It Takes a Hero (39 page)

Pease, his victim temporarily forgotten, dropped his sword and dove for the grate, scrambling across the floor to the fireplace. "Mine! It is mine!" he screamed, shoving his hands into the flames. He screamed as his flesh burned, though it didn't stop him from trying to catch up his prize.

But his agony didn't last long.

In a blinding flash, Lady Tottley snatched up a large vase from the sideboard and dashed it over Pease's head, rendering the viscount unconscious. "That will teach you, sir, to tender a proposal to a lady that you have no intention of honoring," she said in lofty tones, as if a fraudulent marriage proposal was the worst of the viscount's sins.

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Distance from the object of one's affections? Propriety is well and good if one wants to remain a spinster for the rest of her days.

Miss Darby to Miss Cecilia Overton

in
Miss Darby's Daring Dilemma

R
ebecca woke the next morning to an unusual noise. She'd thought she had finally grown used to the never ending din of London—which seemed to rise and fall with the hours but never ceased—from the first crunch of the trash man's wheels in the morning, to the cry of the night watch calling the hours. But this sound was something altogether different.

"Oooh," came the moan from the next room. "Oh my! "

Miss Alminta's room?

Rebecca rolled over to grab her wrapper and ran smack into the solid strength of a man's back.

Rafe.

Rafe in her bed? Miss Alminta completely forgotten, Rebecca sat bolt upright, and stared down at the magnificent man beside her.

Her husband.

She grinned and tucked her knees up under her chin, her hands folded in front of her, where a ring on her finger declared her newfound status as Mrs. Raphael Danvers.

For after Lady Tottley had dashed the vase over Pease's head, Rafe had ordered Crumpton to fetch some rope, and then the murderer was tied up and the authorities called for. And though it was apparent the madness that the colonel attributed to the ruby had taken its toll on the man, his confession to killing four men did not bode well for him. Not even his noble status would save him.

With the viscount dispatched to Newgate and the case solved, Rafe had turned to Rebecca and gone down on one knee and proposed.

Despite Lady Tottley's assurances that her chances to make an advantageous match yet this Season (despite her rather unfortunate, albeit short, engagement to a confessed murderer) were quite good, Rebecca accepted Rafe's impractical request. It was hardly sensible considering this was the same reckless man who had just burned Richard's journal and lost a fortune in order to save her life. But Raphael Danvers left her breathless and starry-eyed, and she couldn't imagine her life without him—no matter how many viscounts or vicars Lady Tottley could promise.

And when her reckless betrothed informed her there would be no need to wait for banns since he had procured a Special License, Rebecca gained a new respect for his impetuous practices.

In truth, when she considered it, his rash and imprudent methods were really quite practical.

Lady Tottley was still listing her objections to their match when Miss Honora, Reverend Brown, Lady Lucinda and Lord Barwick arrived home from the ball. Taking her mother aside, Lady Lucinda gave her mother a few sketchy details about what may or may not have occurred at the Setchfield Ball, including Rebecca's missing slippers, and the countess immediately pressed the vicar into action. Within minutes, the marriage was duly performed, with a beaming Lady Lucinda and Lord Barwick standing up with the happy couple.

As the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Danvers shared their first marital kiss, a misty-eyed Crumpton passed around glasses of champagne. Toasts were made by all until the happy couple retired upstairs for their wedding night.

Rebecca grinned at the rest of the memories from her wedding night.

After making love, he had held her in his arms and told her the story of her wedding ring, which she had thought at first was nothing but a simple gold band. The ring had been one of a pair, gifts to Rafe and Orlando from their brother Robert when he'd gone into the army, leaving his two younger siblings behind. It had been a pledge back then of his protection, and now Rafe had carried on that vow, with his name and heart, by placing it on her finger.

She sighed and looked over at the romantic, rakish devil sleeping next to her. Was it proper, she wondered, to nudge one's sleeping husband a bit and see if she could gain his interest yet again?

Then next door, Miss Alminta groaned once more, and Rebecca knew she really should go see to the lady, yet…

Then another moan, one much deeper, echoed from the room. One that decidedly did not belong to Miss Alminta.

