How I Married a Marquess (35 page)

Ignoring the confusion erupting before him, Thomas didn't say a word as his gaze flicked across the room to lock with Josie's. She stood unmoving behind the bars, right where he'd entrusted Grey to place her for safekeeping. But he could also see the confusion flitting across her face as the realization of all that had happened tonight sank through her, right along with all the emotions churning inside her.

“You,” she said in stunned wonder, her voice lost beneath the angry bickering rising around them. “You did all this…”

In reply he gave her a slow smile, so damned glad—and utterly relieved—to see her there. Then he pushed himself away from the doorframe and sauntered slowly toward her.

“Chesney!”

The commanding voice bellowed from behind him, cutting through the squabbling between her family and the constable's men and stopping him cold in his steps. Taking a deep breath, he paused for a beat before reluctantly tearing his eyes away from her.

A tall, distinguished man appeared in the doorway, his bushy gray brows drawing together tightly in scowling disapproval beneath a black beaver hat. “You have the situation well out of hand here, I see.” The room fell silent at the man's commanding presence. His back was ramrod-straight, his eyes hawkish as they swept around the room before settling on Thomas. “As always.”

“Lord Bathurst, sir.” Thomas nodded curtly. “You're right on time.”

“Your message said one o'clock.” He snapped open a gold pocket watch and checked the time, then glanced pointedly at the others as he frowned. “I was under the impression that this was to be a private meeting.”

“It will be,” he assured the man. Then he bowed his head formally. “Lord Bathurst, Secretary of War and the Colonies, may I present to you Richard Carlisle, Baron Althorpe, and his family.”

“Secretary of War?” Josie spoke quietly from behind the bars, then turned away as Thomas's eyes slid in her direction when her father came forward to greet the earl
and her mother curtsied deeply.

“Constable Rivers,” Thomas continued with a gesture toward the stunned man, who nodded speechlessly at the introduction. “The constable and his men were just about to escort the baron and his family home safely, weren't you, Rivers? After all, there's a highwayman on the loose tonight.”

“Aye, sir.” Rivers capitulated grudgingly, his feathers ruffled. He clearly didn't like being ordered about inside his own gaol
. But he was now outranked to an absurd degree and pointedly reminded of it by the scowl from Lord Bathurst, the most powerful man in the country after the Prince Regent and the prime minister. Then he reddened with embarrassment. “I don't seem to have the key with me to unlock Miss Carlisle.”

“
Miss
Carlisle?” Bathurst's bushy brows drew together at the mention of a woman behind bars.

“My daughter, sir.” The baron grimaced in her direction. From the humiliated expression on her face before she turned away, Thomas knew she'd never again embarrass her family like this.
Good.

Bathurst glanced toward the cell. “Your daughter has been arrested, Althorpe?”

“She accidentally locked herself inside,” Miranda informed him quickly.

The secretary's gaze narrowed as it swung suspiciously back to Thomas. “She did, did she?”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas answered evenly. “An hour ago.”

“Then you'd best let her out.”

“Beggin' yer pardon, sir,” the constable put in, “but we'll have to send for the blacksmith. I seem to have misplaced the key—”

“Not you.
Him
.
” Bathurst's lips tightened irritably as he gestured toward Thomas. “Something tells me Chesney has possession of the key.”

On cue Thomas reached into his jacket pocket and held it up. “Rivers, please take the baron and his family home while the secretary and I unlock Miss Carlisle.” His order was clear. He wanted them all to leave, and it was not a request.

Althorpe stepped forward. “I am not leaving without my daughter.”

“I'll make certain she arrives home safely,” Thomas assured him. “I'll escort her to Chestnut Hill myself.”

That
did not mollify her father. “I will not allow her reputation to—”

“Darling.” Elizabeth Carlisle placed her hand gently on her husband's arm, a knowing expression brightening her face as she glanced at Thomas. “It's all right. I'm certain Lord Chesney would never willingly let any harm come to her, neither to her person nor her reputation.” Her blue eyes met his, but Thomas was unable to discern if she was forcing a promise from him or giving a warning. “Would you, sir?”

