Within the hour, they had eaten a light meal and were ready for the ride ahead. Matt had taken time to write several important letters and send servants to deliver them. One was to the magistrate in Essex. Another to the sheriff. Two more were to neighbors. Whatever George had planned, Matt was not going to let him escape justice.

Furthermore, his wife was right. This was a legal matter. Witnesses were needed. He invited all parties to meet him with due haste at Mayfield.

He and Willa set out.

Matt found himself on one a hired gelding. Willa rode the unruly mare, who was a jewel for her. Either that, or Willa sat a better seat than Matt did.

Even though it was a half moon, they followed a main road and had little difficulty. They didn’t talk. They were riding too hard. Matt was grateful for Willa’s presence.

He tried not to think about what could happen to his grandmother. He carried a loaded pistol in his pocket and a knife in his boot. God willing, he’d not have to use either.

They reached Mayfield shortly before midnight. Once in sight of the house, Matt reined in.

When he was in London, the country house had a small staff of locals who often went home for the evenings. The retainers, such as Marshall and Mrs. Snow and Cook, journeyed back and forth but spent the bulk of their time in the city.

Right now, Mayfield looked deserted. Its brick walls reflected what little moonlight there was. No lights shone from the window. Not even a dog barked since the dogs would have been put up for the night down by the stables.

“I want you to stay here and wait for the magistrate or anyone else who might come,” he instructed Willa.

“Why don’t you wait as well?”

“I have to go there.”

“Matt, he might not be there.”

“He’s there.” He started to ride away and then turned his horse around. He went back to his wife. Bringing his horse up alongside hers, he pulled Willa to him and kissed her long and hard on the mouth.

“Take care,” she whispered when they were done.

“I will. I have too much to live for.” He placed a gloved hand against the side of her face. It would be so tempting to wait. To be safe. And yet, it was up to him to bring George to heel.

He also feared what would happen to Minerva if George thought Matt was not alone.

“Wait,” he commanded Willa one last time.

She nodded dutifully.

He whirled his horse around and rode up the drive to his front door. He dismounted and tied his horse to a post by the front door. He walked to the door. It was slightly ajar.

Matt pushed it open. The hinges didn’t even creak. He moved into the hall, and then stopped at the sight he saw in the front sitting room.

In a patch of moonlight from the window Minerva sat bound and gagged in a chair. Her hair fell to her shoulders and she was pale and shaking.

Taking out the pistol, Matt said quietly, “I’m here, Grandmother.”

She nodded her head and tried to make sounds. Matt didn’t understand until he heard a footfall behind him and then the heaviness of George’s breathing.

Matt dodged just in time to avoid being cleaved in two by the axe George was wielding. His hand holding the pistol hit the doorjamb. Matt lost control of the weapon. It went flying into the shadows.

Meanwhile, George had fallen forward from the force of his swing, but he quickly regained his footing. He jumped at Matt, the axe high in his hands. In shadows and moonlight, with his hair going every which way, George appeared demented. He grinned. “Well, this appears to be it.”

What is ‘it,’ George?” Matt tried to keep his voice steady.

“Everything. It is all lost now, Matt.” With a wild grunt, he lunged at Matt with the axe, swinging it with both hands.

Matt jumped back. The axe just barely missed him. He thought of the knife in his boot. It was no match for an axe. He needed the pistol. He took a step in the direction he thought it had fallen.

“George, you need to stop this. The magistrate is coming. It will be worse for you if anything happens to Minerva or me.”

“The worst has already happened,” George answered. His shoulders sagged. He stood between Matt and the door. But it didn’t make any difference, Matt would not leave Minerva behind. “I won’t make it out of this,” George predicted.

“No, you won’t,” Matt agreed. In the chair, Minerva was weeping.

“You’ll not make it, either.”

Matt was determined that he was going to be wrong about that. But he wanted to keep George talking. He wanted answers. “Because you want the title for your sons.” George had three of them. The oldest was James.

“Am I that obvious?” George swung the axe viciously. Again, Matt managed to avoid the deadly blade, but it was becoming more difficult. George was pushing toward the corner of the room. “After all, I’m done. I’ll hang for my deeds, but my descendants will be Camberly.”

“It didn’t start off that way, did it? In the beginning, all you wanted was the money.”

“Because it could have been mine,” George answered. “My father and Henry were twins. It could have gone either way. And then I had to watch the old bastard squander what had been given to him. Henry chased every silly notion that crossed his head. I’d advise him not to do it. He never listened to me.”

“Therefore, you took his money.”

“You aren’t listening, Your Grace. It should have been mine.”

“And the murders? Did you have a hand in William’s death?”

“No. The silly sod killed himself. Always riding animals too spirited for him—” He swung the axe as if he believed he had lulled Matt into complacency.

He hadn’t. However, the action did force Matt two more steps toward the corner.

“What of Ross and that woman this morning?”

George shot Matt a look of pure reproach. “What of Donel? Your hands aren’t clean, Your Grace.” He pointed the axe at Matt in triumph. “You didn’t think I suspected what happened.”

