by Jenna Jaxon
“Yes, it was unfortunate.” Nathan pressed on: “Do you remember Mary Adams, Mr. Saunders? It would be particularly helpful to my wife and me if we could locate her.”
“Oh, aye, my lord. I remember Mary well. I was sweet on her until she left the family’s service.”
Praise God, perhaps their luck had changed. “And you wouldn’t happen to know where she went when she left?”
“Aye, my lord. Mary told me she was going to London. Said she’d have better opportunity for work there.” Saunders’s eyes shifted away from him. “Said she’d got a better prospect than marriage to a coachman.”
Closing his eyes, Nathan sighed. All roads led to London as far as Mary Adams was concerned, and there they all stopped. “We’ve inquired at her lodgings in London, Mr. Saunders. Unfortunately, she’s not been there for almost ten years. No one remembers her.”
Frowning, Saunders lifted his glass. “She didn’t stay in London then?”
“Apparently not.”
“You might look for her at Toot Hill, in Essex.” Mr. Saunders tipped the glass up, taking a long pull.
Nathan caught his breath. “Toot Hill?”
“That’s the village she came from. Her aunt was in service with the Carrington family. She got Mary her place here. If Mary’s scheme in London didn’t work out, she might’ve gone back home.”
Hope raised its head.
“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Saunders.” Rising, Nathan put half a crown on the table. “For your trouble, sir. I am off to tell my wife we may find Mary yet.”
“Good luck, my lord.” Mr. Saunders raised his glass to Nathan before downing it.
Hope finally in his heart, Nathan hurried out of the taproom. He’d be packed up and on his way in half an hour. Although his first instinct was to go straight to Essex, he’d be in trouble if he didn’t return to London to inform Amelia and the others. Besides, his wife would need to go with him to persuade Mary, if indeed they found her, to part with the letters. If she still had them. They were still in a hobble, but perhaps, with just a bit more luck, they could find a way out.
As he tossed clothing into his valise, Nathan’s spirits rose. He’d be home by this evening and in his wife’s bed shortly after. His body stirred, showing its approval of that plan. Yes, today had been a good day, with the best yet to come.
* * * *
Two days later, Amelia stood with Nathan before a pretty little cottage on the edge of the village of Toot Hill. They’d arrived the previous evening and stayed at an inn in Chipping Ongar then driven the five miles this morning to the picturesque village. An inquiry at the rectory had given them the direction to Mary Carr’s cottage.
“Do you think it’s the same woman?” Amelia straightened her shoulders, trying not to fidget. The fate of her reputation might lie with a woman who didn’t even remember her.
“I think the name is a bit too much of a coincidence for it not to be.” Taking her arm, Nathan gently urged her toward the door.
Out of nowhere, two shrieking little boys appeared, pelting down the dirt road toward the cottage.
Nathan pulled her back as the imps chased one another around the yard.
The door to the cottage opened and a woman in her late twenties stepped out the door. “Johnny! Willie! Stop that caterwauling or Willie goes back to his Da’s.”
The two imps slid to a halt right in front of them. The larger of the two boys, the one with dark hair, turned, and Amelia gasped.
“Yes, Mam,” he called to the woman. “C’mon, Willie. I’ll race ya to the big oak tree.”
“Ah, you’ll not beat me again.” The two took off back up the lane.
“What is it, Amelia? You’re trembling.” Nathan took her arm once more.
It couldn’t be, and yet, somehow, it was. She shook her head, still unwilling to believe what she’d seen then turned to gaze at the woman still standing in the doorway. “That’s her. That’s Mary Adams.”
The woman, who’d put a hand up to shield her eyes from the late morning sun, apparently recognized Amelia as well, for she clapped her hands over her mouth, spun around, and disappeared into the cottage.
“Come on.” Amelia stalked to the door, raised her hand to knock, then dropped it to the latch and stepped inside, Nathan right behind her.
Mary Carr stood in front of the fireplace, her hand over her face, shoulders shaking.
“Hello, Mary.”
Straightening and wiping her eyes, Mary came toward her. “Hello, Miss Burrowes.”
“It’s Lady Ainsley, now. I married not long ago. This is my husband, Lord Ainsley.”
The woman’s eyes rounded, and she curtsied quickly. “Beg pardon, my lady. My lord.”
“Do you know why we’ve come, Mary?”
Slowly, the woman shook her head. She looked near tears again.
“I need the correspondence you kept between me and Lord Carrington. The letters, Mary. Do you still have them?” Fighting the urge to shake the woman, Amelia held her breath.
“Some. I still have some of them.” She glanced toward a small desk in the corner.
“Thank God.” In his enthusiasm, Nathan spoke a little loudly, causing Mary to jump.
Amelia sighed in relief. “May I see them, please?”
“What for?”
For the first time, Amelia became aware of the real fear in Mary’s voice. “I need them to clear my name, Mary. People have said very bad things about me and Lord Carrington. I want to prove they are not true. The letters will do that.” She looked beseechingly at the frightened woman. “Will you help me, Mary?”
