Page 20 of Captured by the Earl (The Secret Crusaders #2)

CHAPTER 20

L ondon Society News, Special Edition printed during Lord Colesworth’s masquerade:

As night falls, secrets loom in the sea of masked guests. The disguise of the rescuer has been spotted in numerous guests, in some clearly falsely, yet in others, far more plausible. Is the rescuer hiding amidst the shadows?

One lord’s presence is already proven. Of course, I speak of Lord Lawrence, Lady Emma’s father. With his return, the other mystery of the season can finally come to a climax. Will tonight be the night Lady Emma and Lord Peyton finally enter a true betrothal?

Will there be a reveal and a betrothal?

It was him.

She’d recognize him anywhere, know that silhouette in light or shadow. The tall and commanding body, the chiseled features, the intrinsic power he carried like a deadly weapon. The outline was the same, every movement just right. Among so many dressed as one, he was the true rescuer.

Following Peyton had proved more arduous than anticipated. While Emma loved the newfound popularity of her position, it presented quite the detriment when one wanted to silently slink across a ballroom. She was stopped no less than half a dozen times, by people of all stations. Of course, she could not lose the opportunity to influence the vote, even as she strove to keep Peyton in her sights.

Peyton was even more popular, yet somehow, he managed to stay clear of entanglement, save for a short conversation with Lady Drummond. By the time she was free, he had disappeared. She then spotted Stanton, without a disguise, before he also vanished in the crush.

A few minutes later, the rescuer appeared.

It had to be Stanton. Who else possessed the right build, the right opportunity, the right personality? That he was a hero was fantastic, perfect in any way.

Yet why did it feel so wrong?

She gave herself a shake. This was no time for doubts. The rescuer did not talk or dance, instead standing quietly near the hideous Lord Trenton, watching the crowd. Suddenly his eyes narrowed, as for just a moment he betrayed emotion. Fury.

Next to him, the men drifted away. Now the rescuer stared directly at their backs, as he pushed himself from the wall and trailed them. They slipped through a door. He followed.

This time, she didn’t hesitate, as she strode as fast as she dared. When Lady Constance took a step toward her, she gave an apologetic smile, but did not stop. She slipped through the same door.

Her rescuer was striding to the end of a long hallway; he disappeared through another door a second later. Lord Trenton and his group were nowhere to be seen as she trekked down a hall with fewer and fewer people. The last time she raced through a ball, she had been prey, yet now she was predator.

Of course, it was not the same man.

She crept soundlessly through the hallway and finally reached the door, through which the rescuer had disappeared. Judging by the layout of the hall, it appeared to lead to some sort of room. Once she opened it, there would be no way to remain undetected.

She should turn around. Leave and never look back. The rescuer was a hero, possibly a spy, chasing unknown dangers. Yet this was her chance to confirm his identity. If she didn’t take this opportunity, it may never come again.

She opened the door.

The sole inhabitant of the chamber stood flush against a wall. He turned the moment she entered, his pose of challenge and control, power and strength. Their gazes locked, and in that instant prey became predator, predator became prey. Then he was moving toward her, reaching out…

Taken.

She gasped as he lifted her easily off the ground. Yet instincts commanded her to remain silent, even as he whisked her to the shadows on the far side of the room, trapping her between him and the wall. He placed her down, yet towered above her, dominating her entire field of vision as his eyes blazed fire. His features lay hidden underneath the thick disguise, but it didn’t matter.

She knew who he was.

When he spoke his voice was hushed, urgent. “What are you doing here?”

A thousand responses formed, some excuses, others explanations, all meant to postpone the inevitable. She closed her eyes, fought for clarity. And in the end, the simple truth emerged. “I know your identity.”

A slight stiffening belied his control. “Is that so?”

She swallowed. He never seemed so intense, or so dangerous. “I won’t tell anyone. On the contrary, I have something to share with you.”

This was it. The perfect time to reveal the truth, to share the knowledge that would forever change lives. She opened her mouth to tell him what she knew about the past, what she saw in the future. Yet nothing emerged.

