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  “How did you know where to find me?” Tom asked as soon as they were both in the street.

  “Servants are quite useful, you know? They’ll tell you anything you want to know if you slip them an extra shilling or two.”

  Tom grinded his teeth together. Bloody, disloyal servants.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home, Barclay,” Tisbury called, “tending to my wife?”

  “I do whatever I bloody well want to,” he called back.

  “She’s a slippery one, you know? The little bitch might run away when you’re not looking.”

  He was provoking him, Tom knew that. Sober Tom wouldn’t have played into it—wouldn’t have given Tisbury the satisfaction of throwing the first punch. But Sober Tom wasn’t here, was he?

  Bianca may have chosen another man over him. And she may have left his heart in a constant state of pain and emptiness. But Tom would be damned if he was going to let anyone speak that way about her.

  He closed the distance between them before the fat bastard even had a chance to pick up his feet. Tom’s fist collided with Tisbury’s jaw and sent him careening to the muddy floor.

  He stood over the baron, seething, ready to strike again. Tisbury looked up at him, his nostrils flaring.

  “You stole her from me!” he shouted, clumsily coming to his feet. “She was mine!”

  “She was never yours.” She’s not mine, either. Tom flexed his fists at his side. He couldn’t say that to Tisbury—he still had to believe she was under his protection. But it pained him just the same to admit it to himself. “She hated you,” he continued. “And why wouldn’t she? You’re a crazed lunatic with questionable hygiene.”

  Tisbury blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by the accusations, but he didn’t try to defend himself.

  “Leave her alone,” Tom finally said, breaking the long silence. “Leave us alone. We’re married now,” he said, noting how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. “There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

  Tom fought the gripping in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried, but it took all his strength to stave off the tears.

  Tisbury slumped in defeat and nodded his head. Despite the fact he seemed suddenly remorseful, Tom still didn’t trust that the man wouldn’t make another move to get Bianca back, even if by force.

  “You’ll leave the country,” Tom said, and then added, “It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.”

  “Where will I go?”

  Tom shook his head. “I don’t care.”

  Tisbury walked away at last, rubbing his jaw as he went. Tom couldn’t remove his gaze from the man until he disappeared around a corner. Too bad he hadn’t found more relief from his encounter. What he had found was that he’d sobered quite a bit out here in the rain and now it felt as if he’d broken his bloody hand.

  Twenty

  Bianca wasn’t quite sure why reunions made her so nervous, but as she walked from Emil’s room to the parlor downstairs, her palms became drenched and her heart raced so quickly she worried she might collapse of a coronary.

  It was foolish, really. They were her family, after all. She’d been so excited to learn they were all coming to London to see her. Even Father, who rarely left their little cottage near Oxford.

  But things were different now. She’d put them through Hell, she was certain, with her running away. She’d made a mess of things, and now she sought their blessing to marry a gypsy. She couldn’t imagine it was going to go over too well, but it wouldn’t do to lose hope–or gumption—now.

  She stood outside the parlor door, listening. It was quiet, though she could hear the telltale pacing of her sister, Tempest. She tended to be rather tightly wound, full of fiery energy, ready to take action at a moment’s notice. The ruffle of pages clearly came from her father who was never without a book to entertain himself. The continuous sighing came from Verona, no doubt—poor thing hadn’t an ounce of patience in her body.

  “Sit up straight, Robin,” came Mama’s voice, firm but quiet as she instructed Bianca’s youngest sister—a hoyden to the core—to be more ladylike.

  Bianca smiled. Robin would never be more ladylike, and that was why she loved her.

  With a deep breath, Bianca finally worked up the courage to present herself to her family. Sheepishly, she moved toward the doorway and stood there quietly until Tempest’s pacing turned in her direction.

  “Bianca!” Tempest ran across the room and nearly bowled Bianca over with an exuberant hug.

  Bianca hugged her back, realizing just how much she’d missed her family. Realizing how much she was going to miss them when she married Emil.

  Robin and Verona were there the next moment, the four of them sharing in one big hug. Bianca couldn’t stop the tears of happiness as she pulled away to look at each of them. Tempest’s dark mass of curls was just as wild as ever. Verona looked a bit pale, but at least she wore her glasses. And Robin—

  “Why are your cheeks so red?” Bianca asked, alarmed.

  Tempest gave a snort. “I told her she couldn’t make it over the gate—”

  Verona rolled her eyes. “So naturally, she tried–”

  “And made it!” Robin finished with a triumphant smile.

  Bianca could only shake her head and laugh. “How much fun have I missed out on?” she asked wistfully.

  “Not as much as you might think,” Verona replied with yet another eye roll. But Bianca knew that while her sister might not outwardly approve of Tempest and Robin’s antics, she secretly loved every minute of them. Otherwise she would try harder to put a stop to them.

  “All right, girls,” came Mother’s voice from the settee on the other side of the room. “That’s enough. Go and have a turn about the gallery while your father and I have a word with Bianca.”

