Page 36

B ASH SLOWED HIS HORSE AS he entered the outskirts of London.

He had ridden through the night before, but it was harder when he was on a mount other than Brigand, who knew his every command almost before he gave it.

But as one horse could not travel the distance at such a pace without resting, he didn’t dare use Brigand this night.

He needed to be able to change mounts, as time was of the essence according to the note sent by courier.

He had burned the missive in the servant’s hall fireplace before he departed Bath.

However, its contents stayed with him. A sheet from letter missing. Return for further instruction. G.

He thought he’d retrieved all the letters from Sir Thomas … Did the Prince Regent only now find out a page was missing? If George was being blackmailed, and Sir Thomas was the fiend behind it, the man had either great courage or power to protect him.

He directed the mount to the posthouse stables and waited as the man drew up the receipt.

Taking shank’s mare toward his nondescript flat to change into his uniform, he glanced at the townhouses along the way, picturing his Evie on the threshold.

She was too gentle for this part of town.

He didn’t have enough saved to purchase a fine home, but he could set up Evie well if they leased—many of the ton did so to keep up the appearance of wealth without having the expense of owning a vast estate.

Reaching his home, he made quick work of changing into his guard’s uniform, his eyes burning. In the past, he had stayed up far longer than a mere twenty-four hours, and the Prince Regent would not see sleeping as an excuse not to come directly when summoned to Carlton House.

Now too tired to walk, Bash hired a hackney coach and tried to stay awake for the five-minute drive.

He tossed a coin to the driver and passed through the gates, nodding to the guards there who knew him.

He straightened his crimson coat and hurried through the portico and the first and second halls to the grand staircase.

Not for the first time was he grateful that his position allowed him to bypass the servants’ entrance and staircases.

He crossed to the Prince Regent’s private rooms to the left of the staircase gallery and grinned when he saw who was on duty.

He nodded to the first night sentry guard and relieved him of his position outside the Prince Regent’s chambers, claiming his pike before addressing the second guard.

“Wynn Paxton, whatever are you doing acting as a sentry?”

“I lost a bet with the sentry who was on duty, and as the captain of the King’s Guards holds a grudge against my family, he heartily approved it.

So here I stand in a borrowed crimson uniform.

This hat is extremely cumbersome, but I have to admit, I am beyond dashing in it—too bad there are no debutantes nearby to swoon over me.

” Wynn tugged at the strap pinching his chin, which held the massive black bearskin piece in place, and lingered as Bash took his position before the prince’s chambers.

“How was your time in Bath? Is your grandmother in good health?”

“The best of health. She made a remarkable recovery against all expectations.”

They both straightened and quieted as a lord and lady entered the gallery and then disappeared down the stairs.

“Praise the Lord. Was it your presence that revived her?” Wynn continued after the couple had disappeared, and he relaxed his stance.

“I wish I could take the credit, but that lies with Evie.”

“Evie? Who is she?” He grinned. “A comely nursemaid?”

Bash cleared his throat. “My wife.”

His friend’s pike lowered, along with his jaw. “Your what?”

Bash swallowed back his laughter. “I was married while in Bath.”

“For someone who never takes leave, you get a lot accomplished when you do.” He shook his head. “Even if I am not in your yeoman’s club, I thought we were friends.”

“We are. This marriage took us all by surprise.”

“Yes, but I didn’t even know you were paying a young lady call. I didn’t even know that you wished to get married, a fact you failed to mention the last we spoke—”

“All this is true. To be fair, I didn’t have much time during the prisoner transfer.” He scratched his jaw. “And this marriage came out of nowhere.”

“Forgive me if I do not believe you are a secret romantic. You never wanted to get married. What happened?” He scowled. “Did the woman entrap you?”

Bash gritted his teeth. “More like I entrapped her.” He sighed. Wynn would not let this go until he heard the whole story, and as the Prince Regent liked to sleep in, he most likely had time. “The idea of marriage all began when I went to the Pump Room for a curative drink.”

It was marvelous to be back with Grandmother at Lark Manor and its majestic rain-drenched green hills.

Vivienne and Tess strode alongside the road to Bath as Wolfie chased after the Blackface sheep emerging from their shelter for a snack.

