Edith Layton (24 page)

His eyes glittered. “In fact, it was Charles’s selling a few pieces of fine porcelain to the Prince to pay a gambling debt that made me see it.
I
was the one who had acquired them!
I
was the one his father had consulted to purchase new pieces for Egremont. If I could have afforded it, I’d have bought them myself.
But though I’m a rich man, my wealth couldn’t equal Egremont’s. So when Charles came to me after that, to find out how much the Bosch hanging in the front hall at Egremont was worth, I realized the necessity. He’d never stop gambling, and the riches of Egremont were in jeopardy.”

“But why meddle in our lives?” Christian asked.

Sir Maurice gave him a pitying look. “A man must look at all aspects of a thing before he undertakes it. You might have become unexpected heirs. I was, after all, old even then. My son Simon would have succeeded me, had he lived.” He looked toward the window, and said softly, “Now, that was a great tragedy. Simon was a biddable boy. He would have done as he was told, and the estate would have grown to a magnificence to rival the Rothschilds’.

“You, Mr. Sauvage,” he said, looking at Christian, “and your father, were nearer to the succession than you knew, or obviously even guessed. And you had neither influence nor money enough to object to what happened, nor any reason to know the reason for it. You were easily put well out of the way. But your cousin, the old earl, didn’t want the scandal of a hanging on the family name. I quite agreed after I thought about it. He solved it by having you transported. But as for Charles and Frederick? Don’t waste tears on them. They were unworthy of Egremont. My Simon was,” he said distantly.

“But Simon died,” Christian said. “And yet Godfrey and his infant son, and Francis died after him.”

Sir Maurice smiled. “You’ve no proof I’d any part in any of that, do you? Nor will you find any. But who
better than I to be caretaker of Egremont, even if Simon was gone?”

“But what about Hammond?” Sophie cried.

The baronet gazed at her dispassionately. His silence was her answer. She shrank back against Hammond.

“The mistake was overreaching yourself,” Amyas commented.

“The mistake was he didn’t have the guts to do it himself,” Daffyd growled. “He lacked the ballocks to grasp the moment.”

“My brothers are both right,” Christian said. “Some advice, Sir Maurice, although it’s too late. The only way to kill cleanly is to do it yourself. You had the instincts of a killer but the manner of a nobleman. You refused to do the dirty deeds yourself. That, we learned early on, will never do if you mean to survive. So you botched it entirely.”

“And so now you are going to kill me?” Sir Maurice asked pleasantly.

Julianne winced, and glanced at Christian. He looked troubled.

“My father, I think, should be the judge of that,” he said.

“Here now, lad,” Mr. Murchison said ponderously, “that’s the job of Mr. Turkell here, and His Majesty’s courts of law.”

“But we both know better than that,” Sir Maurice said, with a small smile. “Noblemen are seldom hanged. Arrangements can be made. And there’s the matter of the family name. It saved you once.” He glanced, in turn, at Geoffrey Sauvage, his sons, then Sophie and Hammond, and the squire. “Murder, es
pecially sequential murder, is a heinous crime, one that would be long remembered if this were made public. After all, these weren’t dustmen or Gypsies who were killed, but noblemen. Do you want your children—and grandchildren—to be met with cries of derision and laughter whenever their names are heard? ‘Oh, you’re a Sauvage, are you?’ he mocked in a high, brittle voice, ‘Whom have you killed today?’ Children would say it. Their elders would think it. The broadsheets would be full of it. It would never be lived down.

“I’m old,” he said on a shrug. “I haven’t that much longer to live. Nor can I end any lives either. I am, after all, disarmed and discovered. I’d be willing to go to my home in the north and stay there among my treasures, until my natural end.”

Christian looked at Julianne. She shook her head. She didn’t want to see the old gentleman hang, but she knew she’d never draw one easy breath so long as he lived. Christian nodded, then looked at his father, who was watching them with interest.

“He’s a murderer,” Christian told his father. “They hang people for stealing a candlestick—as we know all too well. Should we let a murderer go free? And yet,” he said, grimacing, “because I have lived in the shadow of the gallows, I hesitate to send any man to it. I’m glad it’s your decision, sir.”

“Mine?” his father asked.

“Yes, not only because you’re the head of the family, but because you were most sinned against. Whatever you decide I will support.”

