The Rogue Prince (26 page)

“Do you know where Shefford might have taken Lady Blackmore's children?”

“I have a fair idea,” the man said.

“Let's go, then.”

“Hawkins,” Maggie said as calmly as she could, “please wait here for Tessa and Mathers to come back. I'll get word to you as soon as we know anything.”

“Maggie,” said Thomas, “it would be best if you stayed—”

But she hurried past him to the carriage, wholly uninterested in waiting for word of her family. Fortunately, Thomas did not argue.

 

Tom felt stunned, not just because of the situation with the children.

Maggie knew who he was. And yet she had not exposed him. Perhaps his true identity was
the reason she had decided not to continue their affair.

Ollie jumped down from the carriage and let down the steps for her. She climbed into the carriage, and the sight of her tear-streaked face exposed the triviality of Tom's schemes and plans. Nothing mattered but Maggie, and getting her children back from Shefford.

Tom took his seat beside her and pulled her close as the carriage began to move. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “We have no reason to think Shefford will hurt the children.”

“You haven't seen him these past few days,” she said. “He's desperate. And it's made him ruthless.”

“Aye. I'm sorry. I'm at fault.”

She gazed up at him, and he wiped a tear from her face. But she did not contradict him.

The carriage picked up speed, and as Tom looked out the window, he was relieved to note that they were going in the opposite direction of the Waterloo Bridge. At least there would be no repetition of Shefford's previous depravity.

“Where are we going?”

“I'm not sure. But Harland knows Shefford well.”

“I don't understand. How would your footman—”

“Maggie, you know who I am. You know why I've come to England.”

She gave a shaky nod.

“Harland is one of my men. He took a post as one of Shefford's footmen and learned all his
haunts.” He didn't want to say anything more, for Maggie's face was pale enough, and her features tight with worry. He didn't want her to know what he'd already learned about her brother.

He felt her shudder. “Where? Where are they?”

“We'll be there soon.” They were heading east, so he assumed it would be Shefford's club's meeting place, somewhere near Whitechapel. Maggie would certainly never know to look for him there.

The ride was interminably long, and Maggie said nothing more. It was no time for any further explanations, and Tom had to content himself with holding her as they rode at breakneck speed through the busy streets.

The carriage finally slowed and Tom opened the door before it even had a chance to come to a complete stop. Harland jumped down and came to Tom while Ollie tied the horses.

“I had Ollie stop a ways back from the building,” said Harland as Tom exited the carriage. “Shefford's meeting place is just there.”

Maggie stepped down behind Tom, and started in the direction of the five-story building Harland indicated. Tom grabbed her.

“Wait.”

“If my children are there, I'm—”

“Maggie. Sweetheart, it's not going to work,” said Tom. His heart felt as though it was about to burst. He hadn't felt this kind of fear since he'd been arrested seventeen years before. And Shefford had been responsible then, too. “Shefford isn't
going to listen to you. He went far past that point when he took Zachary and Lily.”

“But I—”

He took her hands in his. “Please trust me. You must believe you can't, but…” He swallowed. “It means more than anything to me to get the children back. Let me handle this.”

He did not breathe until she gave a slow nod, her eyes watering and her mouth quivering in anguish. He pulled her close and gave her a quick hug, then released her and handed her into the carriage. He started to move quickly, with Ollie and Harland behind him, in single file. They stayed close to the shop fronts so that Shefford wouldn't be able to see them if he happened to look out one of the grimy windows.

He didn't like leaving Maggie alone, but he hoped it would not be for long.

“Here, lad,” he said to a youth passing by. He showed him a coin. “I've got another just like it if you will find a constable and bring him back here.”

“Yes, sir!” said the boy as he ran off to do Tom's bidding.

“Ollie, you take the back. Harland, you and I will go in through the front.”

As they got closer, Tom heard the familiar wailing of a small child.
Lily!
It was all he could do to keep from storming the front door and pulling Maggie's daughter from Shefford's contemptible possession.

“That cry sounded like it was coming from an upper floor,” said Harland.

Ollie entered the vacant building next door and made his way to the back, while Tom and Harland went to Shefford's front door. Getting inside was going to be easier with Shefford on an upper floor, but Tom didn't know how they could possibly get up the stairs without alerting him to their presence. With any luck, Lily would keep up her crying and mask any sound they made.

