Page 101 of The Devil in Her Bed
He nodded.
“Did he apprehend Kenway?”
Another nod.
Ramsay let out a wicked breath. “With a father like that, no wonder ye never claimed yer nobility.”
The man’s words thrust a pang through his middle. He’d expected censure, not understanding. “There’snothing noble about that man,” he said darkly. “The world is better off without him.”
“Of that I have no doubt. But first…”
“Was anyone hurt tonight? Dashiell and Howard, are they all right?”
“One officer was stabbed, by Kenway, if ye’d believe it.” Ramsay seemed less than perturbed by this.
“Bloody fucking—”
“Och, it was only in the hand. He’ll live, with a commendation no less.”
“I should have caught the bastard myself. It’s only that…” Chandler trailed off, feeling a complicated form of remorse for how little guilt it caused him that he’d come for her first.
“Doona be too hard on yerself. No man could have kept his head were his woman in danger like that. Least of all me.”
Chandler shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming. Was the Lord Chief Justice, high justice of one of the highest queen’s benches, calling him on Francesca Cavendish’s newfangled telephone in her bedroom? Absolving him of almost treasonous dereliction of his duties for the Secret Services, all because he was in love. How did the bloody Scot know of his feelings in the first place?
Chandler remembered the ferocity with which Lord Ramsay fought for Cecelia. He’d abandoned his post on the queen’s bench and swept her into hiding. And then he’d enlisted Chandler’s aid to save her life and that of those seven young girls.
If anyone understood Chandler’s own motivations, it was Ramsay.
“I could have stashed her and come back.” He’d simply been too angry. Too afraid to let her out of his sight. Some sort of primitive need to claim her had overtaken all sense of reason.
It was dangerous what she did to him.
What she made him capable of.
“Bah.” Chandler imagined Ramsay waving his words away. “We are none of us blameless. Francesca could have stayed home and allowed us to do our jobs. I could have not told her where the ritual was going to be, knowing full well she’d go after Kenway. After ye. In my defense, she’s a dragon when provoked, and her need to avenge ye moved me. Alas, that is what affection does to us fallible humans.”
“Alas.” Chandler shared a short rumble of amusement with Ramsay before releasing a long, troubled breath. “What will happen to him?”
“He’ll hang,” Ramsay said gently. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, he deserves it.” Chandler lowered himself into the chair behind him, suddenly feeling twice his age. “I’ll report to the Secret Services in the morning for a debrief and—”
“Chandler…” Ramsay interrupted. “I doona even ken what to call ye. That isna yer name.”
“It can be for now.”
“We have enough to charge yer father for high treason, but there is the Mont Claire Massacre to put to rest. The kidnapping of children and the… murder of the Lord Chancellor among others.
“I understand.”
“Aye. Ye see…” A quiet uncertainty leached intoRamsay’s voice, as if he didn’t relish what he had to say next. “We arrested others but have little to keep them on, and I fear the reach of the council is longer than we feared. In order to dismantle it, Kenway must denounce it, himself. He should confess his horseshit to his followers and publicly state that he was a traitor and a conspirator against the Crown.”
“Good fucking luck,” Chandler muttered.
“He’s agreed to do so, but only… if he may speak with ye first.”
Chandler’s insides turned into bricks. He’d known he’d have to face his own personal demon, but his entire being railed against it. “I-I’ll be there in the morning.”
