Page 51 of His Darling Duchess
Grantleigh sputtered incoherently, clutching at his surely broken nose. Rhys drew back his fist again, vision clouded by rage—but then a soft hand grasped his arm.
"Rhys, stop." Aurelia's gentle tone cut through his anger, bringing him back to himself. "He's not worth it."
Rhys blinked, panting harshly as he stared at the crumpled and cowed figure of Grantleigh. His knuckles ached, bloodied from the blows he'd landed, but the pain was nothing compared to the anguish Grantleigh had put Aurelia through. He wanted nothing more than to beat the man senseless.
But Aurelia was right. Grantleigh wasn't worth it.
With tremendous effort, Rhys uncurled his fists and released Grantleigh's jacket. He staggered back a step, scrubbing a hand over his face as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Get him out of my sight," he bit out, "before I change my mind."
Hale and the magistrate’s men rushed forward to seize Grantleigh, who could only moan in response. As they dragged him from the lodge, Rhys turned and enfolded Aurelia in hisarms once more, clinging to her as if she alone could chase away the darkness that had threatened to consume him.
Rhys pulled back to gaze down at Aurelia, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "Are you hurt?" he asked hoarsely. "Did he—did he harm you?"
Aurelia shook her head, her own eyes soft with concern as she looked up at him. "No, I'm unharmed. But what about you?" She traced a finger over the split in his lip, frowning. "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing." He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, unwilling to release her even for a moment. "As long as you're safe, nothing else matters."
"And you," Aurelia insisted. "You matter to me, Rhys. Promise me you won't do anything so reckless again."
Rhys winced, knowing she referred to confronting Grantleigh alone. He should not have put her in danger that way. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right, it was foolish and shortsighted. I will not act so rashly again, I promise."
Aurelia studied him for a long moment before nodding, apparently satisfied with his pledge. "Very well. Let us return home, then."
Rhys embraced Aurelia tightly, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her familiar lavender scent. His heart swelled nearly to bursting with gratitude and love for this woman who had so profoundly changed his life.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jeremy Hale and the magistrate dragging the crumpled and bloodied form of Grantleigh out to the waiting constables. Justice would be served, but in this moment Rhys could scarce care. All that mattered was that Aurelia was safe in his arms.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered fiercely against her temple. "When I saw you on that roof, I--" His voice broke and he clutched her even closer.
Aurelia's arms came around him, her embrace just as desperate. "Hush, my love. I'm here, I'm unharmed. We're together again, and nothing shall part us." She drew back to meet his gaze, her own eyes shining with emotion. "You saved me, Rhys. Once more, you are my champion."
Rhys shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. He had done nothing more than any man would do for the woman he loved. Aurelia was his heart, his home, his everything. He would storm the gates of Hell itself to keep her safe.
Epilogue
Aurelia breathed deeply ofthe familiar scents of their home as she and Rhys walked in through the front doors of Stowe Park once more: beeswax, bergamot, and old books. After so many trials, they had carved out this haven together. Their love had prevailed against all odds, and soon they would welcome a new life.
Rhys gazed down at her, his eyes glowing with tenderness. “Tired, my love?”
“A bit.” The events of the Season had taken their toll, though she would never admit it. Now in her seventh month, each activity was an effort of will. But she had endured, head high, for Rhys’s sake and her own. To prove she belonged.
He squeezed her hand, understanding without words, and led her toward the drawing room. “Come, sit by the fire. Some tea and cakes shall revive you.”
She sank into a velvet armchair with a sigh. “You spoil me.”
“Nonsense. You deserve to be spoiled.” Rhys tucked a cashmere blanket around her legs and busied himself preparing tea for her from the tray the maids brought in.
Aurelia watched him, her heart overflowing. They had built a life of simple moments like these, a haven of warmth and solace for the times when they were able to retreat from the social whirl of London. And soon, God willing, it would be filled with the laughter of children.
She knew there was no power on earth that could defeat their love. They had triumphed, and would continue to triumph, against every obstacle.
Aurelia rested a hand on her rounded belly, imagining she could feel the baby stirring inside. A son, she hoped. An heir for Rhys to dote on and spoil even more than he did her.
Her lips curved at the thought. Rhys approached with her tea cup and a plate of cake and paused, arrested by her smile. “What is it?”
“I was thinking of you and our babe. The look on your face when you first hold him.”
