A Man of His Word

 

Ashton sat beside Ella at the table. Stirling gave them what privacy he could by standing at the window while they signed the marriage contract. As Ella stared at the document, Ashton couldn’t help but see the hopelessness in her face. Pity stirred him. She’d suffered. He saw that haunted look often enough in the mirror. Some called him a dark-hearted scoundrel, and perhaps, to some degree, he was. Even so, he wasn’t entirely heartless. Without thinking, he dropped his hand over hers. She glanced up, startled, and he plucked the quill from her fingers.

“You have a choice,” he murmured.

She stared for an instant, as if not understanding, then said, “A choice to wash clothes for the rest of my life while my brother grows up on the streets and ends up in prison?” Her frown deepened, then her expression softened. “Do not fret, sir. It isn’t your fault that I am forced to make this choice.”

He blinked. She thought he was trying to assuage his guilt. He started to deny the unspoken accusation, but said instead, “I stand in your debt.”

She stared, as if waiting for more…or perhaps deciding if his words held any value. She was a damn sight prettier than he’d realized. Especially those eyes--bluer than the sea.

The clock on the mantle chimed. Ashton started from his thoughts. Nine p.m. If they didn’t hurry, they would be late. They barely had enough time to wed before his grandmother arrived.

“This is a marriage in name only,” Ella whispered.

Her reminder surprised him, but then, she knew nothing about him.

“I am a man of my word, Ella. I assure you, this matter between us is purely business in nature.” His voice sounded cool and detached even to his own ears, the declaration at odds with his earlier attraction.

She nodded, her mouth a thin line. He handed her the quill. Ella’s long lashes dipped. She took the pen and signed the contract. Her trembling fingers gave her signature a shaky, uneven appearance.

With a deep breath, she said, “It is done.”

The perfume of her hair floated around him, a sweet, delicate scent of roses.

“Ashton?” Stirling prodded.

Ashton drew a sharp breath. Odd. He wasn’t one so easily distracted. With a frown, he signed his name with a flourish.

“Well done.” Stirling strode to where they sat, picked up the contract and blew on the ink. “I will take this for safekeeping. Now, we have a wedding to attend.”

They left the inn, a somber party, and crossed the street to St. Giles, where Ashton had arranged that they say their vows. Thank God, he’d procured the license in anticipation of his marriage to Anne—and hadn’t filled in her name. Stirling had put in a word with the priest, who had agreed to the unorthodox hour for the wedding. A dozen witnesses occupied the front pews. Four discreet gentlemen Ashton had attended university with, and seven guests Stirling invited, including his wife, Lady Chastity. Ella’s little brother sat beside her.

The ceremony passed in a muddled blur, and as the clock in the church struck ten, Ashton suddenly heard the priest say, “You may kiss the bride.”

She looked up at him as if she expected him to bite her. Ashton grimaced. Her eyes widened, and he realized she’d mistaken his reaction.

He pulled her close, whispered, “It isn’t you, Ella,” then drew her closer.

Their lips touched, and an unexpected jolt of awareness to his cock caught him off guard. She was a beautiful woman. But he’d kissed other beautiful women. What had happened? To his surprise, she grasped his shoulders. Was she trying to remain steady? She released a breath and he breathed in, then broke the kiss. She blinked as if surprised. A blush colored her cheeks as the priest directed them to the registry. They signed, and Ashton found himself a properly wedded man. Ella turned away, clearly unable to meet his gaze as Lady Chastity reached them.

“Ella, I am so pleased to see you.” She pulled Ella into a hug.

“My lady,” Ella said in a quiet voice. “You are looking well.”

Lady Chastity laughed. “As you do. You are a beautiful bride.” She looked at Ashton. “Congratulations, Ashton. You are very fortunate to have Ella as a wife.”

“I am the most fortunate of grooms,” he said.

 Stirling joined them. “I believe our priest would like to retire for the night.”

“Of course.” Ashton winged an arm toward Ella. “Will you be joining us, Lady Chastity?”

She smiled. “Unfortunately, no. I must return home.”

“Thank you for coming,” Ella said.

Chastity hugged her again. “You must promise to visit soon.”

Ella smiled, and Ashton couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was. “I promise,” she told Lady Chastity.

They left the church, their footfalls echoing in its vast emptiness. As they started across the street, Cyril’s questions broke the silence.