“Is he likely to have a weapon?”

Harland stilled. “They do like their pistols,” he said, “but I never knew Shefford to carry one except during his club jaunts. A knife, perhaps.”

Tom swore under his breath. It should have been relatively simple to rush the stairs and grab the children. Now he had to worry that the bastard might shoot somebody. “Come on. There's nothing we can do about it.”

There was a sudden crash far above them, and then a mad scrabbling on the stairs. Tom hurried to the staircase when he heard Zachary's scream, and started his race up the stairs. Shefford must be carrying Lily and somehow dragging Zac up the steps in order to move so quickly. But they were not on the second floor.

“We've got to get to them before they reach the roof!” he said to Harland as they took the steps two at a time. He didn't want to think about the danger if he managed to get the children up there.

A door slammed on the topmost floor, and when Tom reached it, he was unable to open it.

“Shefford, I know you're inside. Send the children out!”

“You!” called Shefford's voice from within. “You're the cause of all this—”

“Thorne!” Zachary screamed. “We're in here!”

Tom felt his heart beating in his throat. “Don't worry, Zachary, I've come for you.”

Tom signaled to Harland, and on the quiet count of three, they threw their shoulders into the door and smashed it open.

Zachary ran to him instantly, but Shefford held Lily in one hand. And a half-cocked pistol in the other.

M
aggie could not spend another moment sitting blindly in Thomas's carriage. Of course she trusted him to rescue her children. She'd seen his heartfelt distress over his part in their abduction, and knew that there was something more. Something she was afraid to define.

But she could not sit still a minute longer. She clambered out of the carriage without assistance, and hurried to the derelict shop Thomas's footman had indicated. The door of the building was open, but Maggie saw no one inside. She crossed the threshold and heard some distant sounds from above.

When she realized it was the sound of Lily's crying, she forgot all caution and hastened up the stairs, praying all the while that Shefford would not hurt her little girl. Lily was not at fault…nor was Thomas. If Shefford had not been such a scoundrel all his life, he wouldn't have left his swath of justifiably angry casualties. He deserved everything Thomas had planned for him.

But not at the cost of her children's well-being.

Lily suddenly stopped crying, and there was complete silence at the top of the stairs until she heard Thomas's voice. It was tense, edgy. “Put down the pistol, Shefford. Don't make your situation any worse than it is.”

Shefford had a pistol?
Maggie's heart stopped. Somehow, she managed to creep up the last few steps and saw Thomas standing in the doorway with his footman, with Zachary right behind him. Protected. Safe.

But Lily!
Where was Lily?

Maggie held her breath. As much as she wanted to grab Zachary and take him away, she was afraid that any move might distract Thomas, or make Shefford act rashly.

And she couldn't flee without Lily and Thomas!

She moved stealthily up to the landing, and managed to see into the room without alerting Shefford to her presence. But the sight of her whimpering daughter struggling to get out of Shefford's arms was nearly too much. Her little daughter was so close to that pistol.

Maggie clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Tears filled her eyes as Thomas took a step forward.

“Put the gun down, Shefford. It's over.”

“You might be some potentate from God knows where, but you have no power here!” Shefford ground out through gritted teeth.

“And I will be leaving soon. You don't have to put your horse up against mine. I concede.”

“What? You concede the race? The forty thousand pounds?”

“For Lily? Of course. Do not endanger the child, Shefford.” His voice was so calm, so even, while Maggie's knees were knocking and her hands trembling with fear.
The gun was pointed directly at the man she loved.

“Think of it. Forty thousand pounds, just to hand her over to me.”

“Why should I believe you?”

He moved forward another step. “Because I'm no rogue. I'm a man of my word.”

“Fifty,” Shefford said, and Maggie nearly screamed. “I'll need fifty.”

“Hand over the girl, Shefford.” He took another step closer and Lily lunged just then, grabbing for Thomas, and setting Shefford off balance. Thomas took her and lowered her to the ground so quickly, Maggie could hardly see what happened next.

Thomas moved suddenly to the right, his footman to the left. Shefford had a moment's confusion, giving Thomas an opportunity to take hold of his wrist. At the same time, he smashed Shefford back against the wall as the footman tried to seize the gun. But it discharged, the ball shattering the window behind him.

