Malia Martin (35 page)

T
he butler told him the earl was out and slammed the door in his face. He was getting that reaction rather a lot these days. James rubbed at his temples.

There was a tiny part of him that wanted to turn around and leave. He wanted to leave London, leave Wimsley, and back to Gravesly, go back to his wife.

But he could not. His heart ached for his mother, for his father, for himself. And he knew that he would never be able to live with himself unless he brought the great earl of Wimsley low.

James straightened his spine and banged the knocker once more.

The butler took his time, but answered the door finally. “Do you wish to leave a message, sir?” he asked with a sneer.

“Yes.” And James pushed past the tiny man without any effort whatsoever.

“Hey there, now!” the man yelled, but James strode down the hall, opening doors as he went. It did not take him long to find Wimsley. The man stared up at him with round, angry eyes when James threw open the door of what seemed to be a library.

“Wimsley,” James said.

Wimsley sat on a chair before the fire, his foot resting before him on a stool. He did not get up, he did not move, in fact. But his rounded eyes squinted into slits. “Get out,” he said.

James laughed, a horrible sound. “I have a feeling we are replaying a scene that probably took place in this very room thirty-four years ago.” He stepped into the library and shut the door on the sputtering butler. “Only, I am not a small, mourning woman with child, am I?”

“I shall have you jailed. I shall call the magistrate.”

“Good, I am sure he will be interested in exactly how you come by your income, Wimsley.”

The man shoved himself out of his chair then, his foot thumping to the floor as he grappled with the heavy gold head of his cane. “I will not stand for this!” he yelled when he finally righted himself.

“You have no choice, I’m afraid.”

“Damn you.”

“I return your sentiments completely,” James said calmly.

His grandfather’s face had gone quite purple. The man leaned heavily on his cane, and that implement shook with its owner’s rage.

“God, you are as smug as he was,” the man spat. “So sure of himself, so stuffed with himself, the lowly commoner!”

James held his breath for a moment. Was the man going mad?

“He had nothing, and she chose him, just because he walked around with his chest stuck out like a bloody peacock.” Wimsley shook his head, then stood straight and threw his cane at James.

The stick clattered to the floor only a couple of feet beyond the earl. The old man sank onto his chair, wincing and grabbing at his leg.

“I am the earl of Wimsley, boy,” he said then. “You can’t do anything to hurt me. You are a nobody.”

“I am your grandson.”

“You are a bastard!” Wimsley screamed the last, his voice high-pitched with an edge of hysteria.

“Why?” James asked quietly.

“Because!” Wimsley glared at him. “There was no way I would ever allow the seed of that man to take my name!” Wimsely pointed a sausage-like finger at him. “Your grandfather took the only woman I ever loved. She was worthy of so much more. He was a nothing, but he took her anyway.”

James understood. All of this, the reason his mother had been disgraced, the reason he had lived his life without a name or family, was because the man ranting before him had not gotten what he once wanted.

“You make me ill,” James said.

And Wimsley laughed. He fell back against the cushions of his chair laughing as if he had lost his mind.

And James knew that he did not need to bring Wimsley low. “You are a pathetic excuse for a man.”

But Wimsley only laughed harder.

“Your heir betrayed you,” James said. “Leighton has given me proof that you profit from the sale of untaxed goods. He gave me leave to use it in any way I wished.”

Wimsley’s laughter sputtered to a halt. “Nothing will happen to me, you imbecile. I am the earl of Wimsley. I’m not some low-blood shopkeeper like your grandfather.”

“My grandfather could have bought you twenty times over.”

Wimsley sneered. “Oh yes, quite a brain for business, that low blood. He made quite a success of himself here in England, but then he stepped above himself and wooed the only woman I ever loved. And I ruined him. I am the reason your dearest grandfather had to take his money and his family and leave for India.” Wimsley huffed another wheezing laugh. “An eye for an eye, you know.”

James did not want to spend one more second in the room with such a vile creature. He turned on his heel.

“Your wife is going to jail, Ashley. I’ll make sure of that as well.”

James stopped. He turned, then, wishing he could kill the man. “My wife will be going nowhere but home, Wimsley. If you ever bother her, or anyone else in Gravesly for that matter, I will go to court and fight the annulment of my mother’s marriage.”

“Bah!” the old man said. “You have no proof.”

James arched his brows and smiled smugly. “I have the annulment papers, which certainly prove my parents were married. And I have my birth date, which proves they were married when I was conceived. I most definitely have proof.” Before the man could contest this last statement, James continued, “And it really does not matter, does it? The entire world would know about your perfidy. Not only that, dear man, but they would know how a beautiful woman chose a lowly shopkeeper over the great earl of Wimsley.”

James looked down his nose at his grandfather. “I would say, man, that you would be in for a great lot of embarrassment.”

Wimsley snorted and heaved and generally made sounds like a pig routing for food. And then he turned an even darker shade of purple.

“Right then,” James said. “I shall leave you to the devil.” And he did.

She had heard nothing from her husband or Leighton, and she did not care. At least that is what she told herself. Prudence was very busy, anyway. She had a fair to organize.