“Are you really married, Ella?” Before she could answer, he turned to Ashton. “Does this make you my brother? I’ve never had a brother before. All my friends will be green with envy that my brother is The Demon Earl.”

Ashton stiffened.

“Cyril,” Ella admonished. She looked at Ashton, eyes wide with anxiety. “My lord, I am sorry.” She shot her brother a quelling look. “We shall have a talk, little man.”

“What will your friends say?” Ashton asked the boy.

Cyril cast his sister an uncertain look.

“It is polite to answer your elders when they ask you a question,” Ashton said.

Cyril shrugged. “I imagine they will tell me to sleep with a pistol beneath my pillow. You know, in the event you decide to steal my soul.”

“Steal your soul?” he blurted in unison with Stirling’s muffled laughter.

Cyril nodded. “Oh, yes, sir. Everyone knows demons collect souls.”

Ashton bite back a laugh. “I see. Do you have a pistol?’

He shook his head. “Ella will not allow me to have a pistol.”

“Then it would be terribly unsporting of me to try and steal your soul when you have no way to defend yourself.”

“Will you teach me to shoot?”

“Cyril--” Ella began.

“When you are older,” Ashton interjected. “Until then, I promise not to steal your soul.”

“Don’t tell anyone, though, if you don’t mind,” the boy said.

Ashton frowned. “Tell anyone what?”

“That you promise not to steal my soul—because I want to tell everyone you promised to teach me to shoot.”

“I imagine your friends will think you very brave to sleep in the same house with The Demon Earl and live to tell about it,” he said as they reached the inn.

Cyril grinned.

“I promise not to tell anyone.” He opened the door and held it while everyone entered.

“Will we go riding together?” the boy asked when the door closed behind Ashton.

“Indeed, we will. But not just yet. You will start school straight away.”

Cyril hung his head. “That is Ella’s doing, and it isn’t fair.”

Ashton nodded gravely. “Indeed, it isn’t. But to school you will go, nonetheless.”

Stirling winked at the boy, then handed Ella a key. “The key to Cyril’s room, so you may check on him later. There’s no need to fret over the wee lad. I’ve hired a maid to mind him until he’s safely back in school.”

Cyril opened his mouth to reply but closed it when Ella cast him a warning look. She said to Stirling, “Thank you, my lord,” and dropped into a curtsey.

Stirling turned to Ashton. “Until later.”

“Aye,” Ashton extended a hand. Stirling clasped it.

With a final smile, Stirling said, “Come along, Cyril,” and led him down the hall.

Ashton turned toward Ella, but she studiously inspected the rug. He clenched his jaw before the absurdity of the situation struck him. “We make most convincing newlyweds, do we not?” He gave a dry chuckle.

Ella’s eyes met his, and to his surprise, humor flickered there. “Perhaps, we can say we’ve been wed a year already, my lord.”

A year? He snorted. “I see you’re as jaded as I am on the subject of wedded bliss.” The fact she’d addressed him as ‘my lord’ registered. “Ashton. Call me Ashton. We are wed, happily or not.” He caught her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.

She tensed under his touch, but acquiesced. “Ashton.”

“This way.” He led her down the hall toward the reserved private parlor.

As a rule, his grandmother detested Englishwomen. He’d only ever known her to praise one, a young London debutante she’d met the previous summer. She’d sung the woman’s praises so often, he might have wondered if her mind had begun to fade if she hadn’t been so sharp-witted in all other regards.

“I will introduce you, then do the talking—if any is required,” he murmured as they walked down the hallway. “Most likely, my grandmother will ignore you entirely.”

“As you wish, my lor—Ashton.”

“If, by chance, she does ask questions, stick to the truth as closely as possible,” he said. “We’ll say we met in Edinburgh, fell madly in love, and eloped.”

Ella nodded.

As for Anne, the less he said, the better. Should his grandmother ask, he would claim he’d fallen madly for Ella, and upon the discovery, Anne had broken their engagement. It made Anne a martyr and him a cad, but since his family only believed the worst of him, the tale would serve quite well.

They turned a corner in the hallway and approached the door to the private parlor. Ashton drew a breath. Keenly aware of Ella’s large eyes on him, he turned the knob, stepped inside, and glanced about. The small, garish room overflowed with mismatched furniture and a hodge-podge of oil paintings hung on wood-paneled walls. A fire crackled on the hearth, before which stood two red velvet couches.

