Good God. This was beyond even him.

Think. He had to think. If he were writing this…

“First we shut the door,” he said firmly, trying to sound as if he knew what he was doing. He gently removed his arms from around Annabel, making sure that she could stand on her own, and then moved swiftly to the door. He closed it firmly, then strode across the room to light a candle.

Annabel was standing where he’d left her, hugging her arms to her body. She looked freezing.

“Do you need a blanket?” he asked, and it seemed the most ludicrous question, under the circumstances. But she was cold, and he was a gentleman, and some things were just too deeply ingrained to be ignored.

She shook her head.

Seb planted his hands on his hips and stared down at his uncle, lying motionless, facedown on the carpet. He wasn’t sure how he’d thought it would end between the two of them, but definitely not like this. Damn. What was he supposed to do now? “If I were writing this…” he muttered, trying to summon whatever creative corner of his imagination he usually reserved for his characters. “If I were writing this…”

“What did you say?”

He turned back to Annabel. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he’d almost forgot she was there. “Nothing,” he said, giving his head a shake. She probably thought he was babbling utter nonsense.

“I’m better now,” she announced.

“What?”

She made a motion with her hand, a little bit of a twist, a little bit of a wave. “I have my head. Whatever we need to do, I can do it.”

He blinked, surprised by her quick recovery. “Are you certain? I can-”

“I’ll cry when we’re done,” she said sharply.

“I love you,” he said, thinking this had to be the least appropriate time imaginable to tell her. But there was something about her standing there in her plain cotton nightgown, matter-of-fact and capable as a goddess. How could he not love her?

“Have I told you that?” he added.

She shook her head, her lips trembling into a smile. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” he said simply, because this wasn’t the time for hearts and flowers. But he could not resist adding, “It would be bloody inconvenient for me if you didn’t.”

“I think we need to get him back to his own room,” she said, looking down at Newbury with a queasy expression.

Sebastian nodded, grimly estimating his uncle’s weight. It would not be easy, even with both of them. “Do you know where his room is?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Do you?”

“No.” Damn.

“We can put him in the saloon,” she suggested. “Or anywhere else there might be drink. If he was drunk, then maybe he would have fallen over.” She swallowed. “Hit his head?”

Sebastian let out a long breath, planting his hands on his hips as he looked down at his uncle. He looked even more hideous in death than he had in life. Big, bloated…At least no one would doubt that his heart might have given out, especially after the excitement of the day. “His head, his heart,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter. I feel unhealthy just looking at him.”

He stood still for another moment, putting off the inevitable, and then finally he squared his shoulders and said, “I’ll grab him under the arms. You take the legs. We’ll have to roll him over first.”

They got him onto his back, then moved to their spots and tried to lift. “Dear God in heaven,” Sebastian grunted, the words flying from his mouth.

“This isn’t going to work,” Annabel said.

“It has to work.”

They lifted and dragged, heaving with exertion, but they couldn’t get the body to clear the floor for more than a few seconds at a time. There was no way they would be able to move him all the way to the saloon without making enough noise to wake someone.

“We’re going to have to get Edward,” Sebastian finally said.

Annabel’s eyes flew to his in question.

“I would trust him with my life.”

She nodded. “Maybe Louisa…”

“Couldn’t lift a feather.”

“I think she’s stronger than she looks.” But Annabel realized she sounded more hopeful than anything else. She bit her lip and looked back down at Newbury. “I think we need all the help we can get.”

Sebastian started to nod, because they did need all the help they could get. But as it turned out, the help that did arrive came in the most surprising form…

Chapter Twenty-five

What the devil is going on in here?”

Annabel froze. Not in horror. It was something far, far worse than horror.

“Annabel?” her grandmother snapped, marching in through the connecting door between their rooms. “It sounds like a herd of elephants. How do you expect a woman to get any sleep when-Oh.” She stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight of Sebastian. Then she looked down and saw the earl. “Bloody hell.”

She made a sound that Annabel could not quite interpret. Not a sigh, really; more of a grunt. Of supreme irritation.

“Which one of you killed him?” she demanded.

“Neither,” Annabel said quickly. “He just…died.”

“In your room?”

