Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

duchess will be keeping the public from finding out she’s with you. If anyone breathes a word…”

Ashbourne whistled. “You’d be a dead man yourself. There is a great deal of public condemnation of her already. She’s persona non grata to be sure.”

James nodded. Once. “True. But regardless of their feelings for her, everyone wants to read her story.”

“They might want to read her story, but they won’t take kindly to it if they find out you’re harboring her in one of your properties.” Colton took another sip.

“I understand the dangers,” James replied.

Colton narrowed his eyes on James. He lowered his voice. “What is it, Medford, that makes you care so much about your bloody printing press? It can’t be money, we all know you’re richer than the king.”

“Madder than the king too, I’d say, if you intend to take in a murderess,” Ashbourne added. “I don’t see how you would even get her out of the Tower without a mob following you home.”

James steepled his fingers and eyed the other two men coolly. “Leave that to me. I just need the two of you to back me if the lord chancellor requires additional peers to convince him to allow me to keep her in house arrest.”

Ashbourne gave him a long-suffering stare. “As if the lord chancellor would tell you no. You’re thick as thieves with him and everyone else in Parliament, not to mention more than half of London. You’re Lord Perfect, for Christ’s sake. Need I remind you that’s why we’ve never liked you?” He laughed.

“Oh, was that why?” James replied with a grin. “And here I thought all this time it was because the two of you were total arse—”

“Let’s not start with all that,” Colton said, downing his drink. “Suffice it to say we have faith in you, old chap.” He leaned over and patted James’s shoulder.

Ashbourne snapped his fingers. “Yes. Care to make a wager on whether Lord P here has his wish granted?” He gave Colton a devilish grin.

“Ha,” Colton replied. “I wouldn’t take that bet in a hundred years.”

“Smart man,” Ashbourne replied.

“Yes, well, I’m honored by your belief in me,” James replied, clearing his throat. “And, of course, you must keep all of this silent.”

“No one said we weren’t willing, Medford.” Ashbourne grinned from ear to ear. “Personally, I would love to see you involved in the scandal of the century. And of course you may count upon my discretion.” He flourished his hand in the semblance of a bow.

James fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely, count me in, Medford,” Colton replied. “I want a view from a box seat for this particular escapade.”

CHAPTER 6

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Kate’s eyes snapped open. It was the middle of the night and someone was knocking loudly upon the wooden door to her cell. She bolted up, her heart pounding. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the freezing night air. She clutched the blankets to her throat and swallowed hard. “Who is it?”

“Yer grace, please get dressed an’ pack yer things.” In addition to its usual gruffness, the guard’s voice sounded a bit sleepy.

“Yes. Yes. Just a minute.” Kate scrambled out of bed. She quickly pulled off her night rail and fumbled around in the cold darkness for her gown. She’d only brought a few items of clothing with her when she’d been arrested. She promptly stuffed them all into her only bag. Smoothing a brush through her hair once, twice, she piled it atop her head as best she could. She stuck a few pins into the coiffure to hold it precariously in place. Then she quickly made her way to the door.

She cleared her throat and pushed up her chin. “I’m ready.”

The door swung open, and her guard stood there, a candle in his hand, a sleeping cap on his head, and a robe wrapped around his massive frame. “He’s come ta take ye out o’ here, yer grace.”

Kate shuddered and closed her eyes. “Oh, thank heavens,” she murmured. She didn’t need to ask who. Viscount Medford had come for her.

She pulled on her pelisse, grabbed up her bag, and hurried after the guard who was already rapidly making his way down the winding dank staircase. The stairs ended abruptly in a small dark antechamber, and Kate skidded to a halt in the middle of the scuffed, wood-planked floor. She hadn’t had time to put on her stockings, and the cold wind that blew in from the partially open door wrapped its icy fingers around her ankles. Kate’s teeth chattered, but she didn’t care. She’d walk out of there naked if she must. She glanced about. Only darkness. Where was he?

Just then, a dark-cloaked figure in the corner spun around, and Kate caught her breath. She hadn’t seen him standing there before. He emerged from the shadows.

Lord Medford looked every bit as handsome as he did the first day she met him. His face was made of stone. Handsome stone. He nodded toward her bag. “Is that all you have?”

“Ye—yes,” she stuttered, shivering this time for an entirely different reason.

He stalked over to her, leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You said you wanted to live. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding.

He grabbed her bag with one arm, and hefted it over his shoulder. He stopped and tossed what looked to be a guinea at the guard. “Thank you for arranging this,” he said. Without another word, he pulled Kate by the hand out the wooden door and into the freezing dark night.

She did her best to keep up with his long strides. When they reached his mount, she watched in awe as he fastened her bag onto the saddle then hoisted her up onto the large brown gelding, all without saying a word. He swung up behind her moments later, and Kate tried to ignore the feel of his hard body against her backside as they took off at a gallop through the Tower yard. She was riding astride. That was a scandal in itself. But it felt like … freedom.

Courage. Courage. Courage. She repeated the words over and over in her mind. The great drawbridge lowered as they drew near, and Kate fought against the urge to close her eyes, sure they would be stopped before they cleared the entrance, as if there had been some sort of mistake.

The freezing wind whipped her hair, and it soon came unlodged from the tenuous bun she’d created moments earlier. The long red tresses wrapped around her face, partially blinding her. She tried to pull them away, tugging at the hair in her eyes, breathing in the icy night air, and watching the bridge draw closer and closer. She widened her eyes. In that moment she was absolutely exhilarated. She dug her fingernails into her palms as they approached the gate. The horse’s hooves thundered across the wood, echoing in her chest and giving her an even greater thrill of freedom as they made their way across the bridge. The guard in the watch tower saluted them, and Medford hoisted his hand to return the gesture. Kate bit her lip, wanting to smile. They were going to make it. They were going to get away.

And then they were gone, into the shadowy alleys of London, into the dark cold night. Kate shuddered again, but she didn’t look back, afraid she would see a troop of guards behind them. Afraid they hadn’t indeed made this escape after all.

“Why did you come for me at night?” she managed to ask over the thunderous beat of her heart and the horse’s hooves.

Lord Medford leaned his head down next to her ear, and when she turned her cheek slightly she saw dark stubble along his jaw. He hadn’t shaved since morning, and oh my, but it made him look good. She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts, and then she shivered against the biting cold.

“It’s safer this way,” he replied. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring a coach to make you more comfortable. Are you cold?”

He must have felt her shudder, and she read in his response the truth. He hadn’t brought a coach in case