“As for me,” Amyas said, “I suppose I owe the old
man a debt. Because I’d never have met you, or long survived, if he hadn’t had a hand in your fate. But I worry about him for your sake, sir, and would even if he were three years dead.”

Daffyd nodded his agreement.

“This is irregular,” the magistrate said, as he blotted his forehead with his handkerchief, “and should be decided by a court of law.”

“But he’s right,” Geoffrey Sauvage said slowly. “You’ve seen this sort of thing handled privately before. My own order of transportation was accomplished without ever having seen the courts. A decision made here today will be as binding, I think.”

The squire nodded to the magistrate. The runner looked up at the ceiling. And the magistrate fell silent.

Geoffrey Sauvage looked at Sir Maurice. “But it isn’t so difficult. The answer’s obvious. Forget having our name in the broadsheets and gossiped about all over Town. What’s that to us, after all? We’ve lived through that, and you were the one who saw to it, and worse.”

The baronet grew very white.

“But,” Geoffrey Sauvage went on thoughtfully, “I will not have your death on my sons’ consciences, nor will I have your continued life on their minds. I have a better solution. You’ll get the same sort of charity we did. The solution the late earl of Egremont gave us shall be yours. Transportation instead of the noose.”

Sir Maurice breathed out his pent-up breath. He cocked his head. “Yes, that will do, I think. I visited Italy on my Grand Tour, and quite liked the hills sur
rounding Florence. I can remove there and stay in solitude for my remaining days.”

“No,” Geoffrey Sauvage said. “You misunderstand me. I meant exactly the same sort of charity. The hills outside of Port Jackson, near Botany Bay. A house there, of your own not so grand, of course, because there aren’t any grand ones there yet. Imprisonment, at least my people watching over you, for all your remaining days. You won’t be able to stroll to the shore without them knowing. And I know them all. As the waters are filled with sharks, I doubt you’ll go farther, unless you want a ride in their bellies.”

“Mr. Sauvage!” Sir Maurice said sharply. “That will not do. My treasures, my collections…”

“Take what you can with you. But the thing’s settled and equitably, I think. Do you?” he asked his son.

Christian smiled fully for the first time that day.

His father looked to the magistrate, who nodded, then to the barrister, who inclined his head.

“So it’s done. And will be done with all speed, gentlemen, if you will. And,” Geoffrey added, looking back at the baronet, who stood frozen and wide-eyed, “I remind you, sir, that I am the earl of Egremont, and so, ‘Lord Egremont’ to you, and not ‘Mr. Sauvage.’ But don’t let your mistake trouble you, because there’s no reason for us to ever speak again. Now, then,” he told the others, “shall we leave Bow Street and the men of law to their work?”

Julianne didn’t look back at Sir Maurice as she left the room. She couldn’t. She didn’t know if she could walk either because her legs felt watery. She didn’t
have to worry about finding the strength to walk away. A strong arm went around her.

“It’s done,” Christian said into her ear. “Now let’s get on with our own lives.”

She waited until they were out of the room and in the main hall, then hung back, so that they were out of earshot of the others, who were standing in a knot and chatting.

“Christian,” she said seriously, “you mustn’t presume that our lives are linked together from now on.”

“Oh, mustn’t I?” he asked, stopping, locking both arms around her waist and smiling down at her. “And everything we did, and said, is nothing now? Are you so light-minded? I didn’t think so. Or did you think anything I said or did was done lightly?”

“It’s not that,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

“Maybe you think that now that I’m a certified heir to Egremont I’ll change my mind about you?” He chuckled. “I had money enough before I came here, you know. And I’m not expecting to inherit anytime soon. My father, God bless him, is good for another generation. Literally, I hope. Because I’m hoping he’ll marry again and have lots more heirs. Or is it that you wanted Egremont and are going to set your cap at him?”

She didn’t laugh, as he’d wanted her to.

His expression grew serious. “
Were
you hoping for Egremont?” he asked, sounding hurt and surprised.

She looked up at his face. Her own convulsed as she tried not to cry. She shook her head and eased away from him.

He dropped his arms from her waist, and frowned. “Julianne?”

“It’s not the money, or the title,” she said, “but Christian, you didn’t tell me half the truth.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said seriously. “I told you that all the truth wasn’t mine to tell.”

