My Notorious Gentleman (29 page)

But that wasn’t his life anymore.

And Grace would never understand if he finished the
job here, the way he might have done with one of the Order’s enemies. He had
seen her face when she had discovered his handiwork outside the parsonage, like
he was something from a nightmare.

He could not bear for her to look at him like that
ever again even though he deserved it. No, if he truly wanted to be with her, it
ended here. It was time to let go of his old life.

He was a civilian now.

“You have no idea how lucky you are,” he whispered,
still trembling with rage as Parker stepped into the room.

“Lord Trevor! You all right, sir?”

“Take over with this one before I do something I’ll
regret,” he ground out, shoving Lynch against the wall one last time for good
measure.

“Aye, sir.” Parker switched places with him.

“Grace?”

“Safe as houses, sir.” Glancing round at the men
strewn about the room. “Well, you’ve been busy,” he offered wryly. “Hand me
those manacles, would you? We got eight more under arrest outside.”

“This one’s the leader. Three more up at the
parsonage. Dead.”

“I heard,” Parker said with a grim look as Trevor
retrieved the manacles. “Rev told us when he came to fetch us. Guess you haven’t
lost your touch.”

“Not yet,” he answered guardedly.

Then Parker slammed the manacles on Jimmy Lynch’s
wrists. “I can take it from here, my lord. I figure you’ve probably had enough
fun for one night.”

“To be sure.”

“There’s a lady outside waiting to see you,” Parker
added, then he called for two of his soldiers to come and escort the gang leader
off to wait facedown in the field with his followers.

Lynch scowled as Parker’s men marched in and took
him by his arms. They proceeded to show him out, but when they passed Marianne,
who had just stepped out of hiding to curse at Lynch, the soldiers stopped in
their tracks, seeing the bruises on the face of their favorite tavern girl.

“He did this to you?” one demanded.

She put her head down in shame.

“Right. You’re comin’ with us, lad,” the other
soldier said to the gang leader in a hard tone. “We got a little something
special for you out back before we put you with the others.”

“What? Hey!” Lynch began resisting.

“I think you deserve a taste of your own
medicine.”

“Hey! You can’t do this! I have my rights!
Constable?!”

“I don’t hear anything, do you?” Trevor asked
Marianne in a casual tone.

“Crickets,” she replied, folding her arms across
her chest. “Such a pleasant summer night.”

“Hey! Let me go! Get your hands off me!”

They took him away.

Marianne gave Trevor a taut, wry smile. “He always
was a coward at heart.”

“Bullies usually are.” Trevor studied her. “You all
right?”

She gave him a stoic nod, then offered a smile of
sympathy. “You look about as good as I do. Anything broken?”

“Nah. Come on, let’s go see Grace.”

Marianne stayed planted. “I don’t think I can face
her,” she forced out.

“What?” Trevor turned to her, setting his hands on
his waist. “Why?”

She lowered her gaze. “After all she did to help
me, I threw it away when George invited me to London, and look what happened.
Look at what I brought upon everyone. This is all my fault. You could’ve been
killed, and George and even dear Miss Kenwood. I’m such a fool. How many chances
does someone deserve?”

“As many as it takes, I hope.” He paused.
“Marianne, Grace isn’t angry at you. Lucky for us both, we’re dealing with a
preacher’s daughter.”

“Montgomery! There you are!” George rushed through
the door at that moment. “Are you all right?” he asked, crossing the room to
them.

“No worries. You did well tonight,” he encouraged
the shaken young man. “Thanks for getting Grace out of harm’s way for me.”

“Thanks for saving my life!” he countered. “She’s
outside, by the way—staying put, just where Parker told her.”

Trevor smiled wistfully. “Good girl.”

George turned to Marianne and took her hands in his
own with a pained look. “I am so sorry—”

“Rubbish, I’m the one responsible for all
this—”

“That’s not what I mean,” he interrupted. “I
. . . I’m sorry that I treated you like a whore, Marianne.”

She blinked. “I am a whore, George,” she said.

“No, you’re not. I mean, you’re so much more than
that! You should give yourself more credit. Look at you! You nearly gave your
life to save mine. And I can guess why Lynch beat you—to make you tell where I
had gone.”

