.

turned to where he was looking, and there was Mari, her foot poised just over the first step, looking so beautiful, so frightened, so much the little girl she’d been when she and Dany had been children together—Dany younger but always in the lead, Mari reluctantly following.

      “Mari,” Oliver said, taking two steps forward. “My darling Mari.”

      A pause followed, a silence so profound Dany could hear her own heart beating.

      “Oliver,” her sister said at last, slowly descending the stairs. “You’re home.”

      Dany heard a slight rustling behind her and could imagine Coop removing the bundle of letters from his waistcoat, waving it in the air behind an oblivious Oliver.

      The sun came out. Right there, on the curved marble staircase in Cockermouth mansion, it shone as brightly as the most glorious of dawns, and suddenly Mari was running down those stairs and straight into her husband’s outflung arms, her smile bringing tears to Dany’s eyes.

      “Oh, Oliver! You’re home!”

      The Earl of Cockermouth lifted his wife high in the air and spun her around before lowering her to the floor once more and kissing her, holding her. After a moment, he scooped her up against his chest and headed for the staircase.

      Timmerly, who always seemed to be present when anything of import was going on, turned to Dany and winked before passing by them to personally open the door—a silent invitation for them to leave.

      “Come along before those tears make a puddle on the floor,” Coop whispered in Dany’s ear even as he pushed a white linen square into her hand. “Apparently we’re not necessary at the moment.”

      Once they were back on the flagway, to see the curricle and horses being held by a footman, Dany let herself be lifted onto the padded seat this time, and continued to dab at her tears while Coop walked around the rear of the curricle and retook his own seat, tossing a coin to the footman.

      “Where...where are going? I’m starving, by the way. I didn’t realize that until now.”

      “Yes, I figured as much. We’re going back to Darby’s estate, as a matter of fact. The others are probably already there, anxious for us to arrive. We’re promised food, if that still concerns you. On the way, you might want to look at this.”

      So saying, he reached into his waistcoat again and pulled out what had to be Volume Three.

      She grabbed at it, quickly reading the cover. “They didn’t change a word, did they? It even reads boring. And it’s already being hawked on the streets?”

      “Being given away actually. We want to be sure everyone reads or has read to them the mundane conclusion of my exploits. I am about to embrace the obscurity I hadn’t realized I would miss quite so much.”

      Dany’s heart was beginning to sink. “So you’re off to grow turnips?”

      “Not quite yet, no. Are you by any chance wondering why I have no qualms about exposing us to another attempt by Ferdie to rid the world of what seems, to his mind, to be his greatest enemy?”

      “I had thought about it, yes, and I might add that you’re looking as smug as a cat with bird feathers clinging to its whiskers, so you’d best speak quickly. What happened last night when you confronted him, demanded Mari’s letters? Is it over? Is it really over? How can you be certain? What did you say when you confronted him and demanded Mari’s letters? Please say you didn’t feel it necessary to kill him.”

      “Kill him? We never saw him.”

      She kept her gaze on the roadway ahead, delighting when she noticed that the traffic all seemed to be heading toward the city, not away from it, so that Coop could spring the horses a bit. “You’re deliberately being obscure, aren’t you? Forcing me to drag each bit of information from you.”

      “Actually, I’m trying not to crow too loudly at what Gabe found in Ferdie’s study. Other than your sister’s letters, Ferdie had hidden away some other papers that spell out, quite clearly, that he has been corresponding with a small, rather volatile group of Irish sympathizers bent on revolution. You’ll remember that he spent several years in Ireland. It appears he used at least some of that time forging alliances.”

      “But...but that’s treason.”

      Coop’s smile was both wicked and amused. “I adore how quick your mind is to come to the correct conclusion, or at least the one that matters most to anyone who would rather not spend another moment wondering what the bastard might think up next to revenge himself on me. We doubt there’s any true conviction or loyalty involved in Ferdie’s schemes, but there was mention made of a very large estate just outside Dublin being transferred to him.”

      “Do you think he knows you know?”

      “Actually, two gentlemen representing themselves as agents of the Crown demanded entry to his domicile last evening, something Ferdie would have learned when he returned home. It’s highly possible he then checked on the contents of his clever hidey-hole and discovered a few pertinent items missing.”

      “You and Gabe bullied your way past the servants and ransacked Ferdie’s study to find Mari’s letters and fell straight into a honeypot of evidence against the marquis. Wouldn’t that be the way it happened?”

      “Again, my compliments.” Then he grinned. “Ah, Dany, it was fun. I shouldn’t say that, admit to it, but Gabe and I enjoyed every moment last night. Finding the evidence against Ferdie? That made it all even better. I expect he’ll be arrested later today, if not already facing some very probing questions. Gabe went directly to one of his friends at the Royal War Office first thing this morning, you understand. And now we’re here, with some unfinished business of our own.”

      He pulled the curricle straight around to the stables and handed Dany down to the ground, taking her hand as he led her across the lush grass, the gazebo soon visible, and everyone either standing about or sitting at one of the tables set beside it.

      Minerva. The duke and duchess. Clarice and Rigby, Thea and Gabe. Darby, standing off on his own, propping up one post of the gazebo. The only people missing were Mari and Oliver, but she knew where they were, and could only imagine they wouldn’t mind not being included.

      “We’re having a celebration?”

      “Hopefully,” Coop said, squeezing her hand.

      She looked up at him, even as she returned cheery waves from the group. Did he sound nervous? He did; he sounded nervous. What on earth?

      “Your Graces, friends, thank you for being here, to lend your support at this time,” he said as he stopped a good ten feet from them all and bowed as Dany, now equally as nervous, dropped into a curtsy.

      “As you are all well aware, it has been quite the eventful week. Early on during that time, with judgment fairly clouded, and decisions made in haste, Miss Foster here suddenly found herself caught up in a sham betrothal to a man she supposed to be the hero of Quatre Bras.”

      “You are the hero of Quatre Bras,” she objected, but then bit her lip, for she had begun to realize what was happening, and she didn’t know whether to run or cry or simply stay where she was while her entire world fell apart.

      “But the danger has passed, and it’s time to make amends, not to go back and change events, because that is impossible, but to make clear to all that Miss Foster—Dany—is not to be held to her agreement any longer, and I hereby release her from any obligation she might feel.”

      Dany couldn’t breathe. Her entire body had gone numb.

      Everyone was looking at her.

      Nobody said a word, not a single word.

      “Dany,” Coop whispered. “Give me the ring.”

      She looked at him, unable to believe what was happening. How could he do this?

      “Dany. Please. Give me the ring.”

      Her