The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery by L.C. Sharp (books to read as a couple TXT) 📕

a more comfortable air, as if people actually lived here, instead of displaying themselves to their best advantage.

He took her to a set of double doors on the first floor, and opened them himself. No liveried footman stood outside, his sole duty to open the doors. The sound of scurrying feet as maids scampered out of sight was remarkable for its absence. She had entered a different world.

As they entered, the rustle of silk alerted her to the presence of another person. A woman stood, a welcoming smile on her lips. She dropped a curtsey, elegant but holding a vaguely mocking air. Juliana returned the compliment, then tilted her head to one side and regarded her frankly. This woman was undoubtedly one of Ash’s sisters. She shared similar features, but her chin was pointed and her nose slightly turned up at the end. Ash’s was ruler straight and his chin firmer. She was slim, shorter than her brother, and about three inches shorter than Juliana, with soft brown hair and those perceptive gray eyes that appeared to be a family trait. She wore a gown of dark blue, with a matching petticoat. Although her clothes were respectable, they were not flamboyant. Small hoop, fine fabric.

Ash made the introductions honestly, following up by briefly outlining the case. “Lady Juliana is to be Helena Ashendon, our cousin from the country, while she is here. Otherwise we can expect unwelcome visitors.”

Amelia nodded, her eyes slightly wider, her lips parted, but she showed no sign of maidenly horror at the story. She’d probably heard more shocking details, if Ash shared his cases with her. But all she said was, “Very wise.”

“I was told Sir Edmund does not allow his work to intrude here,” she said, “and I apologize for the necessity.”

“I wish Juliana to share your bedroom for propriety’s sake,” Ash told his sister. “But that is of course your decision, my dear.”

“If you’re discussing propriety, shouldn’t you leave the house while there is a single female in it, Ash?” Amelia’s voice was soft, but it held an edge of humor.

He shook his head. “I cannot. I am her guarantor, so I must remain close.”

“Very well,” Amelia said. “It will be my pleasure, Lady Uppingham.”

“Juliana,” she insisted. She didn’t want to be Lady Godfrey Uppingham, but that was her legal name, now and for the foreseeable future. She must accustom herself to it. But not to the woman she would share a bed with and not while she resided in this house. Helena Ashendon would be someone quite different to Lady Godfrey Uppingham. “If you object to sharing with a woman branded a criminal, I perfectly understand.” She held out her hands, wrists together. “In that case you must send me to Newgate now.”

The family’s response was to laugh, as if she had made a joke, which she probably had. She wasn’t overfamiliar with jokes, so she couldn’t be sure.

A sense of exhilaration swept through her, totally inappropriate, but there it was. She had walked unchaperoned through London’s streets, although the walk was relatively short, and she had shed her stifling clothes and face paint and hair powder. She was entirely herself, perhaps for the first time in her life.

But not the last.

A maid popped her head around the door, giving Juliana a curious stare before she glanced away. “If’n you please, ma’am, the bath you ordered is ready. We put it in Miss Amelia’s room.”

“Good.” Ash got to his feet. “Please don’t feel obliged to come down to dinner tonight. You’ve had a busy day.” He paused to murmur to his sister, but Juliana heard the request for Amelia to sketch her body. He turned back to Juliana. “However, I do wish you to write down everything you remember of last night. I need you to do it while the memory is fresh. All the details, if you please. I’m sorry to ask it of you, and the document will, naturally, be confidential. Nobody else will see it without your permission. But I need to know. Everything, however trivial you might think it to be. Afterwards, Amelia and I will witness it as a true account written by you. Only your signature, mind.”

She heard the request with horror, but she understood the necessity. She might forget something she thought was of no matter, and if she slept, that would put a blurred night’s sleep between her and her wedding night.

Juliana wouldn’t have admitted her exhaustion to anyone, but yes, she was bone weary. Shock had its physical reaction, apparently. She tried a smile, vaguely surprised that she could still do it. Usually her face paint would pull, discouraging any kind of expression, but now she was free to smile or frown or raise her brows without having to rush to the nearest mirror to see if her paint needed repair. “I’ll write the account for you.”

Ash nodded. “Sleep well,” he said.

“Come with me, and I’ll show you where the bath is,” Amelia said.

Juliana followed Amelia up a substantial set of stairs to the second floor. Amelia opened a door and motioned her through. “Here we are.”

Juliana almost turned around and left. Immediately she knew what this room meant to Amelia. “This is your sanctuary. I cannot intrude.”

Amelia only smiled and leaned past Juliana to close the door behind her. “How clever of you to notice.”

“I always wanted one. A room nobody entered without my permission, a room where I could be myself. Whatever that is.” She was beginning to wonder if she really knew what she was.

A pair of long, narrow windows gave a view over a pretty garden, with London beyond, but apart from a cursory glance, Juliana concentrated on the furnishings. A large, modern canopied bed occupied the space to the left, but shelves filled with a diverse selection of books and papers caught her attention. None of the books were for show. A desk sat under the window, not a lady’s French writing table, meant for elegant correspondence, but a