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T he guards flanked Adrian, their hold on his upper arms nudging him forward. He glanced both ways as he stepped through the door, along the alley that ran behind the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court. It struck him then that despite the impossibility of helping him escape, he’d somehow expected to find Murry, perhaps even Samantha, charging toward him, brandishing pistols in a futile attempt to save him.

Yet the alley was empty, utterly silent, as though what transpired here wasn’t important enough for the world to stop and take notice.

“Come on,” the guard to his right grunted, pulling on Adrian’s arm. “In you get.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not being in a hurry,” Adrian told him even as he complied.

He placed his foot on the carriage’s step and reached up with his bound hands, grabbing hold of the doorframe to haul himself upward. Kicking off the ground with his other leg helped add momentum. A bit too much, as it turned out, since he stumbled inside and fell to one knee.

Both guards laughed. Bloody bastards. A dull ache pulsed from the point of contact. The carriage swayed as one of the guards climbed in behind him.

A fist grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him upward. “Have a seat.”

Adrian scrambled to his feet and was promptly shoved onto the backward facing bench. The guards took their seats opposite him, their smirks making him wish he had the freedom to give them the pummeling they deserved.

“I’ll see you on the scaffold, Croft.” Kendrick’s voice snagged Adrian’s attention. He glanced toward the chief constable, who stood outside the carriage, one hand on the still-open door. Their eyes met for the briefest second before Kendrick turned to the guards. “Keep your eyes on him at all times.”

The older of the two guards grunted his agreement and then the door was slammed shut. Something clicked, no doubt a lock. A partially obscured view through the carriage window showed Kendrick stepping back. The carriage pulled into motion and Kendrick slid from Adrian’s view.

Leaning back, Adrian closed his eyes to block out the guards. They were the last thing he wanted to spend his final moments focusing on. Instead, he enjoyed the gentle sway from the carriage, the sound of hooves clopping along the ground, while allowing his thoughts to return to more pleasant times.

He thought of his sister, Evie. Of the innocent delight she’d found in the simplest of things. How ecstatic she’d been to taste her first ice, the joy with which she’d approached her debut, the sparkle in her eyes when Edward would come to call.

Edward. The truest friend any man could ever wish for. Even though Adrian knew his actions – killing Benjamin Lawrence – must have tested Edward’s moral principles, he’d stood by him until the end. More than that, he’d brought him food and clothing, had ensured he was well taken care of.

With Evie dead and Adrian about to follow her into the afterlife, Adrian worried for his friend’s sanity. The grief he’d be forced to fight his way through would be awful.

Aware of this, Adrian had penned a note to the Duke of Eldridge. A favor, he hoped the man would be willing to grant him.

Please make sure Marsdale survives this, for alas, I fear he may not.

Eldridge would know what to do, how to step in and provide support. His sons would help. And with the Season soon at a close, it would be more important than ever. If they could get Edward to join them at their country estate for a while, it would surely provide him the company he would require in order to move on.

The carriage bounced over uneven ground, the hard wooden bench and backing jarring Adrian’s body. This vehicle wasn’t designed for comfort. It did not possess the cushioned squabs found in upper-class carriages. Or even in hackneys.

Inhaling sharply to fight the discomfort, Adrian blocked out the unhappy grunts from the guards and tried to visualize something pleasant. A memory rose to the front of his mind, of sitting astride his horse, right at the edge of the dunes near Deerhaven Park. His gaze sweeping the shore, white peaks forming against the rolling waves. A gentle breeze brushing his cheeks, the smell of salt in the air, and sunshine kissing his face.

This was where he’d envisioned settling down, in a modest cottage placed somewhere along the coastline. Yes, the winters would likely be brutal, winds whipping against the walls, but the view and the chance to stride along that empty beach would be glorious.

It was what he’d planned for himself and for Evie. Until Edward worked up the courage to ask for her hand. But of course, that was before…

His throat tightened at the reminder of what had happened to his beloved sister, how her death had altered the course of his existence and his hope of stepping away from the life he’d inherited from his father.

A new vision started emerging. The image of a blonde woman formed with increased clarity until he had no choice but to face her.

Samantha.

The woman he’d taken to wife. She’d woven a web with her sweetness and made him her prey. Yet she’d risked her life to save his. Had given up information on Harlowe, on the plan to annihilate Adrian.