And that’s when everything came into sudden, clear focus.

She wasn’t in love with this man. The possibility that she was, or could ever be, vanished like a shadow in the sun. She couldn’t be with Stanton because she loved another.

Peyton.

She had fought it. Ignored it. Pushed it aside. Yet no amount of effort could erase emotions wrought by true love. She loved everything about him, his kindness and strength, his intelligence and wit, his pure goodness. She wanted to spend her days laughing with him, and her nights wrapped in his arms.

Despite the obstacles, she had to fight.

“You know who I am.” The low voice garnered her attention. “Please share.”

This time there was no hesitation and no delay. She raised her chin. “It is no longer necessary. I will not betray your identity. No one will learn your secret from me.”

He stared at her with unyielding eyes, hidden in the shadows. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

She smiled. “I thought there was, but turns out, it wasn’t you.” She stood tall. “I have to go. I have a betrothal to arrange – a real one.” Without waiting for a response, she turned to the door. Yet she stopped as voices emerged from the hallway.

Her smile widened as she waited for the group to pass. It would not do for someone to see her emerge from a private room. A man laughed.

Stanton?

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Yet as the earl’s unmistakable timbre accompanied the voice, all denials shattered. No one else spoke like that, not even close.

If Stanton was in the hallway, who was with her?

She pivoted slowly, moving through air thickened with uncertainty. The masked man stood in the shadows, his features as indistinguishable as ever. “You’re not Stanton,” she whispered.

His nod was so slight it was barely perceptible.

“But if you’re not him, then who–”

Reality shattered.

And the world, once foggy and unclear, came totally into focus.

“Peyton?” she breathed.

It was an answer, not a question, the truth, not the search for one. As every puzzle piece snapped into place, reality shone bright and clear.

She gasped for breath, in a world turned awry. “But how?”

He stood stoic.

“All this time, you were the rescuer. You let me believe…” She put her hand to her lips. “I trusted you.”

“Emma.” He stepped forward. “I can explain, but you must be quiet.”

“How can I be quiet?” Yet she kept her voice low, for the risk of being caught was as real, and consequential, as ever. A real betrothal had been her goal mere moments ago, yet everything had changed.

Everything but her love.

Did it even matter now? If he kept this from her, what else did he hide? Was every rescue, every moment she’d seen him – as the rescuer and the lord – a lie? “That morning you saved me from those brigands, were you following me?”

He hesitated.

“Of course you were,” she breathed. “And you were right there when the boy was hanging off the building. But when we were in the country, I saw you go to your room–” She stopped. “The tunnels. It was purposeful, to make me believe it couldn’t be you. You invited Stanton, but you didn’t expect him.”

She closed her eyes as everything came to a painful clarity. “How could you claim to want a real marriage when you’ve kept everything from me?” She gestured to the room. “Why are you even here? I thought you were done with disguises.”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“I don’t need details,” she bit out. “Just some part of the actual Lord Peyton, a hint of who you truly are.”

Underneath the disguise, his features tightened. “I can’t put someone I care about in danger. Not again.”

His lost love. Even as she softened, she fought for strength. If she capitulated, she would lose everything. “I fight for causes important to me, stand up for those without a voice. I need someone who is honest about who he is and how he feels.”

That was it. Her demands and needs, what every woman deserved. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink, or even breathe. If he felt as she did, perhaps a chance existed.

He took a step toward her…

And stopped. “I have shared what I can.” He pierced her with his brilliant amber gaze. “I cannot risk losing you.”

“That is unfortunate,” Unshed tears blurred her eyes. “Because you just did.”

Without a word more, she ran to the door, half expecting him to follow, entirely hoping he would. Yet he stayed still as she turned the cool golden knob, entered the hallway. Now the tears flowed freely, blinding her as she raced down the hall, away from the rescuer, away from Peyton and the betrothal that was never real.

She turned a corner and collided with someone massive. “I’m so sorry, sir. I–”

The world went black.

Blast it!

