“Ah, Kilbourne, you’ve regained your voice,” Wakefield drawled. “Pity, but I presume my wife is thrilled. And you are?” He looked pointedly at Montgomery.
Montgomery bowed mockingly, still holding his pistol. “Montgomery. And you’re Wakefield, yes?”
One of Wakefield’s eyebrows rose. “Quite.” He turned to Apollo. “I was told that we were here to save you. I see that I’ve been sadly misinformed.”
“You would’ve saved him had my brother been on time,” Lily said, glaring at Edwin.
“I’ve been shot,” Ross moaned from the ground.
George merely groaned.
Wakefield turned very slowly to Ross and said gently, “Lord Ross, I believe? Your son from your first marriage is playing with my wife at the moment. She seems to have grown quite fond of him in a very short time. Felicitations on finding him alive and well. It’s not every day that one discovers one’s heir.”
Ross’s lip curled and Apollo wished that Montgomery’s aim had been better. “Then I’ll take him. He’s my son, after all.”
“I think not,” Wakefield murmured. “I’ve heard a rather distressing tale from two upstanding citizens regarding his mother’s death. If you would rather I not investigate the matter further—and I really think you would—I suggest you never attempt to see your heir again.”
For a moment it looked as if Ross would cry, and Apollo really couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Thank God,” Edwin Stump said, and sat abruptly on a charred log. “That’s over, then. I don’t mind telling you, Lily, that I near had an apoplexy when I got that message from you.”
Apollo frowned. “What message?”
“The message I had to slip to one of the footmen as I left Greaves House with George. I just hoped that Edwin would know what to do.” Lily looked at him in wonder. “And he did—even if he was a bit late.”
Edwin Stump actually looked bashful.
“I don’t understand.” Apollo frowned. “George caught you at the house party after I left?”
She nodded. “And kept a pistol on me practically all the way to London.”
He felt his heart stop. Fool. He should’ve realized he would put her in a position of danger when he fled. “I’m sorry, love. I should’ve never left you there.”
She shook her head. “You weren’t to know he would do that—and had you stayed you’d be in Bedlam right now. You had to run, Apollo.”
He grimaced, still not ready to absolve himself of blame. Things could’ve turned out far, far worse. “So you slipped your brother a message to go to Trevillion?”
“And to go to your sister,” Lily said. “After all, she’s a duchess. I thought that might help.”
Trevillion cleared his throat. “I decided His Grace might, in this case, be more useful.”
“Then why in God’s name did you grab for George’s pistol when you knew help was coming?” Apollo asked.
“They weren’t here yet and he was going to shoot you,” she said, placing her palms on his chest. “I couldn’t let him.”
His throat closed and he couldn’t reply. All he could do was pull her into his arms and hold her close.
Someone cleared their voice.
He didn’t care in the slightest.
Edwin toed George Greaves, who was still moaning very quietly. “What are we going to do with him?” He glanced at Ross and winced. “Them?”
Wakefield drew himself up. “As it’s quite clear that Montgomery shot Ross to save Miss Goodfellow’s life, I shall make a full report to the courts and deal with the matter myself. Sadly, as he’s titled, he’ll probably serve no time in prison. However, the scandal of trying to murder one of London’s most famous actresses might make a sojourn abroad seem quite a nice prospect. As for Greaves…”
“He murdered those men,” Lily said from Apollo’s arms. “I’m quite sure of it. I just have no way of proving it.”
“No, I didn’t!” George gasped rather unconvincingly from the ground.