by Marie Force
Her head fell back in complete surrender to him and the way he made her feel.
“You’re perfection.” His fingers dug into her hips to keep her from moving as he surged into her, finding his own release and then bringing her down to rest on his chest.
“You have made a complete doxy out of me.”
His low laughter made his chest rumble under her ear. “I quite adore my wife, the doxy.”
Maeve smiled at his predictable comment. “I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.”
“Wait until you see what else is possible.”
“There’s more?”
Aubrey ran his fingers through her hair. “So much more, and the good news is we have the rest of our lives to do it all.”
One day at a time, one night at a time, one tender word at a time, one explosive encounter at a time, he was making her believe that they might just get that lifetime to spend together after all.
* * *
Eliza waited until everyone had retired for the evening to execute her plan. She crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, leaving the house through the servants’ entrance and walking down the long driveway to the appointed meeting spot. Her lady’s maid had followed her directions to the letter in arranging this late-night appointment.
The carriage awaited her outside the gate, the driver standing next to the open door. He nodded to her, held out a hand and helped her inside. When she was settled, he closed the door and a moment later the carriage began rolling toward town.
Her skin tingled with excitement and anticipation. It had taken two full weeks to arrange this meeting, during which she’d had no choice but to bide her time and tolerate the former housekeeper her son had married. An Irishwoman, no less. Eliza shuddered. Everyone knew the Irish were good for cooking, cleaning and caring for newborns. One did not marry the Irish.
She would never forgive Aubrey for putting her in the position of having to defend his choice of a wife to Newport society. Everywhere she went this Season, people asked her about it, and every time she had to answer those questions, she became more enraged than she’d been before. How dare he do this to her? She seethed with outrage so all-consuming she could think of almost nothing else.
He had been given everything, including two Seasons in London during which he could’ve chosen an aristocratic wife, but to her great regret, he’d come home empty-handed both times. He had, however, made influential friends, and having the duke and duchess in residence was the only thing keeping her from total ruin this summer.
Without their illustrious guests, Eliza and her family would’ve been shunned by society. They wouldn’t have been invited to any of the best parties or balls, and people would’ve looked the other way when they saw the Nelson family coming. They were being tolerated this Season, thanks to their guests, but what would happen next year?
She wasn’t about to wait around to find out. No, she had to take action, and she had to take it now.
The carriage pulled up to the Marlborough Inn and came to a stop. When the driver—she couldn’t recall his name—opened the door, he leaned in. “Are you sure you wish to get out here, ma’am?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Eliza didn’t like being questioned by anyone, particularly someone in service. She allowed him to help her out of the carriage. “Wait here. I won’t be long.” She breezed inside and looked around, her gaze settling on the man in the black suit sitting in the parlor, a glass of amber liquid in hand. She went into the room. “Mr. Dunleavy?”
He stood to greet her. “Mrs. Nelson, I presume?”
“You presume correctly. Please tell me you’ve brought the information I requested.” The former Pinkerton inspector had come highly recommended.
“Please tell me you’ve brought the payment we discussed.”
She handed him a bank draft, thankful to her father for having ensured that she had retained control over her own money after her marriage to the American, as she still thought of her husband after more than forty years of marriage.
Dunleavy carefully inspected the banknote before folding it in half and tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat. “Your son is married to a murderer.”
Eliza stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Maeve Sullivan, née Maeve Brown, née Maeve Nelson, murdered her first husband, a man named Josiah Farthington. She is wanted for murder in Ireland.”
The ground seemed to shift under Eliza. She’d known there would be something, but murder? That had never crossed her mind. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
He handed her a folder. “It’s all there, every sordid detail.”
Eliza sat in one of the cheap armchairs and opened the folder, scanning the three-page report that laid out the case against her son’s wife.
“There’s more,” Dunleavy said. “The innkeeper here told me there was a man named Tornquist here a couple of weeks ago who’d been hired by Farthington’s family to find the woman in question. Apparently, your son paid him off with the understanding that Tornquist would tell the Farthington family that he’d been thus far unsuccessful in locating her. Tornquist was rather indiscrete about his newfound windfall, flashing cash around left and right and not a bit reticent about how he’d come into the money. From what I was told, he’s double dipping, keeping the Farthingtons on retainer and letting them think he’s still looking for her when he isn’t.”
Eliza cringed. It was all so sordid, but then again, she’d known it would be. A mother of seven children developed intuition about such things. “So Aubrey knows that she”—Eliza had to swallow hard to keep her dinner from coming up—“murdered her former husband?”
“It would seem so.”
Eliza couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could he have married a woman who was wanted for murder? Had he taken leave of his senses? “You have been very helpful.”
“There’s one other thing.”
How could there be more? “What other thing?”
“I have made some subtle inquiries and, by all accounts, your son is quite taken with the woman he married, perhaps even in love with her.”