  Though Bianca had been forced to grow up quite a bit in a short amount of time, being in her parents’ presence made her feel like a small child again, ready for her scolding. She watched her sisters go, wishing there was a way to stop them. Verona glanced over her shoulder in the doorway to give Bianca an encouraging smile and then disappeared with the others.

  Bianca stood where she was, afraid to even look at her parents, so she kept her head pointed to the ground. It was so unlike her. But nothing—not even infiltrating a gypsy camp—made her as nervous as she was now.

  “Well, young lady,” her father said, snapping his book shut and coming to his feet. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

  Bianca looked up at him. His expression was stern, his hands clasped behind his back, no doubt with the book between them.

  Be brave, Bianca. “I—I tried to tell you that I didn’t want to marry Tisbury.”

  Mother sent a pointed and rather annoyed look to Father.

  “Was that any reason to run off in the dead of night without a word to anyone?”

  This came as a bit of a surprise. Surely her sisters had told them they knew of the plan and where she was headed. “But I did tell someone. I told three someones.”

  “They knew you were leaving, yes,” Mother said quietly. “But no one—not even you—knew where you would end up.”

  She choked on the last few words, and it was then Bianca realized just how much heartache and worry she’d put them through.

  “I never meant to worry you,” she said, rushing to her mother’s side. “But I didn’t think I had another choice.”

  Her mother grabbed her about the neck and pulled her close.

  “Perhaps we were a little too adamant about your marrying Tisbury.” Father shuffled his feet. He’d never done well with all the hysterics a houseful of women brought. “Oh, come, you two! I’ve had all the blubbering I can take for a lifetime.”

  “Hush, Marvin,” Mother said, her voice muffled in Bianca’s hair. “I’ll cry if and when I please.”

  Father let out a groan as he collapsed back onto the blue velvet settee.

  As their tears subsided, Bianca and her mother pulled away from
one another. But she knew this interview was far from over. She still had to tell them about Emil…and Tom. About the wedding plans.

  Her palms grew sweaty again, but she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. Emil was getting stronger, and Victoria assured her they could leave within the next few days. There wouldn’t be any time to waste after that. She wanted to marry Emil as soon as was humanly possible.

  Bianca swallowed. “I must speak with you both about…about what happened while I was gone. I know it hasn’t been all that long, and it’s hard to believe myself all that transpired, but you deserve to know. You need to know.”

  Both her parents stared back at her with curious expressions, but they held their silence, waiting for her to continue.

  “I am engaged, sort of,” she said, turning their curious expressions into shock. “But my fiancé is willing to do away with the special license he procured for us.”

  Sheer confusion. Perhaps she wasn’t explaining it properly.

  “You see, Lady Leyburn’s brother offered to marry me—”

  “The viscount?”

  She’d known her mother would be thrilled to hear a viscount had asked her to marry him. The joy that infused her eyes was going to make this next part incredibly hard to relay.

  “Future viscount.”

  Mother gasped and brought a hand to her heart. “How marvelous this news!”

  “Mother, please,” Bianca said, putting a hand to her mother’s knee. “I’m not finished, and you’re only making this more difficult.”

  “Well, forgive my excitement—”

  “Hush, woman!”

  Mother sent a murderous look toward Father, but buttoned her lips nonetheless.

  “We were on a ship bound for Jamaica. It seemed the only option at the time—we needed to get as far away from Tisbury as possible. But when the boat had to turn back, I knew…” She took a deep breath. “I knew that I had to come back and find the man that I truly love.”

  Both her parents sat forward, hanging on her every word.

  “Who is it that you truly love, if not the future viscount?” her mother wondered, clearly baffled and probably hopeful that she was going to announce she was in love with a duke.

  “Me,” came a masculine voice from the doorway.

  Bianca whirled around in her seat, all at once grateful to see Emil and alarmed at his presence.

  “You’re not supposed to be out of bed,” she said, jumping from the settee and running to his side.

  He planted a kiss on her forehead that made her blush.

  “It’s time I start rebuilding my strength.” He glanced toward her parents and back again. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  Mother looked as if she might have an apoplexy and Father just stared at Emil with a mix of horror and fascination in his eyes.

  “Bianca?” Mother said cautiously. “Who is this?”

  Emboldened by his smile, Bianca turned to her parents. “Mother, Father, this is Emil. The man I truly love.”

  Twenty-One

  Tom knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, especially on this conversation, but he couldn’t help himself. He was part of the topic anyway, so why shouldn’t he hear what they were saying about him?

  On the other hand, it would be far less painful to not hear what they had to say. Good or bad, it wasn’t going to be easy to hear Bianca tell her parents why she’d chosen Emil over him.

  “Clearly, your brain’s been addled somehow!” Mrs. Manning cried.

  At least someone was on his side.

  “I know it seems that way, Mother, but addled or not, my mind is made up.”

  “Aren’t you going to do something about this, Marvin?”

  The man heaved a sigh. “We lost her once because we forced her into something she didn’t want to do,” he said. “I would rather have a gypsy daughter than none at all.”

  Tom smiled sadly. Mr. Manning would have made a nice father-in-law.