“I didn’t invite him in,” she ground out.

“No, you wouldn’t.” And damn if her grandmother didn’t sound almost regretful. Annabel could only stare at her in shock. Or maybe wonder.

“What are you doing here?” Lady Vickers asked, turning her frosty glare to Sebastian.

“Exactly what you think, my lady,” he said. “Unfortunately, my timing was not what it could have been.” He looked down at his uncle. “He was like this when I arrived.”

“Better this way,” Lady Vickers muttered. “If he’d come in with you on top of her…Good Lord, I can’t even imagine the commotion.”

She ought to blush, Annabel thought. She really ought. But she couldn’t summon the will. She wasn’t sure anything could embarrass her now.

“Well, we’ll have to get rid of him,” her grandmother said, using the same voice Annabel imagined she would have used about an old sofa. She cocked her head toward Annabel. “I must say, this all worked out nicely for you.”

“What are you saying?” Annabel asked, horrified.

“He’s the earl now,” Lady Vickers responded, flicking her fingers in Sebastian’s direction. “And he’ll be a damn sight more palatable than Robert here.”

Robert, Annabel thought, looking down at Lord Newbury. She hadn’t even known his given name. It seemed strange, somehow. The man had wanted to marry her, he’d attacked her, and then he’d died at her feet. And she hadn’t even known his name.

For a moment they all just stared down at him. Finally, Lady Vickers said, “Damn, he’s fat.”

Annabel slammed a hand against her mouth, trying not to laugh. Because it wasn’t funny. It was not funny.

But she really wanted to laugh.

“I don’t think we will be able to get him down to the saloon without waking half the house,” Sebastian said. He looked over at Lady Vickers. “I don’t suppose you know where his room is.”

“At least as far as the saloon. And right next to the Challises. You’ll never get him in without waking them up.”

“I was going to wake my cousin,” Seb told her. “With one more person we might be able to do it.”

“We won’t be able to move him with five more people,” Lady Vickers retorted. “Not quietly, anyway.”

Annabel stepped forward. “Maybe if we…”

But her grandmother cut her off with a sigh worthy of the Covent Garden stage. “Go ahead,” she said, waving an arm to the connecting door. “Put him in my bed.”

“What?” Annabel gasped.

“We’ll just have to let everyone think he died having his way with me.”

“But-but-” Annabel gaped at her grandmother, then looked at Lord Newbury, and then at Sebastian, who appeared to be speechless.

Sebastian. Speechless. Apparently, this was what it took.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lady Vickers said, clearly irritated with their lack of action. “It’s not as if we haven’t done it before.”

Annabel sucked in her breath so hard she choked. “You…what?”

“It was years ago,” her grandmother replied, snapping her hand in the air as if batting away a fly. “But everybody knew about it.”

“And you wanted me to marry him?”

Lady Vickers planted her hands on her hips and stared Annabel down. “Do you really think now is the time to make complaints? Besides, he wasn’t that bad, if you know what I mean. And your uncle Percival turned out quite nicely.”

“Oh my God,” Annabel moaned. “Uncle Percy.”

“Is apparently my uncle Percy,” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

“Cousin, I should think,” Lady Vickers said briskly. “Now then, are we going to move him or not? And I still haven’t heard either one of you thanking me for throwing myself on the bayonet here, so to speak.”

It was true. As much as her grandmother had got her into this mess, insisting that Annabel marry Lord Newbury in the first place, she was certainly doing her best to get her out of it. There would be a terrific scandal, and Annabel didn’t even want to begin to imagine the cartoons and caricatures that would appear in the gossip papers. Although somehow she suspected her grandmother wouldn’t mind a little notoriety in her old age.

“Thank you,” Sebastian said, apparently finding his voice first. “It is much appreciated, I am sure.”

“Come along, come along.” Lady Vickers made little get to it motions with her hands. “He’s not going to move himself into my bed.”

Sebastian grabbed his uncle under the arms again, and Annabel moved to his feet, but as she wrapped her hands around his ankles and began to lift, she heard a very peculiar sound. And when she looked up, her eyes wide with horror at what this had to mean…

Newbury’s eyes opened.

Annabel shrieked, and she dropped him.