Eliza scowled at him. “He’s not in love. He’s in lust with an Irish whore who was convenient. I never should’ve sent him ahead to prepare the house. That was a mistake, but I shall rectify that mistake with all due haste.”
“As you wish, Madame. Do not shoot the messenger.”
“Our business is complete. I trust I can count on your full discretion?”
“Of course. I’m nothing if not discreet.”
Eliza rose to depart. “Thank you and good evening.”
“To you as well.”
She departed the squalid inn, feeling dirty for having spent even a few minutes there, and allowed the driver to help her into the carriage for the ride up the hill to the exclusive part of town where she belonged. In all her years of coming to Newport, she’d never been anywhere near the Marlborough Inn before tonight. That was just another reason to take issue with Aubrey, whose irresponsible actions had caused her such distress.
Years ago, she’d accepted that Anderson and Alfie probably wouldn’t marry. Her two older sons were painfully shy around women, to the point that they’d retreated from society before they ever officially joined it. All her hopes had been pinned on Aubrey to ensure the continuation of the family name she alone had made prominent in society, and he had failed her so completely.
She needed to act and act quickly before he impregnated the Irish whore. Under no circumstances would grandchildren of hers be half Irish. The thought of such a thing gave her vapors even as she realized she might be too late to stop that secondary disaster. Every chance they got, or so it seemed to Eliza, Aubrey and that woman were sneaking off to be alone together, even with his friends in residence.
Thank goodness for the duke and duchess. They were the only thing standing between her and total ruin this summer. She walked a fine line in finding a way to dispose of the Irish whore without falling
out of favor with Aubrey’s illustrious friends. They would naturally side with him in any dispute. That, in and of itself, was laughable. He was a lowly American. She was the daughter of an earl. In her day, members of the reigning social class had taken care of one another. In these modern times, that was no longer true. No matter what happened, she had to keep the duke and duchess in residence until the end of August.
Hopefully by next summer, Aubrey’s indiscretion would be replaced by someone else’s and things could go on as they had in the past with her taking her place among the most respected members of Newport society. Even though her family could be considered second tier since their fortune was relatively new, she had been given her due as the daughter of a British earl and had enjoyed the acclaim that came with her title. But that could all be erased if the triumvirate turned against her.
The thought of her daughters and grandchildren being shunned because Aubrey had done such a foolish, selfish, thoughtless thing without a single regard whatsoever as to what his actions could mean for the rest of the family made Eliza feel ill.
No, she couldn’t abide this, even if he had convinced himself he was “happy” with that woman, as if he had some sort of God-given right to happiness. She knew all too well what it was like to want someone with all her heart who didn’t want her and then be forced to marry a much lesser choice. Aubrey was a fool brought low by a murdering whore, which was so very disappointing, but he certainly wasn’t the first man to follow his baser instincts. She’d had such high hopes for him, her youngest and most favorite child. Soon her husband would be gone, and she would become the de facto head of the family. As such, she had to take steps to protect the Nelson name, such as it was.
Disposing of the murdering Irish whore would set things to rights, as long as it could be done without displacing the duke and duchess.
Now she just had to figure out a way to accomplish both things at the same time—and quickly, before Aubrey could impregnate that dreadful woman.
Chapter Nineteen
Aubrey had never understood the expression “drunk on love” until he, himself, had been intoxicated by the incredible Maeve Sullivan Nelson. He was, quite simply, obsessed with his beautiful wife. No matter how many times they made passionate love, he wanted more. If he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her and counting the hours until he could be alone with her again.
With his friends in residence, he was forced to go through the motions of being a proper host, of ensuring his guests were happy and well entertained. However, after looking forward to their arrival for more than a year, he couldn’t be less interested in doing anything that didn’t also involve Maeve.
Fortunately, Derek and Simon were equally smitten with their wives and understood Aubrey’s predicament—and even teased him about his obvious desire for his wife. The three couples and Justin had spent a delightful Sunday afternoon sailing in Narragansett Bay onboard the sleek, classic sailboat that Aubrey had named Sundowner before he’d met Maeve. Next Season, he would change the boat’s name to honor her. Earlier that morning, he had accompanied her to mass at St. Mary’s Church, on Spring Street and Memorial Boulevard. Though he was Protestant, he had indulged his Catholic wife’s desire to attend mass, which probably had given his mother another round of fits when she heard where they had gone. Not that he cared. Whatever Maeve wanted he wanted, too. It was that simple.
“Tell me,” Aubrey said to his friends that night over billiards, “does the marital madness become less so in time?”
“It hasn’t for me.” Derek aligned the cue with the ruthless precision that had him leading their summer billiards league by ten games over Simon, who was in second place. Not surprisingly, Aubrey was in last place because he couldn’t care less about winning the games they played any chance they got between the seemingly endless social obligations. He cared only about finishing the games so he could join his wife in bed as early as possible. “If anything, the madness has become more so the longer we are together.”
“For me as well,” Simon said. “I’m well and truly besotted with my sweet Maddie.”
