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Once they were in sight of the house, they paused. He didn’t want to leave her there—he wanted her to remain by his side, always. There was still so much to be done, in order to fight for his life with her. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He bowed to her, and she curtsied.
“I hope we will run into each other like this again, My Lady,” he said.
“I presume that we won’t get another moment like this,” she remarked sadly.
“Please,” he begged, “meet me again.”
“It’s going to be tricky, Your Grace,” she replied, frowning.
“I’ll send you a letter,” he said. “Just like before.” He’d have another bring it, the next time so it wouldn’t be traced back to him.
“Very well, Your Grace.” She beamed at him, and his heart just about burst from his chest. She began to walk toward the stables, taking her time, and watching out.
She looked back, and he waved, remembering the last time when she hadn’t. He would remember the way that she looked at him, how the hint of a smile lifted the corners of her lips. How her eyes had sparkled. She turned toward the stables, vanishing behind them.
Once she had disappeared from his view, he turned to head back toward home. He needed to focus. These robbers were becoming even more dangerous, as time passed. Their behavior was increasingly erratic.
* * *
Leah sat with her parents in the sitting room of Lord Langley’s house. Everyone from the nearby estates was there—Lord and Lady Morton, Lord and Lady Quimby and their brood, Lord Sandbourne, Lord Munro and his mother, the Dowager Duchess, without the Duke.
“Where is His Grace?” Leah asked Lord Munro in a low voice.
“I believe he’s out on an errand,” the Dowager Duchess mused. “He has to go and speak to the Colonel of this.”
Leah nodded. She was disappointed that her fiancé was not in attendance. When he was present, she felt special. When they were together, they were the future of Gillingham County. The premier couple in the neighborhood. Alone, and not yet the Duchess, Leah believed herself to be lesser than she would be, soon.
“I’m so sorry to hear of the wedding,” Lord Munro said.
“It’s not forever,” Leah insisted, her eyes on all the people who had gathered in Lord Langley’s large and drafty stone mansion. It was an ancient edifice. One which had been in Lord Langley’s family for generations. “Just until it’s safe.”
The Dowager Duchess smiled at her, sadly. “Of course, dear.” Lady Quimby and her daughter, Lady Laura, approached. Lady Laura was currently the topic of many conversations. She, herself, had been accosted by the brigands and survived.
“All of our preparations will go onward, of course,” Leah told Lord Munro. “But His Grace was right—we cannot have noble guests arriving when the local aristocracy has been targeted so cruelly.”
“Quite right, My Lady,” Lord Munro said, shaking his head sadly. “It’s such a tragedy.”
“It is,” Leah agreed, looking over toward Lord Langley. He was seated in an armchair, over by the fire. He was staring off into space. Lady Ella had remained in her room, too overcome by grief and fear to be in polite company.
“He truly loved her,” Lord Munro commented. “I can only hope to find a lady who loves me as much as he loved her.”
“Love is a sham, My Lord,” Leah said. “It’s all made up for the stories.”
“Is that what you think, My Lady?” he asked. When she looked at him, his head was tilted to the side, curiously. He reminded her of a puppy that she’d once had.
“It’s what I know, My Lord.” She recalled her conversation with the Duke. She wondered if the two brothers had been discussing it. If so, she wondered what the Duke had said to Lord Munro.
“So, he’s that devastated over the loss of a lady that he merely liked, then?” Lord Munro quirked an eyebrow at her.
The two of them watched Lord Langley for a moment. He was offered tea, wine, bourbon. He refused them all. A tear slipped from his eye, down his cheek, settling into the parenthetical curve beside his mouth.
Leah frowned. She couldn’t be mistaken—she very rarely was. “I think love of a sort forms over time,” she said, confidently. “They have been married these past twenty years, after all.”
“I’m sure you’re right, My Lady,” Lord Munro said. “Although all of those books—they couldn’t all be wrong, could they?”
Leah looked sternly at Lord Munro. “I don’t understand the obsession with it. Marriage, for a lady, is about having economic stability,” she explained. “For a gentleman, it’s about having heirs to their estates.”
Lord Munro raised his eyebrow, smiling at her. “Where’s the romance in that, My Lady?”
