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Nikolas’s sharp gaze swung toward her and he placed a protective hand upon her forearm. “Kate, are you alright?”
“Marilee?” boomed the voice of the older gentleman as he leaned over the rail and then, with the spry movements of a man half his age, he raced down the staircase and stood before her as if unable to believe his eyes. Marilee stood frozen, tears streaming down her face as the Baron Wickham, Miss Caroline’s father, took in her dismal appearance. The baron pulled her into his arms, in a fatherly hug, his relief overcoming the stoic persona he had adopted since his wife’s passing. For the first time in years, Marilee witnessed the softer side of Lord Graves that had long been buried. “Caroline has been beside herself with worry.”
“Then she’s safe?” Marilee sobbed.
“Yes,” the lady’s father said, and that was enough for her, her friend, and lady, Miss Caroline was safe.
She allowed her eyes to make a quick dart to Nikolas. Perhaps it was not so wrong to have come to care for another even in this unique situation. Perhaps it was these awful times that could bring good people closer together, unite them in a way that might not have been possible otherwise.
“Kate, ahh… Marilee…” the solicitor gave a charming flush when he spoke her name for the very first time. “Do you have any idea where Lady Lydia has gone off to?”
Both Marilee and Peggy, the latter of which had so quickly recovered from the revelation of Marilee’s identity that she must have suspected the falsehood all along, shook their heads. They had had no idea where or when the lady might go as they had been cloistered in the lowest level of the townhouse and well away from her activities.
But then, Nikolas would have no idea that Marilee was no longer the prized maid of the lady of the house. Last, he had heard she had made her trade with Lady Lydia; aligned herself with the devil incarnate. How far she had fallen since she had poisoned him under the ruse of earning her freedom.
“Her maid, Hetty, would know,” Peggy blurted when it seemed that Marilee would not begin. The truth was that Marilee had so much to say, her heart was so full, that she knew not where to start. But she must start. She had so much to explain.
Nikolas called to his friend, the magistrate, to bring Hetty, Lady Lydia’s maid, and a few minutes later the cowering young miss was coaxed into the hall. It took all of the solicitor’s patience to convince the girl that she was in fact being rescued and not sent to face the law herself. Her testimony, he promised would clear her name if she were in fact being held against her will. When she realized that maintaining Lady Lydia’s lies would only tie her to the wretched woman, Hetty began to explain what had occurred only moments before the infiltration of Blackwell house.
“James came all frantic like,” the maid began as she wrung her apron into a wrinkled mess. “He said that the real Duchess of Manchester had been recovered alive. He told ‘er that Lord Robert, I mean, His Grace. Pardon.” She executed a curtsey towards the duke.
“Get on with it,” he growled, looking very fierce.
“Well, Lord Edward was taken away in chains, but you know that, and James said that Lady Lydia was like to be next if she didn’t make a run for it. The lady was angry…throwing things.”
That did seem like Lady Lydia, thought Marilee.
“Hit me with her brush, she did.” She turned her face to show the burgeoning bruise.
“Yes, yes,” Marilee urged. “But where is she now, Hetty?”
Hetty explained how Lady Lydia had professed that she would not be driven fromhertown,herrightful title and would have to pay a visit to thisso-calledDuchess of Manchester. “She asked me for one of her larger reticules, she did. It didn’t even suit her gown, but she took it anyway because it fit her Queen Anne’s pistol with the barrel screwed on it. She put it inside and called for the coachman. Left here just a blink before you lot arrived.”
At the mention of a pistol, the room sprang to action. There were few in the room who doubted Lady Lydia’s intention. She was not one to maim without purpose. She meant to silence any who might speak proof against her. If Lady Lydia felt cornered or that her own future was on the line, she would not hesitate to kill Miss Caroline and anyone else who stood in her way. Marilee was well aware of that fact, even if she would never be the duchess, she would be avenged in her mad mind.
The duke was out the door first, not even waiting for the others as he jumped behind the reins of the lead carriage and drove it away himself.
Baron Wickham and Mr. Crowley, no Mr. Harding, and Marilee piled into the next while Peggy called from the door to chase after the duke. There was no time to waste. Marilee cast one last look at her friend who smiled and blew her a kiss before the carriage lurched forward. Peggy, at least, would not hold a grudge at Marilee’s hoarded secrets.
The baron was so busy urging the driver on and flinging his head out the window despite the winter cold that he did not even notice Marilee slip her fingers into Nikolas’ hand, nor when he raised her knuckles to his lips and pressed a tender kiss that conveyed all the unspoken words that Marilee needed to ease her aching heart until they could better speak alone. She was content. Only let Miss Caroline be okay.
Marilee squeezed the man’s hand and offered a shy smile in return. He may be happy that she was alive and well but she still needed to explain the fact that she had poisoned him. No matter his willingness to hear her out he must be made to understand that she had never meant him true harm, rather she had tried to save his life. Plus, there was the issue of his wife. Truly there were lies all around, but right now, there was only his hand in hers.
The carriage slammed to a halt just as a shot was heard through the open door of the baron’s townhouse. Marilee and the others were just crawling out of their carriage, the third vehicle full of members of the guard hot on their tails, when the duke froze mid-step at the entrance to the house. His face paled and his jaw clenched, the determination of a seasoned soldier evident in every inch of his bearing. The others called out to him to take caution, but he would not. Without a thought he raced into the house.
What occurred next happened so fast that Marilee hardly had a chance to comprehend the magnitude of Lady Lydia’s treachery and the fullness of her downfall. The duke had torn the attacker off of Miss Caroline and flung her straight into the waiting arms of the lawmen before turning to Caroline herself.
Kicking and screaming Lady Lydia was hauled off to meet her fate. She and the others would be tried and sentenced to either death or if they were very lucky, transportation.
Marilee exclaimed to her friend Caroline. “I thought I might never see you again.”
“Marilee!” Caroline squealed. “Oh Gawd, Marilee, I was so worried.”
Marilee hugged her mistress anew and then pulled back to begin checking that Miss Caroline was unharmed. She held her leg at a strange angle as if it had been injured, but seemed free of any immediate concern. In fact, Miss Caroline had a distinctive glow about her.
“I’m fine,” Caroline protested. She cupped her hands about Marilee’s face, searching for any sign of injury. “They told me that you had been beaten to within an inch of your life,” Caroline sobbed. “How is it that you are here and seeming well?”
Marilee’s eyes darted toward Nikolas, who stood beside the baron in the doorway. She exchanged a suddenly shy glance with him, and Miss Caroline caught her hands. “You must tell all,” she urged.
