Page 81 of An Unfamiliar Duke

She buried her face in his shoulder and cried.

* * *

Rosalind had not realized how much she needed Sebastian—his strength, his support, his love. She choked back her tears and raised her hand to his face. “You are truly here and uninjured?”

“Yes.” He kissed her dirty palm. “And you? I have lived through hell since Sellers dragged you out of the workshop. Did he hurt you?”

Every part of Rosalind’s body ached, but she shook her head. “Nothing that Mrs. Frost’s salve and some sleep cannot cure.”

He kissed her forehead. She met his eyes, and he smiled. “I found a tiny patch just there that was without mud.”

“Mrs. Frost’s salve, sleep, and a bath,” she amended.

He released her from his embrace. She shivered. The small fire had removed the nighttime chill in the room but had not been enough to expel the cold that had penetrated her very bones when she’d been with Mr. Sellers. She picked up the blanket Mary had offered her and folded it before setting it on the chair. As much as she desired the extra layer, she had an inkling that this one had been taken from someone’s bed. It should be returned.

“Put this on,” Sebastian said. “You will need it.”

She turned. He had taken off his jacket and was holding it out to her. “No more than you.”

“I beg to differ,” he said softly.

She glanced down. Her flimsy dressing gown and shift were no real protection from the cold, and she had lost her shawl when she had gone after the satchel. She gasped.

“Sebastian. The satchel.” She hurried around the chair and picked up the filthy leather bag from the floor.

“You have it!”

“I tossed it over the wall in an attempt to keep it from Mr. Sellers. When I heard your shout, I dropped to the ground and discovered it beside me. I crawled to the Becketts’ door, hoping to keep it hidden from Mr. Sellers. Edith let me in.”

He took the satchel and released the clasp. “Did Sellers open it?”

“No.”

Sebastian tossed back the covering flap and checked the contents within. When he looked up, he was smiling. “It appears that, notwithstanding their flight across the wall and their clumsy landing, the papers are much as I left them. Not even the wetness from the grass and mud has penetrated the satchel.”

Relief filled Rosalind. “I undid the strap so as to pull it free of Mr. Sellers’s shoulder. It should be easy enough to reconnect.”

He threaded the narrow piece of leather through the buckle and cinched it tight. Then he slung the satchel over his shoulder and held out his coat a second time. “Come,” he said.

She slid her arms into the sleeves. He drew it around her, pulling her toward him as he enveloped her in the excess fabric. It felt safe and warm. Quite the opposite of how she’d felt only half an hour ago. She looked to the hall. Mary and Edith had disappeared, but the front door was just visible at the end of the short passage.

“I do not wish to see Mr. Sellers again,” she said.

“You shall not.” He was definite.

A knock sounded, and Rosalind caught her breath. Sebastian stepped out of the room and reached the door before anyone appeared from upstairs. He pulled his gun from his pocket and opened it a fraction.

“The villain’s tied up, Your Grace,” Dawson said. “He’s hunched over in his saddle like the sack of blackhearted coal that he is. Where do you wish him taken?”

“To Camden Hall. Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield should be the first to know the depths to which their nephew was willing to stoop to support his gambling addiction. No doubt Mrs. Fairfield will have someone see to his arm. I will have Grayson go for the magistrate in the morning. He can accompany the gentleman to Camden Hall and represent me there. You may tell them that I will be unavailable for the next couple of days.”

Dawson nodded. “Very good, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Dawson. Your assistance has been invaluable.”

The head groom’s teeth flashed in the candlelight. “It’s been a sight more exciting than mucking out stalls.”

“I daresay,” Sebastian said. “But I shall be glad of some less exciting days after this.”