Darian took advantage of Edgewood’s distraction to inch his way slowly to the side and then forward, aided in his stealth of movement by Sutherland and Rotherham, as they both moved to flank Aubrey Maystone.
If Darian could just move a little further forward he might be able to— ‘Stay exactly where you are, Wolfingham,’ Edgewood warned harshly as he now pointed the pistol in Darian’s direction.
It needed only that brief moment of Edgewood’s distraction from Mariah for there to be a blur of movement at Darian’s side as Sutherland dived downwards towards Edgewood’s legs, at the same time as Rotherham leapt forward, with the obvious intention of wrestling the raised pistol from Edgewood’s hand.
Leaving Darian to stand and watch as the scene played out before him.
Mariah was deafened as Lord Edgewood’s pistol suddenly went off beside her ear, quickly followed by the report of another shot being fired, before she then felt herself toppling over as Lord Edgewood’s legs were knocked from beneath him, pulling her down heavily on top of him. Her last vision was of a horrified Darian before she hit her head hard on the floor of the terrace and she knew no more.
Chapter Fourteen
‘I trust you know that I am still very angry with you for behaving so recklessly, madam?’
Mariah was nestled comfortably against Darian’s shoulder, held securely in his arms as they travelled back to London in his ducal coach several hours later. Despite the lateness of the hour neither one of them had wished to remain at Eton Park a moment longer than they had to, once the worst of the furore had died down.
Clara Nichols had been hysterical, of course, as had many of her female guests, at learning that her friend and lover Wedgy now lay dead upon the terrace at Eton Park, a bullet through his heart.
The gentlemen present had been more prosaic regarding the situation, readily accepting Aubrey Maystone’s explanation of Lord Wedgewood having been caught in the act, by the Duke of Wolfingham, of forcing his attentions upon the Countess of Carlisle, before then being accidentally killed by his own pistol in the tussle that had followed. An act witnessed and confirmed by the Dukes of Sutherland and Rotherham.
It was far from an accurate account of the truth, of course, the fatal bullet having been fired by Aubrey Maystone himself. But none present had wished to challenge the word of men as powerful as Lord Maystone, and the Dukes of Wolfingham, Rotherham and Sutherland. And Clara Nichols had been too hysterical to question the fact that Lord Maystone, and the Dukes of Rotherham and Sutherland, had not even been invited to her masked ball.
No doubt the other woman would remember that fact once she had calmed down, but she had been far too busy enjoying being at the centre of the scandal, and the scandalous success of her masked ball, when Darian and Mariah had quietly taken their leave earlier.
The two of them had gone up the stairs to their rooms so that Mariah might change her bloodied clothes before departing, leaving Mariah’s maid and Darian’s valet to pack up their things before following tomorrow.
‘Mariah, you are not to fall asleep until you have listened to what I have to say!’ Darian gave her shoulders a shake to prevent that from happening. ‘Do you have any idea how I felt when I looked down and saw you unconscious upon the floor and covered in blood?’ he demanded harshly, his impatience barely contained. ‘Do you even realise that my own heart stopped beating, when I thought Maystone had missed Edgewood and had shot you instead?’
Mariah was too tired, felt too safe in Darian’s arms, to care about much of anything else at the moment. ‘As you see, by my presence here, he did not and I was not.’
‘Mariah!’
‘Darian.’ She moved slightly in his arms so that she might look up at him in the lamplight, noting the dark shadows in his magnificent green eyes, the grey tinge to his tightly etched face and clenched jaw. She reached up now to gently touch that clenched jaw. ‘I am safe. We are both safe.’ Darian was safe. Which, after all, had been Mariah’s only intent earlier, when she hurried across the ballroom in order to reach William Edgewood’s side ahead of Darian.
Her only interest had been to prevent Darian from challenging the other man and perhaps being hurt or killed in the process.
Because, she had realised, she was in love with him.
She loved, and was in love with, Darian Hunter, the Duke of Wolfingham.
And strangely that realisation no longer terrified her. The emotion was no longer something for her to fear. Nor did it make her less, as she had believed loving someone would, but somehow more.
Darian now repressed a shudder. ‘He might have killed you.’
She smiled. ‘But he did not.’
Darian looked down at Mariah searchingly, noting the calmness of her expression and the tranquillity in those beautiful turquoise-coloured eyes.
While he was still a churning mass of emotions. Fear, for Mariah’s life. Devastation, when he had believed her dead. Relief, when he had realised the blood on her gown was from Edgewood rather than her own. Elation, when she had opened her eyes minutes later and smiled at him.
Unfortunately, all those emotions had been followed by anger. That Mariah could have been so reckless as to have put herself in danger in the first place.
‘What possessed you?’ he demanded now. ‘What on earth went through your mind when you deliberately placed yourself in a position of vulnerability by going outside alone on to the terrace with Edgewood?’
Her smile became rueful. ‘I do not believe I was thinking much of anything at the time. It just seemed— It was the right thing for me to do, Darian.’
‘It was the worst thing you could have done!’ he contradicted explosively.
Her fingers rested lightly against the tautness of his cheek. ‘Let us not discuss this any further just now, Darian. It is over. The Prince Regent is safe. The would-be assassins are all dead or in custody. Napoleon himself has been thwarted in his plan to devastate the alliance. It is all finally over, Darian.’