His Lady Ashlynn

by Starla Kaye

  “The upper class—such as His Grace and your father—are to pick potential spouses from people who share their social sphere. Aristocrats wed other aristocrats.” She smoothed her skirt and added, “A title holder can marry beneath him, but rarely does.”

  She didn’t want to think about any of this. It was a very tender subject with her, or with any of her family. It was part of why she had spoken harshly and thrown punch on the old biddies at Lady Pendergast’s ball. One of the women had called her mother a Ladybird, a lover kept in sin. There was far more to why her father and her mother had never married.

  Unable to sit and listen to anymore of these rules she abhorred, she stood. “I believe I have heard more than enough for today.”

  Lady Burlington rose as well. “No doubt. But there is more, much more that you must learn before you become His Grace’s wife.” She smiled down at Abigail. “I hope you are absorbing these rules, too. For I’m sure it won’t be long until you are also headed for marriage.”

  Abigail paled but didn’t say a word. Her reaction puzzled Ashlynn and at some point she would find the time to discuss the subject in private with her. For now, she didn’t even want to think any more about marriage. Or about Blaine, His Loftiness.

  ***

  “I suppose you have made arrangements with St. George’s Church for the wedding,” Braden commented casually.

  Blaine stood in front of the massive fireplace in his parlor, holding a cigar he still hadn’t bothered to light, and glanced at his friend. “Actually, I have not.”

  “But with your status I imagined there would be many in the ton who would want to attend.” Braden sat in a chair nearby and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

  “No doubt you are right, but I have decided against making a show of entertainment for the ton.” He had already been married in elaborate church weddings twice. He hadn’t enjoyed the experience and he sincerely doubted Ashlynn would either. “Actually I am planning on purchasing a special license to have the wedding ceremony here in the Wellingsworth family drawing room. I believe we will keep those invited to only close family and good friends.”

  Braden chuckled. “Perhaps that would be best. Since there is never any way of knowing how my dear American sister will behave, I do believe that might be your wisest choice.”

  “She does have her moments of being quite outspoken.” Since this marriage wasn’t something she desired but was being pushed into, he could only imagine what she shocking thing she might say during the ceremony. He would warn her well, of course, before that day to be on her best behavior. Did she have a best behavior? The notion made him smile.

  “What are you smiling about, my friend?” Braden picked up his glass of port from the table next to him and swirled the liquid around. “Are you thinking about her outrageous ways? How you believe you will tame her? Perhaps try to make her more like her much gentler, quieter twin?”

  Blaine shook his head. “While Abigail is a sweet young lady, she is not the woman for me. Both of my first wives were just as subdued, never dared to even think of not being agreeable.” He grinned even more. “Lady Ashlynn intrigues me with her independent streak, with her tendency to speak first and think later. Not that I believe that to be a good quality, but I sometimes find it amusing.”

  “That particular quality has gotten her into much trouble at times with Father.” Then Braden, too, grinned. “In truth, I find her very refreshing compared to most of the women of my acquaintance.” He held up a hand. “Not that I want a wife quite that headstrong. But nor would I be happy with a woman quite as submissive in nature as Abigail.”

  Blaine thought about the first time he had been introduced to the Remington twin sisters. He hadn’t wanted to attend that particular ball and had almost stayed in that night. But Braden had come by his town house and insisted he come, not that he had wanted more than just having his friend meet his American family. No, Braden would never have thought Blaine would be interested in either of his much younger sisters. Upon his arrival at the Umbridge’s home he had been immediately approached by far too many people: unmarried women had drifted by him, offering a flirtatious look; a few of his friends had tried to get him to leave with them and go to Whitehalls; and several other men had approached him to talk politics. None of that engrossed him that night.

