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“Yes, four peers. The lady was the only one to know the satisfaction of exacting real damage on any of you. Think upon it, you of little intelligence, the lady discovered your maneuvering, and she was the one to put an end to your efforts. Quite shameful an account for those of the thieving lot. A mere lady from a drawing room bested your plans to deceive.”

“I will take the first watch,” Graham said. “I will wake Beaufort in two hours. His lordship may wake Orson for the early morning hours.”

“What about my wound?” the injured man asked.

“Minor,” Graham declared, “but I will promise to send for a surgeon if you begin to run a fever or some such nonsense. Otherwise, we will all journey together tomorrow.”

Richard said, “If you will pardon me, I should speak to Lady Emma regarding these developments.” Without further discussion, Richard left Graham and Beaufort to secure the ropes holding their prisoners. He took the steps two at a time to reach Emma. With a perfunctory knock on her door, he entered.

“Will the man I shot survive?” she asked as she jumped to her feet.

“It was simply a flesh wound,” he assured her as he gathered her into his arms.

“Were they here after us?” she asked. “I do not like the idea of putting others in danger. You have all become too dear to me.”

“The men claim they had hoped to steal a few coins, thinking we would all be too drunk to notice or some such nonsense,” Richard explained. “They swear that they were not hired by Lord Davidson.”

“It is after midnight,” she reasoned. “Have I not reached my majority? It is Monday.”

Richard looked to the mantel clock to see she was correct.

It was nearly one in the morning. “I suppose you have the right of it; though someone with no scruples might still force a marriage upon you, unless you are given a voice in the matter. You may refuse.” Suddenly, Richard feared she might also choose to leave him behind.

She reached a hand to him, which he gladly accepted. “I have thought on this matter long and hard: before I may speak to my future, I must resolve the past. I cannot think of placing another in danger. The situation with Lord Graham and you this evening proves such to be the truth.”

“Do you wish to return to London tomorrow with the others?” he asked.

“Could you and I spend the day gathering everything we know regarding what happened? You likely have information on what you have learned after rescuing me, and I have had a few memories we have not had time to discuss. I am more frightened than I ever thought possible, but I do not wish to spend my life wondering if the man who just bowed over my hand and just asked for the next dance set at a ball is the same man who struck me repeatedly about my head and shoulders in an alley in Covent Garden.”

“Then, you and I will stay tomorrow and plan how we will move forward. Do you wish for me to stay in the room with you? Beaufort is to wake me in four hours to oversee the prisoners, so, if I stay, you may be awakened before you wish,” he warned.

“If you do not stay, I shall likely know no sleep,” she admitted.

The despair in her voice pricked at Richard’s desire to protect her.

Yet, in truth, could he keep her safe? After all, what did he truly know of the woman, other than he desired her more than he should?

He had been aware of Lady Emma Donoghue for more than a year, but had only known her for a week.

“Then I will stay,” he assured. He did not customarily sleep in so many clothes, but the only thing he removed was his boots, which were more difficult to work free of his feet without his wearing stockings.

While she slipped from her robe and turned back the blankets, he placed both of his guns on the small covered table beside the bed before retrieving more ammunition, as well as his socks from his quarters.

When he returned to her room, Emma was in the bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin in a symbol of protection. Richard smiled at her. “I will not spoil you, my girl, though you should know, if others, beyond Graham and Beaufort, learn of this, you will be made to marry me, Emma.”

She looked at him in seriousness when she said, “I would not wish you to be made to choose me just because you stumbled across me at the worst moment in my life.”

Richard looked upon her with equal earnestness.

“I am confident that Theodora has spoken to you of my interest in you. I have taken notice of you beyond your protests before White’s.

I have studied how you have made attempts—mostly failed attempts—to move more easily in society as a single woman without a man to protect her.

If I ever have the opportunity to speak to your father, he will hear, and likely disapprove, of much of what I have to say.

Leaving you alone in London is beyond my comprehension and my tolerance.

Yes, England’s safety from foreign control is an eminent purpose in his lordship’s duties and a worthy cause for which I stand each day.

