Baron of Bad: Lords of Scandal Book 5 Read online

  “All right, I’ll help you,” Grace answered, sitting back down on the seat. “What do you need?”

  “I want you to expose the club, remember?” Cristina’s eyes popped back open and she stared at Grace.

  “I’m not doing that. What else?”

  Abernath grimaced. “If he’s part of the club, Darlington won’t see how he should be living his life. He won’t see that he needs a family and…”

  “Cristina,” Grace whispered. “He already sees that. He’s talking about selling the club. And he and Minnie are going to start a family.”

  “And Harry? Will Darlington raise him? Is that where my boy is now?”

  Grace shook her head. She did love her son after all. “Not Darlington. But Malicorn. He had a very strained relationship with his father. He wants Harry to have the sort of childhood he never had. He and my cousin, Cordelia, wish to raise the boy. They’ve already taken him on a tour to meet the extended family. He’s likely being spoiled right now.”

  Tears welled up in Abernath’s eyes and Grace watched as one rolled down her cheek. “Cordelia? The one I took to my house? Oh, she’s lovely. Kind. I bet she’ll make an excellent mother.”

  “The club’s proceeds are going to Harry’s estate. They know Abernath was in debt. It will give Harry the title from your husband and the wealth he needs to sustain it.”

  “What?” Abernath tried to sit up. “But five lords own the club.”

  “Yes,” Grace answered. “And I believe they’re all in agreement. They’ll provide Harry with an inheritance.”

  Cristina shuddered and, for a second, Grace thought she was dying. But then another tear slipped down her cheek. “I should have married Darlington,” she said again. “He’s the one decent man I ever knew.”

  “Grace,” Bad rumbled from the doorway. Grace jumped, only just realizing the carriage had completely stopped. “Come here, love.”

  She looked to the doorway, her gaze meeting the dark pools of his. Not even pausing, she flung herself from the seat and at his chest, wrapping her arms about his neck.

  Had she said he wasn’t that handsome? In this moment, he was the most magnificent male she’d ever encountered in her life. Tall, dark, broad shoulders that might very well be able to hold up the whole world, at least hers. And he’d rescued her. “Bad,” she cried as her body pressed to his and he pulled her from the carriage, wrapping his arms about her waist. “You came.”

  But he didn’t have a chance to answer. Another shot rang out and she felt the heat and rush of air as the lead ball whizzed by her left ear. Without a second’s hesitation, she was thrust back into the vehicle even as Bad pulled another pistol from his waist.

  * * *

  Bad grimaced. Not because someone had shot at him. It was the third time that day, he’d been fired upon. And frankly, he’d lost count of how many times someone had leveled a pistol at his chest.

  He scowled because he’d had to shove Grace back in the carriage and no one had ever felt so good curled against his chest.

  Letting out a long breath, he peeked around the door to determine the shooter’s location. While Bad couldn’t believe Crusher hadn’t died from either the shot or the fall, he knew the man had been the one to try and hit him again. “Where are you, Crusher? Why not come out and fight me like a man?”

  He heard Grace’s gasp from the interior, but he continued to scan the road behind them. Several rocks and trees lined the dirt road giving Crusher ample hiding spots.

  “Come out? Do you think I’m daft?” the other man called. “Might not be as smart as you but I’m smart enough to know how to beat you.”

  Bad rumbled a dissent deep in his chest. “Really? I’d thought you’d want one last opportunity to beat me man to man and fist to fist.” He was baiting Crusher and he knew it. The man had one thing that was larger than his hulking frame and that was the need to prove how good he was.

  But this time, he didn’t take the hook. “You weren’t shot and you didn’t fall from the carriage. Even I know I’m in worse shape than you.”

  “Well, if we’re counting wounds, I was shot, actually.”

  “What?” This was not from Crusher but from Grace. She stuck her blonde head back out of the carriage, scanning him up and down until she spotted the oozing wound on his leg. Covering her mouth, she started to move toward him again.