  He stared across the room and out the large window, not really seeing what was outside. What he “saw” was a stunning blond in a pale pink gown. Actually, both of the young women standing next to the Duke of Claymore had captured his attention, as well as the attention of most of the men in the ballroom. One had looked in awe of her surroundings, a bit timid, too. Abigail. The other had looked like she wanted to be anywhere else, not seeming at all impressed with the elegant home or the members of the ton in attendance. Ashylnn. And then when they had been introduced, she had looked down her nose at him—him a powerful duke of the realm—and paid him barely a second’s worth of notice. Oddly, he had fallen in love with her right then. There was no good reasoning for it. But he had known in that moment he would offer for her hand in marriage.

  “You desire her, don’t you?” Braden asked curiously, with a hint of concern in his tone.

  He wasn’t sure how to respond, but then decided to be honest. “I do, very much.”

  Braden took a sip of port and then focused on Blaine once more. “She believes herself to be in love with that American farmer.”

  “From what I have heard of him from your father, they are not really as suited as she thinks. Apparently he is rather overwhelmed by her forwardness, her determination.” He considered what he’d been told again. “She would soon be unhappy with him. She would tire of his never taking a strong stand with her, of her being the decision maker at all times. Your sister doesn’t think so, but she needs a man willing to take a firm hand with her. A man who will give her a great deal of free rein and yet rein her in when she goes too far.”

  Braden chuckled. “I believe you are right. I have not met this Gerald Smythe, but from I have overheard, she would walk all over him.” He met Blaine’s gaze. “You, however, will make her a good match. Even if she does not think so at this point.”

  He grew more serious and asked, “It does not bother you that she loves another man? That she is determined to find a way out of this marriage with you?”

  Blaine nodded. “Yes, it bothers me, this foolish notion that she thinks she loves another man. But, although it goes against all of the rules she is learning, I have kissed your sister. And she kissed me back.” He smiled, remembering the way she had resisted at first and then melted against him. “She could not truly love this farmer so much and still respond to me the way she did. No, it is her stubbornness that is keeping her from accepting the situation.”

  Braden frowned. “She allowed you to kiss her?”

  “Allowed might not be the correct word. But, in truth, she didn’t resist all that much. She is as drawn to me as I am to her.” He laughed. “Not that she will admit any such thing. I will assure you this much…she is not as against this marriage as she professes. Yet she fights giving in and that only makes me more determined.”

  Chapter Three

  Ashlynn gave one last assessing look in the cheval mirror and sighed. Why did she care how she looked tonight? She didn’t want to go to Lord Amhurst’s ball. Certainly not with His Prentiousness, the betrothed she appeared to be stuck with. So why were butterflies fluttering about in her stomach? Why was her silly heart skipping merrily around in her chest? She had never gotten this anxious before spending time with Gerald. But then he hadn’t ever escorted her to a fancy ball…or even attended one that she had attended back in Virginia. Granted she had only been to a couple such affairs there.

  She did another little spin in front of the mirror. The décolletage of her evening dress was appropriately neither too low and showing too much of her well-rounded breasts nor unstylishly high. Abigail and their maid had spent an exceptional amount of time wit
h her waist-length hair this afternoon. They had insisted on sweeping it up into a pair of long curls that draped over her left shoulder. It truly seemed like a lot of bother for the few hours it would last. But she was to look extra special tonight, per her father’s instructions upon his return a couple of hours ago. Her engagement was to be formally announced again tonight because Lord Amhurst was evidently a good friend of both her father and Blaine.

  Once more the swarm of butterflies took off fluttering like crazy. She put a hand over her stomach and wished she could simply disappear. Even more, she wished her beloved mother was still alive so that they could talk. She missed her so very much, especially now at this confusing time in her life. There was no use trying to talk to Abigail about her distress for her sister believed her father had made a good decision on her behalf. She couldn’t talk to Lady Burlington because she was Blaine’s aunt by marriage and seemed to be fond of him. Beyond them there was Catherine, her younger ten and seven half-sister. But she was currently staying at their father’s estate in Devonshire. So basically she was to deal with all of this alone.

