The Scoundrel Takes a Bride: A Regency Rogues Novel (40 page)

Nicholas took the opportunity to swipe his towel across his face and neck. “Don’t
remain standing on my account,” he told Langdon, who appeared to be waiting to take
his seat.

Langdon nodded in understanding and sat down, settling into his chair. “As to the
Bishop …”

“Starting right in, then,” Nicholas commented, tossing the linen onto a nearby chair
and dropping into his seat.

“He was found dead in his cell this morning,” Langdon continued, his face somber,
disappointed. “An apparent suicide.”

“I’d told him I would see to his plan for America,” Sophia blurted out, sitting forward
on the edge of her seat and reaching out to grasp the edge of the desk with one hand.
“He was going to tell me the name of his superior! He was not suicidal, I am sure
of it.”

Langdon looked at Sophia. “I do not know what happened between you and the Bishop
yesterday—yet something else about you, Sophia, that seems to have slipped my notice.”
He frowned down at the crystal paperweight sitting on his desk. “Still, I have to
agree with you. I find suicide unlikely. A full investigation is under way. But he
is dead either way, and with him, the search for your mother’s killer, I’m afraid.”

Sophia slumped back in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

“Surely there is more the Corinthians will uncover?” Nicholas asked, watching Sophia
absorb the painful truth and knowing he could not do a damn thing about it.

“I cannot say, Nicholas,” Langdon answered, his tone turning cold. “I can tell you
that even if there are new leads uncovered in the future, neither you nor Sophia will
be allowed to continue the investigation.”

Nicholas turned to take in his brother, anger flaring. “You yourself admitted that
our work led to the Bishop’s capture. How can you presume to make such a decision
on our behalf?”

“Do you love her, Nicholas?” Langdon asked simply.

Nicholas froze, Langdon’s question catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his
mind racing for a
response. In the end, he decided upon the simple truth. “Yes. I always have. And I
always will.”

Langdon picked up the paperweight and appeared to be testing the weight of it in his
right hand. “And you, Sophia? Do you love my brother?”

“Langdon, how did you know?” Sophia asked, her voice tortured.

Langdon turned and looked out the French window. “I’m smart enough to see when two
people are in love. In fact, I suspect I’ve known for some time—since we took tea
at Halcyon House together. My suspicions were not confirmed until the night Mouse
was abducted.”

“We never meant for this to happen. You must believe me,” Sophia begged.

“You know, I do believe you. And that’s what makes it worse. If you’d purposely set
out to deceive me, then I would have every reason to be angry. But I know the two
of you too well. You’d never do such a thing—not even you, Nicholas. I’m sure you
both struggled to come to terms with your love.”

Nicholas reached out and took Sophia’s hand, grasping it tightly. “What can we do,
Langdon? How can we make amends?”

He watched his brother, wanting so badly to do
something
to make things right.

“You will marry, of course,” Langdon replied, turning back to face them. “With my
blessing, so I don’t appear a complete ass. And you will abandon the murder case,
forever. I’ll have your word. That is what you can do—the both of you.”

Sophia squeezed Nicholas’s hand, beginning to cry. “Are you sure, Langdon?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he replied.

“Here, now, that is still my job, isn’t it?”

Sophia looked up from the pearl bracelet she’d unsuccessfully attempted to fasten
four times. “As long as you’ll have me, Lettie.”

Sophia’s dear friend smiled at her as she crossed the room and joined her. “Oh, you
won’t be rid of me so easily,” she said, reaching for the two ends of the antique
piece. “Mr. Bourne does not scare me. Never has, and never will.”

Sophia chuckled at the woman’s wit. “And what of the ton? News of our marriage will
set society tongues wagging the moment it reaches London. You’ll be in service to
the
infamous
Bournes.”

Lettie picked up one of Sophia’s pearl drop earrings from the dressing table. “Is
that why you two decided to have the ceremony here, at Petworth Manor? To hide from
the scandal?”

“It is a scandal, isn’t it?” Sophia asked dubiously, pulling her hair back away from
her ear.

“Honestly? Yes,” Lettie answered simply. “As far as the ton categorizes such things.
But I’ve never been overly concerned with their opinion—not when it comes to your
happiness, anyway. And you shouldn’t be, either.”

Sophia stood still while Lettie affixed the platinum-set earring onto her lobe before
letting her hair fall back into place. “Is that so? Then I’ll tell you something:
returning to Petworth was a defining moment for me—and Nicholas as well. This house
and the grounds …”

She paused, searching Lettie’s face for understanding. “It may sound mad, but Petworth
held the key to my memories—every last one that I’d kept at bay for the past fifteen
years. Many were agonizing, as you already
know. Still, when we returned to London, snippets of my life here at the manor began
to surface—happy times with my family and friends, some of the happiest of my life.
And I realized that facing the worst of my past had unlocked the very best. I can
no longer live life looking behind me.”