“What a bunch of pathetic fops you’ve turned out to be,” Justin said with his usual disdain for the lovelorn.
“So sorry to disappoint you, dear friend,” Derek said with a big smile. “And I, for one, cannot wait to throw your words back in your face when you meet the one that turns you into a fool like the rest of us.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Justin muttered.
“We were just like you,” Simon reminded him, “until lightning struck.”
Justin stood next to the table, leaning on his cue. “Why do you think I prefer to be indoors?”
Derek barked out a laugh. “If you think you can avoid this sort of lightning by remaining indoors, you’re the biggest fool of all.”
Simon nodded. “He’s right. I got struck in a ballroom, which you know because you were there.”
“Yes, I was, and it was the most pathetic display I’d ever witnessed until we arrived here and were treated to Aubrey panting after poor Maeve like a bitch in heat.”
Aubrey tugged dramatically at his collar, endlessly amused by his friends. “It’s rather warm around here this summer.”
“It sure is,” Simon said. “Something about the sea air has made my wife even more agreeable than usual.”
“Which is saying something,” Derek said dryly. “From what I’ve witnessed at home, Mrs. Simon Eagan is nothing if not agreeable toward her husband.”
“She does rather love me.”
“Someone’s gotta,” Justin said, making the others laugh.
“You’d better watch out, Justin,” Derek said. “You’re beginning to sound like an old curmudgeon.”
“I’d rather be an old curmudgeon than a pathetic, lovesick fop like the rest of you.”
“We need to find him a companion,” Aubrey said. “Perhaps if he was getting a little affection, he might not be so . . .”
“Grumpy?” Derek asked.
“Frustrated?” Simon posed.
“All of the above,” Aubrey said.
“Sod off,” Justin said. “The last thing I need is female complications.”
“But those are the very best kinds of complications,” Aubrey said.
Justin rolled his eyes. “You would say that, Mr. I-have-a-headache every day, three times a day.”
Aubrey bent in half laughing because he couldn’t begin to deny what Justin had said. He had gone to enormous lengths, even bordering on rudeness to his guests, to be alone with his wife. Despite the teasing, he knew none of them thought less of him for neglecting them at times to spend more time with Maeve. They were, after all, newlyweds.
When he’d recovered from the laughing fit and returned his attention to the billiards table, he was sobered by the nagging feeling that something was amiss, even in the midst of his pervasive happiness. “It’s been too easy,” he said, giving voice to his concern for the first time.
Derek’s brows furrowed with confusion at the sudden change in tone. “What has?”
“Marrying Maeve. It’s been too easy.”
Justin bent over the table, the eight ball within his sights. “How do you mean?”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m delighted that Maeve has been so warmly received at the various events and that my sisters and the children seem to adore her nearly as much as I do.”
“So what’s the problem?” Derek asked.
“My mother.”
“What about her?”
“She’s been too quiet.”
“Could it be she’s preoccupied with your father’s declining health?” Justin asked.
“I wish I could believe that, but she doesn’t give a hoot about him. She’s barely spoken to him about anything other than social obligations in decades. Even after Nelson Industrial became fabulously successful, she acted as if he’d done her a disservice by making her part of the nouveau riche. As you well know, there is nothing more bourgeo
is than new money.”
“Ouch,” Simon said. “That’s cold. How did they end up with seven children if they barely speak?”
“We were all born in the first twelve years of their marriage, which we believe was the high point, if you will.”
“Ah, I see,” Simon said. “It’s not as if your mother can do anything. You’re legally married to the woman, whether she approves or not.”
“There is so much she can do to undercut our union. I fear she is biding her time to make her move, hoping to ensure maximum carnage.”
Derek tipped his head. “What can she really do?”
“I don’t know, and that’s what has me so unsettled. I know she’s got to be planning something, but the not knowing has my nerves stretched to their limit. I suspect Maeve is equally concerned but doesn’t speak of it to me out of respect for the fact that the woman is my mother, after all.”
“Have you thought that maybe she is willing to accept and respect your choice?” Simon asked.
“Not for one second.”
“That is a dilemma to be certain,” Derek said. “Catherine tells me Maeve has been well received everywhere they have been so far this Season.”
“Maeve believes that is because Catherine and Madeleine have made it their mission to make sure no one is unkind to her.” The thought of anyone being unkind to her, even his own mother, was enough to make Aubrey want to commit murder.
“They do make for a formidable pair of bodyguards,” Simon said, drawing a laugh from his cousin.
“Indeed, they do. I wouldn’t want to cross the McCabe sisters,” Derek said. “That’s for certain.”
“I hope you know how grateful we are to all of you for the way you’ve embraced Maeve. It means so much to us.”
“You love her,” Derek said. “That’s all we need to know.”
“Is that so very obvious?” Aubrey asked.
“As obvious as the nose on your face, old chap,” Justin muttered. “You’re like a lovesick puppy when she’s around.”