She lowered her head. “I tried not to break.”

Trevor took a deep breath and looked away, fighting
the dire temptation to go outside behind the house and join Parker’s men in
punishing the bastard, or better yet, finishing him off entirely like his
fiercer instincts still longed to do.

“I’m all right,” Marianne assured them, gathering
herself and lifting her head again. “I’ve had worse.”

George looked at her admiringly for a moment, then
reached into his pocket and took out his billfold. “Here. Lynch stole this out
of my pocket earlier, but Parker got it back for me. It’s yours.” He took the
whole thick wad of folded paper bills and pressed it into her hand. “Take this
and start a new life for yourself.”

“George! This is a lot of money.”

“It’s the least I can do after what Lynch did to
you on account of me. Please—I won’t accept it back!”

“There’s three thousand pounds here!” she said in
shock.

“I know. I thought I’d have to hide out, you know,
go incognito for a while with that barbaric tribe out for my blood. But I don’t
need it now. Take it, please, I’ll only gamble it away. I want you to have it
instead.”

“It’s too much. I could buy the pub with this much
money!”

“Why don’t you?” Trevor replied, arching a brow.
“With the way you’ve charmed Parker’s men, I know you’d have at least a dozen
loyal customers, and believe me, the boys know how to run up a tab.”

“Buy the Goose?” she echoed. “That’s an interestin’
idea. At least I could keep the books since I can read now.” She tilted her
head, warming to the notion. “Aye, maybe I could.”

Trevor smiled fondly.

“Just one problem,” Marianne said with a sigh after
a moment. “Nobody wants me in Thistleton. Especially now.”

“Yes, we do,” a familiar voice said from the
doorway.

George turned in amazement. “Callie!”

Calpurnia Windlesham stood in the doorway with her
fists balled at her sides, her golden curls run riot, her heart-shaped face
stained with tears. “I’m glad all three of you are here.”

She glanced from George to Trevor to the ex-harlot.
“I know I’ve been horrible to everyone lately, but I want you all to be my
witness. Marianne, if you want to stay in Thistleton, I won’t let Mama make your
life miserable anymore, and I won’t, either. We might never be friends, but I
heard how you saved George’s life. You’re a very brave person, and I-I wanted to
thank you for helping him a-and to apologize for being mean to you.”

George stared at her in shock.

Even Trevor was impressed.

Both men glanced at Marianne, who looked like a
feather might have knocked her over. “Well, of course,” she blurted out, but
beyond that, she appeared too dumbfounded by the belle’s contrition to say
another word.

“Callie, what are you doing here?” George burst out
in a wondering tone, taking a few steps toward her.

“I just arrived with Pastor Kenwood,” she
explained, glancing over her shoulder toward the drive. “He was obviously
distraught over their taking his daughter, so we followed Sergeant Parker’s
riders at a safe distance to find out what was happening . . . and if
you all were still alive.” She swallowed hard, clearly still shaken up by the
night’s events. “My parents tried to make me stay behind with them, but I had to
see you for myself.

“Oh, George, if anything had happened to you—!” she
burst out. “I mean, it’s one thing for
me
to torture
you, but no one else is allowed to do it! When I saw them point a gun at you—”
Her words broke off in a sob, and she ran to him as tears flooded her eyes,
launching herself into the astonished fellow’s arms.

Marianne looked askance at Trevor, who watched in
mystified amusement as Callie covered George’s face in adoring, girlish pecks.
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore! Haven’t you figured it out yet, you
blockhead? I’m in love with you and always have been.”

“Oh, Callie . . .”

Trevor and Marianne exchanged a smile of furtive
humor as they turned away to give the couple their privacy.

“It would seem all is forgiven,” he remarked to her
under his breath, as they stepped out into the night.

“Not everyone,” Marianne murmured, narrowing her
eyes in the direction from which Lynch’s occasional shouts of pain were coming.
“My dear Lord Trevor, would you think ill of me if I took this opportunity to
tell Mr. Lynch what I really think of him?”

“Tell him?” Trevor frowned. “I always feel that
actions speak louder than words.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, slanting him a sly look. “I like
the way you think, sir.”