  “Come, Claire,” he said, the floor creaking beneath him as he assumedly rose to his feet. “Let us take our leave.”

  Tom, not wanting to be seen, ran for the broom closet under the stairs. He locked himself in the small, dark space while Bianca said her goodbyes.

  The front door closed and there was silence in the foyer. Tom dared a peek out of the closet and immediately regretted it.

  Emil and Bianca stood near the foot of the stairs in a passionate embrace, their lips locked in an intimate kiss. Tom’s first inclination was to tear out of the room and shake her until she saw sense. Until she realized that it was him she loved, and not Emil.

  But in the end, he simply closed his eyes—and the door—praying his heart would one day stop beating for her.

  After too many moments, he heard mumbling and then silence. He would wait a few more minutes to make sure they were—

  “It isn’t nice to eavesdrop, you know?”

  Light flooded the tiny closet and Bianca stood before him, hands on her hips.

  Damn.

  “Sorry,” he said, feeling a bit awkward, both at having been caught and also because of his hunched over position in the blasted closet. “I, eh, couldn’t find an appropriate time to make my presence known, so I thought I’d just…”

  The pity in Bianca’s stare made him cringe. Had he really become so bad about keeping his emotions to himself? Next thing, he’d be a blubbering mess.

  “Would you like to come out now?”

  Tom nodded. “Please.”

  He ducked through the doorway and out into the foyer, bringing himself up to his full height.

  “I’m glad to hear your parents took the news rather well.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Rather unexpected. I thought I’d have to run away again.”

  It was meant to be a joke, but neither one of them laughed.

  “Well, I suppose—”

  “Tom, I’m so sor—”

  They both stopped, not wanting to talk over the other, yet they both knew what the other meant to say now.

  “Don’t be,” Tom said. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. Her blue eyes filled with tears that threatened to break him. “I will survive this.”

  She broke their gaze, moving her head gently to the side, away from his touch.

  “I will never forget your kindness,” she said.

  Kindness. That was all she thought of him. The kind man who offered to marry her in order to protect her. And here he’d gone and bloody fallen in love with her.

  “I—” His voice broke, so he cleared his throat, stepping away from her in the process. “I should go.”

  Without a single backward glance, he left the hospital, closing the door on the only woman he’d ever loved.

  Twenty-Two

  Tom walked into his sister’s home the next morning, dreading the conversation they were about to have. It was going to be difficult—more difficult than any other they’d ever had. He actually thought about leaving without saying goodbye. Sending a letter from the shipyard so he’d be out to sea by the time she got it.

  But he knew that was the cowardly way out, and he’d regret it the moment the ship left the dock.

  He’d already said goodbye to Mother and Father—not that they cared.

  “Your mother will send word when I die,” was Father’s only comment on the matter.

  Mother gave an unenthusiastic “Be safe, dear,” and went back to her needlepoint.

  Victoria would more than make up for their indifference.

  “Uncle Tom!”

  Little Sally came running into the foyer, her curls bouncing and her cheeks red. Tom caught her up in a hug and swung her around, hanging on a moment longer than necessary, knowing it would be a very long time before he got to hug her again.

  When he set her down, he realized that instead of her usual exuberant expression, there was worry in her eyes.

  “What’s the matter, Sally?” he asked, his own brow furrowing into concern.

  “It
’s Aunt Vickie,” she said. “They say she’ll be all right, but the doctor’s with her now.”

  “Where’s Fin?” Tom hated the sick feeling in his stomach. He needed answers but more than likely he wouldn’t get them from an eight-year-old girl.

  “With her. Upstairs.”

  Tom took the stairs two at a time and then raced down the corridor to Fin and Victoria’s chambers. The door was closed, so he knocked lightly and then pushed the door open before anyone had a chance to answer.

  Three pairs of eyes turned on him, but the only pair he met were his sister’s.

  “Tom, what are you doing here?”

  He stalked across the room to stand beside her bed. Truthfully, she looked fine. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy.

  “I came to speak with you, but Sally told me something was wrong.”

  Victoria smiled and looked to the doctor as she flopped back to the pillows. “Everything is fine, though Dr. Simmons is concerned for the baby.”

  “As you should be, too,” Fin put in, clearly annoyed at his wife’s flippancy.

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

  “Lady Leyburn, that amount of bleeding this early is not a good sign,” the doctor said, then turned to Fin and Tom. “She’s not to leave this bed for more than a bath or an occasional turn about the room.”

  Oh, God. Poor Victoria. She’d go mad lying in bed for the next five or six months.

  “It’s preposterous!” She folded her arms over her chest and looked out the window, like a defiant child.

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter what you think, my darling,” Fin said definitively. “You’ll do as the doctor says. I won’t have you putting yourself or our child in harm’s way.”

  Victoria opened her mouth to protest, but Tom cut her off.

  “He’s right, Vickie.”

  She clamped her lips shut again, clearly surprised that Tom was siding with Fin.

  “Fine,” she finally said with a pout. “But you must promise to come and entertain me on a daily basis, then. I’ll go mad without lots of company and reports from the outside world.”