* * *
He couldn’t delay things much longer. It had taken all his powers of persuasion to convince Penhurst not to leave without funds to aid his escape and now that the satchel was stuffed with every note the viscount had stashed away for such an emergency, he would want to leave. For the hundredth time Seb cursed himself for his carelessness. Forgetting his pistol had been a ridiculous mistake. But his head had been filled with thoughts of Clarissa and his heightened emotions had made him sloppy. He’d had no choice but to play along and assist with Penhurst’s escape, pretending his own safety would be compromised any other way.
Seb wrestled with the buckles, making a hash of closing the satchel. As he handed it to him, he would have to punch him square in the face and hope that he could grab the gun before Penhurst pulled the trigger. The man’s index finger had been twitching on it since the moment they had heard the Excise Men rushing down the corridor.
Then the oddest thing happened. Seb knew they were there because he sensed her.
‘Give it here, man!’ Penhurst tugged at the satchel at the same moment the hatch flew open. Seb lunged for the gun, vaguely aware of Lord Fennimore’s shout, but the viscount was too quick, whipping it back and sending Seb crashing to the floor. He felt the hard press of steel against his temple, holding him down.
‘Back off or I kill him!’ Gray, Flint and Fennimore stood with their own pistols aimed. Icy calm. Seb expected nothing less. No one would shoot unless necessary.
‘Drop the gun.’ With deliberate slowness Gray pulled the hammer back. ‘This house and the grounds are filled with Excise Men. All have been instructed to shoot to kill if the situation warrants it.’
Penhurst’s eyes were frantic, flitting from face to face as realisation dawned. He dragged Seb to his feet and used him as a shield, the barrel of the gun now digging into his neck. ‘Get out of my way!’
His comrades began to move in a slow circle around them. ‘Think about your situation, Penhurst.’ Fennimore’s tone was matter of fact. ‘We have all the evidence we need to send you to the gallows. By now, my men will have rounded up everyone in this house. Secured the exits and already be scouring the grounds. The roads are blocked. We have ships anchored off the cliffs watching the beaches. More men are waiting below us. Wondering why we haven’t returned. All it will take is one signal from me to unleash them.’ He paused and stamped one foot loudly on the floor. Gray followed by bashing his fist against the door.
‘He’s in here!’
‘Stop it!’ The pistol jabbed into Seb’s jaw. ‘I’ll kill him!’
‘Go ahead.’ Lord Fennimore sounded bored. ‘My men know the risks of the job. They also know their deaths will be ruthlessly avenged. The moment you shoot you leave yourself exposed. He will die knowing we won.’
Behind him, Seb could feel Penhurst’s heart hammering against his back, feel the way his breathing had become erratic. Cornered and panicked, he would shoot any second. Unlike the bullet that had ripped through his chest, the viscount’s would kill him. Instantly his mind wandered to Gem and the grief at never seeing her again overwhelmed him. Seb should have fought harder to convince her he was the one, reiterated his love. At least allowed her to answer instead of storming off, bitterly regretting their last interactions had been mired in anger when there was so much still left unsaid.
Time seemed to stand still. Every sense was heightened. He heard Penhurst’s finger begin to pull back the trigger. Saw Flint and Gray’s eyes widen as they realised his number was up. Closed his own eyes to picture her one last time before his heart stopped beating and resigned himself to his fate.
Then there was a dull thud and the fingers dug like claws around Seb’s neck suddenly loosened as the viscount crumpled to the floor.
When he opened his eyes Gem was stood like a warrior, teeth bared and wielding the bronze statue of Aphrodite like a tennis racquet, ready to bludgeon Penhurst if he moved a muscle.
Which he didn’t because he was out cold.
‘I knew she wouldn’t stay put.’ Lord Fennimore knelt down and felt Penhurst’s neck for a pulse. ‘He’s alive, thank goodness. We can’t interrogate a corpse.’ From his pocket he produced some cord and looked up at them impatiently. ‘Well? Is one of you going to help me tie him up or are you all just going to stand there?’
Seb didn’t move a muscle and neither did she. Her hair a veritable bird’s nest, a smudge of dirt on one cheek and what looked like a dusty cobweb hanging from her ear. He had never seen anything lovelier. His feet moved towards her and he found himself prying her weapon out of her clenched fingers by peeling them back one by one. She didn’t want to relinquish it. ‘It’s over, Gem.’
Her forget-me-not eyes flicked to the viscount on the floor and then back to Seb, then she rushed at him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. ‘I thought I’d lost you again.’ She kissed him, smoothing her palms over his face and shoulders. Then she shook them. ‘Every time I look away you put yourself at risk!’ Another kiss. Longer. Perfect. Seb happily kissed her back.
‘Do you two mind?’ Lord Fennimore snapped, his exasperated face inches from theirs. ‘Such nonsense should be saved for your honeymoon. We still have a job to do.’
The mention of a honeymoon cruelly reminded him of her impending marriage. ‘You should get back to yourfiancé. He’s probably worried.’ He sounded like a petulant child and didn’t care. He’d almost died. He’d earned the right to be petulant. ‘You could have told me yourself rather than making me hear it from him. I’m sure you and Westbridge will be blissfully...indifferent to one another.’
Her head tilted, then her mouth opened, then she pushed him hard in the chest. So hard he staggered backwards. ‘For a man who claims to hold nodukein high regard, can you explain why you listened to that “windbag”, as you are so fond of calling him, yet failed to ask me if it was true?’
She had a point, a glorious, wonderful point that made his heart soar with hope. One he would have told her, except she didn’t give him a moment to get a word in. But then he had never been good with words so he let her give him both barrels and thoroughly enjoyed it.
‘You are a stubborn idiot, Seb Leatham! Storming off and avoiding me after we spent the night together! Refusing to speak to me!’ Another push. ‘After everything we have been through, did you seriously think I would want him over you?’ Her hands fisted on his lapels. ‘And after I just saved your miserable life! Why, I have a good mind to strangle you rather than marry you! Not that you asked, of course. Which is another black mark against your—’ Seb silenced her with a kiss. Like all their kisses this one heated immediately. Only the sounds of a veritable army storming the room broke them apart.
The commander of the Excise Men stepped forward to speak to Lord Fennimore. ‘All bar one of the guests is accounted for, my lord. They are in the ballroom awaiting questioning.’
‘Who’s missing?’
‘The Duke of Thetford. He hasn’t been seen since late afternoon.’
‘Oh, good gracious!’ Gem’s eyes were wide as she darted out of his arms. ‘I completely forgot! He’s in my bedchamber!’ With that she dashed off, leaving Seb no choice but to follow. She took the stairs in a hurry, her skirts held so high he was rewarded with the delicious sight of her silk-clad legs before she skidded to a halt at her door, her expression pained.
‘I might have accidently let slip to him your real identity.’