How had he made so many mistakes? Donning a disguise, permitting Emma to disrupt his focus, allowing her to discover the truth. Now he couldn’t even follow her, with the criminals next door crafting their evil plans. He had barely started eavesdropping when she burst through the door, a fury of female power, proclaiming she knew all. Yet even as he strode back to the wall, Emma remained his focus.

Where was she going? How did she feel? What would she do?

She wouldn’t reveal his secret. That she was a woman of her word was only one of the things he loved about her–

Wait, what?

Love?

For a man who investigated every clue, noticed every detail, he had been blind. Or perhaps he had known all along, yet simply couldn’t accept it. And now?

Pure love.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he allowed himself to simply feel. It was extraordinary. Stunning. All-encompassing. Constrained by no walls, the depths of his feelings shattered everything. It was why he’d been so desperate to keep her, why he couldn’t let her go.

Emma was everything to him.

He could not put her in danger, but perhaps he could share a little of himself, the feelings that drove him. But first…

He edged closer to the wall, pressing his ear against its smooth surface, yet only silence greeted him. Perhaps Trenton had heard their voices and went in search of more private quarters, or they had finished their scheming and were now on their way to conduct their evil plan.

He ran to the door, peering out to confirm the hall was empty before swinging it open. He marched down the hall, turned a corner and almost ran into several servants carrying a large rolled up tapestry. Looking down at the ground, they mumbled apologies. He nodded and continued to the ballroom.

If the masquerade had been bustling before, now it was an absolute crush. Disguised lords and ladies danced and conversed, eating and drinking to endless excess. Emma was nowhere to be found, and neither were Lord Trenton nor his men. He searched methodically, yet after countless minutes, hadn’t caught even a glimpse of his betrothed. Bradenton and Priscilla hadn’t seen her, and even Alexander was unaware of her whereabouts. The spymaster promised to gather a few men and start a search on the outside.

This was not good. Trenton had planned to kidnap a lady. They had been in the room next door.

What if he had taken her?

Laughing sounded in the corner, and he turned to see Emma’s parents. He hadn’t wanted to confront them until later, but if they could help locate their daughter, it was worth the effort. “Lord and Lady Lawrence, a pleasure as always.” He bowed, lifting his mask.

“Peyton, so wonderful to see you. Excellent costume, by the way. I believe it’s the most authentic I’ve seen.”

“No doubt.”

Lady Lawrence smiled, but it faded into a frown. “Emma seems to have disappeared. My sister was supposed to be watching her, but she got distracted by the refreshment table.” She grimaced, yet no real concern lurked behind it. “It’s probably nothing.”

Unless it was something. Or someone .

Yet he showed none of his concern. “I am certain she’s off with some of the ladies.”

“Of course.” The countess beamed.

“When you find her, please bring her to us.” The earl looked him up and down. “We have much to discuss.”

“I look forward to it.”

Yet his instincts roared a warning as he walked away. He never should have let her leave. Had she been seen? Kidnapped? Had they truly smuggled an unwilling woman out of a crowded party?

He quickened his stride, the world blurring as he retraced his steps. He reached the hall, and then the corner where he almost ran into the men with the tapestry…

The tapestry.

He froze, turned back to study the now empty hallway. Why would servants be moving a tapestry in the middle of the party? Memories conjured clues he had missed, mumbling men wearing ill-fitting clothing. Lord Colesworth would never have tolerated such slovenly dress in his meticulous staff. Unless they weren’t servants at all.

And that tapestry hadn’t simply been a tapestry.

He bolted into motion. He sprinted down the hall, and then another, growling as he reached a dead end. He retraced his steps, chose a different path. If he didn’t find her soon, they may spirit her away, never to be seen again.

And his world would be destroyed.

He was almost at the back of the home. Voices drifted through the air, but he didn’t stop. There at the end of the hallway, poised before an open door, were the men from earlier, with the tapestry still balanced between them.

The tapestry moved.

His vision turned red. They looked up as he approached, holding out their hands. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“What is going on here?” Lord Trenton walked in, took one look at Peyton, and stopped.

He reached into his pocket…

And pulled out a gun.