's in the letter,” he said, “but the long and the short of it is that Darleigh had been planning his own getaway for weeks. His wife was rightly worried that he might succeed in bringing Gerard's wrath down on them, and so asked you for help. What she didn't know was that on the night of the fire, when they drove off in your brother's curricle, it was in order to fake their deaths.”

“How did they manage it? The curricle was supposedly stolen, again, and there were bodies.”

“They didn't kill anyone.” Freddy smiled. “Lord Darleigh just relied on one of the timeworn traditions of running away. He bribed the magistrate to send notice of his death to my cousin.”

Leonora gaped. “And by the time Gerard figured out the truth, they would be long gone.”

“Exactly.”

“You cannot know how relieved I am. When I found those papers tonight, all I could think of was how I'd let Corinne down.”

“You are a kindhearted lady,” he said with a grin.

“Now.” He stepped back and without warning lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa, where he pulled her onto his lap. “I hope you will show me how kindhearted you can be.”

“That all depends on what you tell me, sir,” she said pertly.

He wanted more than anything to make light of this thing between them. But it was too serious for that now.

“I am in love with you, Nora,” he said, gazing down at the face that had grown so familiar he could see it even when she wasn't in the room. “And have been since the first time we met.”

If it were possible for her to grow lovelier, she did. “Me, too,” she said, her eyes shining. “I've just been too stubborn to realize that love sometimes means allowing the beloved to make his own decisions.”

“Managing female,” he said without heat. “In some things, I am quite capable of knowing my own mind.”

“And,” he continued before she could speak, “I want to marry you, Nora. And there are any number of ways to have children without bearing them yourself. One of the luxuries of being a younger son is not worrying about producing an heir. And I'm dashed if I'll waste that very valuable bounty on some other lady as fertile as the day is long, but who isn't you.”

As he continued to speak, he saw her smile grow wider but her eyes fill with more tears.

“I'm so sorry, my love, for ever doubting you,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

When she was breathless, she tucked her head under his chin. “Of course I will marry you. You sweet, stubborn, infuriating man. It's all I've wanted since the first time you asked me.”

“We've both grown up a great deal since that first betrothal,” Freddy said once he'd kissed her breathless again. With his free hand, he reached into his coat pocket and took out a jeweler's box.

At the sight of it Leonora's eyes went wide. “It cannot possibly be the same one,” she whispered. As if using too loud a voice would frighten it away.

“Open it and find out,” Freddy said, revealing nothing.

Her hands shaking, Leonora lifted the lid of the blue velvet box and inside was the very same ring. Only whereas before it had been a square-cut sapphire, now the blue stone was surrounded by a circlet of diamonds.

“For every year we were apart,” Freddy said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “To remind you that no matter what separates us, I'll always come back.”

Leonora, who had been fashioning words into ideas for more years than she could count, found herself speechless.

So she thanked him without words.

And Freddy liked that quite well, indeed.

 

Epilogue

One month later

“I cannot believe the Lords of Anarchy have been disbanded,” Hermione said for the third time in as many minutes. “The entire scope of London driving clubs will be changed forever.”

In the weeks since the discovery of the pages from Sir Gerard's fighting ledgers, many things that had once loomed large in Leonora's world had been blown away like so many dandelion petals.

The most important was that, thanks to Jonathan's work, the information that his corner of London had been infiltrated by a poacher had been conveyed to Irish Jack O'Dowd, and he had wasted no time in giving Sir Gerard a choice: leave England and live, or remain in England and die.

Like most bullies when faced with an opponent bigger and stronger than them, Sir Gerard chose to live. He and Lady Melisande had departed for Paris later that week.

Of course, Paris wasn't nearly as far away as it might be, but for now, the man responsible for Jonny's death was gone, and for that Leonora was grateful.

With the loss of its founder and most influential leader, the Lords of Anarchy had publicly declared themselves disbanded.

Now, in celebration of their marriage and the club's demise, Leonora and Freddy had invited their friends to join them for a small gathering. Since their wedding by special license the same week Sir Gerard left town, Freddy had moved into the Craven town house. Which is where they now entertained their guests, with tea for the ladies and something a bit stronger for the gentlemen.

“Perhaps now that the Anarchists are no longer there to set a poor example for the other clubs, Hermione, they will make some changes themselves.” Now that she no longer spent every moment fearing what Gerard would do next, Leonora had turned her mind to helping her friend fulfill her wish to be a member of a driving club. “Allowing more ladies to become club members, for instance.”

“Why don't you start your own club, Lady Hermione,” Mainwaring offered from his position near the fire. “Then you won't have to worry about crackbrained presidents using the club to reap ill-gotten gains. Because the crackbrained president will be you!”

Leonora almost bit her tongue when she saw the expression on Hermione's face. It didn't matter what poor Mainwaring said, Hermione would find a way to misunderstand—or in this case, perfectly understand—and get angry.

“It's not a bad idea, my lady,” Freddy said after exchanging a speaking look with his wife. “If you can't beat them, join them.”

Hermione sighed. “I have no desire to be the president of a driving club,” she said, pushing a blond curl from her forehead. “I wanted to join a club mostly because I want to compete. With the best. And at the moment, that simply is not possible.”

“Well,” Ophelia said loyally, “I have the utmost faith in you, Hermione. And I have little doubt you'll be racing with the best of them one day soon.”

Leonora had no trouble at all understanding why her friend wanted to take her rightful place among the driving elite of London. She'd felt the same way about her poems being relegated to ladies' magazines, when it seemed as if the male writers all ended up in the prestigious journals. It was frustrating to be kept out of the most competitive circles.

Before she could say anything, however, the Duke of Trent said, “I am afraid that our celebration of the demise of the Anarchists may be a bit premature.”

Everyone in the room stared at the duke.

“Well, don't keep us in suspense, man,” Freddy said, sitting on the arm of Leonora's chair. “We are all agog to hear this tidbit of yours.”

“I hardly think Trent would use the term ‘tidbit,'” Mainwaring said under his breath.

“When I was at Jackson's this morning, minding my own business,” the duke said, “I was approached by none other than the loathsome Lord Payne.”

“Oh no,” Leonora said. “I am sorry, your grace. That cannot have been pleasant.”

“I feel sure Trent has mixed with much worse fellows than Payne, my dear,” said Freddy. “Though I do agree that any meeting with Payne must necessarily be unpleasant.”

“He informed me, as if I would be delighted to hear it,” the duke continued, “that he and some of the other former Anarchists have decided to reopen the club, only not to the public. They will race and do whatever it is they did—presumably
not
conducting boxing matches that will get them on the first packet to India.”

“I might have known they would spring up again,” Leonora said with a grimace. “Like an illness that cannot be completely cured.”

But Hermione was clearly tired of the subject of driving clubs.

“I think instead of focusing on the misdeeds of the Anarchists, we should instead celebrate the man who made it possible to put an end to Sir Gerard Fincher's reign.”

Lifting her teacup, she offered it in toast. “To Jonathan, who was an exceptional driver, and a better friend.”

“Hear hear!” Freddy said with a solemn nod, raising his own glass.

And one by one the others did so as well.

Leonora, who once thought she grieved in solitude for her brother, was touched to see how much they all missed him. When Freddy reached for her hand, as if guessing her thoughts, her heart swelled with the knowledge that she would no longer have to face life's difficulties without a partner to share the burden.

When the conversation had reverted back to males on one side of the room and ladies on the other, Leonora turned to Hermione, who had been quiet since her toast.

“I hope that you will consider what Lord Mainwaring suggested, dearest,” she said, “for I think you are a good enough whip to manage your own club.”