Page 96 of The Heart of an Earl

He nudged her forward toward the door.

Just outside the study, Mr. Charles hobbled along toward them. “The surgeon has been sent for, my lady.” He glanced at Des and then back to her. “You are thinking to leave?”

“We are.”

“But Lady Julianna—”

“I am sorry to leave you with this, Mr. Charles, as you have always been so good to me. But you need to clean up the mess in my father’s study.”

“But my lady—”

Jules shook her head, her hand going to squeeze Mr. Charles’s arm. “Don’t worry—the blood didn’t get on any rugs.”

Mr. Charles’s weathered lips clamped shut. He knew just as well as her the misdeeds of her father.

Des’s arm tightened about her shoulders and she looked up at him.

Even in the dim light of the hallway, she could see the color returning to his face. Though he probably wouldn’t eat for a day.

“Are you ready, Jules?”

“I have been ready for this moment for years.”

A smile from him, and they started forth, walking out of Gatlong Hall.

Free. Free of the past.

Free to be who she was.

Free.

Except for that pesky box clutched in her hand.

{ Epilogue }

“Tell me it is done.”

Jules jumped to her feet as Des walked into her bedroom at her aunt’s dower house on the Isle of Wight. He flopped down heavily onto a side chair across from her in front of the fire.

For all that they needed to stay together, this was one event she couldn’t participate in, and she’d been skittish since Des had left two days ago. Every door opening and closing in the enormous Palladian country house had sent her running through the corridors, checking in rooms, making sure Des hadn’t arrived back.

She’d known it could take this long—known he’d had to travel to Portsmouth on the mainland and then find Weston.

As bleary as her eyes had been, she hadn’t been able to sleep so had been sitting by the fire, staring at the same page in a book for the last hour.

Her entire being suddenly wide awake, she stepped forward, looking down at Des as her fingers twisted with themselves. “Is it done?”

His hand ran across his face. He looked as weary as she felt—most likely having slept even less than her.

Des looked up at her as his fingers cleared from his face and his hazel eyes settled on her. “Yes. And no.”

Instant elation in her belly shoved aside by instant dismay.

Her fingers went to his cheek, dragging across a fresh cut marring his skin she hadn’t seen when he first came in. “This? Tell me. Tell me it is gone. Tell me it has fallen into the proper hands.”

Two months.

Two months they’d carried the Box of Draupnir about with them. To Wolfbridge Castle and then here to the Raplan Dower Estate on the Isle of Wight.

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