The children shrieked and Maggie gathered them in her arms while Thomas drew back his fist and punched Shefford's face, bloodying his nose.

Shefford sank to the floor.

“I'll swear a warrant against you within the hour, Sabedorian!” Shefford rasped, his eyes tearing.

“Not before you are indicted on murder charges, Marquess. Your life is over.”

 

The satisfaction Tom felt in seeing an outraged Shefford in shackles was outweighed by the precious weight of Lily in his arms and the tight clasp of Zachary's small hand in his. Nothing mattered more than the safety and well-being of Maggie's children.

It took an interminable length of time, and was quite late by the time the warrants had been sworn and it had been decided what to do with a murderous marquess. The charges against him were so heinous that the lord mayor himself had been notified of the situation. There was little doubt that Shefford would hang for his part in the murder of the poor child whose body had been found earlier in the day.

The children were asleep when they arrived at Delamere House, and as Tom carried Zachary inside, Nurse Hawkins brought Lily. They found a suitable set of rooms for the children and their nurse, and once they'd settled in, Tom took Maggie to his own bedchamber.

He'd barely shut the door when she collapsed in his arms. He carried her to a chair and sat down, keeping her in his lap. She clutched him desperately, and he felt her quake as she wept, her tears drenching his shirtfront. “Hush, love. It's all right. Everything is all right now.”

She looked up at him through her tears. “They were so horrid to you. All those years ago, Shefford
and Julian…And all because of me, because of my clumsiness.”

“Don't think of it now. It's behind us.”

“How can you say that?” she whispered. “You helped me, and they decided to punish you for it.”

He took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to its palm. “God, I've missed you.”

Still, she wept quietly. “I didn't know what they'd done until weeks later.”

“And now? When did you recognize me?”

“Just this afternoon.” She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “I was thinking about how hateful Shefford could be, and I remembered the incident.” She covered her mouth as though she felt ill. The evening had surely taken its toll, but Tom could see that she was far from settling down.

“Was
Redbush
going to expose me in the newspapers?”

She shook her head. “No. I would never do that to you.”

He let out a long, deep breath. He hadn't believed she would, but it felt good to hear her say it.

“You ought to despise me.”

“Despise you?” He pulled her close and held her tightly. “I'm in love with you, Maggie. I could nev—”

“Oh Thomas, I love you, too,” she cried, looking up at him. “I was a fool to think I could ever end it…”

He kissed her then, and Maggie slid her hands up his shoulders, then twined them into the hair at his nape. He groaned and deepened the contact.
He'd had no idea how full his heart could be, and how little his revenge mattered, compared to what he felt for this woman.

“You know then, that nothing is as I told it,” he said when he could force himself to break the kiss. “Not Sabedoria, not my royal blood…All of it is a sham.”

She nodded. “It doesn't matter. I love you, Tom Thorne.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “Come home with me, Maggie. Marry me. Be my wife.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “There's nothing I want more.”

Tom smiled at her tears. He would make sure she had no reason to weep once they departed for Thorne's Gate.

 

Maggie awoke in stages. Hardly aware of the cozy softness of the mattress under her or the warmth of the room, she felt Thomas's arms tighten around her and the press of his long, solid body behind her. She felt his breath on her shoulder, ruffling her hair, and his firm erection against her bottom.

She turned in his arms and looked at him, at the perfect green of his eyes and the thick lashes that bracketed them.
Good morning
was far too pallid an expression for what she felt.

She skimmed her hands up his chest, and slid one of her thighs between his legs. He made a low growl and kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and nipping her lightly. “I want you,” he rasped.

She was more than ready for him, and when the kiss turned more demanding, Maggie moved over him, taking control. Impassioned, she pinned him beneath her, even though she knew he could change their positions in an instant.

His fingers wandered down her back, and cupped her bottom as she raised up and lowered herself onto him. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation of his hard length inside her.

“Maggie, sweet Maggie,” he whispered, and began to move, sliding in and out in a slow melding of their bodies and souls.

She looked at him then, their eyes locking as her body gripped his intimately. “I love you,” he said.

The intensity of his gaze matched the strength of his movements. He stroked her, grinding against her in a primal rhythm that marked her forever. He moved slowly, teasing her by entering and withdrawing at a purposeful pace. She writhed toward him, needing, feeling—Wanting more.

Her heart was about to burst. “Fast, Thomas. Take me fast!”

