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“Later,” Marilee promised exchanging a glance with Nikolas. “There are many truths that must be spoken.”
A vehement bellow sounded from the hall where Lady Lydia was still putting up her best fight.
“I am sorry,” Caroline said. “I wish I could have protected you.” The pain and regret in her eyes struck Marilee to the core. Her lady had been just as worried about Marilee as she had been for Miss Caroline’s wellbeing.
“And I you,” Marilee replied in earnest. “Such is the truth of real friendship. As soon as your father recognized me in Lady Lydia’s house, I knew I was saved.”
Caroline glanced up toward her father and Marilee felt at once that the bond between them, so long frosted over, had begun to thaw.
“Your duke burst in with such force I thought that for certain it was to be my end,” Marilee explained.
“My duke?” said Caroline.
“Well, isn’t he?” Marilee asked, but Caroline only smiled a smug grin that promised she would tell all, but not at this moment. Marilee could only be thankful that her forced captivity was at an end. She breathed a sigh of utter relief.
“You don’t have any proof!” Lady Lydia shrieked from the hall. “Unhand me! She’s the one that you want. She tried to poison the duke!”
Marilee’s brow furrowed. She had not poisoned the duke, only Mr. Crowley in a manner of speaking. But it soon became clear that Lady Lydia was speaking of someone else. “You have no proof of my involvement. It was the wretched Mr. Crowley’s concoction,” she shouted, and Marilee looked at Nikolas to see that his face had paled. There were still questions in her mind about his wife and how he had become involved with this horrible family in the first place, but she knew without a doubt he did not have the capacity for murder within him. He was at his core, a good man; a man she loved.
“He wouldn’t,” Marilee added, even though she had no guarantee, except her own feelings, to deduce how deep his involvement went. Thankfully, no one moved to arrest him.
How much must have happened outside of Blackwell house that she was still to learn? Neither Miss Caroline nor the duke seemed to pay Lady Lydia’s accusations much heed and so those that had gathered did not bother to listen to the raging madwoman’s fevered shouts of “You have no proof! It wasn’t me.”
“But we do have proof,” Marilee offered the only response necessary.
“Our word may not be enough,” Miss Caroline sighed.
“Lady Lydia has Bella,” Marilee admitted. “Lord Edward gifted her the mare as an early wedding present.” Marilee did not chance a look over at the elder brother, who was the one who ought to have been gifting wedding presents rather than his brother. “He did not seem to have any knowledge that the horse was tied to our abduction.”
“The horse was here much earlier,” Nikolas said. “I knew such a fine piece of horseflesh had not been brought in by ship. It is by tracing the horse, we finally found our proof.”
The relief in the room was palpable. Of this, a direct connection to the highway attack, there could be no denial. The magistrate and his men bustled from the house as they went to collect the mare and resume their questioning of the dozens of people who had been involved in or harmed by this ring of debauchery. Marilee, seeing that the duke had the matter well in hand, caught Nikolas’ arm and urged him to follow her from the room.
The rest would be up to the law to straighten out. For now, she needed to speak with the man that she loved.
CHAPTER20
Many hours later after a steaming pot of tea and what seemed an endless stream of questioning from the magistrate’s men, Marilee found herself alone with Mr. Nickolas Harding in the small drawing room of the baron’s townhouse.
All at once she felt nervous, shy even, as she faced the moment that she had both longed for and feared above all else.
She fiddled with the tea tray, staunchly refusing to the think of the last time they shared tear. She stood arranging and rearranging the contents in an attempt to keep her hands busy and her eyes from making contact with the silent man who observed her with amusement from across the room.
She had always admired Nikolas for his keen awareness but now that she was the sole focus of his attention, she felt a discomfort unlike anything that she had yet known. She wanted to lay out her truths like a bridge between them, rebuild the trust that despite his recent kindness she was sure had been broken. How could he be so calm, so understanding? How could he look at her with compassion when she had caused him such harm? When she, now without the shock of his appearance or the protection of the eyes of others upon them, could hardly dare to glance his way? When he had raced from Blackwell house that fated evening, she had witnessed the look of betrayal upon his features. Where had that gone? Was it still buried beneath the cloak of kindness that he wore always?
Or, was it merely that he pitied her for her suffering? That may be the case, she feared, but it would not be the same as the love that she had once been so certain that he had felt.
She had been too lost in the musings of her own mind to have noticed when he drew closer. When a firm hand settled above hers to stop her from lifting the teapot to fill yet another cup that would go unconsumed, she startled and overturned the bowl of sugar at her side.
“Are you expecting company?” he asked with one half of his mouth upturned in the charming way she liked best. Marilee looked down at the tray and noted that she had poured five settings and had been about to pour the sixth. She felt her cheeks redden.
“I just…” she stammered and then, with a resigned sigh, shrugged. “I was wool gathering.”
“So, I see,” he said. He took both of her hands and drew her to her feet, the movement forcing her to come face to face with him at last.
He smiled down upon her. “Alright,” he laughed. “Let us have it out.”
“How can you be so blasé?” she blurted. “Aren’t you cross? After what happened I thought you would never wish to speak with me again. That it would take me months, ages, to convince you to hear the truth.”
