The Notorious Scoundrel (25 page)

Edmund crashed his knuckles into the devil’s face, his features already stained with thick, hot blood. The last blow rendered the villain dead or senseless.

With loud and raspy breaths, Edmund looked at the bed…and the lifeless figure prostrated across the feather tick, her lovely green eyes open—and unblinking.

He groaned in a low, wounded whimper at the fragile sight of her. He was already on his knees and he crawled beside the bed, his heart beating with savage blows.

“Amy?” he rasped.

He stroked her soft, pale cheek, stained with tears. As his fingers trembled, he rubbed her bruised flesh, cupped her listless head, shaking her.

“Wake up, Amy,” he whispered in a broken voice.

But her eyes remained quiet, vacant.

A dark howl welled in his belly; it burned in the bowel of his soul.

“No. No. No!
Amy!
”

He snatched her off the bed and settled her limp body on the hard wood floor. He quickly rustled her limbs and attempted artificial respiration.

He had witnessed his brother Quincy perform the procedure aboard ship after an intense sea battle…but as he stared into Amy’s blank expression, as he imagined her gruesome final moments, alone and frightened, hope withered in his breast, and he sobbed with a bitterness that curled his heart and hardened his soul.

Forgive me, Amy.

A
my was huddled in the window seat, wrapped in a warm, woolly shawl, watching the snow flurries. The first flakes of the winter season, the tiny puffs dropped quietly onto the earth; there was no wind disturbing their long journey from the heavens. The white dots slowly covered the sleeping ground, and the atmosphere changed from murky mud puddles and shriveled shrubs to a blank and pristine slate.

At the sound of sharp footfalls, she turned her head away from the frosty glass. She observed her father as he entered the sitting room, looking grave.

“How long will you stay with us in the country?”

She peered through the window once more. She eyed the ice crystals that had formed across the pane of glass in intricate patterns.

“Am I unwelcome, Father? If you prefer it, I can gather my possessions and live with friends. The Duke and Duchess of Wembury have issued me an invitation, as have Captain and Mrs. Hawkins.”

Amy wasn’t so bothered about her unfixed living arrangements anymore. A few months ago, she would have panicked at the uncertainty of her situation, at losing control of her surroundings, but she had found a peace that brooked insecurity, and she wasn’t feeling stressed about her ambiguous circumstances. She had grounded her heart and soul in an unshakable foundation: love.

“I didn’t think he would hurt you,” said the duke in a stiff manner. “It’s been fifteen years since the incident.”

The incident. Ruby’s death. Her father had no feeling; he assumed the marquis without a heart, too. But the marquis had a heart. A dark and twisted heart. An unforgiving heart.

“Yes, I’m sure you didn’t know he’d hurt me.” She looked back at her father with pointed regard. “But he did. And if it was legal, I’d divorce the devil on the grounds of cruelty. However, I’ve retained a solicitor. He will inquire into the prospect of my obtaining a divorce on the grounds of insanity.”

The duke’s lips firmed at the dreaded, scandalous word “divorce.”

“I won’t pay for it.” He hissed, “It’s shameful.”

“You needn’t pay for it, Father,” she said in a steady voice. “I’ve other monetary means.”

He stiffened at the implication, for without a generous husband or father, a married woman had no other recourse for obtaining funds except through a friend…or a lover.

“There are only
two
instances where a woman has successfully divorced her husband.”

“Yes, I know.” She maintained a cool countenance, undaunted. “I suspect my defense will fail in the end, for wickedness isn’t akin to insanity. However, I will still hunt the blackguard down and see him presented in court for the attempt on my life.”

The duke paled. “He is your husband.”

“A pity, that, but it will not prevent me from seeking justice. I will not rest until I see
his
neck in a noose.”

The court wasn’t likely to be very sympathetic toward a battered wife; justice smirked at a woman’s pleas in most instances, but in the rarest of circumstances, the cruelest of deeds, a legal separation was granted to a couple—if not a hanging.