All at once he obliged her, causing her abrupt release, an unending spasm of sensation, of pleasure so intense she felt tears building in her eyes. Their bond was sealed when he flexed within her at the same time, tightening his grip on her as he came. Maggie trembled, her mind and body a tumult of emotion.

Still joined, she lay against his chest as their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal. The top of her head fit just below his jaw,
and she shivered when he skated one hand up her back and cupped the back of her head.

“We will marry today,” he said, turning them so that they faced each other, resting on their sides.

Maggie's heart could not have been more full. But there were complications. She touched his mouth, then ran a hand down his whiskered jaw. The law would not allow them to marry on such short notice, but it did not matter. She would wait until they reached their destination, the home she would share with him.

 

After Thomas met with his solicitor, Maggie met his parents. They were a fine, gracious couple from Suffolk, who seemed genuinely pleased when Thomas introduced her as his fiancée, and delighted by her children. She cringed at the knowledge of all they must have gone through when Shefford and Julian ripped their innocent son from them. It had been unconscionable.

Thomas's sister was sweet, and clearly eager to embark on their journey to America.

America
. Thomas squeezed her hand, instantly calming her nerves. He'd promised her that Zachary could return to England to claim his inheritance if he ever decided to do so. But Thomas did not think he would. He'd told her about Thorne's Gate, and insisted that once Zac saw it, he wouldn't want to leave it. None of them would.

There was to be no horse race. Maggie learned that Thomas had already sent his horses to his ships, and would be ready to sail the next day. She
had little to pack, but Randolph Redbush had one last drawing to make.

As Thomas's amused family looked on, Maggie drew a caricature of herself and Tom, standing together inside a wreath of spring flowers, and St. George's Church in the background. Not that they would wed at the popular Mayfair church, but there would be no mistaking the meaning of this picture. She drew their hands clasped together, with wedding rings distinctly drawn. All of London would know that Lady Blackmore had wed the Sabedorian prince.

The ink dried and Maggie penned a note to Mr. Brown, telling him that this would be her last caricature for
The Gazette
. She sent the picture and the note to London with one of Tom's men, asking that Mr. Brown send her earnings to Lord Ranfield. Victoria's husband would use them to reconcile the rest of Julian's debts.

When she and Thomas were finally alone, he drew her into his arms. “I've been waiting for this all morning,” he said, brushing a melting kiss across her lips. “I have a surprise for you and the children.”

She pulled back slightly. “What?”

“It's out in the barn. Let's get them and we'll go out together.”

Maggie did not let him go, but cupped his face in her hands. “Have I told you how very much I love you?”

He grinned. “Aye. But I'll never tire of hearing it, Maggie, sweet.”

Maggie didn't think she'd ever known such happiness, or simple contentment. Nothing in the world mattered besides the life she had begun with Thomas.

She started for the front staircase to fetch the children, but encountered Thomas's butler, opening the door to callers.

Maggie's heart sank. It had been unrealistic to hope she could leave England without seeing her family, but there was Beatrice, entering the house with Charlotte, Stella, and her husband, Lord Horton.

“There you are!” Beatrice said in a low, odious tone. “You traitorous girl. Do you know what you've done?”

Charlotte sneered. “Exactly what you did to Chatterton. Have you no sense of loyalty? Of responsibility?”

Maggie felt the blood rush from her head as they crowded around her.

“You can never leave well enough alone, can you?” Stella snapped while Horton merely looked on. “You are a menace.”

Beatrice grasped Maggie's arm and squeezed hard. “I told you to help Shefford, but inste—”

“Enough!”

Abruptly, Beatrice released Maggie's arm at the sound of Thomas's harsh voice, but she leveled her coldest gaze at him. “It's your fault, you…you…
foreigner!
”

Thomas positioned himself between Maggie and her family. No one had ever taken her part against
her mother before, and she nearly wept with gratitude at his intervention.

“Mr. Mickles, open the door, if you please.” Thomas turned to Beatrice. “I suggest you take your leave while you still can, Lady Shefford, before I decide to lodge a complaint against you as an accomplice to your stepson's schemes.”

Beatrice blustered with indignation. “Why, I have never been—”

“And the rest of you,” he said, shifting so that he could slide his arm around Maggie's shoulders. “You are not welcome in our home.”