She admired the picturesque landscape and wondered for the hundredth time what Bash was about for the past three days in London.

Perhaps he had completed his mission and was already looking for their new home?

Our home. She lifted her left hand and admired the oval citrine set in gold filigree.

What a dream to belong to a man such as Sir Sebastian Larkby.

Tess released a short shrill whistle, summoning her dog to their side and sending Vivienne to tucking her hand behind her skirts lest her friend begin teasing her again for admiring the ring from Bash.

Tess scratched the dog between the ears. “So, Lady Larkby, is Sir Bash’s absence pressing upon your heart as you picture him riding as the golden-haired highwayman once more?”

She laughed under her breath. “Mayhap. I must admit that I miss Bash terribly. I have grown accustomed to running into him about the manor and taking a repast with him.”

Tess tossed a stick, her dog racing off to fetch it. “Then you have no regrets? I did feel slightly guilty for forcing the issue of moving to London the other night, but someone had to speak up and save you from yourselves.”

“You were right though. We were living in a fairy tale, thinking we could get away with our subterfuge.” And now I do not have to fear saying goodbye to him. “I have no regrets.”

“Indeed, if I had not pressed you two into a move, I am beginning to think you may have come up with the idea on your own.” She grinned as she took the slobbery stick from the dog, flung it again, and wiped her hand along her skirt. “That man is smitten with you.”

Vivienne bent and picked a flower, pulling out petals one at a time and watching them float to the ground. “Do you really think so?”

Tess snorted, planting her hands at her waist. “Do you think he would have married you to continue the ruse if he did not care for you?”

“Mayhap not the ruse, but to save my reputation.”

Her brows lifted. “He cares enough for you to care for your reputation.”

“He is a knight and a gentleman.”

“And you are defending him quite passionately.” Tess giggled as Wolfie pranced toward them with the stick. “Which tells me that you are in love, and if the both of you are in love, whatever is keeping you two apart? If it is pride, it is not worth your unhappiness.”

A carriage rumbling toward the manor kept Vivienne from answering. “Who can be calling right before dinner? Grandmother did not mention any guests.”

Tess shielded her eyes from the sun. “It must be family. No friends would do such a thing.”

“Family.” Her heart skipped. She had gone so long without true family that the idea of perhaps finding another dear person who belonged to Bash made her grasp Tess’s hand as they gathered their skirts and raced down the hill. This marriage was proving a blessing indeed.

Pausing in the side garden, the two righted themselves as she caught sight of a gentleman, in the first rate of fashion, descending the carriage.

The two friends darted through the kitchen entrance, nodding to the staff as they hurried past to the parlor, where their embroidery lay in wait with the pot of tea Grandmother had so thoughtfully sent for when she must have spotted them from the window.

They quickly took their places on either side of the fireplace as the door flung open and the butler announced, “Mr. Larkby.”

Grandmother groaned under her breath and rose with Vivienne and Tess.

The young women exchanged a look at Grandmother’s reaction and missed the entry of the man, who was now already bowing.

Vivienne curtsied, staring at the carpet as her cheeks heated.

Another Larkby? Grandmother did mention Bash had a cousin.

How had she ever thought the title to be retired enough for her to use?

What had the family thought of an authoress using their name?

Mayhap they were not great readers of novels.

The gentleman straightened, and she nearly gasped—the barrister?

He was a Larkby? Why did he not say something when Sir Josiah cornered us on the road?

She pressed a hand to her stays as a familiar sense of condescension filled the room.

What news did he bear that kept him from divulging his connection to Lark Manor in the shopping quarter and setting aside all rules of etiquette to call so late?

She glanced at Tess. Her concern amplified when she saw Tess’s chewing of her lip—an action she only did when she was on the verge of saying something she shouldn’t.

The butler departed, mumbling about fetching a cup, and Vivienne moved to the teapot and began pouring and passing the tea.

“Grandmother, how wonderful to see you looking so well.” Mr. Larkby strode into the room, pausing between them and leaning against the fireplace mantel.

“Is it, Alden?” Grandmother accepted the cup from Tess and set it aside on the table without interest.