Free Lord Ruthven's Bride by Tarah Scott

her older sister standing in the doorway.
    “Mother,” Josephine called. “She is here.”
    Annabelle exchanged a startled look with Lena as Jo hurried down the steps.
    “I knew I heard a carriage arrive.” She reached them and her eyes widened. “My God, Annabelle—” She looked at Lena. “Lena.” Her brow furrowed. “What has happened? Are you all right?” Her gaze cut to Lord Ruthven and her eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
    “This is Lord Ruthven. He saved us—well, he and Mr. Benning.”
    “Mr. Benning,” Jo repeated, and looked at the driver.
    “That is Michael,” Annabelle said. “Mr. Benning is dealing with Lord Harley.”
    “What happened?”
    Josephine’s demand was cut off by her mother’s cry. “Annabelle.” She nearly ran down the steps. She reached Annabelle and pulled her into a hug, then hugged Lena. “Where have you been?” Her brows drew down. “What happened?” Her gaze swung onto Lord Ruthven. “Sir, what are you doing here with my daughter?”
    Annabelle laid a hand on her mother’s arm. “Mother, perhaps it is best if we go inside and discuss things.”
    For an instant Annabelle thought her mother would demand to hear all right then, but she gave a curt nod that made Annabelle’s stomach churn harder. They went inside to the drawing room and Lord Ruthven remained standing while they sat.
    “You may begin by telling me why you look as though--” Lady Montagu’s gaze locked onto Lena and she shot to her feet. “Lena, you are bleeding.
    “It looks much worse than it is, Aunt,” Lena said.
    “Come here.” She stepped around the coffee table as Lena rose and brushed past Josephine, then stopped beside Annabelle’s mother.
    Lady Montagu carefully examined the gash above her temple. “Sit down,” she ordered, then crossed to the door and tugged the bell pull. She faced them. “Lord Ruthven, you will explain.”
    “Mother—” Annabelle broke off when her mother sent a cutting look her way.
    Josephine gave Annabelle’s hand a comforting squeeze.
    “My lady,” Lord Ruthven began, but the door opened and Graham stood in the doorway.
    “Graham, please have Dr. McKinley sent for.”
    “There is no need for a doctor,” Lena said.
    “Please do as I say. Send for Dr. McKinley,” Lady Montagu said. “Have tea brought in. Also, please send Roger to Baron Morgan’s home to find out where the marquess is. He and Nicholas need to be informed that Annabelle and Lena are safely home.”
    Annabelle’s heart fell. Her father and Josephine’s husband had launched a search for them. What was her father going to do once he learned everything that had happened? She started at the realization that Lord Ruthven’s eyes were on her hands, which were twisting the fabric of her dress.
    “Oh, and please see to Lord Ruthven’s driver.” Her mother looked at the viscount, brow raised. “He is your driver?”
    “Aye, my lady.”
    She looked at Graham. The butler angled his head in acknowledgment and left. She resettled on the couch, then looked expectedly at Lord Ruthven. He began his story, and Annabelle listened in shock as she learned of his suspicions that Lord Harley had killed four women, one of whom Annabelle knew. The tea came. Her mother poured and served, and paused in setting a cup before Lena when Lord Ruthven said, “If I am correct, the jewelry in the tin box belonged to some, if not all, the four women Lord Harley murdered.”
    “My God,” Josephine breathed.
    “How did you come to rescue the girls?” Annabelle’s mother asked.
    “Lord Harley took an interest in Miss Morgan,” he replied. “I assigned Mr. Benning to watch her home. We saw Lord Harley force Lady Annabelle and Miss Summerfield into his coach, and followed.”
    Josephine’s grip on Annabelle’s hand turned fierce when he told of how they found Lena, then how he came upon Annabelle being attacked by Lord Harley.
    Her mother sat down again, and her tea remained untouched. She listened, her