0062412949 (R) (47 page)

The agony in his voice wrenched her heart from her chest, and she could not wait for a proper dress. “Falcondale!” she called, flinging the door open. “Wait. Please wait. I am here. Someone? Please, explain where he is being taken and why?”

Trevor craned around, fighting the hold of the officers, clawing to see her. The expression on his face was sheer panic.

“Piety! Not yet. Get back! You promised!”

T
revor squeezed his eyes shut. Of course, she would be noncompliant.

He shot a helpless glance at Rainsleigh and shoved against the policemen who held him. The viscount nodded, affected a small shrug, and ushered her back.

Good luck with that
, Trevor thought, listening as Straka shouted another bright idea from the hallway.

“Bribe the police!”
he said in Greek.

There was no way to finish this without terrifying her, and Trevor cursed himself for not giving her some idea of the raid. More bad timing. He hadn’t managed to explain even a fraction of the necessary history before Straka came to, and then the bloody raid itself had unfolded here, in her apartment. Why had Joseph brought them
here
?

Excuses now seemed pointless. When he stole a look at her face, creased with confusion and fear, his heart found a new, more painful way to break. He refused to allow himself the unfair hope that a hysterical Piety meant a Piety who still cared, although it did cross his mind, selfish bastard that he was.

But all of this was secondary to his chief goal of resisting police with enough vigor to convince Straka. If he could do it quickly enough to not scare Piety entirely out of her wits—or beyond forgiveness—perhaps he would have managed one success for the day.

But he dare not get ahead. Now, he would pretend to fight. Two policemen hustled him near the door. He reached out and latched onto the door facing, forcing them to pry him off. He shouted and swore in Greek, matching and answering Straka’s distant cries.

Behind it all, he was forced to hear the excruciating conversation Rainsleigh embarked upon with his wife.

“If you would be so kind, my lady,” the viscount began.

“I would
not
be so kind!”

Trevor fought on, praying she would not wrench away, that she would not strain her bandages or pass out from the shock of the fray. He heard her whimper, and he craned, shouldering to see around the over-eager policemen. “Rainsleigh?”

“She is with me,” Rainsleigh said. “She is safe with me.”

It was permission enough to finish this, to finally, truly fight. The policemen wrestled him to the first landing, down two more steps, mostly carrying him while he screamed in Greek. He had the fleeting thought that, even if Piety refused to live with him as his wife, she certainly could never live here. They’d all be evicted by sundown, if not before.

Finally, the cries and bluster from Straka grew fainter, as they managed to drag him through the lobby and out the door to the street. The sergeant saw it from the window and called down with a signal. Just like that, the platoon of policemen wrestling Trevor let him go and danced back. Trevor collapsed against the wall, panting. They unlocked the irons on his wrists and he sprinted back up the steps.

“Piety, I am well. I am here. It was a charade.” He grabbed the doorway, gasping for breath.

To Rainsleigh, he said, “Why the devil did you not go to Henrietta Place? Did Joseph not reach you?”

“Easy, Falcondale,” said the viscount, “Joseph was convinced that the Greek would not part ways with the money for a detour to your house. We made the tactical decision to begin here. Joseph went to your house, just in case. He’s run himself and his horse ragged, sprinting around town to make it right. I have apologized to Lady Piety. It was a risk, I know.”

Rainsleigh looked guiltily at Piety. “I hope you’ll consider blaming me and not your husband. His highest priority was that you be kept safe. I was afraid we’d miss our chance if we did not come to the last location that we knew both Straka and the earl to be, not to mention the bag of money. It was a risk, but the right one, I think.” He glanced at Trevor. Falcondale shook his head slowly, feigning disgust.

Rainsleigh went on, “This bit of theatre landed your husband’s tormentor in jail—hopefully forever.
And
, saved him five thousand pounds.”

“But I don’t understand,” Piety said. She locked eyes with Trevor.

He shoved off the door and walked to her. “You look pale,” he said.

“It is the color of complete and utter confusion. And fear! Please, Falcondale, tell me again. You’re not being hauled to jail?”

“No, not jail.” Trevor stopped in front of her. “But it was essential that Straka believe that I was going, same as he. If he ever gets out of prison, it will be safer for us this way.”

