Page 102 of Never a Duke
He lashed his arms around her, and the pleasure became transcendent. Rosalind thrashed out her satisfaction as Ned groaned softly against her shoulder, and then she was so much sparkling joy, light as eiderdown, as peaceful as summer sunshine.
“I am slain,” Ned said, his hold easing to merely snug. “I am utterly, completely…”
“You are all mine, Ned Wentworth, and I am all yours.” An eddy of cool air wafted from the window, which Ned had opened a mere inch. The breeze was luscious, Ned’s embrace a benediction beyond words, and sleep a temptation.
“Plain handkerchief is on the night table,” Ned said. “I did not withdraw, in case the obvious needs stating.”
“How are Their Graces to serve as godparents for our firstborn if you insist on withdrawing?” Rosalind levered up enough to find the handkerchief. She tended to the mess, and nearly fell asleep on Ned’s chest.
Before she dozed off, Ned arranged her on her side, and wrapped himself around her. “I meant what I said, Rosalind. We’ll get through tomorrow and whatever else today’s mischief precipitates. I know who kidnapped those women, and I intend to see justice done.”
Rosalind laced her fingers with Ned’s, and even in sleep, she kept a firm hold of his hand.
***
The entire Wentworth family, even Rothhaven and Constance, gathered as a jury of the whole, and agreed with Ned that the villains had to be confronted lest the scheme simply resume. Francine Arbuckle and Catherine Campbell had agreed to give sworn statements and even testify if need be, as had several of the other women.
Two of the ladies had done little more than weep since being rowed to safety, and another hadn’t spoken a word. She had gazed at Ned with furious, tormented eyes, and he had promised himself she would have justice.
“We don’t have to try a peer to stop further kidnappings,” Rosalind said, for the third time, as the ducal town coach rolled along in the direction of the Woodruff residence. “George inveigled those women into captivity. George benefited financially. Francine was very clear about that. The ladies all identified him from the sketch I showed them. George is most clearly at fault.”
“What of Lindhurst?” Ned asked. “Do you believe George acted on his own?” The question was delicate, because Rosalind, so far, was staunchly of the opinion that only George was culpable. Ned suspected Rosalind’s brothers had acted at the direction of the earl, which would mean a trial in the House of Lords, and a gargantuan scandal.
“If Lindhurst was involved,” Rosalind retorted, “then why was he constantly borrowing money from George?”
“Because, Rosalind, Lindhurst cannot manage his funds.”
Her gaze was on the busy streets and pretty houses of Mayfair. “Lindhurst cannot manageanything, Ned. Witness, he’s lit upon the brilliant scheme of marrying Clotilda Cadwallader to improve the family fortunes. I suspect he has pressed his suit to the point that the lady must accept him or suffer undeniable disgrace.”
The duke and duchess exchanged a glance. They were, as was their habit, holding hands despite the seriousness of the errand, or perhaps, because of it.
“Why not confront George, Lindhurst, and Woodruff at the same time?” Her Grace of Walden suggested. “They might get to pointing fingers at one another and solve the dilemma for us.”
The dilemma was whether to set off the scandal of the decade or the scandal of the century. An earl sent to the dock—or whatever the equivalent in the House of Lords was—would take precedence with the gossips over every straying wife, rolled-up baron, or outrageous wager for the next four generations.
“George will scarper,” Rosalind said. “But his scheme will be unraveled, and that matters.”
Walden held his peace, though Ned knew precisely what His Grace was thinking. Two large, fit, exceedingly loyal footmen rode at the back of the coach. Two grooms rode up on the box with the coachman. George would not scarper unless Walden permitted him to scarper.
And in that regard, Walden would heed the guidance of the ladies, and of Rosalind in particular.
“I’m nervous,” Rosalind said. “Woodruff is the only father I’ve known, and his temper is cold and ruthless.”
Ned, by contrast, was calm, as far as confronting Rosalind’s family went. “Woodruff is cold and ruthless out of arrogance,” he said. “His lordship believes himself entitled to behave like a horse’s arse. I learned to be ruthless as a matter of survival. I will not allow the earl to disrespect you, Rosalind. Not ever again.”
Rosalind’s fingers curled around Ned’s. “He can tie up my funds.”
Bugger your funds.Except that they wereherfunds, willed to her byhermother. The point was not that Ned could provide well for her. The point was that Rosalind deserved access to her own money.
“He won’t dare,” Ned said. “I will put out the word that I’m buying up every unpaid bill, every marker, every IOU Woodruff owes, and before nightfall, you will own him.”
“That’s very good,” Her Grace said. “Efficient and simple. Walden, I can see why Ned manages our bank.”
Rosalind was looking at Ned as if he’d invited her on a five-day picnic in the land of perfect spring days.
“You can do that?”
“The shopkeepers talk to one another, from shop door to shop door, and bootmaker to bootmaker. The apprentices share a nightly pint, the clerks lodge together. Mercantile London knows who is bad custom and who pays reliably. Walden pays immediately, to the penny, as do I. I have reason to know that Woodruff does not. Lindhurst used up the last of his credit two years ago. George pays, but not promptly.”