“You have my promise as a gentleman, my lady,” he answered solemnly.

His response drew a disgusted grunt from Robert and a heavy sigh from Miranda, but Elizabeth Carlisle gave him a soft smile. When the baron led his wife out of the gaol
in grudging acquiescence, the baroness lingered behind to squeeze Thomas's arm in silent approval before stepping out into the night, with all three sons and Miranda trailing after.

When the last of the constable's men left and closed the door, leaving the three of them alone, Thomas shook the secretary's hand. “Thank you for coming, sir. I wasn't certain you would.”

“I reckoned I owed you this much.”

And Thomas reckoned Bathurst owed him a great deal more for the cold rejection of his attempts during the past year to return to service.

“I have to admit that I am also very curious about what you wrote in your message,” he continued, purposefully vague as his eyes darted toward Josie, who watched the two men closely. “I hope it was worth my trouble to come here tonight.”

“You won't be disappointed, sir.”

Thomas reached beneath his jacket and withdrew the second half of the book. He gave it to Bathurst, then watched silently as the distinguished secretary thumbed through the pages, at first quickly, and then more slowly as page by page the realization of what he was holding in his hands dawned on him. Unable to hide the startled expression registering on his face, he darted his gaze from the book to Thomas, then back to the book. His hands shook.

“Dear God.” His voice was low and grim. He blew out a tremulous breath. “Is this what I think it is?”

Thomas answered simply, “Yes.”

Bathurst narrowed his eyes at Josie. “If that girl had this—”

“No,” Thomas interjected adamantly. “She's only in the cell for safekeeping.”

“Then who?” he demanded.

“Simon Royston.”

“Royston…
Earl
Royston?” Bushy gray eyes shot up in disbelief. “That's not possible.”

“I assure you, sir, it is.” His face turned grim. “This accusation will be easily proved, and I think there are others in Parliament and the Regent's cabinet who will find interesting the other activities he's been up to over the past decade as well.”

“Where is Royston now?”

“Colonel Grey arrested him and is currently transporting him to London. I'm certain Grey will want to go after whoever gave Royston this information himself.” His blue eyes darted toward Josie, but it was impossible in the shadows of the cell to read the expression on her face as he added, “I'll catch up with them tomorrow and be on hand for the questioning, with your permission, sir.”

“Of course.” Bathurst gave a curt, preoccupied nod, and Thomas knew that was the closest thing to an apology he could ever hope to receive from the secretary for casting him away after the shooting. The War Office wasn't a men's social club, and no quarter was given to those incapable of doing their part, but there was no doubt now that the secretary knew he'd been wrong.

Bathurst lifted the book with a frown. “Where's the other half?”

“There's nothing in it that—”

“I have it!” Josie called out from the cell. She thrust her half of the book out between the bars. “Take it, please.”

“Jo, Bathurst doesn't need that,” Thomas said quietly. He'd given her that half of the book as evidence against Royston in case his plans for the night went horribly wrong, as her protection if the earl managed to slip through his fingers and get away. But more than that, he'd given it to her as proof that he cared about her and that he would never doubt her again.

She stared at him intently, her eyes filled with a wretchedness that tore at his heart. “But it would be better, though, wouldn't it, to have the whole book? The entire story of everything Royston's done from the very beginning?”

“Royston's being charged with treason,” Thomas answered gently. “The evidence against him is too damaging to ever be made public. If you hand over that part of the book, it will be buried with the rest of the evidence. People will know he committed treason, but no one will know how he used the children for his own gains.”

“But it will help you return to the War Office.” Her voice was nothing more than a soft breath.

He shook his head, his chest tightening. “Josephine, you need to know—”

“Lord Bathurst, will it help if I give you this half, too?” she pressed, turning her gaze on the secretary.

