Say No to the Duke (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #4) - Eloisa James Page 0,101

I’ll avoid whisky, and I’ll spend my life in the stables, but I won’t give you up.”

She sighed into his mouth, her breath joining his. “Truly?”

“Not until your life or mine comes to an end.”

“Not even then,” she whispered. “Promise?”

Jeremy managed to smile at her.

Love flooded through him, changing his very essence, making him new. “I promise,” he said huskily. “And beyond.”

Betsy pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “We’ll have to start going to chapel on Sundays,” she said, the love in her voice settling on his skin like a caress.

“We could simply act like the angels we saw,” Jeremy murmured, tipping her backward. “Bess, I don’t think I will injure you. I don’t believe I ripped Grégoire’s shirt.”

She nodded. “That was odd, wasn’t it? It ripped along the collar.”

“As if the stitches had been previously loosened,” he agreed. “I don’t believe I would become violent even if fireworks went off under my chair. I know myself a hell of a lot better than I did before I went to war.” He brushed a kiss across her lips.

“If you had become violent,” Betsy said, “Grégoire would have been the one lying on the floor immobile, wouldn’t he?”

Jeremy nodded. His eyes were unapologetic. “I was trained as a warrior, and hardened under hellish circumstances, Betsy. If I become violent, it won’t be pretty.”

“But that means . . .”

“It calls into question the story I was told about Bedlam,” he agreed. “I can’t say that I really care, though, as long as you don’t.”

“I do,” Betsy said fiercely. “Your cousin is . . . I don’t have words for what he is!”

“My cousin is being questioned by my father and your aunt,” Jeremy said, his eyes laughing. “‘In mortal danger’ might describe Grégoire.”

“He deserves it,” she said stoutly.

“He’s a fool,” Jeremy said, nudging her with his hips.

“Your head?” Betsy asked.

“It hurts,” Jeremy admitted. He rolled his hips again. “I can be distracted.”

Betsy grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Grégoire bribed the colonel to flee,” the marquess declared, fury nearly choking him. “The man wasn’t a coward, as the ministry thought: He was a criminal who took a bribe!”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “How was that possible?”

“Grégoire sent a man to the colonies with money and a mandate to put you in danger. The same man followed you after you returned to London,” Lady Knowe said. “He took advantage of the fireworks episode to have you whisked off to Bedlam, drugged to the gills, and bound in a straitjacket. Meanwhile, Grégoire stayed far away in case your unfortunate demise was ever questioned.”

Jeremy nodded.

“How can you be so calm?” his fierce warrior queen demanded. Betsy’s hands were on her hips, as she scowled at him. “That man tried to take your life! He’s almost a murderer.”

“Grégoire refuses to admit it, but he is a murderer,” Lady Knowe put in. “Grégoire’s wish to ensure that Jeremy died on the battlefield led directly to the death of many men.”

“I was furious when you told me that the general had decided to excuse your colonel’s cowardly behavior. Now I’ll have the colonel court-martialed,” the marquess growled. “The man has no honor. None.”

Jeremy didn’t care.

Oh, he cared for his men; it felt like a physical blow, knowing that their lives were lost owing to one man’s greed for a title.

But he didn’t care what happened to the colonel. What’s done was done.

His father didn’t agree. “I’ll see your reputation restored if I have to rip the War Office apart brick by brick,” the marquess hissed.

“Good!” Betsy said. “What about Grégoire?”

“Attempted murder charges would stick,” the marquess said. He hesitated. “If his father were alive, my brother would ask me to allow Grégoire to flee the country, with the promise that he never return to England.”

“Yes,” Jeremy said flatly. No justice could make up for the lives lost. Grégoire rotting in prison wouldn’t do it; the colonel court-martialed wouldn’t do it.

“Only if his sapphire and anything else he owns are forfeit, and given to the families of Jeremy’s lost men,” Betsy ordered, folding her arms over her chest.

His father was obviously impressed. Lady Knowe wrapped an arm around her. “I trained her well,” she said with a chuckle.

“Where is Grégoire?” Jeremy asked.

“Locked in the chapel,” Lady Knowe said. “It’s cold but not freezing. I told him to contemplate his sins.”

“And the valet?”

“He escaped—which means that Prism decided that he wasn’t to blame. Prism has strong feelings about servants who are compelled to obey orders,” Lady Knowe said. She