  But he held her back with a single raised palm. “Stay there.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, resting on her kid glove. “But you’re hurt.”

  He wanted to close his eyes and hold her, but he resisted the urge for several reasons. The most important was that she was safer in the vehicle. But he’d never held her until just a minute ago, and it had become painfully obvious that touching her was a mistake.

  Grace might be a spoiled debutante, but he was a street urchin at heart and he didn’t deserve to lick the mud from her boots. He’d always known that. Only, she’d felt as good as she looked. Soft and so perfect, smelling of fresh wind with a hint of the sea.

  “You don’t want me to move,” Crusher replied as though Bad had been talking to him. But he clearly had drawn closer, Bad could tell by the sound of his voice.

  He raised his pistol. “Grace,” he hissed. “Get down.”

  She obeyed without comment and he said a prayer of thanks for small favors. In all the time he’d guarded her, he wasn’t certain she’d ever done what he’d asked of her.

  “You’re not going to save her,” Crusher answered. He was on Bad’s left. He could hear that now.

  “Why’s that?” Bad asked, wanting the other man to keep talking.

  “It’s my turn to win. And when I do, I’m going to keep your woman for myself. She’s a pretty one, she is, and I think I’d like to touch something that pretty. But don’t worry, I’ll think of you when I do.”

  Blood rushed in his ears as an anger Bad had never experienced before roared in his veins. Dimly, he was aware that this sort of emotion was dangerous. It would cause him to make mistakes. But Grace was far too fine a woman for Bad himself to touch, let alone for Crusher to put his meaty hands on.

  At that exact moment, Crusher stepped out from behind a tree. Bad pointed his pistol but before he could fire a shot rang out behind him, the acrid smell of sulfur filling the air.

  Crusher dropped to the ground and a moment later, a dull thud sounded from the carriage. “Oh Cristina,” Grace cried.

  Bad looked back. What the bloody hell had just happened?

  Chapter Three

  Grace stared at the woman who’d crumpled into a ball on the floor. She covered her mouth to keep from crying out. Cristina Abernath was dead. She’d used her final breaths to shoot Crusher.

  “Grace?” Bad growled. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she squeaked. “Can I please come out?”

  By way of answer, he leaned into the carriage, reaching for her. She didn’t hesitate but launched herself against him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled of sandalwood, leather and horse, his strong arms wrapping tightly about her. Briefly, it occurred to her that she never wanted to be anywhere else but right here pressed against his chest.

  Words she hadn’t even planned began tumbling from her lips. “I’m so sorry I was such a fool. I’m sorry I wanted to go shopping. Sorry I let silly ribbons endanger us all.”

  He chuckled, the sound moving his chest up and down, her own body moving with his and the sound vibrated through her. “I don’t know that I ever expected to hear you say sorry.”

  She tipped back then, to look in his eyes. “Most men might say something like, Grace you couldn’t have predicted this. Or, It’s all right. I’m here for you. But not you.”

  “There’s the Grace I know,” he said with a small smile.

  She gave her foot a small stomp but didn’t move away from Bad. Angry as he made her, the world was far too frightening to be anywhere other than wrapped in his arms. “You’re making it sound as though I a
m to blame.”

  He reached up and brushed a stray hair from her cheek. The touch was achingly gentle. “You’re not at fault.” His thumb stroked down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry too. Sorry I lost my temper in the carriage and sorry that I stormed out.”

  “Oh.” She caught her breath. “I didn’t expect to hear you say sorry either.”

  He gave her a small smile that lit his entire face and crinkled his eyes. “Look at us. Apologizing.”

  “What happens next?” she asked, not wanting to look anywhere other than his face. Up close like this, she could see that his skin wasn’t rough, per se, but covered in a number of small scars.

  “We find the next town and send men back for the carriage and the bodies.”

  Grace shivered. In his arms, she’d momentarily forgotten the reality of the day. “Cristina,” she whispered. “That poor woman.”

