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

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Ash was angry.

Silence somehow melted away. She was good at that.

Fielding asked them into his house for tea and to discuss what they’d done. They’d given a statement but little more; then they’d gone home. By then, Ash seemed more equable. His temper had not lasted long.

Home! A word Juliana had never thought to associate with herself.

They’d found the hall full of trunks and boxes. Baynon handed her a note, and Ash waved the way to his study. “Shall we?”

They didn’t have to ask for tea to be served. It appeared after they had made themselves comfortable. Juliana had no compunction in shedding her jacket, and Ash followed suit with his.

Ash pulled out a paper with a black seal. He showed her the imprint of the Raven on the black wax. “That’s the nearest we’ve come to him.

Fielding thinks we’ve caught him,” he said.

“Don’t you?”

He grimaced. “No. I think we’ve caught the murderer, but he was too easy to trap. The Raven is up to his old tricks. He sent the authorities a man he wanted to get rid of, with a pretty bow tied around his neck.” He took back the note. “But on the good side, I’m sure we have the man who murdered your husband.”

“My first husband,” she corrected him as she rose to serve the tea.

How wonderful to be so much in harmony with someone else. They might have an unconventional marriage, but so far this struck Juliana as the best step she had ever made. She would never have had this compatibility with Godfrey.

Taking the knife he used to sharpen the quills, Ash cut carefully under the seal, leaving it intact. He put the disc of black wax aside and unfolded the note. “Well, at least there’s something written here. I thought it might be a ruse, to lure us to the inn.” He raised his eyes, catching her gaze. “Is it of any use to tell you to listen to me in the future?”

“Not at all,” she said primly.

A full smile curved his mouth, and she couldn’t resist smiling back. He had the most engaging smile, putting his heart and soul into it. As he did into everything he did.

That was his secret. He went into everything wholeheartedly, giving it his full attention. That was why he never brought his work home, and the one time he had, he’d ended by marrying her. She still wasn’t sure she deserved it, but he had freed her from the tyranny of her parents. However much she tried to escape, her father had had the law on his side. She had effectively been his property. And now she was Ash’s.

Which was what her father said in the note. She tossed it onto the desk. “I suppose we should keep this. The mess in the hall is the sum of my worth. My father repeats that I can expect no more from him. He will not publicly reject me, but we can expect no invitations to balls, or to stay in the country with them, or to celebrate Christmas with them. Or Easter, I expect, but my mother was always too busy getting ready for the season to worry about the most sacred festival of the year.”

“Well, we have something to thank God for,” Ash said, “as I doubt I would be accepting any invitations from that direction. You, of course, are welcome to do as you please. But I am not at home in polite company.”

“No, you prefer ruffians and thieves.”

They exchanged a smile.

“My letter,” he said, “is nothing more than a taunt. And, I presume, a declaration of war. Let me read it to you.”

He frowned at the script. “Very neat copperplate, as if he was taught by a tutor. Perhaps he was a tutor, who knows?

“My dearest Sir Edmund,

“Greetings to your lovely wife. Never forget that I see everything you do, and everything you say, just as I do for everyone in my kingdom.

“Evidently my first plan, which I know you must be aware of, of making some income from your wife, is now dead and buried along with her first husband. You are not worth as much. You are welcome to her, and whether you know it or not, you are a lucky man.

“As another wedding gift, accept the man who did you the favor of ridding the world of your rival. Your wife’s previous husband was engaged in setting up a rival establishment to mine, on my doorstep. He did not listen to my warnings, so I was forced to take drastic action. My agent, the man you have before you, one James Garrett of Vinegar Yard, is an impostor, posing as a gentleman in order to dupe people into handing over their money to him. His activities have grown too close to the knuckle, and I therefore need rid of him. Obeying orders is not his strong suit. Search his lodgings and you will find all the proof you need, should you require more evidence. Garrett has cozened many men, and he has at least a dozen wives, who will, no doubt, all turn up on the gallows to mourn his passing. I shall not.

“I regret you have not come close to catching me, and no doubt you never will. However, I am sure you will not give up yet. But be warned; if you get too close, you will meet the same fate as Lord Uppingham. That is not a threat; it is a promise. Give it up; you will never catch me.”

Ash dropped the letter to join the other, the cheap paper from the Raven curling over the thick cream-lined paper from the earl. “Challenge accepted.”

About the Author

L.C. Sharp lives in the north of Britain. She has researched, loved and lived history all her life and now she gets to write about it!

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