The two men exchanged silent, grim glances, then Bathurst nodded slowly. “Yes, it will.”

Thomas bit back a curse as the secretary took the first half of the book from her and mumbled his thanks. He tucked both halves inside his coat, then nodded toward the cell. “Best to take Miss Carlisle home now, Chesney, before her family storms the gaol
again and you're forced to explain the truth behind how she came to be locked up tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” He grimaced and shook Bathurst's hand.

“Miss Carlisle, meeting you was indeed a pleasure.” He sketched her a bow before retreating to the door. “Chesney, I'll see you in London in a few days.” Just as he stepped outside, he turned to give one last parting look at Thomas. “And welcome back to the War Office.”

The door closed behind him.

Thomas glanced toward Josie, but she was gone, retreated into the shadows at the rear of the narrow cell.
Damnation
.
He desperately needed to talk to her and explain, but this was not how he wanted the conversation to begin. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the iron door and swung it open.

She stood at the far end, staring at the wall with her back toward him, one hand on her right hip in a gesture of frustration and anger, but her other hand swiped at her eyes. The small movement nearly undid him.

“Jo,” he called softly, his heart breaking that he'd made her cry, tonight of all nights.

She stiffened but didn't face him. “Ironic, isn't it?”

He hesitated. “What is?”

“That you came here to arrest the highwayman but are now setting me free.” Her voice choked. “And all the evidence linking Royston to the orphans really is gone forever now.”

“You didn't have to give Bathurst your half of the book.”

“Yes, I did.” She faced him then, and even in the dim light of the lantern and the shadows it cast into the cell, the expression of deep loss on her face cut through him like a knife. “Because you need it to prove how you connected the highwayman to Royston, Royston to the political favors…all the way to that list of names.” Her voice choked. “You need it to be a spy again.”

He shook his head because she didn't yet understand. “You didn't need to give—”

“Yes, I did,” she whispered. Then the words rushed out in a shuddering sigh. “Because I love you.”

He froze, every muscle in his body tightening. His heart stopped. Josie loved him, she'd actually said it.
Dear God
…she
loved
him.

When his heart started beating again, the blood coursed through him in shuddering pulses that left him tingling. For the first time since the shooting, he truly felt alive. Because of her. And he knew for certain, then, that the demons and the darkness that had smothered him would never return.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Not bothering to wipe it away, she sank onto the cot. Her body shuddered, her hands white-knuckled as she gripped the edge of the cot beneath her. The sight of her shoulders shaking as she fought back the silent tears pierced his chest.

No, this was definitely
not
how he'd wanted this conversation to begin.

“Josephine.” He sat next to her, but when he took her shoulders and drew her against him, she pushed him back.

“Don't,” she whispered, and shrank away.

He fought back the urge to grab her and sweep her into his arms, to kiss her senseless and make every last tear disappear. But he would do as she wished and leave her be. For a few minutes. “Tonight isn't what you think.” Feeling the overwhelming need to touch her, he slid his hand along the edge of the cot until his fingers brushed warmly against hers. She flinched but didn't pull away. “I did all of this for you, Jo.”

“To keep me from being arrested, I know.” Her voice hitched in her throat. “But you're leaving for London tomorrow morning.”

“Yes,” he said solemnly.

“Then I hope—”

“Just as soon as I speak with your father to offer for you in marriage.”

Josie stared at him, her lips parting as surprise jolted through her. His handsome face blurred beneath the hot tears welling in her eyes. Oh, heavens, he couldn't have said—certainly couldn't have meant…She breathed out, so softly that barely any sound crossed her lips, “
What
did you say?”

“That I love you, too, Josephine Carlisle.” He cupped her face in his hand and touched his lips to hers. “And tonight, when I return you to Chestnut Hill, I plan on asking your father for his permission to marry you. And I think your mother will help convince him in my favor.” Grinning, he laced his fingers through hers and lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it. “She likes me.”