The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes (London Highwaymen, #2)(81)

“God, no. Let me get those breeches off you so I can take care of you.”

“Tomorrow. I’m tired.” Her arm was starting to hurt, not that she was going to admit it. And whatever surge of energy she had experienced after the robbery was now long gone. She was exhausted.

“Come here,” he said, holding his arm out, and she curled into his side, her head on his shoulder. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Rob’s fingers carding through her hair.





Chapter 38




When Rob woke, the sun was already up but Marian was still fast asleep. He carefully extricated his arm from beneath her and dressed as well as he could, considering that his clothes were variously stained with blood or crumpled from a night on the floor.

He began looking for Percy, guessing that the man would have returned to Clare House when Kit brought word that Marian had been injured. But Rob also wanted to explore this house for his own reasons—he wanted to see what his life would have been, if things had been different. He wanted to see the house where he didn’t grow up, the house where his children wouldn’t play. And this morning was the first of January, the day Marian and Percy planned to move out of Clare House, so this would be Rob’s last chance to see the place.

He found Percy at the breakfast table. “Good Lord,” Percy said, glancing up from his toast. “You’re even more unkempt than usual.”

“Marian is fine,” Rob said. “In case you wondered.”

“Naturally.” Percy took a sip of tea. “I do think highly enough of you to believe that you’d let me know if she weren’t.”

“I want to talk to you,” Rob said.

“You’re talking to me right now,” Percy said.

It figured that he wasn’t going to make this easy. “What if we moved Marian’s father into Clare House? The house he’s living in now isn’t suitable. Also the landlord shot Marian, so I think a cordial relationship is out of the question.”

“It’s your house,” Percy said. “Do as you please.”

“Quit that. We both know that probate is going to take an eternity and until then it’s neither of our houses.”

Percy raised a pale eyebrow. “Does this mean you’re going to go along with inheriting the estate?”

“Christ, no. I’m not going to involve myself with it. The court can do what it wants. If I have to testify, I’ll tell the truth. My mother will, too. If I do inherit, I won’t use the title and I’ll give all the money away. I don’t mean that I’ll endow a charity. I mean that I’ll bankrupt the estate. I know that you signed deeds of manumission for the people on the West Indies properties, and I’d see to it that those were honored. Also, I’d have to see how to make sure the estate’s duties are fulfilled—Marian reminds me that somebody has to pay the vicar and look after the roads and so forth—but other than that, the estate won’t keep any funds.”

“You’d be willing to bankrupt the estate of your son?”

That brought Rob up short. “I’m not likely to have any children.”

Percy stared at him. “I’ve seen the way you and Marian look at one another.”

“Children don’t necessarily follow,” Rob said, and something about his tone must have got the point across because Percy didn’t pursue the topic.

“She trusts you,” Percy said after a long silence. “I suppose that’s better than the alternative.”

Rob swallowed. “I’ll try to deserve it.”

“Yes, yes, that’s enough of that.” Percy cast a desperate glance at his toast, as if it could save him from sentiment. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Rob realized what had been wrong with this entire conversation. “Why are you going along with everything I suggest? I thought you’d fight me tooth and nail.”

Percy looked chagrined. “Because it really is your choice what happens here. It’s yours. I’m willing to facilitate what you want, as long as it won’t harm anyone I care about.”

“Please don’t—”

“That’s the way it is, Rob. Fair warning, I will probably always consider you the Duke of Clare in some regard, and it will probably always matter to me. Old habits and all that. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m also trying to be kind and civil because it would please Kit. And we both know it will please Marian.”

“We’re family.”

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t thinking of that.”

“I wasn’t referring to the blood tie, although God knows there’s enough of that to go around.” The links between Rob and Percy and Eliza and Marian would make them a family by anyone’s measure. “I meant that I’ve considered Kit my family since—well, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t. And if he considers you family, then so do I.”

Percy momentarily looked stunned but recovered quickly. “Yes, well, I’m sure I do, too,” he said, all in a rush. Then he got to his feet and pulled a cord. “I ought to have known you’d become sentimental and it serves me right for letting you in here in the first place.” A footman entered the breakfast room. “See to it that Mr. Brooks has a fresh pot of tea.”