  A light knock on her bedchamber door had her gasping in surprise. She quickly blinked back tears stinging her eyes and that threatened to spill over. “Yes?” she asked nervously.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Ashcroft, has arrived, Lady Remington,” called out one of the young maids. “Your father says it is time you came downstairs. The rest of your family is waiting for you.”

  She drew in a steadying breath, praying for the strength to endure the dreadful evening ahead. Again she wished she could simply disappear. “I will be right there, Suzette.”

  After another few seconds to prepare for what she faced, she walked regally out of her room and down the stairs. Her foolish woman’s heart raced in anticipation at seeing the man who was causing such an upheaval in her life. Then she saw him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairway, gazing up at her with the slightly crooked grin that did funny things to her insides. He stole her breath away, standing there so tall and darkly handsome in fawn-colored breeches that ended just below his knees, his muscled calves covered by white stockings. His single-breasted, black waistcoat looked striking with the white under-waistcoat and white shirt. In truth, he appeared far too handsome and warmth fired low in her body, reminding her of the heroines’ reactions in those forbidden stories she read.

  She hesitated a couple of steps from the bottom, tipped up her chin, and said as formally as she could manage, “Your Grace.”

  Your Grace. The woman he would soon marry might have expressed the proper greeting and in just the correct tone, but her green eyes sparked with annoyance. Blaine nearly laughed at her mixed attitude. “My Lady,” he acknowledged back.

  She didn’t move, had apparently come as far as she could for the moment. She didn’t want to go tonight, and was no doubt frustrated at having been told by her father that their engagement would be formalized even more at this particular ball. He wished Edmond wouldn’t have insisted on this additional announcement. He was satisfied with the reading of the banns and with what had already been told to his peers. But his soon-to-be father-in-law would not be dissuaded.

  He heard the deep voices of her brothers talking with Abigail, Lady Burlington, and Edmond in the nearby drawing room. They were impatient to get going, yet awaited his cue before they would head for the carriages outside. He wasn’t in a hurry to depart at the moment. Since Ashlynn had decided to simply stand there, he took advantage of her bout of stubbornness to admire the beauty who would become his wife in three weeks. Even with Abigail being a nearly identical twin, Ashlynn was the one who stood out to not only him but also to other men who had observed her at the few balls she had already attended. In the green dress that appeared to match her eyes, with its high waistline that seemed to cup and caress her magnificent breasts, she would have every man at the ball tonight drooling after her. A notion that didn’t please him at all. He fully intended to go against several of the “rules of etiquette” this evening. She would dance only with him. He would remain at her side the entire night, chaperone present or not. She no doubt wouldn’t like what he intended to do and neither would the ton in attendance. Too bad.

  His decision made, he reached out his gloved hand and motioned her to him. “It is time to go, Lady Remington.”

  She hesitated a second longer, and then with a hint of a frown, she continued down the staircase. She didn’t accept his hand, though. Instead she attempted to move around him and head for her family in the drawing room.

  Blaine refused to allow her to gain the upper hand here. He caught her by the elbow and drew her to his side. “Behave yourself, my sweet. Now and all evening.” Even if he planned to “misbehave” in the eyes of his peers, his actions would draw no more than mere brow raisings or muffled chastisements. Her inappropriate actions would not be as easily tolerated. Perhaps he should rethink his plan? No, if he were to leave her side, too many other men would seek her out…engaged to him or not. That was unacceptable!

  Her eyes widened and then narrowed as she tried to pull free of his hold. “Or?” she boldly challenged.

  He fought down amusement at her daring and released her arm, only to move his hand down to her pert backside. He smiled at her instant stiffening. “Or, My Lady, you might find yourself suffering a tender bottom.”

  Her beautiful face flamed and she hissed, “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Now he chuckled. “I have already shown you that I dare much. Do not test me tonight.”

