Chapter Thirty-Five
Once they were settled inside Detective Lawrence’s carriage and it had moved off, Dominic gathered Artemis into his arms. He buried his face in her hair. Inhaled her heavenly scent.
When he’d seen Gascoyne trying to haul her off, when he’d caught a glimpse of a pistol pressed into her ribs, he’d seen red.
Christ, if anything had happened to her…
But it hadn’t and she was here. Soaked to the skin but otherwise whole and unharmed.
And she loved him.
She loves me… This beautiful, brave, fiercely intelligent woman loves me.
And she deserved to know that he loved her too.
He gently brushed a dripping lock of hair away from her cheek and tucked it behind the shell of her ear. “Artemis…”
She stiffened in his arms. “Oh, drat and Dicken’s dingleberries,” she muttered, raising her head. “I’ve left my carpetbag behind. We have to go back. At once.”
Dominic gave a disgruntled grunt as he adjusted his position on the hard seat. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you another and replace everything that’s in it.” Egads. Why was it so bloody difficult to tell this woman that he loved her?
But Artemis gave an emphatic shake of her head. “You can’t. Not everything. You see, there’s a…a special notebook inside. One that I regard as irreplaceable. I simply can’t lose it.”
Ah…Dominic caught her chin between gentle fingers as understanding dawned. “Would that notebook happen to contain your next manuscript, Miss Lovelace?” he asked softly. “Lady Mirabella and the Midnight Monk?”
She gasped and her eyes widened. But before she could respond, he’d knocked on the carriage roof and ordered the driver to stop. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back with your carpetbag and your manuscript in a jiffy,” he said as he threw open the door.
“No, Dominic. Wait. I’ll go,” she said, grasping his coat sleeve, attempting to stay him. “You shouldn’t be out in the rain.”
But it was too late. He’d already climbed out and was retracing his steps. His shoulder might be throbbing like hell and he might feel like he was seventy-eight, not thirty-eight—but he would get Artemis’s manuscript back if it was the last thing he did.
When he returned a few minutes later, bag in hand, Artemis cried, “Oh, thank heavens.”
“One of Detective Lawrence’s officers was looking after it,” said Dominic as he joined Artemis in the cab again, depositing the sodden bag beside her. He frowned with concern as she began to fumble with the buckle. “I hope your notebook is all right.”
“So do I.” The clasp came undone, and within a fraction of a second, she’d pulled a book bound in red leather from a tangle of linen. “It’s fine,” she murmured as she quickly flipped through the pages. Then she looked up. Confusion clouded her eyes as she searched his gaze. “How…how did you know? About any of this? About who I really am?”
Dominic smiled. “I’m a duke. I’m all powerful and all knowing.”
As he expected, Artemis rallied. “Balderdash,” she said with a small snort of laughter, then gave him a gentle poke in the chest. “Out with it. Confess.”
He laughed too. “I will. I will. But here in the back of this rather uncomfortable and none-too-clean”—he wrinkled his nose—“police carriage, I’m only prepared to give you an abridged explanation.”
Artemis’s fulsome bottom lip dipped into an exaggerated pout. “Very well. At least tell me how long you’ve known that I’m Lydia Lovelace.”
“Only since this morning. And Idoknow everything.” He gentled his tone as he continued, “I know what that two-faced, far-too-priggish governess did to you. That she coerced you into leaving me by threatening to expose your secret.”
“Oh…” Artemis paled. “I see…” She sighed, the sound infinitely sad. Remorse filled her eyes as she said, “I didn’t want to go, Dominic. More than anything, I wanted to stay with you, but I was so terrified. If Miss Sharp had gone to the newspapers, my dreams of starting a college would have been destroyed. But then…” Her gaze firmed and she lifted her chin a fraction. “This morning I realized something. Something profoundly important. I decided that I didn’t care if Miss High-and-Mighty Sharp ruined my reputation beyond repair. Ihadto return. Indeed, I was waiting for the train at Pangbourne Station even before I received your telegram telling me that your fever had broken. I had to be with you because you, my darling Dominic, mean more to me than anything else in this world.
“Of course,” she added, “part of me was filled with dread at just the thought of having to tell you that I’m Lydia Lovelace. I was worried that you too would condemn me for the books that I write and agree that I’m not fit to open a school.”
“Oh, my darling. My love—” Dominic began to gather her close to kiss her doubts away, but Artemis wriggled back.
“But wait, that’s not all I have to confess.” She faced him, her expression still grave. “Not only did I conceal the fact that I’m an author you disdain, but I also supplied Celeste with copies of my books. Behind your back.”
He smiled gently and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I know that too. Celeste told me.”
“And you’re not angry with me? Or with her?”