Page 39 of Mistress of Darkness

“It’s time,” he said, getting up from behind her.

As he buttoned his trousers, she stood and straightened her skirts.

“One more thing about Miss Wilson,” he said. “There is the matter of the jewels that she left behind. I believe it would only be proper to offer them to you as compensation for the suffering that Christopher caused.”

Astonished, she stared at him. “They’re worth a small fortune.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot.”

He’d been brushing something from his coat sleeve, but stopped. “What? But she had no family–”

She held up her hand. “I cannot take them, but I will accept them on my sister’s behalf, as her dowry. She deserves to find a man who appreciates her and will take care of her.”

Though he didn’t seem pleased, he nodded and went to the door, “As you say then. They shall be Regina’s.”

“But Robert?” she said.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“I wonder if you would still be willing to marry a penniless woman who simply adores you?”

“Gwen,” he exclaimed, rushing back to her. He picked her up at the waist, beaming up at her. “You have made me the happiest of men.”

She cupped his radiant face with her hands. “It’s only fitting, since I am the happiest of women.”

Without another word, they raced down the stairs. As she suspected, the carts and coaches were all loaded. Robert locked the entry and then helped her into their waiting carriage. As he settled into the seat next to her, she looked back at the hall.

Dredthorne’s curtain-shrouded windows seemed to be watching them, like dark, unblinking eyes. It stood like an impassive sentinel as the last of the daylight faded and an evening breeze rose to scatter the dead leaves around its steps. As the carriage departed, the chill wind rose higher and Gwen could swear that it carried with it a sound—like soft, muffled sobbing.