“But you didn’t tell me
so
very well.” She raised her eyes and searched his. “And I never once withheld a thing from you.”

“You’re saying that you think I’d lie to you?”

“I’m saying that I wonder how often you’d think it was fair to withhold truth from me.”

He took one of her hands in his. “My dear Little Jewel,” he said softly, touching her cheek lightly. “You have reason enough to doubt me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to change that. But how do you expect me to go on without you?”

She bit her lip.

“I vow, on this place, and my head, and with all my heart, that I will never withhold truth from you again,” he said solemnly. “And so if you ask me how you look when we are at a grand soiree, and think your gown doesn’t suit you, and your hair’s a disaster, why, if I agree, I’ll tell you so. And if our firstborn resembles a frog when he arrives, as all babies do, I’ll certainly tell you so. And if we’re at your family home, and I’m asked if I like your mama’s favorite recipe, I…”

She laughed and raised her hand to try to swat him. He danced away.

“Ho!” Amyas said, looking back at the noise they
made. “Look. She’s abusing him already, and they’re not even wed.”

“As to that…?” the earl of Egremont asked with interest.

Julianne looked at him and smiled. “My lord, you’re much too premature. He hasn’t even asked me yet.”

“Slow top!” Amyas hooted.

“I
wish
I’d won that coin toss,” Daffyd said ardently. “It’s not too late, but if you’d give me time, fair lady…”

Christian gave him a hard look and dropped to his knees on the marble floor before Julianne. And there, in the main hall of the baronet’s house, with his father and brothers, the squire and his wife, Sophie and Hammond looking on, Christian put one hand on his heart and held the other out to her.

“Miss Julianne Lowell,” he said. “I implore you: Give me your hand and your heart and take mine forever, because I love you, and need you, and
damned
if I’ll let you go!”

“Well said,” Amyas told his father with approval.

“Well, it lacked a certain delicacy,” the earl offered consideringly.

“It don’t seem to matter to her,” Daffyd said, sounding disgruntled, as Julianne pulled Christian to his feet, and he engulfed her in a fervent embrace. She returned it with enthusiasm.

“Damme,” Daffyd said, “but I
wish
I’d won that coin toss!”

T
he music was faint and far away, but they heard enough to dance. They were alone and together, and didn’t need music anyway. They had their own. And so the young couple waltzed round and round the inside of the great white rotunda.

“I’m so glad,” Julianne said on a sigh.

“Glad? Is that all?” Christian asked, as he spun her around. “Then I’d better do something about that. I want you to be joyous, rapturous, overwhelmed with happiness.”

She smiled as she looked up into his eyes. “That will come later tonight.”

“No,” he said seriously, “not just then. I want you happy always, my bride.”

“I am,” she said seriously. “I shall be, but Christian, we’ve only been married for a few hours.”

“Then get at it, woman!” he said, and they laughed together.

They stopped dancing and strolled out of the marble rotunda, arm in arm, and stood looking at the ornamental lake. The sun was high, the water sparkled
and danced, and from the distance they could hear the musicians playing at their wedding breakfast, which was still going forth on the great lawns of Egremont.

She rested her head against his shoulder. “It was good of your father to hold the wedding breakfast here on such short notice, too. Only six weeks have passed since he set foot in England again! My parents were going to have it at our home, but I think he was right. We needed this celebration to take away the bad memories of the place.”

“He is a good man,” Christian said. “But I promise you it was just as much for him. He has the place humming again, and he loves the company. He really does feel like a pebble rattling around the inside of a vast jewel box, as he said.”

“Alone?” Julianne laughed. “Hardly! With Amyas and Daffyd there, and us, at least until our house is finished?”

“Alone,” he said again. “Egremont is the size of four houses, and it does take some getting used to. Do you mind us not living there? He invited us, but…”

“But I prefer the idea of our own house, too,” she assured him. “We’re not far, we’ll be visiting all the time. And I also love being near the sea as much as you do. Our house may not be an Egremont when we’re done, but it will be big, and beautiful, and most of all, it will be all ours. An estate’s a fine thing to inherit, but I think a home is something you must make for yourself. I daresay he won’t be alone for long anyway. He’s a very attractive fellow.”

“Aha, I knew it,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Already regretting your choice?”

