Rebecca looked down at her father. "Is that true?"

He closed his eyes and nodded.

She turned her head to the side to address Rushton. "I am very sorry to hear that," she said shakily. "Perhaps we could offer you some compensation."

Devon had been listening to all of this with increasing fury at the sight of that sword at Rebecca's back, and her father lying injured on the floor. She had come here with him believing he was her hero, and he had intended to protect her.

Rage-so powerful that it burned away every regrettable thing he'd ever done in the past-flooded his head. He could not repress the violent instinct to retaliate. It was festering in his gut, shuddering in his bones. He felt like a wild animal in a cage-captive, threatened, and vicious.

"If it's compensation you want," he bluntly said, "go ask your dead father. He's the one who gambled away your home."

Rushton's gaze turned to him in shock, and Devon shot forward. He threw his body into Rushton's. The force of the assault carried them both flying through the air to the other side of the room. The sword dropped with a clatter. They landed with a crash, and Devon's chin hit the ground.

He scrambled to his knees and bashed his fist into Rushton's face, then straddled him and grabbed his whole head with both hands. He smacked it once, hard, against the floor.

Shocked and disoriented, the man blinked a few times, parted his lips as if to say something, then fell unconscious.

In the meantime, Rebecca had torn off her cloak and was trying to stanch the flow of her father's blood.

Blake seized the pistol and hurried to Devon. "Are you all right?"

"I am," Devon replied, barely conscious of what he had just done. He accepted his brother's hand and let him pull him to his feet.

Blake aimed the pistol at Rushton's heart, should the man awaken and wish to make another move. Devon met Rebecca's gaze. He knelt down beside her. She was gently stroking her father's head. The earl's breathing was ragged.

"We have to do something!" she cried.

"I'm sorry," the earl whispered. "I never meant to hurt you, but you must know, the child was Rushton's. Serena was going to pass it off as mine. I don't know what happened to me that day. I couldn't control my anger. I pushed her down and she hit her head. Her death was my fault. It has haunted me ever since."

"Try to calm yourself," Rebecca said. "You're still bleeding."

"I did care for her," he tried to explain, "but she was his lover. He wanted his son to have my title." He began to gasp for each costly breath. "I have come to realize that he would have killed me after the child was born, then married her. But when she died, he turned his ambitions toward you."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Rebecca asked. "I would have stood by you. You should not have given him that power over us."

"I was ashamed and ridden with guilt. And the scandal…I couldn't face the disgrace of a trial, the destruction of my family's good name." He squeezed her hand. "It was wrong of me. I should never have believed you would be safe with him. In my fear I was not rational. But you are free now. No need to protect me. I was brave tonight. At last. Brave for you."

He gazed at her for a moment, then a shadow passed over his eyes, and they fell closed.

Rebecca bowed her head and wept.

Devon placed a hand on her shoulder to offer what comfort he could, then turned to see the young footman watching from the door, his eyes wide as he held a silver tray with tea.

"Go and instruct the driver outside to fetch the magistrate," Devon said.

The young man nodded, set down the tray, then turned and ran out.

Rebecca buried her face in Devon's shoulder. He held her close.

Chapter 25

It was nearly two in the morning when the magistrate and local officers dragged Rushton out of his house and shoved him into a coach bound for Newgate. The coroner had been there, too, and had taken charge of the earl's body, which would be delivered to the Manor the following day. Rebecca requested also that the magistrate and coroner locate Serena Fullarton's remains and take the necessary steps to find and notify her family.

Afterward, Rebecca, Devon, and Blake returned to Creighton Manor. They explained to Mary and the other servants what had occurred, and the members of the household were grief-stricken to learn of the earl's demise.

Blake was shown to a guest chamber, while Rebecca and Devon were shown to her former room. The bed was freshly made, and Mary warmed the sheets with the copper bed warmer.

Rebecca looked upon her room with exhaustion and sorrow. She was here with her husband-the man she had dreamed about countless times in this very bed-but everything was different now. She'd learned things she had never suspected about her father, one very terrible thing, and now he was gone.

And tonight she had become the Countess of Creighton, a peeress in her own right.

"Thank you, Mary," she said. "That will be all."

"You won't be needing anything else, my lady?"

Rebecca shook her head. All she wanted was to be alone with her husband.

"I am so sorry," he said, closing the door behind Mary. He took Rebecca into his arms and held her for a long time. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his chest.

When she was ready to let go, he helped her unbutton her bodice and folded it with her skirts, and set everything carefully upon a chair. While she stood in somber silence, he removed the pins from her hair and brushed it, smoothing it out with his hands and stroking it away from her face.

When that was done, she went to the wardrobe and opened the doors to find all of her clothes still hanging there, just as she had left them. Her chest of drawers had not been touched either, so she was able to find a favorite nightdress. She put it on while Devon undressed, and a few minutes later, they both slid into the warm bed with a candle burning beside them on the table.

"Are you all right?" he asked, lying on his side, facing her in the dim, golden light. "Is there anything I can do?"

She touched his cheek. "You have done so much for me already. I could not ask for anything more."

"But your father is gone. Perhaps if I had acted sooner…. Or if I had come here alone to face Rushton…"

"No, you must not think that way, Devon. None of us can control how life plays out. Nor can we look back on things and wish we had done them differently. All we can do is our best at any given moment, and risk making mistakes, for the alternative is to sit back, always afraid, and do nothing."

He spoke softly in the quiet room. "But in my desire to avoid being your hero, I left matters alone that should have been attended to. It was wrong of me to work so hard to keep a distance between us."

She gazed into his eyes. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"On our wedding day, you told me you did not want to be my hero because you had failed MaryAnn that day in the woods. Please tell me the truth, Devon-did you love her?"

A shadow of regret passed over his features. "She was my brother's fiancee, and yes, I did."

Rebecca digested the words with a surface calm, while inside she was wishing desperately that the answer had been different. But at least now she understood her husband's emotions surrounding that ordeal, and why he had always exercised restraint when it came to his emotional involvement within their marriage.

Love had not been a friend to him in the past. It had caused him heartache and shame. It had destroyed his relationship with his brother. "What happened between you?"

"It was the letter she wrote," he replied. "Until then, I had denied my feelings for her and buried them as best I could. But the letter was what made me go to see her alone. I had every intention of convincing her to forget me, and that she should be with Vincent. I was not going to reveal how I felt, but she was persistent, and I was weak. I desired her, and we did things I regret."

"Did you make love to her?"

He paused. "I went as far as a man can go before complete ruination, but stopped in the nick of time. Even so, I had never felt more ashamed." He closed his eyes. "I remember telling her harshly to get dressed, while I fastened my breeches with hands that would not stop shaking. It was a nightmare, and it is why I was in such a hurry to return her to the palace. To Vincent. I wanted to erase what I had done, and in my haste, I was grossly incompetent."

She sighed. "You had enough to worry about at Pembroke, after coming home from America to face your brother again, then to learn of your father's illness. Then you suddenly found yourself with a new bride who was pushing for your love-a bride who had kept secrets from you. I should not have expected you to solve all my problems, Devon. It was wrong of me to come to Pembroke assuming you would."

"But thank God you did come," he said, pulling her close. "How I needed you. You will never know how badly I wanted to be your hero tonight. With every inch of my soul, I wanted to protect you and keep you safe, not only from Rushton, but from everything unpleasant in the world."

She snuggled closer. "You were my hero."

"Perhaps a better word is 'ally.' You were very brave tonight. You've always been brave."

She managed a small smile. "I had the strength and courage to confront Rushton because you were at my side, and if not for that, my father would still be living in fear and shame. And perhaps your family might have been in danger."