Rainsleigh stepped away. “Indeed.” He nodded to the policemen who still loitered in the room, and they began to file out. “The sergeant also suggests that you turn up in Scotland Yard sometime in the near future and pretend to be an outraged detainee. For the old man’s benefit. It is true that they would never have held you together, and Newgate is a big place, but he might see you once or twice. Perhaps as he’s dragged to interrogation? After we have rounded up his two henchmen.”

Trevor sighed. “Oh, God, after an errand to Tilbury on my behalf, please.”

Rainsleigh chuckled. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

The viscount put on his hat. “I’ve been in touch with the Foreign Office about a few of the blaggard’s other schemes—fleecing the Serbians and cheating the Sultan. Apparently both factions will send their own delegation to question him. He should be locked away for a very long time—if he doesn’t lose his head for the Sultan. But just in case, see it through.”

Piety ignored him, searching Trevor’s face. “So it’s true? An act, all of it?”

He nodded. The desire to touch her was more powerful than he’d ever known. He clenched his fists at his sides. “Yes. A great fiction. My part in it, at least. I did not blackmail the viscount, but he agreed to participate in this exchange with Straka and accuse me of it in front of police. He didn’t have to become involved. It was a selfless favor. He is a good man, and I owe him quite a lot.”

“Do stop, Falcondale, or I may blush,” the viscount said. “Take your payment. I’m very rich, or haven’t you heard.” He chuckled. “I hardly require the gratuity of a house.” He tossed him the heavy satchel of money.

Trevor caught it and dropped it in a chair. He had no argument. In fact, there was very little he could say or do in that moment but stare at his wife. The viscount chuckled again and took up his hat and gloves. He mumbled good-bye on the way out the door but did not wait for a reply.

When they were alone, Trevor stepped in front of Piety and reached out. “
Piety
.”

He ventured a touch to her cheek—one finger, tracing her profile. She did not pull away, and he delicately moved to her uninjured side, down her shoulder, down her arm. He caught her hand and held it.

“You were never meant to see any of this,” he said. “It was meant to happen in Hampstead. In an abandoned bank. There was an elaborate plan.”

“I . . . I wish I’d known. You took years off my life, Trevor. And I’ve only just been assured I have years left to live.”

“Do not joke,” he whispered. “Not about that.”

She watched him, and he went on, “I wish I
had
told you. There has been so little time. The day spiraled out of control from the moment I walked in on the Limpetts. I worked as quickly as I could to make each new kink go away. I wanted you safe and peaceful and rested. Instead, you saved my life.”

“You did make it go away.”

“Yes, but I only lived long enough to do so because you prevented Straka from strangling me.”

“I wanted to do more.”

“Ah, Piety, you did exactly the right amount. As always. But now, will you indulge me? Allow me to get you back to bed? You must rest up. Who knows what wax-flinging opportunities tomorrow may bring.”

CHAPTER FORTY

P
iety was exhausted, but she refused to sleep until Trevor gave some very clear, very certain sign. Something tangible and measurable that she could plan her life around. His intent. The state of their marriage. She would not descend into hazy unconsciousness again until he’d said it—whatever it was. Why he’d come. Why he’d stayed. Why his every move now seemed hemmed in by caution. Oh, how she detested caution. But now, everyone practically swam in it today.

He walked her carefully to bed, telling her how the plan evolved between him and the viscount, how the viscount bought his house, how the police were brought in to make the raid; Piety waved her hands in surrender. “Please, Falcondale,” she said, climbing into bed, “if we really are safe, I cannot hear anymore. Not tonight. Later, you shall tell me each unbelievable detail. I want to hear every word, I do.”

He nodded, holding back the blanket. “You’ve lost interest now, because no one’s ordering you behind a locked door. I’ve seen this all before.”

She laughed and realized it was her first real laugh in weeks. It felt lovely. “Not so fast, if you please.” She chuckled. “Even though I don’t wish to talk about the raid, I do wish to talk.” He was tucking and stuffing and folding her beneath the covers like a package. She made a noise and shoved upward, sitting against the headboard.

