Page 73 of Better Off Wed

She didn’t give herself time to think. She opened the door, picked up the first thing at hand she could use to defend him, and crossed the floor as quickly and quietly as her ankle would allow. Raising her aunt’s ebony walking stick high, she brought it down on the back of Thornton’s skull—once, twice. The earl slumped forward with a groan and lay still.

“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked, scrambling to his feet and hurrying to her.

She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, even with his arms wrapped tightly around her. “Is he d-d-dead?”

“A hard-headed devil like that? I doubt it. But when he wakes up, he’ll wish you’d grabbed your hatpin instead.”

And then she was shivering and laughing and crying all at once. Soldiers, some in uniform and some not, were coming in through the front door, eyes and guns trained on Thornton, apologizing to Jeremy. And Julia was thundering down the steps. “Jeremy, Miss Hopkins’s bed hasn’t been slept in! I can’t think where she—oh.”

Jeremy turned toward his sister, revealing Laura in his embrace.

“Well,” Julia said, glancing at Laura, then at the stretch of bare leg beneath the hems of her brother’s shirt, and finally at her brother. “She seems to be all right.”

“I am,” Laura agreed, the words muffled by Jeremy’s chest.

While Julia retreated up the stairs again, he steered Laura out of the way so that a pair of soldiers could carry Thornton out, one at his head and the other at his heels and neither of them especially inclined to be gentle.

As they were passing through the door, two more people came in: Miss Godfrey, accompanied by a spry older gentleman with pewter hair and bright eyes.

“Oh, Arthur,” Mrs. Addison called down the stairs, “I take it you didn’t get my note. And who is this?” She greeted the newcomers pleasantly, as if having an intruder break into her home at dawn under cover of a hostage and be dragged out by soldiers was a perfectly ordinary occurrence.

Jeremy released Laura and took a step away. Now she could see the grazed skin near his chin, the mark left by Thornton’s fist, and the shivering began all over again.

The older gentleman shrugged out of his drab greatcoat and laid it around her shoulders. The hems dragged on the floor. “This young lady is Emily Godfrey, who was just telling me her story,” he said. “Dragged here from Kent by that Thornton fellow, who caught her writing a letter and figured she could lead him right to—”

“Me,” Jeremy said, a noticeable edge to his voice.

“Ah, so you’re Lord Sterling,” the man said and held out his hand.

To Laura’s shock, Jeremy did not immediately take it. “And you’re Mr. Remington.”

They were clearly sizing one another up, though to what end Laura couldn’t imagine. She began to wonder whether more fisticuffs weren’t about to break out. After what seemed an eternity, Jeremy nodded brusquely and shook the man’s hand. “I’m glad to know you, sir.”

Something suspiciously like tears gleamed in Mr. Remington’s blue eyes. “And I you, lad.” He turned toward Laura. “This must be—”

“His wife,” said Miss Godfrey, then slapped her hand over her mouth, obviously having not intended to speak.

Mrs. Addison took her by the arm. “Why don’t you come with me, Miss Godfrey, and I’ll have Mary make us a pot of tea,” she said, leading her through the sitting room to the table.

“This is Miss Laura Hopkins,” Jeremy said. The flags of color on his cheeks were nearly as red as his jaw. “Soon to be Lady Sterling.”

Mr. Remington bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.” Then he turned back toward Jeremy, leaning in and speaking low. “Seems to me that you’d best make it sooner than soon. Perhaps today.”

“Today?” Laura cried. “How could we possibly—?”

“A special license,” he replied, as if one could simply be plucked from the nearest tree.

“I understand from my mother that Mr. Remington is well connected and counts the Duke of Raynham among his friends,” Jeremy explained.

Mr. Remington dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I do indeed. Though in matters involving the possibility for scandal”—his face split in a knowing grin—“it’s Lord Ashborough’s help you’ll want.” Laura sucked in a breath; though his heyday was some years in the past, everyone had heard of the notorious Lord Ash. “He’s here in town for some falderal with Lady Ashborough’s latest book, and I suspect he’ll be glad of a distraction. We’ll have things sorted before the sun’s an hour higher in the sky.”

“A generous offer, I’m sure,” Laura said, glancing sideways at Jeremy. “But I was hoping for at least enough time to get a dress.”

“Best not to delay when it comes to such things as this,” Mr. Remington opined, rising up on the balls of his feet to peer into the other room, where Mrs. Addison sat. “You will not want to regret it later.”

Jeremy’s expression was strange as he watched the man watch his mother. “I wonder, sir, why you haven’t availed yourself of Lord Ashborough’s matrimonial assistance?”

Mr. Remington turned back and met Jeremy’s look. A flicker of surprise passed over his face. “That’s a capital idea, lad. Do you suppose we can get the bishop to let us have two for the price of one?” he asked with a wink. When Jeremy did not smile in return, Mr. Remington sobered. Then he clapped a hand on Jeremy’s bare shoulder and shook it. “With your blessing, I’ll speak with her right now,” he said and sauntered toward Mrs. Addison.