Wringing her hands, Mary looked away from her, her distress mounting. “If I give you those letters, she’ll know I told someone. She’ll stop the money she sends each year.”
“Money to pay for your son’s upkeep?”
Mary nodded. “She’s sent it like clockwork each year on Johnny’s birthday.”
“I saw him in the yard. Your son’s very like him, isn’t he?”
Nathan frowned. “Like who?”
“Jonathan…Lord Carrington.” Sighing, Amelia wound her arm through Nathan’s. “That was the child he was asking after before he died.”
“So who’s been paying Mary to be quiet about her son all these years?”
“Lady Carrington, I suspect. She was always a high stickler and I suppose she believed that if she paid Mary to be quiet, no one would ever hear about her son’s indiscretion. Everyone assumed I’d had the child of whom he spoke, which put the blame squarely on me.” The bitter taste in her mouth made her ill. “Jonathan was never censured, even though he was believed to be the father.”
“The ton would think it bad form to revile the dead.” Nathan put his arm around her. “Mary, may we have the letters please?”
“But I’ll be in a bad way if she stops the money, my lord.” Tears were again trickling down the woman’s face. “I have no way to support us here.”
“Do not fret, Mary. I believe I can ensure that Lady Carrington does not miss a single payment for the rest of your life.” Her husband’s calm voice drew Amelia’s attention.
“What scheme do you have in mind, my dear?”
“A little friendly persuasion that may kill two birds with one stone. Mary, the letters, if you please.” At his sharp command, the woman hurried toward the desk.
“I only saved his letters, my lady.” She drew out a sheaf of papers, dark yellow with faded writing. “They were something of his, you know? I couldn’t read them, but I could hold them and know that once he’d held them too.” She handed the bundle of letters to Amelia. “I was carrying his child when I came to London. He said we could see each other more if I was in town.” She ducked her head. “He said even after he got married, we could be together if I was discreet. But then he died.” The heartbreak in her voice was pitiful. “I didn’t know what to do, so I had my aunt tell Lady Carrington. She came to visit me the once, after Johnny was born. She told me to come back here, to Toots Hill,
to say nothing to anyone about the baby, and she would take care of us.”
“And I promise you, Mary, she will continue to do so. Let me take care of those, my dear.” To Amelia’s astonishment, Nathan plucked the letters out of her hands. “I also promise that when we have no further use for these, they will be returned to you, Mrs. Carr.”
“Thank you, my lord. My lady.” Mary wiped her eyes again.
“Goodbye, Mary.” Her last illusions about Jonathan now crumbling about her, Amelia wanted nothing more than to flee the cottage and wash her hands of him forever.
“Good day, madam.” Nathan doffed his hat and led Amelia out of the cottage into the sun-filled morning.
Once they had gone a way down the lane, Nathan dropped the letters to the ground, swooped her up in his arms and twirled them around until Amelia’s head spun.
“Nathan, stop. What are you doing?” Her stomach had become decidedly queasy all of a sudden.
“I am celebrating our victory, my love.” Laughing, he continued to spin around.
“Well, you had best put me down or I will cast up my accounts all down your backside.”
With a final chuckle, he set her on the ground, where she wobbled until the earth stopped moving. “So you believe these letters will allow us to regain my reputation?”
“I do.” He grinned and recovered the letters.
She frowned. “But you haven’t even read them yet.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Nathan, what are you planning to do with them?”
“Pay an unexpected visit to an old acquaintance of yours. I guarantee you, she will help us recover your reputation.”
“Lady Carrington?”
“Lady Carrington.” He put his arm around her. “Come my love.” He kissed her with so much passion her legs went wobbly again. “Your life in Society is about to begin again.”
Epilogue
Dancing a waltz with her husband, the handsomest man in the room, should’ve been the most thrilling experience in Amelia’s life. She and Nathan twirled and spun, surrounded by a dozen other couples, lost in each other’s eyes. Her first ball as hostess had been an immense undertaking, with a startling amount of work, but gazing around the room, she had to admit it was a tremendous success. Half the ton had been invited and from the looks of the full ballroom, almost all had attended. Considering it was the Little Season, with many of the aristocracy still in the country, tonight should be considered a triumph. Yet something was missing.
The music ended, and she and Nathan sauntered off the dance floor, stopped several times by acquaintances eager to wish them happy, albeit belatedly. That mattered not at all to her. The ton’s newfound approbation of her, and their marriage, was the only thing that counted. That and one thing more.
Nathan led them to a somewhat secluded spot behind a potted fern and pounced, first kissing the slope of her neck, then sliding down toward the more dangerous territory of her breasts, threatening to overflow her bodice. “Nathan, stop. I have just recovered from one scandal. I do not mean to be at the center of another should we be found out.”
He groaned, but complied, lifting his head and staring at her with miserable stormy-gray eyes. “Amelia, I’ve scarcely seen you these past weeks while you were preparing for the ball. I miss you in my bed.”