Her marital intentions would have to wait.

"Wake up," Rebecca whispered, nudging her husband.

He grumbled and caught her in his arms, tugging her close and nuzzling her ears and nibbling at her neck. A warm, lazy passion spread through her limbs.
Oh, yes
… she thought until once again Miss Alminta's cries broke her concentration.

Rafe's eyes flew open. "What the devil was that?"

"It's coming from Miss Alminta's room," Rebecca whispered. "I think she's in trouble."

Rafe didn't look so sure, but he got up, splendidly naked, a sight that Rebecca knew she should be blushing at, while at the same time thinking it a terrible shame to see him yank one of the sheets from the bed and wrap it around his waist.

"Stay here," he said, as he went for the door.

"Oh, no you don't," Rebecca told him, shrugging on her wrapper. "You'll terrify Miss Alminta if you go storming in there, besides wake the entire house."

"I don't care."

"You will if you rouse Lady Tottley before noon."

He looked about to argue the point, but the moaning started again and he stalked out of their room.

"I'm coming with you," she said, following him to Miss Alminta's room.

Without knocking or any preamble, Rafe flung the door open. Miss Alminta let out a piercing shriek that did exactly what Rebecca feared—woke the entire house—and brought the servants and Lady Tottley alike to discover what had happened to the missing Sydney Kitling.

He'd obviously spent a very comfortable night abed with Miss Alminta, her megrims quite cured.

"Why you fortune stealing—" Rafe started to drag Kitling from the bed, but was stopped not only by Alminta's further shrieks but Lady Tottley's loud protest.

"Mr. Danvers, that man is
unclothed!
" she bellowed. "Put him back!"

Rafe gave Kitling a good shake, then tossed him back under the sheets.

Lady Tottley shook her head, then dispatched every one back to their rooms to get properly dressed, despite Rafe's protests that he wanted to toss Kitling out without the decency of his clothes. With a warning shake of his fist to Sydney, he agreed to the countess's demands that everyone be clothed before anyone was thrown into the streets.

Rafe followed Lady Tottley's orders with the precision of a gunner, yanking on his clothes and then stationing himself outside Miss Alminta's bedroom to await his quarry. Rebecca followed suit and arrived just as the weasel poked his nose out. Rafe caught him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him from the room. He was about to give the man a very good example of his skills at arm breaking, when a pair of hands caught his sleeve.

"Mr. Danvers, please unhand him. I beg of you, do not harm him."

He glanced down to find Alminta anchored to his jacket. "Miss Alminta," he began, "you don't know what he's done. He's stolen your fortune."

"I've done no such thing—" Kitling protested, until Rafe gave him another good shake and his mouth clapped shut to keep his teeth from rattling loose.

"Oh, please let him go, Mr. Danvers," Alminta begged. "Mr. Kitling hasn't stolen anything."

"But someone has," Honora said, coming up the hall and pointing an accusing finger at Sydney. "I was at the bank yesterday to have drafts drawn to pay our bills and the clerk said all our accounts had been emptied."

"I didn't touch your money, Honora," Sydney stammered. "I swear it."

Rafe gave him another good shake to shut him up.

"Mr. Danvers, you must release Sydney, he has nothing to do with the missing money," Alminta said, her face having turned a deep shade of red.

"Are you positive?" Rafe asked, unwilling to let the man go just yet.

"Oh, yes, because I know who stole our money."

Honora gasped. "Who, sister? Who could be so dastardly to have stolen our legacy?"

Alminta looked down at her slippers, then up at her sister. "I did."

Down in Lady Tottley's salon, the countess sat preparing a carefully worded lecture as well as her plans for the removal of her ungrateful houseguests, when yet another cacophony of shouts and accusations arose.

She promptly tossed aside any thoughts of a most needed reprimand and an extremely discreet eviction to avoid the notice of her neighbors.

"Mayfair be damned," she told Crumpton as she flew past the crusty butler. "I will toss them into the streets myself."

But the lady's hasty expulsion had to wait until everyone was properly attired and assembled in Lady Tottley's salon, so that Alminta could finish her startling confession.