In the corner before a bookshelf, claret glass in hand, stood his cousin, Duncan MacKenzie, a triumphant smirk on his narrow, freckled face. The bald patch on the top of his head had grown since Ashton had seen him last. Duncan had combed a few wispy red locks sideways in an attempt to cover the bare pate, but with little success. Still, as expected for a man of twenty-five, he was trim and fit, and his breeches, coat, and elaborately tied cravat were of the highest quality.

A growl drew Ashton’s attention away from Duncan, to the right side of the room. His grandmother sat in a chair near the window with Angel on her lap, the dog curled into a growling ball. What appeared to be a diamond dangled from the wee animal’s collar, a pendant that matched one that hung from a gold chain about his grandmother’s neck.

As ever, his grandmother dressed as if she attended the queen, but the overindulgence suited her well. Yards of expensive silks swathed her sturdy figure. A tiara glittered upon her snow-white hair and matching earrings twinkled like miniature stars in the lamplight. Even in her advanced age, few women possessed such grace or commanded so much attention.

“Good evening.” Ashton dipped his head. He reached back, slid his palm down to the small of Ella’s back, and gently guided her forward. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Ella.”

“Wife?” Duncan blurted, and sloshed claret on his sleeve.

“Ella?” his grandmother gasped. “Why, my dear Ella, how wonderful to see you again.” She rose, astonished.

The action sent Angel to the floor. The black pug landed on his feet and launched himself at Ella, yipping and wagging his entire body in what could only be a greeting of a long-lost friend.

“I’ve been quite beside myself with worry, child. Where have you been?” Lady Leighton held out both hands.

Ashton looked sharply at Ella. She stood at his side, rooted to the carpet, her face white as marble while the pug circled her in delight.

“Lady Leighton,” she whispered.

“Wife? Did you say wife, Ashton?” Duncan rasped.

Ashton scarcely heard him. Ella knew his grandmother?

“I’ve been so very worried,” his grandmother repeated, and swept toward one of the couches. She took a seat and gave the cushion beside her a pat. “Ella, dear, come join me. After your father’s conviction, you simply vanished. How we looked, but neither I nor Stirling could find you. I even visited Lord Amsted in prison.”

Amsted? The name rang a distant bell. Ashton frowned as Ella woodenly crossed the room with Angel at her heels.

“Your father instructed me to confer with his nephew Gavin,” his grandmother went on. “But I was told he’d returned to Glasgow. I found that strange, as your father said he’d put Gavin in charge of your finances.”

Recollection dawned.

The John Nicholson, Viscount Amsted. The scandalous, loathsome creature that had murdered his wife’s lover in cold blood, in the most torturous of ways. The death had been cruel and slow. The scandal hadn’t ended there. During his trial, the wife had seduced one of the solicitors and the pair fled to the continent. She’d abandoned her children. What had been the woman’s name? He’d seen it in print often enough. Ah, yes, Amelia Nicholson…Amelia Wetherby Nicholson.

As Ella sank onto the couch beside his grandmother, a fine sense of anger began to burn. He’d been duped. He couldn’t believe it. Stirling had obviously known Ella’s identity, yet had made no effort to inform him of such. Ashton had worked hard the last fifteen years to distance himself from any hint of scandal, especially murder.

Damn it all to hell, Stirling was the last man he’d thought to betray him. Stirling knew damn well his entire inheritance was at stake. It boggled the brain. Even his father hadn’t been convicted of killing his own wife—just as Ashton hadn’t been convicted of killing his father. Society would crucify him. Ashton turned away. Duncan stared at the two women, a malicious grin on his face.

As if reading Ashton’s mind, Duncan said, “I remember reading the story in the paper. Nicholson killed his wife’s lover in cold blood. Not that the man didn’t deserve it. A shame Nicholson got caught, of course.”

“That is quite enough, Duncan,” his grandmother said, and returned her attention to Ella. “Your father was quite surprised to hear his nephew had disappeared along with you and young Cyril.” She gave Ella a shrewd look. “Gavin wanted more than money, didn’t he?”

The distressed look on Ella’s face confirmed his grandmother’s guess.

“Nicholson put his nephew in charge of his daughter’s finances?” Duncan snorted. Angel gave a low bark. “Surely,” Duncan gave a snide laugh, “he knew the man would seek to take advantage of a beautiful young woman like our poor Ella.”  