The duke glowered at her with burning gray eyes, but Amy shrugged at his wrath, indifferent. He had calculated and conspired with enough innocent lives over the years. She wasn’t going to let him contort a single soul more.

A footman appeared in the doorway and announced, “Mr. Hawkins to see Lady Gravenhurst.”

Amy smiled. “Show him into the sitting room, please.”

The servant bobbed his head and stepped away from the door.

The duke scowled. “I will
not
tolerate indecency in my own house.”

“I’ve invited a friend to tea, Father.” She returned tautly, “And I don’t answer to you anymore.”

The old man pressed his lips together tightly, the pink flesh turning white.

Edmund Hawkins soon entered the room and bowed.

The duke snorted and departed from the sitting room in brisk strides. As soon as he had vacated the space, Amy’s stiff features softened and she smiled again.

A tingling heat moved through her veins as she gazed into the scoundrel’s smoldering eyes, the dark blue pools shadowed even more by his low brow. He was dashing in his greatcoat and tall leather boots, and he warmed the chilled room with his virile presence.

She slipped away from the window seat and treaded softly across the wool runner, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the handsome man standing in the middle of the room, unmoving, his dark, wavy hair moist with melted snowflakes.

She stopped in front of him. She sensed his increased breathing; her own heart pattered with vim. He didn’t touch her. For a moment, he stared into her eyes without speaking a word or making a movement, and then he removed his fine leather gloves, lifted his fingers, and stroked her cheek, making her sigh.

He said in a tender voice, “You look well, my love.”

“I am well.”

She nuzzled his large palm, caressed his wrist, the fractured bone having healed after his brawl with the marquis.

Amy remembered the final black moments at the inn. She had feared the darkness, but it had transformed into
brilliant light, and a peace had come over her: a peace she still carried with her in her heart.

She rubbed her fingers slowly over the man’s wrist, feeling his hastened pulse. “I’ve missed you.”

His breathing deepened, his touch strengthened. “I’ve missed you, too.”

She relished the intimacy, however limited. The slightest contact, the softest word filled her with intense warmth.

“I can escort you into Town, if you’d like. To the orphanage.”

Amy had adopted her mother’s charitable inclinations, patronizing a foundling asylum alongside the woman, who quietly supported her daughter’s efforts to free herself from her wicked husband.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said in a low voice. “And how are you enjoying your new employment?”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m growing used to being on the right side of the law. I think I’ve found my place in the world at last.”

She smiled. “Are you sure you can live without the sea?”

“I can live without anything—but for you, Amy.”

She kissed his palm, still nestled at her cheek. “You’re a scoundrel at heart, Edmund Hawkins.”

“I know.” He bussed her mouth, making her sigh again. “There’s talk about forming a metropolitan police force.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “It won’t happen for a few more years, though.”

“And James?”

“He’s talking to me again. Growling, really.”

She grinned. “That’s good news.”

“I wasn’t sure if he’d ever speak to me again after I’d joined the Bow Street Runners. He’s still convinced I’ll bring
him
to trial for his past crimes.”

“He’s your brother; he’ll forgive you for the treachery, I’m sure.”

He humphed at that. “Quincy sends his regards.”

“How is he?” she wondered in a soft voice.

“The same. Worse.” He shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

She was thoughtful. “He’ll find his way out of the darkness…you did.”

Amy sensed the turmoil in her lover’s soul and stepped into his arms, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“How’s William?”

He embraced her, bussed the crown of her head. “He might set sail in the spring again.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

The Hawkins brothers were doing well for the most part; that was really all that mattered, for with each day that passed, there was hope for a stronger future. She had learned that lesson, as well.

As Edmund’s muscles stiffened, she lifted her chin and looked into his ruminating eyes. “What is it?”

He stroked her spine. “I have news about Gravenhurst.”

