Page 31 of His By Sunrise (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #3)

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A s Edwin struggled with his opponent, Charlotte’s scream of his name penetrated his brain and was audible above the sound of the rain.

It was only because of her that he’d shot the damned viscount in the shoulder instead of the chest, but he was completely done with having Danville walking around without a care in the world after everything he’d done, after everything the man had taken from him.

Including Charlotte.

But when William put his gloved hands at his throat and began squeezing, he wondered if he’d underestimated the viscount’s desperation.

No matter how much Edwin clawed at the other man’s hands, his attacker wouldn’t release his hold.

Pressure descended on him. It was difficult to breathe.

The damned rain still came down, and the smell of mud rose up to clog his nostrils.

His pulse pounded as cold fear twisted down his spine.

He kicked out, hoping to dislodge William’s grip, but to no avail, for the viscount was a bit insane, he’d wager.

Darkness danced on the edges of his vision as his strength faded.

This couldn’t be how his fucking life ended! He hadn’t had the chance to tell Charlotte how he felt about her. Hell, he wanted to skip the courtship and ask her to marry him again, for he didn’t need more time to know she had never stopped being his ideal.

“Edwin!” Charlotte screamed out his name.

Bang!

Then there was silence coupled with an immediate cease of the sensation of being strangled. He slumped onto the ground as the viscount sat nearby, howling with pain and clutching at his leg. Even in the darkness, the evidence of blood was obvious as it seeped from the side of his right thigh.

“What the hell?” His thoughts were still scattered and his brain a bit muzzy.

“Oh, Edwin, please tell me you are going to live.” Charlotte fell to her knees at his side. She put her arms around him the best she could, tugged his head and shoulders onto her lap as she stared down at him. Silvery tracks of tears dripped down her cheeks.

“Did you...” He cleared his throat. “Did you shoot him?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I had no choice; he would have killed you.”

Was it any wonder why he adored her? “You saved me.” It wasn’t a question.

She huffed. “Should we summon a physician?”

“Yes! I demand medical care.” Danville wailed. “You bitch! Why did you shoot me ? I’m so much better than Nottingham.”

They both ignored him, for what else was there to say?

Instead, Edwin stared up into the face of the woman he loved, and everything melted away. He was still here with Charlotte, and nothing else mattered. Lifting a hand, he slipped his fingertips along her cheek. “I love you.”

“I know.” Her eyes welled with tears, and those crystalline drops fell to his own cheeks. “Did you mean what you said earlier to William?”

“Which part?” He scarcely remembered as he tried to take in deep breaths.

“All of it. You’ve never stopped loving me? You want a life with me... again?”

“Yes.” When he nodded, the muscles in his neck ached, but he didn’t care. Once he’d struggled into an upright position, he slipped toward her in the muck and the mud while her father bellowed into the house, to who he didn’t know. “We’re nearly out of time.”

“Then let us go home.”

He frowned. “You are home.”

“No.” She shook her head so vigorously, a lock escaped its pins to tumble down at her shoulder.

“ Our home. The townhouse you bought in Portman Square on Orchard Street where we started our little family, where I learned just how strong I could be thanks to what you taught me when you began my carnal education.”

“Oh?” His eyes twinkled. “You wish to go home, with me?” When she nodded, he gasped. “For tonight, because of what happened here?”

“Partially, but mostly for forever.” Taking fistfuls of her skirting in hand, Charlotte struggled upward to her feet, the dainty satin slippers as ruined by the rain and mud as the gown was. “I love you too, Edwin, and I need you in my life again. Always.”

A ball of emotion stuck in his throat, for he’d waited years to hear those words from her. “Very well. Let’s go home.” He accepted the muddy hand she offered, and hefted himself to his feet. “Indeed, let’s go home. There is more to say to you.”

“What about me?” Danville screeched. “You can’t leave me here like this!”

“I think I can help in that regard.”

All three of them glanced at the newcomer, a man on the short side who wore a black greatcoat and a beaver felt top hat. He held a lantern in one gloved hand, but those intense green eyes of his were unmistakable.

“Ah, Inspector Martin. I wondered when you would arrive.” Edwin held out a muddy hand to the man, but the Bow Street man declined to shake it.

