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

Ash, glaring at him. “What else could I have done? They threatened to expose us, Amelia. To remind the world where we came from, just as we’d overcome it all.”

“Overcome it?” Amelia folded her arms. “That will never happen. We’ve restored our real name, that’s all. Put the blame on our mother.”

“Where it belonged,” Ash said. “But I would have lost clients. We might have had to sell this house.”

At his words, Amelia’s face paled, but she didn’t give in. “You should have fought for her.”

While he admired her loyalty, loved her for it, he couldn’t let that happen.

He leaned back, his chair creaking, a sound that usually comforted him, but this time it did nothing. There was no comfort to be had. “They’ll put her in their Thames villa until the trial. When she’s acquitted, as I’m sure she will be, we can make our plans. I’ve already made a few arrangements. Juliana wants to live quietly in the country. She told me so herself. I’ll make sure she gets that, that she is safe.”

Amelia folded her arms. “In the meantime, she has to endure the life she told me she hated, that she refused to go back to. They’ll make her life a misery.”

“But not for long.” Ash touched the paper before him. Amelia was not to know that this was his third attempt at writing it. “I’ll have the trial brought forward. She won’t be away more than a week.”

Then he would make sure she got what she wanted, if it was the last thing he did. His weakness had caused this setback, so it was up to him to make matters right. Juliana was his responsibility. She was under his care, and just because they were no longer sharing a roof, nothing else had changed.

“I had to let her go. Surely you see that. But you don’t win a war in one battle. We’ll be ready for the next one.”

“Battle?” Amelia tilted her head to one side, and studied him, a new expression lighting her eyes. “War? For what?”

Not knowing what he would say, Ash opened his mouth to reply. Usually so certain, he was suddenly all at sea.

The doorbell clanged, and didn’t stop.

Welcoming the intrusion, Ash left his study and went into the hall, shouting to Baynon. “Is it stuck? What is amiss?”

Freeman had opened the door a crack, in case trouble waited outside. With a shout, he flung the door open wide.

Juliana rushed through in a flurry of green silk. Sighting him, she slammed into his body, throwing her arms around his neck. Before he could protest, she pressed her lips to his in a smacking kiss.

His head spun. Intoxicated, he instinctively tightened his hold on her, relief swamping him, finding its release in a passion he hardly knew what to do with.

But she drew back. “Oh, my dear, I have had the most awful time! Can you imagine, my parents wanted me to marry some old roué I barely know? So I had to tell them that we are married already. I know you asked me to keep our union secret, but what else could I do?”

Never say that Edmund Ashendon was slow on the uptake. His mind whirling with speculation, the echo of the doorbell chiming with Amelia’s delighted squeal, he gazed down at her face.

Her eyes were alight with pleading.

Nobody had plunged so deep, hit him so hard as the woman who faced him now.

She brought energy back into the house. She had found a place here, as if she belonged. Which, from now on, she did.

Happiness spread through him, warming every part of him.

Ash smiled down at her. “I said we should inform people. Now see what you nearly did.” But he spoke softly, as if he was her lover. Because that expression on her face was one he couldn’t resist.

Denying his baser instincts, he eased her arms away from around his neck and looked over the top of her head. “Won’t you take some tea?” he asked her parents. They were standing awkwardly in the open doorway, the sun streaming around them, leaving them in shadow.

“No.”

“Then I will tell you now. If my wife and I should be fortunate enough to have our union blessed with a son, that son will never bear the title of Hawksworth. If you even consider doing such a thing, I will repudiate it. I will refuse to use the title, and I will sell what I can, and leave the rest to rot.”

Juliana’s smile was enough to tell Ash he’d said the right thing.

Abruptly, her father spun around, the skirts of his full coat whirling. His wife glared at Ash. “I was assured you were a gentleman,” she said. “I find we were sadly deluded. I will, of course, take this matter up with your patron, the Duke of Newcastle.”

“The duke has been most kind, but he is not a patron.” Ash felt like crossing his fingers behind his back, for the duke had been more than kind, paving their way and helping to smooth over the horrors of the past. “I need no patron.”

“You will, my bully,” the countess said softly, as she turned and followed her husband out of the house.

Leaving him with Lady Juliana Uppingham. Who was, apparently, his wife.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Amelia said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I must talk to the cook about getting you something to eat, Juliana. I’ll wager you missed your dinner.”

Dinner? Lord, they had been away from London a mere two hours. Ash, his expression, as usual, inscrutable, took Juliana upstairs to the smaller drawing room. Juliana liked this room. It looked out over the garden, and was where the women gathered in the evenings when they had no guests. It had thrilled Juliana when she’d realized she was considered not a guest.

Would Ash blow up at her? Would he scold her for her lies? But they were all she could think of.

That kiss had come as a shock.