A Daring Liaison(93)
Gibbons realized the decision he’d made and jerked Georgiana’s arm to bring her in front of him. He tightened his arm around her waist, using her as a shield, and held the tip of his blade to her throat. “I’ll kill her before I let you have her, Hunter, so you better let us go,” he snarled. “You ain’t good enough fer her.”
Charles kept steady aim. “I daresay you are right, Gibbons. But she stays with me.”
The tip of Gibbons’s blade made a depression in the soft flesh at the hollow at the base of Georgiana’s throat. The bastard would actually do it! And Charles could see in her eyes that she knew it, too. And did not care.
She closed her eyes and swung her arm out from her side. For the first time, he noted that she held a small valise, and that she intended to use it against Gibbons. The jolt would ruin his aim if he threw the knife at Charles, but would surely drive the blade into her throat if he held it steady. Ah, sweet Jesus, she meant to sacrifice herself for him.
But Gibbons was a head taller than Georgiana. In that split second before she could complete her swing, Charles steadied his pistol and squeezed the trigger.
The shot reverberated in the small room and a pungent cloud of sulfur and vaporized blood rose in the air. Gibbons fell backward, dragging Georgiana with him. Once they hit the floor, neither of them moved.
The outer door splintered and dropped flat on the floor as Finn trampled over it like an enraged bull, Clara behind him waving an iron pan.
Charles stepped forward and kicked the knife away from Gibbons’s limp hand. He needn’t have bothered. A pool of blood was forming beneath him, and a ragged black hole in the center of his forehead gave evidence that he would never wield a knife again.
He lifted Georgiana in his arms and carried her to the bed, relieved that her only sign of injury was a small bead of blood at the base of her throat. At the very point where, when he kissed her there, she would sigh and tighten her arms around him.
He wiped the single bead of blood away with the pad of his thumb, only vaguely aware of Finn hoisting Gibbons over his shoulder and taking him away.
Wycliffe gave orders to remove the Persian carpet and any traces of the incident. He ushered Clara, craning her neck in curiosity, from the room. When they were alone, he lowered his mouth to that vulnerable spot and brushed his lips across it.
Georgiana’s eyelids fluttered even as she curled her arms around his neck. “Oh, Charlie. Oh, thank God.”
“Thank you,” he corrected.
“I nearly got you killed.”
“No, Georgiana. You gave me back my life.”
Epilogue
Georgiana kneeled on the deep grass bordering the flower beds and began digging weeds. So much had changed in just one week, and she had found a sense of peace, though she still did not know her future. Something would need to be settled soon. She could not go on living here, loving Charles and knowing it could all be over the next second.
She had met with the ladies of the Wednesday League and Mr. Renquist to explain the events of that night, though she hadn’t found the heart to tell them the whole truth. She’d said only that Mr. Gibbons was a man who’d become obsessed with her when he’d seen her in her village many years ago, and that his delusions had set her husbands’ deaths in motion. They’d all been relieved it was over at last. When she was finished, Mr. Renquist had smiled and nodded at her and she wondered if he knew more than he was saying. If so, she knew her secret was safe with him.
Shockingly, she’d learned that Richard Gibbons and his brother, Arthur, had amassed a sizeable fortune. Somewhere in the range of one hundred thousand pounds, their solicitor informed her. She was their sole heiress, and she wanted none of it. Since there was no way of knowing from whom they had stolen, extorted or blackmailed it, the ladies had helped her establish a philanthropic fund for the purpose of housing and educating foundlings.
Finn’s services had not been required and he had been dismissed, and yet she would find him lurking around the kitchen, loitering in the garden and sighing as he watched Clara go about her duties. She feared she would be losing a maid when she returned to Kent.
But, most comforting of all, she had finally come to terms with her mother. Instead of wondering why her “aunt” had been unable to love her, she marveled that her mother had loved her enough to lift her from the poverty she’d been left in, take her home and show her kindness and consideration every single day, protect her from the disturbing truth, provide for her future and leave her all her worldly goods. She’d been a good woman who’d tried her best to do what she believed was right. She’d only wanted to find Georgiana a safe harbor and an honorable life. That was love enough for her.