Page 63 of The Return of the Rake

“Don’t be ridiculous,” King said, gazing at Mrs Fairway and looking to be somewhere between appalled indignation and disbelief.

“It’s true,” Mrs Fairway replied as she laid a magnificent raised game pie on the table. “They’re saying you’re a hero and that young Mr Marwick might be dead if you’d not acted so quickly and got in the way of the madman’s bullet. And then to go after the villain and apprehend him, holding him down until Captain Underwood came, even though you was injured, and shouting at the wicked devil with such rage too, for firing in a place where there was women and children…. Well, it’s done you a deal of good in this town is all I’ll say,” she added with obvious satisfaction.

Anne bit her lip to hide her smile as she viewed the range of expressions travelling over King’s face. Though he acted as though it was a great piece of nonsense and he didn’t give a snap of his fingers for their opinions, somewhere in there was a bit of pride, happiness even, that those people who had treated him like a pariah all his life would unbend enough to think well of him.

“Well, I think that’s everything. Ring if you want me,” Mrs Fairway said, regarding the splendid array on the table with satisfaction. This last sentiment was aimed wholly at Anne, however, who smiled reassuringly at her friend.

“We will, thank you, Hilda.”

She waited until they were alone before looking across the table at King. He’d seemed a little reserved since he’d arrived, not quite as sure of himself as usual, and Anne wondered at that. It was true his revelations had been surprising to her, though her shock over Alfred Marwick had been greater than anything, for she’d had no illusions about King and the life he’d led. Did he think she was changing her mind in light of his honesty?

Troubled by the idea, Anne got to her feet and reached for his place.

“Here, let me serve you so you don’t jostle your arm,” she said, cutting him an enormous slice of pie and then piling a variety of vegetables and a large mound of mashed potatoes beside it. “There. You must get your strength up after your heroism,” she said with a smile, gently teasing him, though she meant it all the same. She still went cold with fear as she remembered the scene, and how it might have gone differently if the bullet had struck a few inches in the other direction.

“Anne!”

She gave a startled exclamation as he reached for her, pulling her into his lap.

“Anne, I promised myself I would wait, that I would be patient and court you properly before the entire town, but I’m no gentleman, love. I never have been, and whilst I’ll do everything in my power never to cause you shame or regret, I cannot wait for your answer. Have you changed your mind now you know so much about me?”

Anne shook her head, knowing her expression was one of helpless adoration. “Foolish man, how can you think it?”

He let out a harsh breath and reached to cup her face. “Then, dare I ask you, love, if you would be so good as marry me, unworthy as I am?”

She smiled, tears pricking at her eyes. “You are the worthiest man I have ever known, and I would have no other. I would not change you, Jasper King, not for anything or anyone. I’ll have you just as you are, or not at all.”

He kissed her, pulling her close, his mouth hot and urgent, threatening to devour her. Anne pushed at his chest, knowing he was not the only one with revelations to make and feeling suddenly unequal to the task.

“You must eat,” she said, getting to her feet. She pressed the back of her hand to her cheek, feeling the heat burning there.

King gave her a curious look but did not push the point.

They ate and talked, and Anne gazed across the table at the handsome man before her, wondering at how fate had brought him to her. The diamond earring he wore flashed in the light and, though she knew a proper lady ought to despise such a thing, it entranced her.

Well, I never was a proper lady, she thought ruefully, not regretting the fact one bit.

After dinner, once the table had been cleared, Anne poured them both a glass of port, knowing King would not be disgusted with her for partaking. She was nervous, agitated, and though she knew her confession must come tonight, before things went any further, she found reasons to put it off.

“What were you whispering to Captain Dearborn about?” she asked, for Dearborn had fallen upon King like a long-lost brother when he’d returned, despite having appeared to heartily dislike him when he had first arrived in town. Dearborn’s somewhat furtive manner and the whispered conversation she had witnessed had also struck her as out of the ordinary.

King stilled at her question and Anne knew there was something to it.

He held out his hand to her, and she took it, sitting beside him on the sofa, and allowing him the delightful liberty of sliding his arm about her waist. His expression was grim, however, and she felt a chill of foreboding.

“There’s something I must tell you, something you must never breathe a word of to another soul. Can you promise me that?”

Anne hesitated. She would never usually agree to such a promise until she knew precisely to what she was committing, but she trusted King, and she wished for him to know that she did. “Very well.”

He nodded. “The other night, when I stayed out of the hotel, what I told you was partly true, but not all of it. I did leave after what you said to me. Your words touched my heart and made me consider my own with more honesty than I would usually allow myself,” he said, gazing down at her with such a solemn expression Anne’s heart ached with everything she felt for him. But then he frowned, shaking his head. “I walked around for a bit, hardly knowing where, and found myself on one of the narrow lanes that leads back to the beach. Dearborn was there. He was arguing with Bill Jenner.”

“Oh, that dreadful man,” Anne said with contempt. She had heard Bill had not been seen for days and was feared drowned, and she only hoped it was true.

King nodded and turned a little so he could look into her eyes. “Dearborn was walking away when Bill picked up a rock, intending to strike the captain over the head with it. He meant to kill him, I’m sure.”

Anne gasped, her hand going to her throat.

“I shouted a warning, and Dearborn ducked out of the way. He used his stick to swipe Bill’s legs from under him and he fell.” He hesitated, and Anne grew cold, fearing she knew what came next. “Bill fell and struck his head on the rock he’d meant to kill Dearborn with. He died instantly.”