No other woman had made him feel as she did. As though he could conquer the world. But what if her words of affection, the support she’d provided, that passionate glow in her eyes when she looked at him were all staged?

He still wasn’t sure if she had betrayed him in earnest. Kendrick had offered no clue as to whether or not she’d deliberately led him to Miss Fontaine’s lodgings. If she’d handed him the chance to arrest Adrian for murder.

All he had was Edward’s suggestion that she was attempting to help him. And the note Shaw had produced. Written in Samantha’s hand, it had asked him to take the measures required to keep the authorities out of Croft House. But she could have done so to help the servants. Or possibly Isak.

Whatever work she’d done on Kendrick’s behalf, whatever her feelings for Adrian, there was no doubt in his mind that she genuinely cared for that boy and would worry about abandoning him. As she would have had to do when she went on the run from the law.

The carriage wheels clattered against the stones paving the street, the quick forward gait closing the gap between Adrian and the Old Bailey with unnerving swiftness. He wasn’t ready for this, but maybe the judgement against him was right. Maybe he did deserve to pay with his life for what he had done.

Not just to Benjamin Lawrence, but to Clive Newton, to the thugs Lord Stanton had sent after him, to numerous others whom he or his father had thought unfit to live. All had been villainous bastards. But did that give him the right to kill them?

He’d certainly thought so at the time. Had rationalized each death either as an act of defense, or as punishment for having hurt those he loved. There was no doubt in his mind that his actions had saved lives. Because the men he’d killed had not really been men at all, had they? They’d been something else entirely, born from a dark pit in hell and possessing a twisted distinction between right and wrong.

But maybe he could have handed them over to Bow Street. Allowed the legal system to take the right course. It was a possible path he’d examined repeatedly over the years. More so in the last couple of days.

Each time he went over it, the conclusion was the same. Those men had gotten precisely what they deserved. And if he had to pay the price for that now, then so be it.

The carriage slowed before turning right, continuing onward at a more moderate pace before coming to a gradual halt. Adrian drew a deep breath. This was it. They’d arrived. He briefly wondered at the lack of excited cries from those who’d come to watch him swing.

Opening his eyes, he saw that the guards appeared to share his surprise, their brows creased as they leaned forward to look out the windows on either side.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the younger of the two guards professed. “There’s a building on this side of the carriage.”

“On my side too,” said the older guard. “Looks like we’ve stopped in the middle of the street.”

“Could something be blocking the road?”

“I suppose…”

The older guard reached for the pistol strapped to his chest, but failed to retrieve the weapon before the door was flung open.

“I suggest you abandon all notion of trying to use that,” Samantha said, her fierce gaze fixed not only on the old guard but on his younger colleague as well. The pair of pistols she aimed at their heads added weight to her words. She directed her next comment to the large man behind her. “Would you please relieve them of their weapons?”

Outrage flooded the older guard’s features. “Now see here…”

Samantha stepped closer and pulled back the hammers on both of her pistols. “You were saying?”

The older guard ground his teeth, anger burning in his hard eyes. His colleague, however, looked increasingly wary as he shrank against the side of the carriage.

Samantha jerked her head sideways, a silent order for Murry to do as she asked. He threw a quick grin in Adrian’s direction as he climbed into the carriage. The vehicle tilted slightly beneath his added weight, his size crowding the space as he plucked the guards’ pistols out of their holsters.

“You risk your own neck by helping this man,” the older guard said, his voice dripping with bitter contempt.

“I know,” Murry told him, confirming the sacrifice he was prepared to make. Both guards gaped at him in surprise, until Murry leaned toward them, his hands going straight to their throats.

“No…Don—” The younger guard twisted, eyes bulging with fear as Murry held him in place, fingers curling around his neck. The older guard fought with his hands, but in the end, both men went limp.

“Toss me the rope,” Murry called as he pulled out a blade and proceeded to slice through Adrian’s restraints. The rope landed on the carriage floor within the next second. Murry raised his gaze to Adrian’s, the urgency there profound. “We don’t have much time. Help me restrain them, will you?”

Adrian did as Murry suggested. His valet had not killed either guard. Both would live, but tying them up would prevent them from sounding the alarm anytime soon. The two drivers were similarly restrained immediately after and placed in the cabin together with the guards. All were gagged for extra measure before being locked inside.