“I must know why you came here, Trevor. Before the Limpetts. Before the Greeks. Why were you here? In my rented rooms? I left your home for a very sound reason. Why did you follow me?”

He dropped to one knee beside her and let out a surprised laugh. “Why did I follow you? Where else would I be, Piety?”

“Syria,” she said. “Egypt. Peru. Tibet. China. Istanbul. The list was long. The list was a lifetime long.”

“But did you hear what I said? Before, to the Limpetts and Idelle? I will not go without you. I cannot leave you ever again. I will not leave you.”

“Yes, I did hear you, but forgive me if I struggle to believe. It is a complete about-face. It is exactly the sort of thing we planned to tell the Limpetts. We’ve lied so much, I don’t know what to believe.”

Tentatively, he reached under the covers and found her hand. “I will never leave, darling. I could not bear it. I couldn’t bear it even before the accident, but I was only beginning to come to terms with it. That is why I kept popping up wherever you went. But no more denial.” He squeezed her hand. “The prospect of losing you to some horrible accident—of losing you at all—was so terrifying to me, it stunned me into acknowledging how much I love you. How much I absolutely cannot live without you. If you will have me, and even if you will not, I am your servant, Piety.” He looked away and then back at her. “My love, my only regret,
my shame
, is that I did not realize it sooner.”

“But what . . . what about your fear of being responsible for me?” she asked softly. “What about not wanting the burden of anyone else’s troubles? I have been known to embody trouble.”

“What you embody, is sunlight. You solve problems; you do not create them. Never have I met anyone so capable as you. Or more spirited or willing to improve whatever task is at hand. Believe me, I will be the burden to you, not the other way around.”

Unable to believe it,
afraid to believe
, Piety tried to turn away. “But my arm,” she whispered, tears in her voice. “I could lose it. And then what would you think about my spirit and will? My capability? I would be the burden you fear the most.”

“No. The burden I fear most is the life I would lead without you in it. Do not speak like this. If the arm goes, so be it. I will weep for your discomfort, but I will not love you any less.”

“You say that,” she said softly, “but I felt so helpless today. And, it is easy to love me when I am happy, and pretty, and capable, and able to make things happen.”

“It is easy to love you, regardless. What it is difficult to do—what I found it impossible to do—is to
not
love you. I tried, like an idiot; you know I tried. From the moment I tackled you in my music room, I tried not to love you, but I could not. It’s almost as if I was created to do only this. And I’ve waited my entire life merely to have you crawl through a passage into my lonely, selfish world and take up residence. Thank God. Thank God you arrived when you did.”

She chuckled, wiping away her tears. “Or what?”

“Or I would have become the loneliest, most uninspired, most frightened, well-traveled architectural scholar on the earth. And all the while I would have thought I was doing myself a favor. How wrong I was.” He gave a small, hopeful smile.

“Trevor, are you grinning?”

“One of the many skills I learned from you. It disarms people, and don’t think I didn’t notice. How friendly you come off smiling and winking, all the while you dazzle people into agreeing to things to which they otherwise never would have consented.”

“I am a happy person,” she said.

“That you are,” he said, edging closer to her on the bed. “And you’ve caused me to discover happiness as well.” He sighed and studied her. “Dare I . . . Dare I hope that you will consent to make me happy for years to come as my wife? My true-and-eternal wife? Shall we travel the world together, if you wish? Shall we have children together, if we are so blessed?”

“Oh,” she said, tears in her voice again. “Is it true? Can I believe you?”

“I don’t know how truer I could make it.” He rose. “But I understand your hesitation, and I do not deserve an immediate affirmation. Merely allow me to be beside you for today. Then, if you’re amenable, we’ll do it again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. Eventually, you will see.”

“And then what?” she asked, scooting up in bed.

“And then we will have a real wedding.”

She laughed again. “We’ve already had the wedding of the year. What could be more real than two hundred revelers and a feast that lasted half the night? There was a string section.”

“Ah, yes. And let us not forget a Grecian slumlord. It was a celebration to end all others. It included everything but the assurance that it was real. And every bride—and bridegroom—should have that confidence. Promises meant and promises kept.”