  “You know that she just stole you from your family?”

  Grace lay her head on his chest. “She also shot Crusher before he could shoot you.”

  “That’s what happened?” He gathered her closer, setting his cheek on top of her head. “I’d wondered.”

  Sighing, she buried her nose in the strong muscles of his chest. “To be fair, I don’t think she appreciated his comments about me, but still…I’m glad she did it so that you weren’t shot again.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”

  “Are you very hurt?” she asked, her words catching in her throat. Bad made her crazy with irritation but she found the idea of him dying gut-wrenching.

  “No, barely a flesh wound,” he murmured into her hair. “Now, let’s get you to the nearest town. You need food and rest.”

  She nodded against his chest, not sure she wanted to go anywhere. That meant moving out of his arms. Later she’d remember all the reasons he irritated her. Right now, she liked it here. “How will we get there?”

  “We’ll take Crusher’s carriage.”

  “And Cristina?” Grace gulped. Somehow, she felt some sympathy for the woman and hated to leave her. “I don’t think I want to leave her body on the side of the road. I know she’s been awful but I…I feel sympathy for her too.”

  “We’ll take her with us if you’d like.” Bad’s fingers stroked down Grace’s neck. “You’ll ride on the bench with me.”

  “Thank goodness,” she answered taking a deep breath, drawing in his scent. “I didn’t want to leave her but…”

  “I understand.”

  She slipped her hands around his waist, which was amazingly slender compared with his shoulders. “Hello there,” a voice called from behind them. Before she could even process, Bad pushed her behind him.

  “Who goes there?” he called out, pressing her to his back.

  “No need to worry, neighbor. Theodore Bigsby is my name and when I’m not the butcher in the village just north of here, I’m a constable. Do you need assistance?”

  “This man, he tried to take my wife,” Bad answered pointing toward Crusher.

  A jolt of excitement, or perhaps surprise, shot through her at the word wife. Grace craned her neck to see over Bad’s shoulder. The butcher was a giant fellow, big and strong, and she shrank closer to Bad’s back, placing her hands at his waist.

  “That’s your wife behind you?” Mr. Bigsby asked. Grace nodded against Bad’s back. He was right, it was far simpler to explain if everyone thought them married. But then she realized he couldn’t hear her. So, peeking over his shoulder she answered. “Y-Yes sir.”

  Then she stepped up to Bad’s side. Without a word, his arm came about her shoulders. She marveled at how natural this action felt. “He…” she pointed down at the ground, “he shot my friend.”

  Bad jolted against her but didn’t say a word as the constable began to assess the scene. “Your friend, she was defending you?”

  “That’s correct,” Grace answered looking up at Bad. His nose was a bit crooked, almost as though it had been broken. She’d thought it unattractive at first but as she looked now, it occurred to her it was quite masculine.

  The constable nodded. “Do you mind transporting them both into town in the carriage? We’ll get this whole business sorted quickly and have you both settled into the inn by nightfall.”

  Grace swallowed. An inn? With Bad? Why hadn’t that occurred to her before now?

  * * *

  Bad glanced over at Grace as she sat on the bench next to him. Bloody hell, the woman was beautiful. Steal-the-breath-from-a-man’s-lungs sort of pretty. Her attractiveness never ceased to amaze him.

  Even more amazing was the way she clung to his arm. As though he were the only solid structure in a windstorm. She had both her slender arms wrapped about one of his.

  Drawing in a steadying breath, he made a note to himself. This was temporary. She didn’t like him and she’d return to her senses as soon as she was back with her family.

  Besides, gorgeous as she was, he found her annoying. Or perhaps what he found bothersome was the fact that a woman like her would never really care about a street urchin like him. He’d learned to mask his low upbringing and he avoided many social engagements with his now peers. He’d learned in the early days of his barony that the upper class carefully watched every move and looked for any excuse to scorn. Sooner or later Grace would see through his thin veneer.