Our poor Ella? Ashton’s blood boiled.

The dowager’s expression darkened. “You are drunk, Duncan. If you cannot remain silent, leave.”

Duncan met Ashton’s gaze and shrugged. Ashton clenched a fist. Satisfaction lit Duncan’s eyes. He lifted his glass in salute, then finished its contents.

Ashton’s grandmother took Ella’s hands in hers as Angel settled between them in obvious contentment. “To think, all this time, you were in Edinburgh. Why haven’t you visited me?”

“I couldn’t impose, Lady Leighton,” Ella answered in a strangled voice.

Ashton clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. What kind of game was his grandmother playing? While she obviously knew the lass and cared for her welfare, she would never accept her into the family. It was time to take control.

“Grandmother.” He strode toward them.

The countess smiled at Ella. “No more ‘Lady Leightons’ from you, dear Ella. Call me Grandmother. This is the most delightful surprise. To think, only last summer, while we played whist, that only a few months later, you would become my own cherished relation. It’s simply about time. I have so wanted another woman in the family.” She paused and nodded at Angel with her chin “He’s missed you so. I will never forget our rescue adventure.”

They had rescued the animal together? Ashton drew up short. Ella was the debutant his grandmother had befriended? What were the odds? Suddenly, Stirling’s hand seemed more a masterstroke of genius than a betrayal. He shifted his gaze to Ella. The lass looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Well done, Ashton.” His grandmother motioned him to join them. “Sit down, will you? I couldn’t be more pleased. I really couldn’t.”

Ashton sat in the chair nearest Ella. He couldn’t recall the last time his grandmother had praised him. Even Angel seemed to have accepted his presence. The animal eyed him, but remained quiet.

“Do take a cup of tea, Ella dear.” His grandmother indicated the tea service on a nearby side table. “Have a biscuit, as well. You’ve lost so much weight.” She glanced at Duncan and added in a severe tone, “Duncan, make yourself useful. Pour Ella a cup of tea and bring the biscuits.”

The harshness of her manner gave Ashton pause. She usually reserved that tone for him, not Duncan. With perverse amusement, he watched an astonished scowl transform his cousin’s face.

“Whatever happened to your hands? Merciful heavens, child. Blisters?” The countess squinted close, then drew back, shocked. “Are those calluses?”

Ashton stared. He’d never seen his grandmother so solicitous.

Ella flinched, but answered readily enough, “I washed clothes for a time, my lady. Of course, that was before I met…Ashton.”

“Washed clothes?” His grandmother frowned.

Duncan arrived with the tea and biscuits. Angel growled as he set the tray on the table. “Thank you, my lord.” Ella accepted the flowered porcelain cup.

“You’re welcome. Consider it a wedding gift.” Duncan gave a cold laugh.

The countess thinned her lips in his direction, then patted Ella’s knee. “Call him Duncan, dear. You are family now. Do take a biscuit, child.” She reached for the plate. “I still can’t believe you married Ashton. Tell me, how did the two of you meet?”

Ella’s eyes widened over the rim of her tea cup.

He’d promised to do the talking, but his entire plan now stood on its ear—especially since his grandmother clearly knew more about his wife than he did. There was nothing to be done but opt for the truth—or part of it. “Ella’s wee brother stole my watch on a dare,” he smoothly answered in Ella’s silence. “She discovered the deed and sought to return it. She snuck into my room at this very inn, and when I unexpectedly returned, she hid in hopes she could escape detection.”

“Hid?” His grandmother’s eyes gleamed. She’d always loved a good tale. She leaned close to Ella. “Where did you hide?”

“In the wardrobe,” Ella replied. Her eyes silently begged him to continue.

Her eyes were so expressive. Ashton leaned back against the chair cushion. She scowled, clearly displeased with his delay. So, his new wife had a temper, did she? Suddenly, he wanted to see more of it.

“Aye, it’s not often one sees a bonny lass tumble out of a wardrobe.” Their eyes locked. “And, I might add, one wearing rather snug breeches.”

Ella blinked. “My lord.”

An image of her slim thighs flashed across his mind.

“Breeches were necessary, I assure you.” Ella bristled. “It’s dangerous for a woman to walk the streets at night.”

