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

She closed her mouth with a snap, staring at him, blue eyes wide. “Marry you?”

He jerked a nod. “I think this is the best solution. You must know that if you retire to the country with a small pension you will be forever vulnerable. Listen.” He ticked off the points on his fingers as he made his case. “Your father is avid for a male heir. He won’t give up after just one candidate. He will find others, someone equally as obnoxious and desperate as Lord Mandrell. You claimed to be married to me in order to escape. If we are married in truth, that will free you from worry that they will try the same tactic again. It will also legally put you under my protection, not theirs. And I can promise you that I will not make unreasonable demands on you. If you still want to retire to the country, I will not stop you. But you will be safe.”

Three good points. Unarguable points. But Juliana couldn’t let him do this for her. He’d done enough. “I can’t allow it. It was a moment of panic that made me claim we were married. To do this? No, my friend. I would bring more scandal to you, just as you are living down your past.”

He stayed where he was, perfectly still, as if afraid he would startle her into leaving. A carriage rolled past outside, and a child called out in delight. Ordinary sounds that made what Ash was saying more real.

Her longing to accept his offer warned her she should not. How could she let him do that for her?

“I can’t let you do this.” She forced herself to think. “However, your notion of me marrying is a good one. Can we find someone else for me to marry? Someone I can pay to leave me alone?”

A smile touched his lips. One that pierced her to the heart. “Am I so bad, then?”

She hastened to reassure him. “No! But you are too good to me. You have done so much, you and your family. I’ve never known people like you before. I can’t pay you back in this way.”

“Anyone else might decide to use you to their own advantage. I won’t do that.”

“I know.” And she did. Finally she asked the question she wanted to, “What do you get from this?” And then heat rushed to her cheeks. If he wanted personal intimacy, she didn’t know if she could manage it, not after her experience. If she thought of the events that night too closely, tears came to her eyes and a lump to her throat. Nobody wanted a weeping bride. Except, perhaps, Godfrey, and he was dead.

“Me?” He smiled again, the creases on either side of his mouth deepening. “I get you. You’re a worthy partner, Juliana. I have never met anyone I wanted to marry before. With you, I can welcome it.”

Well, that was something, she supposed. But another concern gnawed at her. “Do you want heirs?”

He lifted one shoulder in an elegant half shrug. “It matters little. If I were concerned about my inheritance, I have two healthy brothers who can provide heirs.” A slight frown creased his brow. “Did you think I would force you to the marriage bed?”

Revulsion filled her. “No, of course not. You’re no Godfrey Uppingham. But it would be your right. That is, you have the right to expect conjugal relations.”

“Conjugal relations,” he repeated. “No, I don’t want conjugal relations, if that means coming together merely to procreate. Or blind lust. That doesn’t appeal to me, either.” He cleared his throat. “Not that either of us feels that.”

She shook her head in agreement, the very idea repulsing her.

At least, it should have repulsed her. Then why didn’t it? None of that churning, sick feeling broke to the surface when she said that, imagined herself in bed with Ash.

To experience normal domestic rites, watching him dress, talking with him as he shaved. She could do that. “Then what do you want?”

“A partner, a friend, and the satisfaction of knowing that I saved you from constant pestering. We’re friends. I enjoy talking to you, and during this case, you have added many insights I might never have noticed on my own. Successful marriages have been made on much less. You have told your parents we are married, so why not make it a reality?”

The way he put it, his solution appeared natural, a logical conclusion to a problem. Ash wasn’t the only friend she’d made in this house. It meant she would see her new friend Amelia, and watch Gregory toil over his Latin, learn what he did enjoy and help him with it. And she would welcome freedom from her parents. “But I can’t.”

He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. “Then think on this.”

She took the paper from him, and read it.

It was a letter from her father to Magistrate Fielding, the two addresses printed clearly at the top.

Sir,

I have occasion to believe that my daughter, Lady Uppingham, was not sane when she killed her husband. In fact, she has long shown signs of mental deterioration. I can provide ample evidence if you wish it.

I will take care of this whole sorry business discreetly. I have located an institution in Buckinghamshire, close to Guildford. It is used to taking patients with her condition. I will convey her there today, and if you wish, you may visit her there to ensure she is being properly cared for.

The evidence provided by other parties is doubtful, to say the least. If you insist on going forward with a trial, you will no doubt discover that her new husband, a peer of the realm, will object to her trial in a public court. The matter should go to the House of Lords. But no doubt better to leave it alone.

Yours, etc

George Christianson, Earl of Hawksworth,

Viscount Beresford, Baron Icklethwaite.

Juliana’s hands were shaking as she folded the letter.