“I miss you as well, my love. But this is neither the time nor place to make up for missed opportunities.” She’d been so exhausted from the endless lists of things to be arranged for this ball, she’d only been able to fall into her bed at night, asleep before her head hit the pillow. Out of concern for her welfare, Nathan had not disturbed her, with the result that they both desired one another with an intensity that crackled whenever they actually met. She would’ve liked nothing more than for them to be able to slip away and let passion reign. But not until much later tonight. After the ball.
Her husband continued to kiss her neck, making her, as always, hot and oh so ready for him. She closed her eyes, savoring his attentions. Perhaps they could slip away to her chamber for just a few minutes. In their state of need, a few minutes would likely be all it would take to satisfy them. Temporarily. And there was the other thing she needed to take care of as well—
“Lady Ainsley.”
The unexpected voice startled Amelia and she jumped, pushing Nathan away.
He stumbled but recovered, shaking his head. Glancing up at the woman who’d interrupted them, he smiled broadly. “Ah, Lady Carrington. You are not leaving so soon, I hope?”
“I’m afraid I must, Ainsley.” The woman’s mouth was pinched now but had been only smiles an hour ago when they’d received her publicly. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“None of us is, my lady.” Amelia smiled carefully. She could never forgive the woman for allowing her reputation to be called into question when she could’ve proven the truth of the matter. Nevertheless, when confronted with the letters and the information that they knew about Mary Adams and Johnny, Lady Carrington had proved quite cooperative in helping to restore Amelia’s reputation. “So I will bid you a good evening.”
“I as well, my lady.” Nathan executed a precise bow. “We thank you for all your assistance.”
With the briefest of curtsies, Lady Carrington shot one parting glare at them before turning on her heel and leaving.
“Well, I will shed no tears to think she’s gone.” Amelia grabbed Nathan’s arm and pulled him back behind the fern. “I would not want her to put a damper on tonight’s festivities.”
“I cannot see how she has done that, love. She worked hard to make amends and assure you of a glorious turnout for your ball.” He kissed her fingers, always a precursor to the most exciting lovemaking.
“I wasn’t actually thinking of the ball, but of a more private celebration.”
His brows went up and he grinned. “Have I managed to persuade you to accompany me to our apartments for a quick tryst?”
“Not exactly.” She cupped his face and brought him down for a swift kiss. “I wanted to tell you later when we were alone, but I simply cannot wait.”
“What is it, love?”
“This.” She took his hand and pressed it to the slight swelling of her abdomen. “I am carrying your child. I suppose thirty is not too old, after all.”
“Amelia.” He lowered his head and stared at the spot where their hands overlapped. The completely dumbfounded look on his face made her laugh. “But when?”
“If my calculations, and those of the midwife, are correct, most likely on our wedding night.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Apparently, it was a good thing we didn’t anticipate the wedding night after all, or we might have had some explaining to do. It will be a close call as it is.”
“I don’t mind explanations.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “But I prefer demonstrations.” Grabbing her hand, he tugged her toward the doorway to the rest of the house.
“Where are we going?” Amelia let him pull her along with only token resistance. It had been too many days since she’d been alone with her husband.
“Your bedchamber.”
“But, Nathan—”
“You promised me a private celebration.” His eyes darkened, love and desire forming black pools where gray had been moments before. “And I know the perfect place.”
THE END
About the Author
Jenna Jaxon is a bestselling, multi-published author of historical romance in periods ranging from medieval to Victorian. She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager. A romantic herself, she’s always loved a dark side to the genre—a twist, suspense, a surprise—and tries to incorporate all these elements into her own stories. She lives in Virginia with her family and three rambunctious cats, Marmalade, Sugar, and Olive. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director. She often feels she is directing her characters on their own private stage.
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sp; Jenna is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America and is very active in Chesapeake Romance Writers, her local chapter of RWA.
She equates her writing to an addiction to chocolate, because once she starts she just can’t stop.
Connect with me online:
Blog: Jenna’s Journal
Twitter: @Jenna_Jaxon
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Jenna-Jaxon/146857578723570
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4960704.Jenna_Jaxon
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005CHPBD2
More Works by this Author
Handful of Hearts series:
Hearts Beneath the Mistletoe (Book 1)
Heart of Desire (Book 2)
Heart of Delight (Book 3)
Heart of a Scoundrel (Book 4)
Hearts at All Hallows’ Eve (Short Story)
The House of Pleasure series:
Only Scandal Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 1)
Only Marriage Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 2)
Only a Mistress Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 3)
Only Seduction Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 4)
The Widows’ Club series:
To Woo a Wicked Widow (The Widows’ Club, Book 1)
Wedding the Widow (The Widows’ Club, Book 2)
What a Widow Wants (The Widows’ Club, Book 3)
Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows’ Club, Book 4)
Other titles:
Time Enough to Love
(Betrothal, Betrayal, Beleaguered, Beloveds)
A Match Made at Christmas
Married by Christmas