  “We’re nearly there,” he said into the stretching silence.

  “How can you tell?” she asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

  He reached over and placed an arm about her shoulders. She must be exhausted. “The houses, they’re growing closer and closer together.” Then, as if in answer, the main street of the village came into view.

  In short order, the constable took over the carriage and Bad brought his horse to the stable. Then he walked Grace up the steps of the inn and quickly secured them a room and a private dining room.

  The innkeeper’s wife brought them bowls of stew and freshly baked bread. Grace picked at her food.

  Bad frowned, watching her. “You should eat, love. You must be starving.”

  She looked up, her eyes shadowed and hollow. “I’m tired. And after what happened today…”

  He reached across the table, though doing so meant asking for trouble. Every time he touched her, he wanted her a little more. She was like all the shiny things he’s seen as a child that he’d known could never belong to him. Except for once, when he’d stolen a penny whistle. He’d loved the toy with all his heart but had been compelled to hide it whenever any adult passed, afraid they’d realize a child in rags could have never purchased such a toy on his own. The hiding had eventually ruined his enjoyment and he’d vowed never to steal again.

  “A little bit of food will help you sleep and speed your recovery. Eat for me, love,” he said.

  She nodded and dutifully dipped the spoon in the bowl, placing a delicate bite into her mouth.

  Even the way she ate looked so civilized. Not like him. He stared at the spoon clutched in his hand and slowly, he slipped his hand from hers. Bad shouldn’t touch her like this. But her fingers gripped his tighter. “Did you book one room or two?”

  “They only had the one. My apologies.” He wanted to bring her fingers to his lips. He wanted to put distance between them. He gave his head a small shake.

  But she leaned toward him. “I’m glad. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He didn’t answer as she finally slipped her fingers from his and tore off a piece of bread to dip into her stew.

  He cleared his throat and leaned in. “It’s been a very trying day.”

  Grace leaned toward him too, some color already returning to her face thanks to the stew. “I want to thank you for coming after me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

  He swallowed, not necessarily wanting to say this but sure he’d do better to push her away now, before she stole even more of his affection. “Vice and Ada followed too. I just got here quicker.” Vice had fall
en behind because her cousin, Ada, had insisted on helping in the rescue. Not only had they been in a slower carriage, but Vice likely stopped further back on the road to allow Ada to rest. He had his own Chase woman to care for. And Bad suspected, when they found each other again, Vice would be engaged to be married. Abernath really had wreaked havoc on them all.

  She shook her head, taking another bite. “If I take two more bites may we go up to our room?”

  “Yes,” he answered, nearly smiling. She made it sound as though he were her father or perhaps her husband. His gut clenched and his smile vanished. He was going to have to share a room with her tonight. How in the world would he manage to be near her and keep his hands to himself?

  A knock sounded at the door. Bad turned as the innkeeper stepped into the room. “The constable is here to see you.”

  Bad nodded as the constable stepped into the room. “Just wanted to let you know that I’ve taken care of everything for the night but if you could meet me at the church in the morning, we can discuss the arrangements for your wife’s friend.”

  Bad stared at the other man. Why hadn’t he realized that he was going to be responsible for transporting Abernath’s body back to London? “Of course.”

  Grace gave a tiny squeak from the across the table, which he ignored until the room emptied again. Then he turned to her, irritation replacing the attraction he’d been fighting. Which was the way it often was with Grace. “Why did you tell them that Abernath was your friend?” Grudgingly, he realized it was easier to push her away like this.

  Her spoon dropped into her stew. “You’re welcome,” she hissed back.

  This was how they usually were. “I beg your pardon?”

  She picked up her spoon and took a large bite, taking her time as she chewed. Then after making him wait a ridiculously long time, she finally answered. “It was far easier to explain without adding a female villain,” she finally answered, scooping out another bite, but she paused before she brought it to her mouth. “And, Harry never need know what his mother has done. I know he’ll be happier for it.”