den your identity,” Bash said from next to Isabella.
“And why I need to solve this mystery. If I can prove my allegiance…”
“Your wealth is gone.” Menace grimaced. “No judgment. My father lost mine too.”
Brandon gave a tired smile. He wished Emily would speak. Say something. Because he could imagine that she despised him in this moment. She’d nearly been stolen away forever because of his choices.
“I know the coin is gone. Filled our king’s coffers. I’m building my own fortune with this business. What I’d like is to reestablish my name. There’s little point in being a duke if I can’t even show my face in London.”
He closed his eyes and swiped a hand down his face, trying to rub some life back into it.
“You’re tired.”
Emily’s voice washed over him, sweet and flowing like a brook in spring. “I am,” he answered.
She slipped her hand into his. “Come sit.”
She pulled him through the crowd and into a sitting room, where the heat from the fire hit his skin. Without a word, she led him to a settee, a matching one parallel to the one where he sat.
His head lolled back, his body grateful for the rest.
“You didn’t sleep last night,” she said rather than questioned.
He shook his head, closing his eyes again. “No.”
“And you found what you were looking for?”
“I think so,” he answered, relaxing into the seat. “I’ve given all the addresses and names I could find to Goldthwaite.”
He heard a rustling at the door and pried his eyes open to see Bash standing just in the doorway.
He was too worn out to even acknowledge the man’s hostility.
“Good,” she answered. “And once you know all the men involved what will you do?”
“Bring them to the king,” he replied. Then he shot another measured look at Bash. “Hopefully one of your brothers-in-law can help me with that.”
Bash straightened. “You want us to help you?”
Brandon rubbed his eyes. “I want you to help me capture the ring of thieves who have been stealing from your wife.”
He felt movement next to him and slid his eyes open a crack when Emily’s floral scent wrapped about him.
She’d set a pillow at one end of the settee and she gave the gentlest push to his shoulder. He slid down, his head landing on the pillow. A sigh of contentment escaped his parted lips.
And then, bless her gentle heart, she tucked a blanket about his body. It had been years since anyone had touched him like this. Her hands slid along his torso before she straightened away.
Brandon would have liked to relive every touch, but a heaviness had settled over his limbs. He murmured a thank you as he tried to open his eyes one last time.
She stood by his side and, in a gesture that made his throat close in aching need, she brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Get some sleep.”
His last thought, before he drifted away, was that he was done with the investigation. That left him free to use every ounce of his energy to keep this woman safe. And by his side. That was vitally important.
He wasn’t sure how he’d explain the past, but he’d find a way. He had to because her touch made him feel whole again in a way he hadn’t in years.
Emily stared down at his sleeping form, her throat working.
This man…