After he’d joined the Bow Street Runners, Edmund and his fellow comrades had searched for the pusillanimous marquis, who had vanished from the inn at Dover. The devil had regained his wits after the fracas and, in the tumult, had slunk off into the night. He had likely boarded a vessel for the continent, although Amy wasn’t entirely sure of his whereabouts.

She wasn’t disconcerted at the remark about the marquis either, for the villain possessed no hold over her senses or her heart…however, he prevented her from realizing one important dream: marrying Edmund. Unless a divorce was granted—or she was widowed—she’d never have the pleasure of calling the handsome scoundrel “husband” or keeping a home with him, a family.

There was a twinge in her breast at the gloomy thought. “You’ve located the marquis?”

“No…but his wife found me.”

Amy blinked. “What?”

He steered her toward the divan and settled beside her in the comfortable seat. “A woman approached me at the magistrates’ office, claiming to be the marquis’s lawful wife. She carried papers to prove it; there are church witnesses, too.”

She gaped, breathless. “But how?”

“After Ruby’s death, the marquis delved into a debauched existence. He traveled as far as Scotland and immersed himself in the habit of drink. Apparently
he wed a Scottish bride in a drunken stupor.” He caressed her fingers, the appendages trembling. “The marriage laws in Scotland are more lax than those in England, though still legal. As soon as he sobered, the marquis paid the wench to keep away from him, and she was happy to accept the terms; she was a common barmaid and she desired to remain in her homeland with her family. The throat-cutting ways of the
ton
didn’t appeal to her, it seemed. As soon as she had heard of the marquis’s wedding to you, though, she feared the monthly stipend would end, and she came to London, seeking her rightful place as the marchioness.”

Amy munched on her bottom lip. She clasped Edmund’s hand and squeezed it tight between her fingers as a stirring energy welled in her belly, threatening her composure. “Th-that means…”

“That means, with the proper evidence, the Consistory Courts in the Doctors’ Commons will have to grant you an annulment on the grounds of bigamy; your marriage to the marquis isn’t legal.”

She shuddered as the last gloomy thought pinching her heart was snuffed out.

She was free.

“It’s over,” she whispered, weakened with joy.

“The legal proceedings might take some time, Amy.”

“But there’s hope.”

She was filled with the blessed sentiment; it touched her every pore.

“But I still don’t understand,” she said in a quiet manner. “Why did the marquis marry me if he was already wed to another woman?”

“Revenge,” he returned succinctly. “He wanted the duke to think he’d achieved all his dreams, his goals…before he took them away.”

Amy sniffed. She hadn’t even sensed the tears. The briny drops washed away so many months of hardship. A new dream sprouted in her soul: a dream for a better life…with Edmund.

He rubbed her hands between his palms in methodic strokes, silent, brooding.

“What’s the matter, Edmund?”

He eyed her with intent. “When the annulment is settled, will you be my—?”

“Yes!”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with the desire that had been building within her heart for months.

He chuckled, his eyes bright, but then he steadied his merry features. “Are you sure you want to marry me, Amy? There will be unhappy folks at our wedding.”

“Like my father?” She scoffed. “I’m not going to let our fate mirror that of Gravenhurst and Ruby. I’m not going to let convention dictate the truth in my heart.”

He looked away from her.

“Do you still think you’re not good enough to be my husband?”

“I’m
not
good enough for you, lass.” He looked back at her with passion, his words shaking. “But I love you
with a fierceness in my soul that takes away every bit of good sense I own.”

“I love you, too.” She grinned, cupping his hands. “And I’ve decided to take your advice: I’m going to have more fun in life.”

He laughed; the rumbling sound warmed her ears. “I guess that means I’m going to have to be more responsible.”

He kissed her, then; the gesture singed her right down to her toes.

“You’ve seduced me, Amy,” he murmured into her mouth.

She snuggled with him on the divan, cherished the closeness. “And I’ll keep seducing you for the rest of our years together, you notorious scoundrel.”