Of course, she was not sure if anyone would show up. She was not sure if the magistrate would be coming for her soon. She was not sure of anything, really.

But she knew that she at least had to try to make this fair a success, because the townfolk of Gravesly were in need of something other than smuggling to support them. And rich peers spending their money in town would be just the thing.

She hoped the plan would work, because she would probably be hanging from a gibbet in the near future.

Prudence sighed as she threw the brake of the wagon and clambered down.

“Aya, Lady Pru,” Tuck said with a smile, and jumped up to take the reins.

Prudence waved listlessly and climbed the stairs to Chesley House. She was so angry with her husband, she wanted to throttle him. But she still missed him terribly.

Love was so horribly unfair. Why couldn’t she just hate the selfish ingrate?

She yanked off her bonnet when Mabel opened the door. “There’s that paper you like so much on the table,” Mabel said, putting out her hands to receive bonnet and gloves.

Pru glanced over and saw that
Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers
had been delivered. She picked it up listlessly and perused the columns nonchalantly. And then she snapped to attention.

“Holy Mother of God,” she whispered.

“Excuse me, Lady Pru.”

Prudence looked up at Mabel and blinked. And then she laughed. And then she twirled around and did a little dance. “Oh, Mabel,” she cried, “we’re in the paper.”

Mabel looked completely confused.

“Lady Whistledown has mentioned the Gravesly Fair. Of course, she is making fun of us and calling it a bumpkin affair, but she mentioned us.” Pru threw the paper in the air. “And she has sarcastically mentioned all the stumbling idiots who will attend!”

“And that is good?” Mabel asked, obviously not understanding at all.

“It’s more than good, dear. It’s wonderful. The people she mentioned who are coming set all the rules. If they’re coming, all the others will follow. Mabel,” Pru threw her arms around the surprised maid. “All of London will be here tomorrow.”

Gravesly could not possibly hold another human being. The road into town was lined with the most elegant carriages James had ever seen. He felt a smile pull at his lips. Prudence’s plan had come to fruition.

His wife was truly a woman of rare abilities.

He knew she would probably be in town, but he turned up the rutted road toward Chesley House. He did not want to go into Gravesly. Not now, anyway.

The small white house came into view, and James felt as if his heart must have swelled because his chest felt tight.

A rider cantered around the house and came toward him.

Clifton.

The butler slowed and tipped his hat, and then he did the strangest thing ever. He smiled. “Captain,” Clifton said, “welcome home.” And then the big man continued on his way.

James stopped, his hands shaking. Home. With a shake of his head, James shoved his heels into Devil’s withers. He wished it would be. He hoped. If Prudence would ever forgive him.

And then she was there. James swallowed as he rode up to Chesley House, where his wife stood on the top step. “Whoa,” he said, pulling Devil to a stop.

Prudence stared at him for a moment. And, slowly, she smiled. “It’s quite a party in town. Would you like to escort me?”

He blinked.

“The Londoners are quite taken with Gravesly. Mrs. Hampton has told her husband that he really must buy a summer home here.”

James smiled slowly, then laughed. “Well, I guess your plan has worked.”

“Yes.” She bit at her bottom lip. “Will I be allowed to see it to its fruition, or will I be going to jail soon?”

With a shake of his head, James dropped to the ground and took his wife in his arms. He held her so tightly, she whimpered, and he had to loosen his hold. But he did not let go.

“I will always protect you,” he said.

“So there is something to protect me from, then?”

He laughed softly. “No, I think, actually, that I have taken care of it. I told Wimsley that the moment any magistrate comes to Gravesly to arrest my wife or anyone else, the world would know every embarrassing detail of his past.”

“There are embarrassing details?”

“The whole scandal would be embarrassing enough, but there is also a little known fact that my maternal grandmother rejected the earl of Wimsley so that she could marry a low-blood shopkeeper.”

Prudence giggled. “That is embarrassing.”

James buried his face in the softness of his wife’s hair. “Wimsley is a pathetic, sad, lonely man. I did not need to bring him low. He’s done the job quite well all by himself.”

Prudence leaned back, looking up at him with her beautiful, warm eyes, her teeth working her lush bottom lip. He wanted to take her there on the steps of their house.

“Are you all right, though, James?” she asked.

“And why wouldn’t I be,” he said sternly. “I have the most beautiful wife in Christendom, a lovely home overlooking the sea, and I will never be alone again.

“I am home, dearest,” he whispered. “I have a family, and I am home.”

Prudence smiled widely, then threw her arms around him. God, it felt so good to have her against him.

“I love you, Mrs. Ashley,” he said.

“I know, Mr. Ashley,” she replied.

One year later

R
ichard stood beside James and Prudence, watching as Clifton finally married Leslie Redding. He smiled at the huge butler as he turned with his new bride to leave the chapel. The man’s face was absolutely ashen.

“So, you have drafted the bill, I hear,” Prudence whispered, and Richard nodded.

“Yes, but we’ve still a long way to go until it passes.”

Pru grinned at him. “But with you and my dear husband in the House of Lords, I could not ask for better connections.”

Richard leaned down and kissed the babe in Pru’s arms.

She shooed him away. “You’ll wake her, Wimsley.”