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John looked to Lady Charlotte standing in the moonlight. He wanted to run to her, to gather her into his arms and hold her close. He was filled with a desperate desire to feel her against him, to reassure himself that she was alive. They were both still alive. He went to her and tentatively took her hand. She startled at the contact.
“Are you well?” He asked softly.
She nodded uncertainly. She gazed up at him her amber eyes shining. John realized there was blood on her dress, from a fine scratch on her shoulder where Toussaint’s knife had nicked her. “You are bleeding,” he pointed out, still somewhat dazed.
“So are you,” she replied. John was suddenly aware of the throbbing pain in his arm and the blood staining his hands. He made to release her, but she clung to his hand like a lifeline.
* * *
Charlotte’s throat closed up,all the words that she wanted to say lost in the moment. She wanted to tell Sir John just how much she loved him, how thoughts of him sustained her when she had been taken. He stood there looking just as frightened and desolate as she felt. It touched her soul. He looked a mess and yet he was the most welcome sight she could imagine. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she stood frozen. She should have said something, but the words would not come.
Suddenly the sound of men’s shouts from the direction of the cottage made them both turn.
“Ho there!” Called a low voice and with a surge of relief, Charlotte recognized it as her brother.
“Ruddy!” She called to him.
He came to her immediately. In the light of their lanterns, Charlotte recognized the Crown’s man, Mr. Reynolds, and the rest of the watch. Charlotte and Sir John broke apart, suddenly awash with spectators. They both rushed to make hurried explanations, as the watchmen surrounded them.
“Where is the traitor?” Reynolds asked.
John gestured to the cliff. “He went over.”
“But there were others,” Charlotte added. “At the cove. They wanted to take me to the ship,” she said. “They wanted…” her voice broke.
Randolph enfolded her in his arms. He removed his coat and wrapped her in the overly large garment. Charlotte inexplicably began to cry, weeping silent tears into her brother’s waistcoat. The watchmen moved quickly down the slope to intercept the contraband at the cove, but the earl looked to John.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Sir John,” the earl said. “for the recovery of my sister.”
“No, my lord,” John said. “It is your sister who shot the villain. She is most capable of taking care of herself, and my mother besides.”
Charlotte startled at Sir John’s words.She had shot a man.The knowledge seemed to weigh on her. Was there censure in John’s voice, Charlotte wondered? Surely, he must be disgusted by her. Silence swept over them. She peered at Sir John. His dark blue eyes remained fixed on hers. The azure orbs were filled with a heavy sadness. Charlotte found she could not look away. Despite the distance between them she felt aware of him in every fiber of her being. He had rescued her, and yet he seemed regretful.
“Lady Charlotte,” he said, formally. “I am gladdened to see you restored to your family.” They were no longer alone and a sudden remoteness had sprung up between them. Of course it had, Charlotte thought. She was undeniably ruined.
Randolph seemed to read her mind and addressed the issue bluntly. “I trust to your silence, sir. Upon your honor, for Charlotte and for your cousin’s part in this, you will say nothing of this night,” The earl told Sir John gruffly, his arm still protectively around Charlotte.
“Nothing,” John agreed. “You have my word, my lord.”
* * *
Sir John steadied his mother,but looked longingly after Lady Charlotte. She was quickly taken under her brother’s wing. She put on a brave face, but her lower lip trembled and her face was wet with tears. He wanted to be the one to comfort her, to take her in his arms and assure himself that she was safe. He was certain she would want no part of him, now. He had already been the cause of so much distress in her life. He had nearly gotten her killed.
“We still do not know the identity of the peer, do we?” Reynolds said.
“The peer?” Sir John repeated.
“There is someone of high regard who is in league with these blackguards,” Keegain admitted. “We, as yet, do not know the identity of the man.”
“We will find him,” Reynolds said. “Most assuredly, we will find him.”
“In the meantime,” Keegain said. “Let us get the ladies home.”
“He invaded my home,” Collette said. “He and Madeleine.” Tears sprang to her eyes.
John suddenly saw the night’s events from his mother’s perspective. Colette’s oldest companion had betrayed her, and would most likely hang for it. Toussaint might have been a villain, but he had been the last of their family. She had lost everyone.
“I am sorry,Maman.”Sir John said. “You have lost everyone you knew from France and the last of our family. I never meant…” He shook his head sadly, feeling utterly defeated.
