Page 98 of A Remarkable Rogue

“Your explanation doesn’t answer everything,” Clayton interjected quietly, drawing Hawking’s attention away from Nate. “If you wanted revenge for your brother’s death, you could have just killed Braxton and gotten it. You wouldn’t have needed to overthrow the government.”

“You think it was only Braxton who was responsible for my brother’s death?” Hawking spat onto the floor again. “The king is mad, his whelps immoral disgraces…and the oldest, fattest whelp of all was responsible for getting us into war with the Americans in the first place.” He jerked his head in the direction of Whitehall and the palaces. “I don’t lay complete blame for my brother’s death on Braxton’s head. I put it on the regent for not keeping us out of war in the first place!”

Hawking leaned forward as far as the bindings allowed.

“How many other brothers, sons, and fathers have died because of that drunken, half-mad, gout-ridden, lecherous bastard, one who has the gall to wear a field marshal’s uniform when he’s too fat to even sit a horse? He’s an affront to every man who has died for England, who has lost arms and legs and eyes in service of country and crown.God’s anointed.” The last came with a sneer so fierce it was almost a snarl. “A damnable joke.”

The mad depths of Scepter’s plot swirled around Nate like a lifting fog, and he mumbled, “Revolutionisyour revenge.”

“Prinny murdered my brother as surely as if his fat fingers were the ones that fired the musket.” Hawking’s voice quivered with rage. “That’swhy I want to overthrow the monarchy, to keep those royal bastards from ever sending another brother, son, or father to his death again. And for what? A treaty claiming status quo ante bellum…everything returned to how it was before the war, as if no fighting ever took place. Tell that to the weeping mothers and children, and ask what comfort that brings them.”

Hawking leaned back in the chair. He repeatedly clenched and unclenched his tied hands, agitated by his fury and grief.

“Revolution isn’t the answer,” Clayton countered. “Reformis. The system is best changed from within, with clear purpose and cautious progression.” Nate could tell from the tone of his old friend’s voice that Clayton meant every word. “Revolution creates a power vacuum and leaves despots and dictators in charge, those who care only for their own wealth and power.”

“Revolution brings change,” Hawking argued. “And quickly.”

“It also brings death and destruction,” Nate interrupted. “Toeveryone. Not just to the guilty but the innocent as well. Not just those who want revolution but to all people.”

God knew he’d witnessed that firsthand on the Peninsula during the wars. The flames of the French Revolution had consumed nearly all of Europe, and after all that death and destruction, the French were right back where they’d started, with a Bourbon king reigning over a pile of ashes and corpses.

“The innocent don’t deserve to be caught up in your vengeance.” Nate looked across the room and met Sydney’s gaze. The look of love for him in her eyes stripped his breath away. “Noneof us do.”

Without another word, Nate turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Hawking to his half brother and Clayton. His mission was over.

He crossed the room to Sydney, swept Robbie into his arms, and leaned down to kiss her. In that kiss, he tasted the promise of a new life.

Together.

Epilogue

Oakwood Manor

Three Months Later

The horse guard galloped up the drive, his red uniform the same color as the setting sun sinking toward the horizon behind him. He reined his horse to a stop in front of the house.

“Sir.” The guard saluted as Nate jogged down the stone steps to greet him, but he didn’t dismount. He pulled a letter from beneath his jacket and leaned down to present it. “A message from London.”

“Thank you.” Nate took the sealed message and nodded toward the stables. “Put up your horse and spend the night. You can ride back in the morning. There’s a roast that’s still warm in the kitchen.”

He nodded with gratitude. “Yes, sir!”

As the guard trotted toward the stables, Nate broke the plain red seal, opened the note, and scanned Clayton’s scribbled message. One word—

Dead.

Charles Langley, former Marquess of Hawking and Scepter’s leader, had swung on the gallows, just as the men of the Armory had made certain he would.

Nate crumpled the paper in his fist, turned on his heel, and hurried back up the steps into the house. He paused in the front hall to stick the note into the flame of the oil lamp on the side table and watch it burn to ash. He pulled in a deep breath.

Finally, it was over.

He passed the drawing room on his way to the stairs. Inside the warm and inviting space, his mother played cards with the three Sinclair ladies. She lived here now, helping to make Oakwood a true home. As soon as the mission had ended, with Charles Langley within Newgate’s walls and the reward money safely in Nate’s bank account, he married Sydney, then rode to the Earl of Buckley’s estate, resigned his mother’s position, and moved her out of the rented cottage and into Oakwood, where she immediately embraced both Sydney and Robbie as her family. She loved Robbie like a grandson, and he doted on her in return as a grandmother.

Then there were the Sinclair ladies.

Isabel, Agnes, and Elizabeth had descended upon them only days after he’d brought Sydney and Robbie here to start their new life together. The ladies had arrived in a flurry of surprise without invitation or warning—perhaps exactly because they wanted to surprise—to welcome Sydney to the family, to meet Robbie, and to make whatever amends they could to Nate’s mother.