Yet, you are his daughter, his only child, and should be his first priority.

Perhaps I will have Lord Duncan read Lord Donoghue his own version of the riot act when it comes to parenthood.

“In truth, I do not know where our relationship will carry us, but I do not wish to lose you from my life—your memory returned or not. I was so assured that we might know a future—bumpy though it may be, especially with your injury—that I agreed to purchase a special license with our names upon it. I thought if Lord Davidson pressed his purpose, you might choose to marry me instead.”

She looked upon him in a dumbfounded manner. “You would have married me to protect me from Lord Davidson?”

“I was willing to marry you, for I cannot imagine that particular phase of my life without you by my side. Though I am cognizant you will require more time to consider us as a couple, I have cherished the possibility for a little more than a year. We cannot take the decision lightly; speaking our vows will mean we are committed to each other for life. No affairs. No illegitimate children. One cannot change his or her mind after the ceremony has occurred. If you wish to marry me in the next five and forty days, rather I should say, one and forty days, as I have had the license since Wednesday, we may do so legally in any church we please. After that time, we would be required to make alternate arrangements.”

She nodded her head slightly, but there was no response to indicate she was considering the idea seriously. Instead, she said, “Your suggestion is much to consider; for now, you should come to bed, my lord,” she instructed with no emotion in her tone.

Had she already decided to refuse him ?

Without further explanation, Richard blew out the candle and laid beside her on the bed, though he did not dare to join her beneath the blankets.

He laid on his back, staring up at the bed drape.

Meanwhile, Lady Emma turned on her side, facing him, and reached for his hand.

She brought his knuckles to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

“You are such a good man, my lord. Whoever claims your devotion shall be the most fortunate woman in all of England.”

Richard felt the sting of her rejection, but he said, “We should know our rest while we may.” He reclaimed his hand and turned to face away from her. “Goodnight, Lady Emma.”

“Goodnight, my lord.”

How he had managed to hide his reaction to Lady Emma’s rejection, Richard would never know, but when Beaufort had awakened him, Richard had risen from the bed as quietly as he could, recovered his boots and socks and his guns, and followed Beaufort to the man’s room to finish dressing.

“Are all our attackers tied-up?” he asked as he dressed.

“Yes, my footman is there now. I promised him that you would be down shortly.” Beaufort was stripping for bed and sleep. “You and Lady Emma came to an agreement?” his friend asked with a lift of his brows.

“We agreed to stay one more day so we might speak honestly and without interruption,” Richard said as he worked his boots on.

“I know things of which she should be made aware, and she has remembered parts of her attack of which I am not yet cognizant. I will return her to London tomorrow. The lady has reached her majority, and she may have a say in who she marries without permission from her father, though I suppose Lord Donoghue could still force her to follow his edicts by withholding her fortunes. His lordship would still control any fortune she was to inherit and its transfer to her man of business.”

“And so, Lady Emma may now choose you,” Beaufort said, again with a challenging lift of his brows.

“Even if Donoghue withheld her fortune, such should not be a detriment to your marriage. Obviously, you could better put her wealth to a good use, say for your minor children, but you do not require her inheritance to marry her.”

“I told her of the special license,” Richard admitted, knowing he might as well tell Beaufort the truth.

Perhaps such would lessen the teasing he would receive from his “brother.” “The lady was shocked, but not enthusiastic about the possibility of marrying me. I do not want a marriage that is an imitation of what my parents shared.”

“I am grieved, Richard,” Beaufort said in serious tones. “I had hoped you would be the first of us to find happiness.”

“The question is, what do I do with her when I return her to London? It is my opinion that Donoghue House is not safe for her, but if I return her to Duncan Place, I will be required to shun my home and my hard-earned family.”

“Lady Emma is rich enough to take quarters elsewhere,” Beaufort said. “Surely, she possesses other friends beyond those who protest against society, and, if not, she can let a suite of rooms at a hotel. She is not your responsibility, Richard.”

“That is the rub, Navan. I want her to be my responsibility.”