Noting the lack of traffic nearby, Adrian reckoned it would be a while before anyone came to these men’s rescue.

“Hurry up.” Samantha’s urgent command snapped Adrian to attention. He jogged after her with Murry at his side until they reached a different carriage.

Adrian barely had time to register Turner and Ward, who manned the driver’s block, before he was climbing into the vehicle. Samantha scrambled onto the seat beside him, followed by Murry who dropped to the opposite bench. The door slammed shut and the carriage set off, hooves and carriage wheels rumbling as they took flight.

Only then did Adrian dare to consider what had transpired. A rescue. Spearheaded by his wife and his valet. They’d come for him after all. When he’d resigned himself to his fate – lost faith in the chance that he might be saved – they’d done the impossible.

His hands, he realized, were shaking. His arms and legs too. And while he knew he wasn’t completely free yet – that he still had to get clear of the City – at least there was hope.

He gasped on his next inhalation, his heart pounding with fear, disbelief, and excitement.

“Here. You look like you need this.” A flask was pushed into his hands by Samantha.

He raised it to his lips and allowed the exquisite taste of his favorite brandy to pour down his throat. Merciful heavens. He’d never been so damn grateful before.

“Thank you,” he rasped, emotion causing an unpleasant burn in his eyes. “Both of you. I… To be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Just to be clear,” Samantha whispered, her voice as strained as his, “I would have gone to my grave trying to get you out of this mess.”

He gulped down a breath, his fingers finding hers, twining with them as he dropped his gaze toward her. “Samantha, I—”

“You’re my husband.” A burst of impassioned reasoning on her lips. Her eyes glistened as she tipped her head back and met his gaze. “I know you’ve doubted me since the arrest. The way it played out didn’t paint me in the best light, but I swear to you, Adrian, I wasn’t working against you.”

“I believe you,” he said, knowing how difficult this must have been for her too, having to live with his doubt, unsure if she’d ever be able to prove that her heart was true.

Her fingers squeezed his as a single tear pushed its way past her lashes and onto her cheek. “You are my everything, Adrian. There are no lengths I would not go to for you.”

“I feel the same about you,” he told her hoarsely while registering Murry’s sudden interest in the view.

Samantha stared at Adrian, her eyes locked with his, the slight parting of lips suggesting there might be something more on her mind. Hesitation flickered upon her face, warring with some other kind of emotion. Hope and…apprehension?

Uncertainty pulled him under once more. Fighting the unpleasant feeling, he set his palm against her cheek, swiped her tear away with his thumb. “What is it?”

“Just that…” Desperation caused additional tears to well in her eyes. “Hell and damnation. It’s just that I love you so bloody much and—”

His mouth met hers, crashing over her lips, silencing her with the force of his kiss as he wound his arms around her and pulled her close. “I love you too, Samantha. In fact, I have for some time.”

“Me too.”

When he pulled back to meet her gaze, his features were strained with emotion. “How long are we talking?”

“Honestly?” When he pressed his forehead to hers and echoed the word in a whisper she told him, “Since that blasted field. When you kissed me for the first time.”

A smile pulled at his lips as joy rippled through him, banishing all lingering hints of anguish or dread. “Good.”

He leaned back and drew her against his side – or would have done so had she not twisted away. She turned to him, brows raised. “Good?”

A chuckle, the first in several days, rumbled against his chest. “I fell for you at the same exact time.”

“You…” Shock widened her eyes. She sent a quick glance at Murry whose nose was now pressed up against the window. Had he been able to escape the cabin right now, there was no doubt in Adrian’s mind he would have. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why didn’t you,” he challenged.

She merely crossed her arms in answer and sat back against the squabs, allowed him to pull her against his side and drop an adoring kiss to the top of her head.

Christ, how he loved her. For her fearlessness and relentless perseverance. For brazenly ensuring his freedom. For the fire that burned in her gaze. No other woman would go to the lengths she had. None other would have his heart.

He expelled a breath and allowed the enormity of what had happened expand his lungs on his next inhalation.

She’d come for him.

She and Murry both, along with Turner and Ward, who were presently steering the carriage onto the eastbound road that would take them in the direction of Bath.

Although they would probably only stop to change the horses, Adrian looked forward to the moment when he could be alone with his wife. Because now that he knew she felt as he did, he could not wait to start begging forgiveness for losing faith in her loyalty. One smoldering kiss at a time.