“I had little choice in the matter, cuz. It was him or me.”

“The same with Ross. When I found out that he’d let you escape because he wanted to sell a horse . . . well, I lost my temper. I also knew it was over for me. You would reason it out.”

“Why do you want to kill me?”

“Because I must. You see, William and Henry’s deaths were unfortunate but natural. And then, there you were. Unsuited for the role of Camberly. You didn’t have an idea about anything. And I knew so much. I could have made this into a great estate.”

“It would have been a great deal better off if you hadn’t robbed my grandfather blind.”

“He could have refused to pay,” George said reasonably.

“Then he would be exposing William.”

George shrugged. “His choice.”

“So you wish to kill me because I’m not a good duke?” Matt pressed.

“No, I wanted to kill you because I realized, I could have it all.” George gifted him with another mighty swing of his axe. It hit a side table, destroying it, and pushed Matt farther into the corner. “And now James will have it. My precious son.”

His voice had taken on a sing-song. He was obviously in a bad state. All Matt needed was a second’s inattention.

“What is the plan?” Matt asked. “You kill me and then what happens to my grandmother?”

“She dies as well. We all die, right here in this house. I’ll take my own life and pay for my sins. But first, I’ll set the house on fire. Mayfield will be burned to the ground. There will be mourning, especially from your lovely wife.” He sighed with regret. “I had hoped to secure her fortune for my son. Unfortunately, you thwarted my plans for that. I don’t know how you did it, but you managed, Matt. But I won’t let you escape this time. There is too much at stake.”

“Do you believe Willa won’t tell everyone how you tried to have us murdered in the river? What you have done might taint your son’s chance to inherit the title.”

“Not legally. After all, he didn’t have a hand in my deeds. And people really aren’t all that interested in you, Matt. They will hear about the fire and everyone will believe it is an accident—”

“Except me,” a female voice said.

Willa stood in the door. Matt didn’t know how long she’d been there. He would give her a royal scolding for disobeying his order to wait for the officers of the law.

However, she did provide the distraction Matt needed.

George jumped at the unexpected sound of her voice, and Matt charged. He hit George full-on with his body weight. Matt was younger and a bit taller, but George had the strength of madness.

They fell against Minerva in the chair, knocking her over. Both of them lost their balance. Matt grabbed George’s coat, hanging on and trying to keep as close to him as he could.

George scrambled up. He held the axe with two hands. “Let me go ,” he was shouting. “Let me go or I kill her .” He was speaking of Minerva, who was on her side on the floor. He started to swing the axe.

Matt grabbed at his arm and threw him onto the ground, pinning George with his weight. Holding him down, Matt sat up and punched his cousin in the head—once, twice, and George was out, his nose bloodied.

Uncertain if George was bluffing, Matt stayed right where he was, ready to strike again—

“Your Grace?”

Matt looked up and was surprised to see the sitting room full of men carrying lamps.

And there was Willa, helping a gentleman lift Minerva, still tied to her chair, to a sitting position.

Matt started for Willa. He didn’t know if he would give her a lecture on the danger of not listening to him or kiss her silly.

She looked up at him just then—and he knew he wanted to kiss her silly.

Someone untied Minerva and took the gag from her mouth. She burst into noisy tears and held her hands out for Matt. He helped her rise. She was very shaky and he understood why. The old girl had been through a great deal this evening. He himself was exhausted.

His grandmother put her arms around him and sobbed. Matt looked to Willa for guidance. “Hold her,” she mouthed.

In all the time he had been around Minerva, she had never asked for affection, not even the simplest of hugs. He put his arms around her and felt her tension ease.

“He didn’t kill William,” she said between sobs for Matt’s ears alone. “I could have sworn he had. It’s as if I feel the pain of losing my son all over again. I can’t believe William could have just fallen off. He could ride anything.”

There it was, she focused on William and ignored her other son, his father. Or the danger they’d all just experienced.

And yet, Matt heard his father’s calm voice when he said, “Perhaps George did have a hand in it, Grandmother. I’m certain William felt the weight of being the source of the blackmail.”

“I’m certain he did.”

Willa offered a kerchief, which Minerva gratefully accepted. “I believe you should rest,” Willa suggested.

“I would like to rest,” Minerva agreed. “This has been very hard. I didn’t know George was taking me to Mayfield until we were on the road. It was as if he changed into another person. He even hit me and he said vile things. I never knew he felt that way.”

“He hid it well,” Matt answered.

On the floor, George started groaning as he returned to consciousness. Two men picked him up. Matt recognized them as his stable lads.

“I fetched them,” Willa said proudly. “I was waiting as you told me to,” she added hurriedly, “but I worried, and I thought you could use help.”

“Why didn’t they come in here instead of you? Willa, George could have murdered you.”

“But you would have stopped him,” she said with every confidence. “I knew I would be safe.”

He kissed her then. He didn’t care if they had an audience. Such trust must be rewarded.

A clearing of a throat brought Matt back to the present moment.

“Your Grace, I’m Lord Dumfries, the magistrate.”