  Interrupting the awkward moment, Braden walked out of the drawing room, followed by the rest of his family and Lady Burlington. He dropped his hand before anyone could notice his inappropriate behavior. But his widowed aunt immediately noted Ashlynn’s outraged expression and pinkened cheeks. She gave him a look of silent reprimand, letting him know she had seen where his hand had lain. Yet her lips hinted at amusement. She had already told him that she believed Ashlynn would make a more than suitable wife for him. She would not easily cow down to his every order, nor did she appear to care for his rank in English society. He knew that his aunt had been almost as much of a trial to his uncle and they had had one of the strongest, most loving marriages he had ever witnessed. That was exactly what he wanted with his spirited bride-to-be...what he intended to have with Ashlynn.

  He watched her all but run to the door the butler was holding open. She didn’t even notice that her maid had appeared with her shawl. Clearly she intended to race out of the house and into whatever carriage her brothers chose to ride in.

  He gave the shy maid a grateful smile and took the light evening wrap. While Braden and Daniel watched curiously and her father looked on in frustration, Blaine caught up with her. “Your shawl, My Lady.”

  Her small nose crinkled in irritation, but she allowed him to drape it around her shoulders. Before she could take off once more out the door, he snagged her right hand. Of course she narrowed her eyes at him. He ignored her displeasure and said loudly enough for those behind him to hear, “You will be riding in my carriage.”

  Lady Burlington rushed up next to him. “As will I, Your Grace.” It wasn’t a request; it was a statement of fact.

  He nodded down at his petite aunt and gave her a smile. “Of course.”

  “I would rather go with—”

  “You will go with me,” he countered and offered a bent arm to each of the ladies. His aunt immediately slipped her hand in the crook of his left arm. But Ashlynn didn’t take his other arm until she’d heaved a much put-upon sigh.

  ***

  Ashlynn reluctantly let Blaine take her hand to assist her out of the carriage. They hadn’t spoken two words since leaving her brother’s house, which was fine with her. She had nothing to say to the man who refused to listen to her reasoning about why they shouldn’t marry. Beyond her irritation, though, the scent of him sitting so near her had done odd things to her. It seemed everything about him from his scent to his deep, sensual voice to the very sight o
f him did peculiar things to her. And she was tired of it.

  When her slippered foot touched the ground, she avoided looking at him and glanced toward the brightly lit Tudor-style house. They had pulled up in front of the house, along with the other two Claymore carriages. Her breath caught at the vast number of carriages and landaus lining the street and semi-circular drive. No! She couldn’t go through with this! She couldn’t spend another painful evening trying to fit into a gathering of the upper echelon of London society, most of who didn’t approve of her. They barely tolerated her, Abigail, and Daniel because of her father’s position as the Duke of Claymore. Abigail and Daniel were dealing in their own ways, winning over the ton by their tolerant behavior. But she had embarrassed the family nearly every time she had made an appearance at a ball or soiree. She didn’t have the kind of tolerance they had. She couldn’t do this again.

  As if he read her panic, Blaine drew her aside from her family stepping out of the other carriages. He no longer looked amused but concerned. “You will do just fine, Ashlynn. I have faith in you.”

  She blinked in surprise at him. “Faith in me? I have embarrassed my family at—”

  He frowned and shook his head. “You have attempted to get along with people who have made only minimal attempts to accept you.” He drew in a breath and released it heavily. “Although you went to an extreme at the last ball, you were attempting to defend your family…your father, in particular. While I and your father found fault with your methods, I admire your loyalty.”

  “You…you do?” she asked warily.

  “I do. You are a strong woman, spirited, perhaps a bit headstrong. But you do not back down from a challenge. I only hope that one day you will feel as loyal to me, as protective.”

  His words touched her, as did the intensity of his gaze. He had approved of the thrashing she had received for her inappropriate behavior by throwing the punch on those old biddies. Yet he had defended her later, according to Braden. He had gone to speak with Lady Pendergast about what she and her friends had said to Ashlynn and had made it quite clear that it would not be wise for them to repeat such comments ever again to anyone…or else. She could only imagine what an “or else” implied by him could mean. When she had learned of his action this afternoon, her inner wall built against him had cracked just a bit. The crack widened a tiny bit more now.