He snorted. “A man would have to be blind not to see those curves.”

“Then there are many blind men in Edinburgh,” she retorted.

An unexpected possessiveness washed over him. “Perhaps, but that matters little now. They will not be treated to such a sight again.”

Again, those blue eyes flashed.

He was oddly pleased to have coaxed that response from her. She reminded him of a kitten with its fur on end, in an attempt to appear fiercer and bigger than it was.

A horrifying realization struck. He recalled many a similar tete-a-tete between his mother and father. He jarred, suddenly remembering they were not alone. Ashton looked up to find Duncan and his grandmother watching him intently.

“It is quite unlike you, Ashton, to ignore scandal,” Duncan drawled.

“Nonsense,” his grandmother disagreed in lofty tones. “Such is the power of love. You should know that yourself, Duncan, should you not?” She rose and clapped her hands.

Ashton stood.

“This is truly a delight,” the countess announced. “Yet, I find myself suddenly exhausted. Let us reconvene at Kinnettles and continue our business there. Ashton, I expect you to join me at once with your lovely bride. I will not take no for an answer.”

Kinnettles. The word felt like a slap. His grandmother knew very well what such a visit meant to him.

A smug expression crept over Duncan’s face.

“Plan to stay for some time.” The countess pulled on her gloves. “I am of a mind to spend the winter at Kinnettles with my lovely grandchildren.” She looked at Duncan, then Ella, and finally Ashton. “If you wish to preserve your chances of inheriting my fortune, then I will see you in Kinnettles within the week.” Her eyes softened as she looked at Angel, still curled on the couch. “I do believe he would still pick you over me, Ella, dear.”

“Oh, I am sure that isn’t true.” Ella flashed a nervous smile.

Lady Leighton clucked and snapped her fingers. “See, I have to ask now.”

Angel’s ears lifted, and he jumped to the floor, but not before he glanced back at Ella and wagged once again.

“Damn dog,” Duncan muttered from the fireplace.

His grandmother shot him a look of disapproval, then swept toward the door.

Ashton held out a hand. “May I escort you to your room?”

“No, thank you,” came her tart reply. She reached for the knob and turned. Her aged face softened. “Good night, sweet Ella. We shall meet again, soon.” With that, she disappeared into the hallway with Angel at her heels.

Ashton stared at Duncan in tense silence until Duncan broke the connection.

He crossed to the sideboard and picked up the decanter of claret. “I’ve missed you, Cousin.” He smirked. “Stay and have a drink. For old time’s sake. Claret? Brandy? I daresay there’s a good whisky lying about.”

Whisky? His cousin knew he hadn’t drank alcohol save wine since that fateful day. “Do you have something to say?” He was in no mood for games.

Duncan smiled without warmth. “Strange, isn’t it, how you found a wife so quickly.”

“No,” Ashton grated. He had had enough of the man. He turned to Ella and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

She hurried to his side, obviously anxious to leave, and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.

With a nod, Ashton muttered, “Evening, Duncan,” and steered Ella toward the door.

They stepped into the hall, and as Ashton pulled the door shut, Duncan called, “Welcome to the family, Ella. You picked your husband well. If anyone doesn’t care a fig about your past, it is The Demon Earl.”

Ashton halted for two heartbeats, torn between leaving and thrashing his cousin.

Ella looked up at him “Shall we go, Ashton?”

He looked down at her. She stared, eyes clouded with concern. He pulled the door the rest of the way closed, then took the hall in long-legged strides. It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he noticed she struggled to maintain his mad pace.

“Forgive me.” He stepped aside, and she preceded him up the stairs and down hallways in silence. Minutes later, they stopped before Cyril’s room.

“Good evening, my lady, sleep well. We leave at dawn.” He turned away, but she stayed him with a hand on his arm.

“Nicholson,” she said in a strangled whisper.

“Aye?” He slowly faced her.

“I never meant to mislead you, I swear it.” She stared, her blue eyes earnest. “I had no idea she was your grandmother. I took the name of Wetherby to leave my past behind. Only…only I’m learning that can’t really be done, can it?” She sounded on the verge of tears.

Her words stabbed like a knife to the heart. Leave the past behind? He’d never truly succeeded in doing so.

“There’s no cause for alarm,” he said, then added in bitter tones, “You’ve wed The Demon Earl. As far as scandals go, we’re the perfect match.”