“Yes, I remember meeting you. Thank you for coming.”

Dumfries was a slender fellow with blond graying hair. “I almost didn’t. But your letter was such that I knew I must rouse myself from my bed to see if it was true.”

“Are you disappointed?”

The magistrate looked around at the damage in the room. “I am not. However, will you tell us the story?”

“And is there a place we can lock this man up?” Squire Tarlton, who served as sheriff, asked. “I’ll have men come and pick him up in the morning.”

“Capital idea,” Matt agreed. He directed the stable lads to see that George was locked up in the grain room.

George wasn’t vocal. He looked around as if in a daze. He was probably stunned at how far he’d fallen, and how this would be his legacy to his children. Matt pitied the boys.

“Shall we go into the dining room?” Matt offered. “We can all sit around the table and hear the story out over a glass of whisky.” Even Minerva thought that was a splendid idea.

Matt told the story. Willa sat beside him, silent—for once. Minerva shared her harrowing adventure of being kidnapped. The squire had asked for paper and ink and he recorded their versions of events.

The whisky helped the dowager recover. When Dumfries asked if Matt wished to take out charges against George, she answered, “Absolutely not.”

“Grandmother, we will,” Matt answered.

“We can’t,” she countered. “What will people think? We don’t want our affairs to be bandied about.”

“He killed people,” Willa said. “I saw their bodies. What he did was terrible.”

“Bodies?” Minerva echoed. “A dockside doxy and some man no one knows? They don’t count for anything.”

“The law frowns on murder, Your Grace,” Dumfries said tactfully.

“I don’t care what the law frowns on. The title must not be attached to any such sordid business.”

“He tried to murder us—” Willa answered, starting to her feet in her indignation.

Matt reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. He looked to Dumfries. “Of course charges should be filed. And prepare yourself. My cousin is an excellent lawyer.”

“Your Grace ,” Minerva started. “I must object—”

“And you are free to do so, Grandmother. However, it is my decision that carries weight. I’m tired of secrets. I’m done with them. George will be judged for his actions.”

“He will sully our name—”

“He already has,” Matt said. “We should have talked to the authorities years ago.”

She shut her mouth then. He knew she didn’t agree with him. That was fine. He was Camberly.

It was almost dawn by the time everything was settled. The squire said, “I suppose it will be this afternoon when I send lads over.”

“Whenever will be fine,” Matt assured him. “My cousin is not going anywhere.”

At last everyone was gone. Minerva had sought her bed over an hour earlier, obviously disheartened that she would not have her way.

Now it was just Matt and Willa. He held out his arms, and she walked directly into them.

Matt kissed the top of her head. She cozied closer. This charming, beautiful woman had been willing to risk her life for him. What’s more, she loved him . . .

“I have a confession to make.”

She yawned. “Can it wait for morning?”

“I fear not.”

He had her complete attention now. “What is it? You look so serious.”

“I am serious.” He sat her down at the table and took the chair next to hers. Her feet barely touched the floor. Sometimes he felt twice her size. Right now, he believed he was a very little man. “I have a confession to make,” he started. “My conscience won’t let me go until I tell you the truth.”

“Very well.” She folded her hands in her lap.

Matt sat a moment, preparing himself before admitting, “I didn’t choose or even purchase the marriage ring you wear. I hadn’t done anything for the wedding, including asking a groomsman. I contacted Soren in the middle of the night demanding he fill the role.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I wish to be worthy of you. I notice how often you touch the ring.”

She curled her fingers in her lap. “It matches my tastes perfectly. I’m fond of it.”

“And you thought I had chosen it.”

Willa looked down at the ring and then slowly nodded her head.

Matt slid off his chair and came down on one knee. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the respect you deserved.” He placed his hand over hers. “But if you will forgive me, I’ll work every day to make it up to you. I love you, Willa. Passionately, fully, and completely. There is no other woman who has ever touched my heart with her bravery and my soul with love. I give all I have to you, Willa. Everything. This is my solemn vow because I never want to lose you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. He feared he had upset her. “Willa, have I said the wrong thing?”

“You have said all the right things,” she answered—and then she threw her arms around him. “Of course I forgive you, but please let me hear you say it again.”

“Ask you to forgive me?”

“No, you buffle-headed man. The part that is important.”

He understood. “I love you, Willa. I’ll always love you—”

She cut him off with a kiss. They took their time of it, enjoying the moment.

Matt rose from the ground, picking up his petite bride. She looked at him. “I have a confession as well.”

“Yes.”

“When I wrote the letter jilting you, I’d hoped that you would come for me, and you did. Now I am no longer a blank piece of paper.”

“What do you mean?”

“The day I wrote the letter, I tried to make a list of all the things I wanted out of my life. I couldn’t think of anything. I was too dull and lacked experience in life. You changed that, Matt. We’ve been kidnapped, and almost murdered, and visited a whorehouse.”

“These aren’t necessarily good things, Willa.”

“But they proved that together , we can face anything. And now, take me to bed, husband. We have much catching up to do.”

Matt was happy to oblige.