Rebecca stood beside Rafe, wide-eyed at the truth that came spilling from the spinster's trembling lips.

"Honora, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what else to do," Alminta said. "I wanted to be Sydney's wife, but mother's will forbids either of us from marrying without the other's permission." She turned to her audience. "It was established that way to ensure that neither of us were taken in by a scoundrel or fortune hunter."

Most everyone in the room was still just recovering from the shock that the sisters held a large fortune.

"I wasn't thinking clearly when I went to the bank the other day. I just asked them to send over all of it to the house and I thought… well, I thought I could convince Sydney to run away with me."

"Which I refused to do," Sydney said.

Alminta confirmed this with a mournful nod and began to cry anew.

Honora took her sister's hand and patted it. "Oh, Alminta," she said. "Why didn't you just tell me you were in love with Sydney?"

"I didn't think you'd approve, what with him being so much… so much—"

"Younger?" Honora said.

Her sister nodded.

"Not that much," Sydney said, rising to stand beside his lady love.

The Misses Gadbury exchanged a look that spoke louder than words.

"More than ten years?" Kitling asked, glancing down at Alminta.

"You haven't told him?" Honora asked her sister.

Alminta shook her head.

Honora prodded her. "Tell him. Tell him how old you are."

"Oh, if I must," Alminta sputtered back. She went up on her tiptoes to whisper to Sydney the mysterious number for him and him only.

Though every ear was pricked to catch a hint of the sisters' age, Miss Alminta's soft voice did not betray their secret, though Sydney's wide eyes gave every indication that it was well and beyond the ten years that he had suspected. The lady stepped back from him, her eyes once again on her slippers as if she feared to look up and discover the truth.

But Sydney surprised her. He reached out and tipped her chin up. "It matters not to me, Alminta, my dearest darling girl. I'll always love you."

"But it is scandalous," she protested. "I am so much—"

He stopped her by pulling her into his arms and kissing her. "It matters not to me if you are a hundred years older," he told her again. Then he glanced over at Honora. "Miss Honora, I apologize for my deplorable indiscretion with your sister but believe me, I love her with all my heart. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive us, I would be deeply honored if you would give me the blessing of your good favor to see us wed."

It might have been Kitling's need for money that had brought him into Alminta's life, but anyone looking at him now could see that in the process of gaining her
carte blanche
, he had also fallen in love with the lady. Deeply and sincerely.

"With all my heart," Honora told them, tears filling her eyes.

Rebecca swiped at her own damp eyes, and there were hugs and hearty congratulations all around.

Finally, Honora stepped back from her sister, and shook a finger at her. "Alminta, you must promise me to put that money back in the bank forthwith. Fifty thousand pounds shouldn't be just laying about."

"Fifty thousand—" Lady Tottley gasped, glancing at the ceiling above her where Alminta's room sat.

Rafe and Rebecca gaped at each other.
Fifty thousand?

"I still think I ought to break Kitling's arm," Rafe muttered.

"Save it for another day," Rebecca told him.

As the money was being dispatched back to the bank, a maid came into the salon with a handful of pieces from the miniature that had been in Richard's haversack.

"Oh, Miss Tate," the girl said. "Um, I mean, Mrs. Danvers, I was cleaning up the room this morning, and found these. I thought you might like to keep them, being your brother's and all."

"Thank you," Rebecca said, barely giving her fractured picture as well as the broken frame a second glance, until she spied something odd. Taking a closer look, she spotted the corner of what appeared to be a piece of paper tucked inside the frame behind the portrait. Carefully she extracted it.

"What is it?" Rafe asked, glancing over her shoulder. "A love note?"

"I don't know," she said, though her fingers were shaking in excitement. Something told her this was the key they'd been searching for.

As Rebecca unfolded the scrap, her breath caught in her throat. The paper held a small map. A topographical map, much like Richard had probably drawn while mapping the Spanish countryside for Wellington.

But it wasn't Spain, she'd wager. "This is it. This is where Richard hid the Kailash ruby." She wound her arms around Rafe's neck. "We've found it! Our fortune!"