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When You Rescued Me

Page 82

by Sian Ann Bessey

Grimsby’s grunt of pain was masked by Lady Telford’s cry of alarm.

“Miss Dennington!” The older lady took an unsteady step toward Hannah.

“Stay back, Lady Telford,” Samuel ordered.

But he was too late. Grimsby lunged for the older woman, and Hannah watched with horror as, with one arm hanging limply at his side, he wrapped his other arm around Lady Telford’s neck and began dragging her backward toward the french doors.

Gasping for breath, Lady Telford clawed at his arm. But Grimsby appeared unaware of her efforts.

“We’re leavin’,” Grimsby told Samuel. “An’ seein’ as ya’ve wasted yer bullet on me shoulder, ya won’t be stoppin’ us.”

Samuel pulled a second pistol from his pocket. “It was not a wasted bullet,” he said. “It was a warning shot.”

With a vitriolic snarl, Grimsby tossed Lady Telford aside and darted behind the curtains. As the older woman dropped to the floor, coughing and wheezing, the french door clicked open. The curtain rippled, and Samuel fired. There was a thud. Samuel raced across the room and tore the curtains back. Grimsby lay moaning on the ground at the open door, and less than ten yards away, two men silhouetted in the moonlight were running toward him.

Chapter 30

At the newcomers’ appearance, Samuel’s heart rate quickened.Friend or foe? There were two ladies in the room behind him who may be wounded, and he was now without bullets in either pistol.

“Ross?”

Samuel’s shoulders sagged with relief. It was Clarke.

“Grimsby’s down,” Samuel said. “Lady Telford is in distress, but I do not know if either she or Hannah have sustained any injuries.”

“Go to Miss Dennington,” Clarke said. “Jealous and I will see to Grimsby and her ladyship.”

Samuel was halfway across the room before his colleague had finished speaking. Leaping over the paper and unidentified small objects littering the floor, he reached the shadowy corner where Hannah had fallen. She was now in a sitting position.

“Hannah!” He dropped onto his knees before her. “Are you hurt?”

She raised her face to his, and he caught the glisten of tears in her eyes. “I am well enough.” She attempted a weak smile. “Better than the last time Grimsby had me in his grasp, at least.” Her voice broke. “Would you hold me?” she whispered. “I . . . I desperately wish to believe that I am truly safe.”

Feeling as though his heart might break, Samuel wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “Can you ever forgive me for firing at him when he had a gun at your side?” he murmured.

“You came when I needed you most,” she said. He felt her head rise and looked down to see her watching him. “And once you were here, I knew you would do everything possible to keep me safe.”

“Always.” His gaze shifted from her earnest eyes to trace the gentle curve of her cheek and soft lips. Heaven help him; he was past saving. His entire heart and soul were hers. “Whenever you are in need of me,” he whispered, “I will come.”

“I am beginning to think that there may never be a day that I do not need you,” she said.

Behind him, Jealous and Clarke were speaking to Lady Telford. Their discussion was undoubtedly important. And yet for Samuel, nothing was so vital as being with Hannah. He lowered his forehead to hers. For this moment, she was his entire world.

“I endured the worst kind of torture when I returned to the ballroom to find you missing,” he said. “And it only intensified when your sister told me that you had gone in search of Lady Telford in the library.” He released a tense breath. “Telford House’s west wing is too long by half. I had almost reached the library when I heard the gunshot. I never again wish to relive those moments—or the ones that immediately followed, when I entered and saw you standing with Grimsby’s gun at your side.”

“I should not have gone after Lady Telford alone,” she said softly.

Part of him—the portion that had been frantic with worry—wanted to chastise her for her foolishness, but the other part—the one that knew her heart and admired her dauntless courage—caught the words before they could escape. “Your father may confine you to your rooms as punishment.”

Her small smile was reward enough for his gentler approach.

“Or else he will never let me out of his sight again,” she said.

The intensity of Samuel’s longing to do the same both startled and saddened him. He closed his eyes, soaking in the joy of holding her close for what was likely the last time. Changes and new chances had given him more than he deserved. But this last and greatest of all gifts was beyond him. No matter the depth of his feelings for Hannah, he could not offer her the comfortable home, secure income, or place in Society that she was born to. And somehow, he must pluck up the courage to tell her that with Aitken’s and Grimsby’s capture, their reason for being together had come to an end. “Hannah,” he said. “After today . . .” He swallowed, but before he could continue, Hannah tensed.

“Someone else has entered the library through the french doors.” She raised her head, and as Samuel did the same, he heard the distinct swish of a cane sliding back and forth across the wood floor.

“Where is Lady Telford?” Sir John’s question cut through the suddenly silent room.