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

money on it. But I have never explored that part of Covent Garden before. I’ve never needed to. But I do now.”

Ash rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “Then there’s the Raven. He is developing his empire, expanding it. That much I know. He sent his agents to rouse the mob outside your father’s house.”

“He did?”

“He did. And I am becoming more convinced that it was more than an opportune moment to loot and steal. He wanted you. He told me he had nothing to do with your husband’s murder, but I don’t have a good reason to believe him.”

She loved that he told her the truth, that he did not haver over difficult subjects.

“I don’t know what he had to gain from your husband, or why he would want him dead, but I need to pursue that possibility. He was certainly not interested in his personal bedroom habits. He may have wanted you all along.”

“Ah yes. To hold me to ransom. I am worth more than many heiresses, but it is not monetary value. It is the title. Was,” she corrected herself. This scandal would put paid to her father’s efforts to continue his name, and she was glad of it.

Ash got to his feet. “We can do no more tonight. Time to retire, I think.”

Right on cue, the clock chimed one. Weariness spread through her bones. Without thinking, she took his hand and let him help her to her feet.

Her breath caught in her throat as panic took her over. She snatched her hand away, held it to her chest, trying to push her heart back to normal.

Then she listened shame faced to his terse apology. “I should not have touched you. I’m sorry.”

“No, it was my fault. I know I have nothing to fear from you.”

He bowed his head. She only reacted badly when she had not steeled herself for the contact. But that casual linking of hands seemed more intimate, less planned.

“Before, nobody touched me in a friendly or impulsive way. I will accustom myself to it.”

He opened the door for her. “Such contact should be pleasurable. That it is not, is enough. I will endeavor not to do so in future.”

She tried to smile, and managed a small one.

He stepped back, giving her plenty of space. “You should not be ashamed of a natural reaction. You have a right to say when you want to be touched and when you don’t. What happened to you will take some time to recover from, and I will do my best to follow your wishes, not impose my own.”

“I wish I’d grown up in a family like this,” she said.

“So do I,” he answered her. “What we have now is what we made for ourselves. I have no idea how I would have managed had I been on my own, as you were.”

“I am learning from you all,” she answered, and left the room.

He made her feel better for accepting her lot in life, for spending so long in limbo, waiting for someone else to help her. When his family had gone wrong, the brother dying and the sister turning to a life that gave him grief, Ash had made what he could of the family he had left, and they had done extremely well.

She could do that. If she escaped the shadow of the noose, she could be what she wanted to be, instead of what others expected of her.

She went upstairs feeling sorrowful for this family and what it had endured. She couldn’t even ask what kind of parents he had, to repudiate their daughter in such a way. Because she knew. She’d always known.

Chapter Seventeen

Determined to discover more about the inner worlds of London, since that was where the clues they had led, Juliana ensconced herself in the blue parlor the next day with a heap of journals, gossip sheets and prints. Ash had them delivered, and perused them at breakfast, often only giving them a cursory glance. He kept a stack of them in his office, and she had no compunction in going to fetch them. But the blue parlor had more comfortable chairs and a large table she could use.

That was where she would learn more about the Raven and his activities. Discovering what he had done in the past might give her clues about him. If he was involved in the murder of her husband, she should find out how.

Although her bruises were fading and the lacerations and grazes healing, the wounds in Juliana’s mind were still fresh and painful. She doubted they would ever fade.

She set to studying the papers with increased fervor. Amelia joined her and took some of the papers.

Gregory came in with a stack of papers of his own, and set to moaning and groaning over a Latin essay his tutor had set for him. Amelia refused to help him. “You’ll never achieve anything if you don’t do it for yourself,” Amelia told him. “Besides, I cannot. You know I never learned Latin.”

Gregory turned to her, his silent plea for help almost comical.

“The Latin I know is self-taught,” Juliana said. “I fear most of what I know is probably wrong.”

“I’ll save the last piece of toast for you,” Gregory promised.

Juliana smiled. “I’ll look it over when you’ve done. But don’t rely on me to pick out your mistakes.”

Sighing, Gregory dipped his head and returned to his work.

The doorbell clanged again, but along with the sisters, Juliana took no notice until the butler entered the room.

“My lady, your parents have arrived. They wish to see you.”

“Both of them?” she asked, startled into the question. After all, Baynon had been perfectly clear.

“Indeed, madam. I’ve sent the carriage to wait outside Newcastle House, where it will be less obvious.”

Juliana groaned. “Have you sent for Sir Edmund?”

“I dispatched Freeman to his usual haunts,” Baynon confirmed. “Since you came to stay with us, ma’am, Sir Edmund left word of where he will be. He never did that before.”

Because