She kissed him until he forgot the question. She did not. “I was half-afraid Sophie would set her cap at him, after all,” she said as she laid her head on his chest. “When she told me she was convinced that she really loved Ham, I was delighted. So were her parents. They might have had their ambitions, but they didn’t like the thought of a son-in-law their own age. They’re not so bad, after all.”

He didn’t answer. He bowed his head in gratitude for the warm living joy of her in his arms, and held her close and thought about how nearly they had lost this bliss, because of ambitions.

She knew.

“Christian?” she said softly.

He looked at her.

She gazed back at him, enraptured. She couldn’t get used to the fact that she’d see that marvelous face every day of her life from now on. He was and yet was not the same as when she’d first seen him; she seldom saw his cool collected expression when he was alone with her anymore. And yet she found him still as astonishingly handsome as she’d thought when they met. She raised a hand to trace the clean, hard contours of that beloved face. When her finger reached his lips, he seized her hand and kissed it.

“Your father said the baronet was ensconced in his new home yesterday,” she said softly. “We need never fear him again.”

She felt her husband’s sigh. “Aye,” he said. “No man escapes the burial vault. Who’d have thought that wicked old heart would have stopped ticking before it even left these shores? He was lucky. We never
sent him to prison, he never had to face those indignities. He died in his own bed, among his damned treasures, while still trying to decide which to take and which to leave behind. He leaves them all behind now, because no man can take them with him. My father’s giving his collection to the Prince, you know.”

“I’m very glad,” she said with a shiver that made him hold her closer. “I wouldn’t want them, no matter their value. Your father is very wise.”

“Wiser than you know,” he said on a chuckle. “I hear our Prince is ecstatic, and already burbling about new honors for the house of Egremont. My father is a very good man of accounts. He never gives away without some idea of what’s coming back.”

She grinned and took a deep breath of the air, perfumed by blooming honeysuckle. “I’m so glad we married before the autumn came.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. “I didn’t want to give you time to change your mind. Nor did I want to risk any other gossip about us.”

“Well, I wouldn’t change my mind even if you chopped off my head and offered me another,” she said.

“I’d never want to replace that wise head of yours,” he said with a grin. He smiled wider when he saw his embraces had set her wedding crown of woven fuchsia and daisies atilt on her curls. It made her look rakishly adorable, and yet like a well-loved bride, all at the same time.

“We did hurry the day,” she said. “Are you sorry? As it turned out, there was really no need for haste, after all.”

“Our wedding couldn’t have come soon enough for me. As for how it turned out, we’ll have to do something about remedying that. We’ll need dozens of children to fill up our new home. We’ll get some from London, as agreed, children already born and needing homes, even a few budding criminals to make life interesting. It’s only fair to give back to Fate. If Father hadn’t taken over responsibility for Amyas and Daffyd, my life would have been diminished, if not ended, and I can’t forget it. But I’d like to grow some of our own as well.”

“Me too,” she said. “And I’m so glad we can finally try. My parents and your father kept me neat as a nun since we became engaged.”

“Yes, and my wicked brothers were all morality when it came to you. They watched me like twin hawks. I think it was part jealousy and part pure pleasure in thwarting me. No matter, now we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

They stood in mutual peace, watching the dancing waves glinting in the sunlight.

“I’ve very glad we stole off to come here,” she finally said. “This is where I first realized that whoever you were, you were for me.”

“So late in the day?” he asked. “I knew immediately.”

“Did you?” she asked in pleased surprise.

“Well, no,” he said. “I knew I wanted to bed you, of course, but I didn’t hear wedding bells right away.”

She stared at him. He smiled and touched a finger to the tip of her nose. “Your promise, love. The one you extracted from me? Remember? I said I’d never
deceive you again. All you’ll get from me is honesty,” he said piously.

“Christian?” she said softly.

“Yes, love?”

“I think,” she said, “that, after all, we’d be much better off with a few, well-considered and occasional, well-placed lies.”

“Your servant,” he said with a bow and a wicked grin. “It will be difficult for me, but I will try.”

“So,” she said with a matching grin, “do you really like kissing me, now that I’m your wife?”

He didn’t lie, because he didn’t answer, not in words.

But it was a very good answer. It was a while longer before they returned to their wedding breakfast.