“I assume this is the man you told me about?” the inspector asked with a glance at Danville. “The one who really killed the professor all those years ago?”

“Indeed. The Viscount of Danville. No doubt he has much to answer for after that murder. Hell, he tried to do the same with me just now.”

“He did.” Charlotte nodded as she brushed at the rain on her face. “I am taking Mr. Coatesville home just now. Is that allowed?”

“It is. I’ll pay him a call tomorrow afternoon.” Then the inspector flicked his gaze to William. “And you, my friend, will need to come with me.”

“I need a doctor. These insane people shot me!” He writhed on the ground clutching his leg.

“I’ll wager in self-defense.” The inspector bent at the waist, hooked a hand beneath William’s good arm, and then hauled him into a standing position. “We’ll sort everything down at Whitehall.”

Edwin narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you send word to one of your barrister friends, Danville. You’ll need a good defense.” Then he slid an arm about Charlotte’s waist. “Let’s go home.” He glanced at the inspector. “Good to see you again, Henry.”

“It was, indeed. Goodnight, Edwin.”

By the time he reached the small terrace with Charlotte, her father attempted to wrench her from his hold.

“This man is not for you. Now come, Charlotte. Get away from this reprobate.”

“No.” The darling woman stood her ground.

“No, Papa. You have caused me enough pain, and tears, and hardship. Now, I’m making my own decisions.

Good or bad, they’re mine. Do you understand?

” When the earl nodded, she turned her head and met Edwin’s gaze.

“You are a good decision, in the event you wondered.”

“Ah.” He gave a cheeky grin to the earl as they passed. “No doubt we’ll call sometime tomorrow, Everfield, and if you don’t act the arse, we’ll include you in our future.”

Never had he felt so happy or so satisfied with life.

N o. 4 Orchard Street

Portman Square

Marylebone, London

Never had he been as grateful to see his closed carriage as he was tonight. The fucking rain made everything unbearable, and it was deuced chilly. All he wanted was to go home and take Charlotte to bed.

Talking could come later.

Barely had he tapped on the carriage’s roof and told the driver to take them home than she was in his arms, and the kisses they exchanged had enough heat to set fire to the whole of Mayfair.

It didn’t matter that his face was battered, or the rest of his body ached like the devil or that his clothes were wet and plastered to his body; he couldn’t have enough of the precious woman in his arms.

That embrace didn’t cease until the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of his home, and even then, he temporarily left off from kissing her due to the fact that it would appear too scandalous to be seen on the street at midnight escorting a shockingly wet woman into his house.

It didn’t matter if said woman was the love of his life or his former wife or the same woman he hoped to marry again.

He’d turned over a new leaf as it were and wished to keep his name out of the gossip pages, if only for Olivia’s sake.

All those thoughts flew out of his head when they entered the small foyer and he waved away the butler’s assistance.

Edwin kissed her again at the foot of the stairs.

That’s where he peeled off his gloves, cuffs, cravat, and collar.

Halfway to the first landing, his jacket and waistcoat came off.

They fell with a dull, wet plop to the floor.

At the second landing, it was a bit of a struggle to devest her of the drenched gown as well as her gloves.

But at the next landing, he toed off one of his shoes and helped her to remove his fine lawn shirt.

So great was his haste to taste her, touch her, show her exactly how much he adored her, that when one of his hands became stuck in the sleeve, that he gleefully tore the fabric without a thought.

As it fluttered to the floor, he tugged her to the door of his bedchamber.

Opening the wooden panel, he toed off the second shoe.

Once inside the room, he encouraged her petticoat down her legs.

By the time the sound of the door closing echoed in the dark space, she’d removed her muddy slippers.

Two breaths later, the buttons of his frontfalls were halfway undone.

It took next to no time to yank her damp petticoat up and off her body.

At her intake of breath, he spun her about and pressed her back to the door.

Cupping her cheeks, he claimed her mouth over and over, encouraged her lips open so that he could fence with her tongue.

And dear God, it felt as if he were welcomed home with open arms, welcomed back into the world where he never wanted to leave again.

His Charlotte gave as good as she got, and she met him stroke for stroke. Under her care, his aches and pains were temporarily forgotten, and he let himself feel every bit of the remainder of the tumble down that slippery slope into love with her.

A second time.