The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes (London Highwaymen, #2)

by Cat Sebastian

“There’s brandy in the cupboard on your left. Pour two glasses and tell me what news you brought.” Something occurred to her—something she ought to have realized the minute she saw him at such an hour, in such weather. “I suppose it can’t have been good news, if you were in such a hurry to—” He took hold of her hand with fingers that were icy cold. “It’s fine news, Marian. Eliza’s well. Percy’s well. The duke is dead, and nobody got a good look at the highwayman who shot him.” She went rigid. This was the best possible news, and she supposed she ought to be happy, but instead the relief hit her like a blow to the head. Everything was as well as it could be, which was far more than she deserved. For a week now, she had been doing whatever she could to ignore her worries and instead concentrate her efforts on doing what had to be done. And now that it was over, she felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The hand holding her own became an arm wrapped around her, a solid body holding her close. He didn’t say anything, which was good because there was probably nothing intelligent that could be said to a grown adult who was, it had to be admitted, sobbing on the kitchen floor. A glass of brandy somehow found its way into her hand and she drank half of it in one shaky gulp, spilling some onto her chin. Rob swiped it away with the cuff of his shirt, as if tidying up people in the throes of hysterics was all quite ordinary, nothing remarkable at all. To her side, the ca...