Page 106 of A Rogue to Ruin
“Anne?” he garbled, his eyes staring straight up at the moonlit sky.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said.
“Lorcan should be the earl, not that pretender,” Ludlow managed between gasps.
Rafe moved to stand over him, taking Anne with him. “I am not a pretender,” he said softly. “I’m the Earl of Stone.”
Blood spilled from Ludlow’s mouth as he fought to speak. No sound came out save a long, rasping breath. Then he was still.
“I’m sorry, Anne,” Harry said. “He pulled a pistol from his coat. I had to shoot.”
“I understand. You did what you had to.” She ought to feel sad, but she was angry with herself for standing by this horrendous man, for believing that he was struggling with the loss of the life he’d known. But it was a life he’d stolen from the man beside her.
She was also relieved that Rafe was, indeed, still standing beside her. Turning toward his chest, she reached around him and clasped his right arm. He winced as soon as she touched him.
“Are you all right?” She let go and wished for more light so she could see if he was wounded.
“Just a nick on my arm.”
She frowned at him. “What is a nick to you may be a gaping wound to someone else.”
“It really is only a scratch. I promise, my love.”
For now, she’d take his word for it. “How did you find me?”
“Mallory attacked the wrong people,” North said with a shake of his head. “They lured Rafe to the folly at Brixton Park, presumably with the intent of killing him. They didn’t realize he’d have his sisters with him, and that they are every bit as skilled with a knife as Lord Stone here.” He inclined his head toward Rafe to indicate he meant the true earl.
“Are they all right?” Anne asked, shocked. “Selina and Beatrix, I mean. I don’t care about the men who were working for my godfather.”
“Yes, they’re fine,” Harry said. “And most of the men will be able to stand trial.”
Anne looked down at her godfather. “He was mad.” She clutched Rafe more tightly.
Harry raked his hand through his auburn hair. “I need to find the coachman and that last brigand.”
“I’ll help,” North said, and Anthony joined in.
A coach stopped on the road, which was perhaps a quarter mile distant. “Rafe?”
Anne recognized Selina’s voice.
“Here!” Rafe called.
A few minutes later, Selina, Beatrix, and Jane arrived, the latter of whom rushed forward and enveloped Anne in a tight hug. Though her head hurt, Anne embraced her sister with a mix of relief and overwhelming love.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Jane said through tears. Suddenly, Anne was crying too, and the pent-up emotion of the evening spilled from her as she held on to her sister.
It was several minutes before they separated. Jane wiped her face and sucked in a sharp breath as her gaze fell on Ludlow. “Is that…?”
“My godfather, yes,” Anne said. “It’s a long story that I will gladly tell you later. Suffice to say that I am not sorry he is dead.” She suddenly felt exhausted to her very bones. The earth began to tilt. Rafe swept her into his arms before she fell.
She closed her eyes as he carried her to the coach and placed her inside. She clasped his hand. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”
He pressed a kiss to her wrist before he climbed inside and lifted her onto his lap. “Darling, I am never letting you go.”
* * *
The first rays of dawn speared over the horizon as Rafe stared down at his sleeping betrothed. They’d come back to Brixton Park, where he’d carried Anne upstairs to a room Ripley had prepared for her.
