She sighed. “It’s been three weeks. I can certainly take a stroll outside.”
He opened his mouth, most likely to once again tell her nothing was safe when a knock on the door drew their attention.
Hunt entered at their permission, a cream-colored envelope in his hand. “This just came by special delivery for you.” He handed it to Dante.
“Thank you.” He slid the paper out of the envelope and looked over at Lydia, who sat on the settee in the chamber, her arms crossed, scowling at him. His eyes moved back and forth as he read the missive. He folded the paper and placed it on the table in front of her. “It’s over.”
She uncrossed her arms and sat forward, winc
ing slightly at the remaining pain in her back. “What?”
Hunt sauntered over and sat next to her, taking her hand in his.
“Was that from the Home Office?”
“Yes.” Dante leaned back and rested his foot on his knee. “They apparently were able to connect the Ambassador to the murders of his contact and her lover, as well as your attempted murder.”
Lydia’s jaw dropped. “He was the one behind it? But I thought he’d been granted immunity because of his status. Why would he want to see us dead?”
“Dear old boy Mr. Ambassador, was also working with the Russians. He was being investigated by the German government for that. When I visited with Sir Phillip while you were recovering, he gave me that information. It was for that reason the Ambassador had not been called back to Germany. They were doing their own investigation and planned to use us and the other two as witnesses against him. Especially with your knowledge of Russian.”
Lydia shook her head. “This is quite complicated. I remember the woman he received the information from spoke to him in Russian. It never occurred to me he was selling information from England to Russia, and not his own country.”
“He was probably doing both. A very special sort of traitor.”
The three sat in silence processing the information. Finally, Dante stood and walked to the fireplace behind the settee and leaned his arm on the mantel. “That note,” he gestured with his head at the envelope still sitting on the table, “was to advise us that the Ambassador committed suicide yesterday.”
Lydia sucked in a deep breath. “Oh, no. That’s terrible.”
Dante looked over at her and smiled. “Sweetheart, the man tried to have you killed.”
“Yes. That is true.” She stood and moved over to Dante, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning onto his strong, warm chest. “I’m just so glad it’s over.”
He rested his chin on her head. “Me too, sweetheart, me too.”
Hunt slapped his thighs and stood. “I’m glad it’s all finished. I’m sure you don’t need me anymore.” With a chuckle he left the room.
Dante leaned back and looked at her. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Do what?”
“Almost get yourself killed.”
Lydia laughed at how serious he looked. “Dante, I had no intention of getting myself killed, and do not plan to do the same ever again.”
“I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but I love you, Lydia. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Her heart lifted. He’d told her so many times since the stabbing that he loved her, couldn’t live without her, and he had been a complete fool and idiot to think love would never come his way.
She stared up at him. “And I love you, too, Dante.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you too, Dante.”
He leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Lydia sighed against his lips. Yes, there was such a thing as a happy ending. Even for an intellectual and a rake.
* * *