Once the carriage slowed and stopped at a gate, she watched the others dismount. She waited until they walked through the gate, then tied her own horse to a post not far away.
It was becoming difficult to see with the darkening sky, and Faith did her best to keep hidden behind the trees along the drive. However, the house and barn were not in the trees, so she was forced to wait at a distance. Noticing movement near the barn, she realized the gentlemen had surrounded it.
Even though she wished to go forward, she did not want them distracted by her. Once she saw them make their move to go inside, she rushed to the door of the barn to look inside.
What she saw made her sick.
Sir Julian was kicking Dominic, who was lying on the floor with his hands and feet tied—the former behind his back—as a few other men watched, cheering him on. The gentlemen rushed into the fray, and fists began to fly. It was mayhem and Faith wanted to retch.
She saw Carew rush to Dominic and slice the ropes from his wrists and ankles.
“Thank God,” she whispered, but then gasped as she saw him stumble to his feet. The ropes must have caused his limbs to go numb.
His friends noticed and tried to shield him from the ruffians, as best they could whilst fighting, while he regained feeling. Faith could tell the moment that he did, for he went straight at Sir Julian without holding back. She would never forget the sickening sound of fists pounding against flesh and the stench of sweat and blood as it sprayed into the air.
As Dominic was fighting Julian, several of Julian’s friends broke loose of their own opponents to jump Dominic from behind.
That was when Faith noticed that Sir Julian had a gun.
“Look out!” she screamed as she heard a gun fire.
Both Sir Julian and Dominic fell to the ground.
“No!” Faith ran into the barn and rolled Sir Julian off Dominic. Blood was all over Dominic’s chest, and she frantically searched him over for wounds.
“Faith? What are you doing here?” he groaned.
“Where are you hurt?” she asked.
“It was not I who was shot.”
She turned to see that it was, in fact, Sir Julian who had been shot and was dead.
“Ashley shot him,” Dominic explained.
“So this is not your blood?”
“It is not my blood,” he reassured her.
She fell on top of his chest with relief and he squeezed her tightly.
“Oh, thank God. I’m never leaving you alone again,” she said.
He chuckled. “I thought you wanted to stay in Bath.”
“Ogre,” she said affectionately before she kissed him without regard to the scene around them.
EPILOGUE
Hope had watched that morning as Faith and Dominic married, and not without a little trepidation. Nothing would change, they said, but Hope was sceptical. She now sat at the wedding breakfast, watching as Dominic danced with Faith, the two of them looking as though nothing or no one else existed in the world.
Hope could not supress some jealousy towards Lord Westwood. She was not proud of this emotion, but it was difficult to think of Faith as anything other than their motherly older sister. She had not even wanted to come to London and had had no thoughts of getting married. It was not that Hope wasn’t pleased for her, but she did not want everything to change. But how could it not?
She looked around the ballroom, which no longer resembled the heavens. Instead, it looked like a rose garden with tables for dining and room for dancing. Mr. Cunningham was doting on Joy and Freddy Tiger as the cat was currently taking turns jumping between their laps. Hope laughed as she thought of the cat’s performance during the ceremony, when he’d leaped from Joy’s pocket to pounce on Faith’s train as it had snaked along behind her.
Patience was surrounded by her court of regimentals. They all looked the same to Hope except for Major Stuart. He at least resembled Lord Westwood enough that she recognized him.
Lord Montford was asking Grace to dance, and Hope stabbed her confit de canard with her fork, chewed it without tasting it, then took a long swallow of her champagne.