“Then you’ll let the search for your mother’s killer go?” Lettie asked, locating the
second earring.

“I told Langdon that I would—”

“That does not answer my question,” Lettie interrupted, gesturing for Sophia to hold
back her hair. “You are prepared to give up everything you have worked for nearly
your entire life? And finally allow yourself to be happy?”

It sounded much more monumental when Lettie put it in such a way. And a small part
of Sophia paused, wondering if she had thoroughly thought things through.

“Would you think less of me if my answer was yes?”

Lettie stood back from Sophia, the beautiful pearl earring dangling from her fingers
and tears in her eyes. “Oh, Sophia, I would think less of you if your answer was no.
It takes far more courage to change course than continue along the same path, hoping
for the best but fully expecting the worst. Mr. Bourne loves you with all of his heart—and
from what I can tell, you feel the same.”

Sophia felt the telling sensation in the back of her throat that always preceded tears.
She nodded in agreement. “You are going to make me cry and I haven’t even left my
room.”

Lettie started fastening the second earring. “Well, it would not be a proper wedding
without tears, my lady. Not proper at all.”

“Might I loosen it? It’s choking the life from me, sir.”

Nicholas looked down at Mouse, who was grimacing as he attempted to destroy his cravat
with one hand. “Welcome to manhood, young Mouse,” he replied, adjusting the sling
that held the boy’s broken arm. It would heal in time. Still, Nicholas would never
forget how lucky they were that he’d not been killed. Even the doctor could not quite
believe how few injuries the boy had sustained as a result of his jump from the second-story
window.

Sophia had called it a miracle. And Nicholas had to agree—just not when anyone else
was around.

But on a day such as this, with the sun shining down on Petworth Manor, and the lake
a ridiculously beautiful shade of blue, Nicholas was forced to consider whether God’s
wedding gift to him was not just one miracle, but a series of them.

Singh rushed up the aisle toward Nicholas, his traditional long silk banyan robe rustling
in the gentle breeze. “Sahib, I have been told that Lady Sophia and Lord Carrington
have left the main house,” he announced, excitement twinkling in his eyes.

“Why don’t he have to wear a noose?” Mouse asked, looking at Singh with envy. “I think
I’m owed
something
for being lied to about Lady Sophia, after all.”

“You are a proper English boy now, young Mouse, to be brought up the son of sahib
and Lady Sophia,” Singh replied, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It is ‘Why
does
he not have to wear a noose?’ And it is not polite to accuse another of lying.”

Mouse eyed him suspiciously, though his fondness for the man shone in his eyes. “You
didn’t answer my question, Mr. Singh.”

“Perceptive, young Mouse. And an answer is unnecessary at this juncture. Come, we
must find our seats,” Singh urged, gently pushing the boy forward to where
the household staff and Mrs. Kirk sat on chairs from the manor brought down to the
banks of the lake.

The pounding of horse’s hooves, accompanied by the rattle of wheels, sounded just
beyond the trees separating the lake from the surrounding land. Nicholas looked with
relief at Singh. The vicar had finally arrived.

Some moments later, the thick tree branches parted and Langdon appeared, followed
by Lord Carmichael and the vicar.

“I am sorry for my lateness,” the short, wide man apologized, walking quickly to where
Nicholas stood. “The wheel on my cart broke some distance from Petworth Manor and
I was forced to walk. Thankfully, Lords Stonecliffe and Carmichael came upon me, or
we might not have had a wedding to celebrate.”

“This way, Vicar Hawkins,” the housekeeper trilled, standing from her seat across
the grassy expanse and beckoning the man toward her. “Just a few details to discuss,
you see.”

Lord Carmichael cleared his throat. “I believe I will take my seat. First, though,”
he said, offering his hand to Nicholas, “congratulations, Bourne. I do hope you plan
to devote yourself entirely to Sophia’s happiness.”

He referred—in part, at least—to Lady Afton’s case, the subtle warning delivered in
classic Carmichael style.

Nicholas offered him an astute stare. “I would be angry, Carmichael,” he began, taking
the man’s hand in his, “if not for the fact that I plan on doing just that.”

“Good to hear, Bourne.” He tipped his hat in recognition and left in search of a seat.

Nicholas watched Carmichael walk away, then turned to look at his brother. “Will you
stay?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Langdon answered brusquely. “It would not do to have the
servants gossiping about my absence.”

Nicholas shook his head. “That is not why you’re here. You are here because you are
a decent, noble man.”

“As are you, brother,” he replied, his gaze sweeping the lake and beyond. “Sophia
would not have fallen in love with you if you’d proven yourself to be anything else.”

“Thank you,” Nicholas murmured.

“I love you, Nicholas. I always have and this will not change things,” Langdon said
as he looked out over the land he’d nearly owned. “Still, I will require time.”

“Take all the time you need, brother. I owe you that, at the very least.”

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