“After I kicked him, I just wanted to run, but I tripped and fell. Then he fell over me.”
“Yes, I know. We all saw it. It’s over. All over now. He’s quite dead.”
Evangeline turned then to see a good dozen Chesleigh people, both men and women, each of them carrying a weapon—a branch off a lime tree, a pitchfork, a gun. Mrs. Raleigh carried an umbrella, Bassick a large candelabrum. Trevlin held a bridle wrapped around his fist.
Evangeline said, “Thank you all so very much for coming to my rescue.”
The duke said, “I thank you as well. Evangeline de Beauchamps will soon become your mistress and my duchess.” Evangeline heard the cheering as she and the duke, arm in arm, walked slowly back to Chesleigh castle. “Drew asked me if we were going to marry. I told him that I felt it my duty since you seemed so utterly helpless without me. At which he had the gall to laugh his head off. As I recall, he yowled, ‘Helpless, by God, helpless!’ before I smashed my fist into his shoulder and he wisely quieted his mirth. I then said that very well, you weren’t all that helpless, but you certainly couldn’t seem to tread the straight and narrow without me. He brought himself to agree with that and said, only giving an occasional hoot of laughter, that the Ministry would be relieved that things had solved themselves so neatly.”
When they were in the drawing room, the door closed, the duke brought her against him, and for a long moment he simply held her, his face buried in her hair. “We’ll leave for London tomorrow and marry as soon as your father arrives from Paris. Now, we must speak to my son.”
“Yes,” she said, “I will promise to let him chase me if he’ll give us his blessing.” “I doubt he’ll be overly surprised,” the duke said. At that moment Ellen came down the corridor, her hands raised above her head. They heard Edmund say from behind her, “Keep walking, Terrible Tom, or it will be the worst for you. Stop a moment, and I will take these travelers’ money.”
The duke laughed and called back, “Edmund, are you a Bow Street Runner or a highwayman?”
“I have this great calling,” Edmund said. “I will be both.”
“My father,” Evangeline said, “will adore Edmund.”
“Right now I’m just praying that he’ll give us his blessing.”
“Why would he not? Oh, the rift between the families. Won’t you tell me what happened?”
“It all seems rather ridiculous now. It had to do with Marissa’s dowry, a large part of which was supposedly jewels. They turned out to be paste. Your uncle refused to hear of it, accusing my father of stealing the jewels to wring more money out of him. I thought my father would expire from apoplexy. He severed the ties between the Clarendons and all the Beauchamps from that day onward. Of course, your father took his brother’s side, which is why I never saw that terribly serious half-French girl for six years.” “Well, now you’ve got her for life.” She shook her head. “I really don’t think we have to worry about my father. I believe he’ll be so relieved that both of us are once again safe that he’ll kiss you. He’ll even forgive you for being a boring Englishman.”
“A boring Englishman is certainly preferable to the saintly, blessedly departed clod Andrei.”
“Hear, hear,” she said, and reached down to catch Edmund up in her arms.
“Eve, Papa looks like he’s going to bite your ear again.”
Laughter, she thought, there was no greater pleasure than laughter.
• • •
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Catherine Coulter, The Deception
(Series: Baron # 3)
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