The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery by L.C. Sharp (i have read the book .TXT) 📗

to recognize it. The style and the tiny coat of arms told her all she needed to know. “This is early for my father to call.” She pushed her plate away. “I expected a few hours’ respite at least.”

“Did you expect him to come here?” Ash asked sharply.

Juliana shook her head. “Not so soon.” The last sounded too wistful for her liking, but she couldn’t help it. She’d wanted more time, but she wasn’t going to get it.

Ash addressed the footman who stood behind him, waiting for an answer. “I will see him upstairs in the drawing room.”

Juliana had almost accepted his autocratic decision as normal before he turned to her. “Do you wish to be present? The decision is yours. However, one thing I must make clear. You cannot go anywhere with him. You are here under my guarantee.”

She breathed a long sigh as relief poured through her. But she could not hide away. This was her life, what remained of it, and she would face everything with her head high.

“I will come.”

Chapter Eleven

Ash noted Juliana’s discomfort. The slight widening of her blue eyes and the expanded pupils told him all he needed to know. He had not needed the tightening of the muscles around her full lips to confirm it.

Discomfort would be to put too narrow an interpretation on what he’d seen in that brief moment before she smoothed her expression to show only polite interest, her habitual pose. Fear and anger were nearer the mark.

He was glad she had decided to accompany him. He would watch and learn, discover what her relationship with her father consisted of. After he’d seen Amelia’s sketches, fury had ripped him apart, forcing him to stay in the study longer than usual, until he’d mastered his reaction. That was before he’d read her dispassionate account of her wedding night. Good God, she wouldn’t have survived much more of the treatment meted out to her.

Would her father have married her to Uppingham if he’d known what the man was capable of? Did he care?

Before Freeman left, Ash took him aside for a quiet word. “If there is a crested carriage outside, send it to stand outside Newcastle House. It will not be out of place there. It is here.”

Rather like the red cross of the plague, marking the house. Anyone seeing a carriage with the earl’s crest on it would not have to work hard to discover where the widow was staying.

Freeman bowed and left the room as Amelia demanded to know why he was even speaking to the man. “What can he say?”

“Let Ash handle him,” she went on, addressing Juliana. “You don’t have to see him.”

“I do,” Juliana said.

“Are you sure? Why do you want to see him?”

“I want to make it clear that I am beyond his jurisdiction now. I’m a widow, not his daughter, and as such, I have rights.”

He allowed himself a smile. “So you are.” He gave the order.

“Let the maid take his lordship upstairs. Then we may follow.”

Amelia and Gregory regarded him in skeptical silence. They knew how rarely he allowed his work to pass the front door of this house, but in this case he’d flung the door wide open.

He’d done his best to keep the unsavory aspects of his business away from his family, from criminals to informants. Even petitioners were kept separate.

When he’d bought the house next door he’d had the houses remodeled, since he would not need all the extra space. He kept his study, a reception room and a storage room aside for himself. They could be reached by a separate entrance at the side of the house. Bringing Juliana into his family space had blown all that wide apart.

She was still in the public eye, still on the front pages of every journal and gossip sheet. He needed to keep her whereabouts private for the time being, until the mob had moved on to another scandal.

The Duke of Newcastle would just have to put up with the carriage of a fellow peer lingering outside his door, because leaving it outside this house was tantamount to announcing, “She’s here!”

Once the heavy tread of their visitor had marked his climb to their drawing room, Ash ushered Lady Juliana upstairs with a light touch of his hand to her elbow. He drew his hand away when she flinched, remembering his sister’s drawing and label. “Swollen,” it had said. She said nothing, but her face was pale. He said nothing, either.

Freeman stood outside the door. Ash nodded to him, allowing him to open the double doors and stood back for his guest to enter first.

The occupant of the room looked incongruous here. His flashy brilliance did not look well against the quiet greens and soft walnut furnishings.

Crimson velvet did not go well with his lordship’s florid complexion. However, his tailor had done his best to obscure the fabric, loading it with gold braid and embroidery, as well as adding a couple of dozen gold buttons to the matching waistcoat as well as the coat. His smallclothes were thankfully plainer, but the buckles at his knees and on his shoes blazed with the fire of either paste or diamonds. Ash wouldn’t put it past the man to use diamonds.

Ostentatious was a good word to describe the earl. The aristocracy went about their business, displaying their fortunes on their backs like gypsies, even though, unlike the travelers, they didn’t need to make their fortunes portable.

Ash listened to his guest’s pretty introduction. He rose from his bow to see the earl’s curt nod. “How may I help you, my lord?” he said smoothly. “Please, do take a seat. Tea will be served presently.” Damned if he would offer his lordship brandy at this hour.

Reluctantly, the earl examined a nearby sofa and deigned to accept its support. Ash waited until Juliana sat before he took his own place in his usual armchair.

Juliana folded her hands neatly on her lap. “I’m glad to see you well, sir. I