“Enjoy it. And don’t worry, he’s going to jail for
a long time.”

“In that case . . .” She sauntered off
around the back of the building to revel in watching the soldiers trashing her
tormentor. At their invitation, she did not pass up the chance to knee him in
the groin. And when he cursed her for it, called her a whore, her soldier
friends took umbrage, and poor Jimmy Lynch only made it worse for himself.

Meanwhile, Trevor walked across the open field near
the edge of the woods at the drive, where Grace was trying to comfort her
weeping father. “Honestly, I’m all right, Papa, I promise. I’m quite
unscathed.”

“Oh, my dearest child.” He hugged her harder. “If I
have to lose you, let it be for the sake of your happiness, not the violence of
murderous brigands!”

“You’re not going to lose me, Papa! I’ll just be
next door, I’ll see you every day. You know I’ll never abandon you. Look,” she
interrupted him, “here comes my fiancé.”

Trevor smiled and did his future father-in-law the
courtesy of ignoring his distraught paternal tears. “I thought being a country
constable was supposed to be a quiet duty. Don’t worry, they said. Nothing ever
happens.”

“Well, it didn’t—until you came along.” The
Reverend extended his hand to Trevor, and when he took it, the old man pulled
him in for a fatherly hug. “Thank you for saving my daughter,” he whispered,
seeming near tears again. “If there’s anything I could possibly do to repay
you.”

“Nonsense. I’m just sorry you both had to go
through all that.”

“Thank God, it’s over now. Sweet heaven, I never
prayed so hard in my life,” the pastor said.

Marianne walked toward them through the darkness,
having enjoyed her taste of revenge. “Oh, you come with me, Reverend!” she
called, taking his arm as she joined them. “You look like you could use a
drink.”

He let out a wordless exclamation of agreement,
then polished the tears off his spectacles.

“Come on, you. Let’s leave these two alone.”
Marianne chuckled and led him toward the carriage.

At last, Grace and Trevor turned to face each other
and were promptly lost in each other’s gaze.

Trevor rested his forearms on her shoulders and
smoothed her hair gently behind her ears. God help him, he wasn’t sure where to
start. He was wary, his defenses already braced against the pain of judgment,
rejection. He’d already lost one fiancée, after all, because of his dealings
with the Order. If he lost Grace, too, he did not know where he’d go, what he
would do, or if he would ever find the courage, or even the ability, to love
again.
Please don’t turn me away.

After all the chaos of this night, the last thing
he wanted to do was call attention to the savage side she’d seen tonight. No
doubt the details of it were emblazoned in her mind, but now that they came down
to it, he did not know what to say for himself.

He shook his head. “You never pressed about my
secrets,” he forced out. “Now you know.”

“Dearest,” she breathed, laying her hand on his
chest. Her blue eyes searched his face, caked with dried sweat and streaked with
blood.

He looked away and dropped his gaze. “I had to
protect you,” he answered barely audibly.

“And you did,” she choked out, suddenly stepping
into his arms. She threw her own around him and held him tightly, pressing her
cheek to his chest. “You nearly gave your life for me.”

He could feel her shaking as he wrapped his arms
around her.

“God, Trevor, I’m so ashamed of myself that I ever
judged you,” she whispered in a voice half-strangled with emotion. “I realize
now I’ve never even
seen
the kind of evil you’ve
been fighting all your life.”

“I don’t ever want you to see it. You shouldn’t
have to. That’s the whole point of what I do. Used to do,” he corrected himself
in a low tone, still amazed at her reaction.

She pulled back to fix him with an earnest, artless
gaze. “You are a hero, Trevor, whether you like the term or not.”

He stared at her. “If you say so.” Then he
hesitated. The answer to his only question seemed obvious, but he had to hear it
out loud for himself. “You can . . . accept me, then?”

“I adore you!” she answered vehemently. Then she
reached up and cupped his cheek with anguished tenderness. “Oh, my love, thank
you for all you’ve done. Not just for me, tonight. But for all of us.”

That simple whisper coming from her meant more to
him than all the pomp and circumstance the Regent had forced on the Order at
Westminster Abbey a few months ago.

Here and now, it all meant something, finally. With
Grace in his arms.