Just This Once

by Jill Gregory

  Now she had only one choice. To lie. To lie well enough that Mr. Grismore believed her rather than Winthrop, so that he wouldn’t pursue the matter with inquiries back to America.

  If he did, all was lost. It would be easy for him to discover that Winthrop was right—not about her being a pickpocket, for who would know that—but that she was a nobody, an orphan who’d worked as a cook and in a dance hall, who was far, very far indeed, from the pampered and proper lady the late earl had dictated his son must marry.

  Josie felt Ethan tense. She knew he was silently damning his father. He’d told Josie last night that if he had to choose between her and his inheritance, he would choose her without hesitation. They would return to America, he said, where they would build a life together free of anyone’s restrictions or interference. To hell with Stonecliff Park and London and Parliament....

  But she knew that he loved Stonecliff Park. Why, she herself had felt it stealing its way into her heart, and she was almost a stranger. How easy it would be to love that house, that gentle emerald land—to call it home.

  Home. She who had never had a home might now cause Ethan to lose the one that should rightfully be his.

  She couldn’t bear that. “I will answer all of your questions with pleasure.”

  She offered the solicitor the well-bred smile she’d been practicing before the mirror since the morning she’d sailed for England.

  “If you don’t mind, Mr. Grismore, I can clear this up with a few simple questions.” Winthrop bustled forward, avoiding getting within range of Ethan’s fists, skirting the desk, and coming to stand beside Mr. Grismore’s chair.

  “Did you or did you not find employment”—he uttered the last word with disgust—“in America working in a... dance hall?”

  “I—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, an imperative rap on the door interrupted.

  Grismore frowned. “Come in,” he snapped, but as he peered toward the door his expression of irritation changed to one of surprise and respect.

  “Your grace!”

  The Duke of Bennington walked slowly into the inner chamber, accompanied by Alicia Denby.

  Stunned, Josie jumped up from her chair. She drew in her breath, but before she could do or say anything, Alicia sent her a determined, reassuring smile that bade her be silent.

  When Josie glanced questioningly at Ethan, to whom she had confided all last evening when they’d returned from the rookery, he winked.

  “Forgive the interruption, Mr. Grismore, but I understand you are interviewing my granddaughter this afternoon and I could not allow such an impertinence to continue.”

  “Your... granddaughter?” Grismore’s mouth opened and closed several times, like that of a grounded fish gasping for air.

  “That is correct.” The Duke was frowning. “I won’t have her interrogated like a common pickpocket apprehended by the police.”

  Josie made a small choking sound. Ethan turned to her with an expression of concern as he took her hand. “There, there, my love,” he murmured while smoothing her brow with exaggerated care.

  “My wife has suffered enough indignity for one day, Grismore, don’t you agree?”

  “Well, yes, my lord, I wouldn’t wish to... that is... I say... you never mentioned that your wife was granddaughter to the Duke of Bennington, my lord. I apologize. If this is the case, certainly there is no need—”

  “There is every need!” Winthrop shouted, staring from one to the other of them and fairly jumping up and down with frustration. “This dance hall girl is not your granddaughter, sir! She cannot be, this is a trick... a lie....”

  His voice trailed off in the icy silence which followed. The Duke regarded him with cold contempt. The Earl’s lip curled in mockery. Miss Denby walked over to take Josie’s arm and tuck it protectively in hers. And Josie merely stood with shoulders straight and head held high, her eyes filled with exquisitely ladylike sadness.

  “Oh, dear, Mr. Winthrop—I can’t imagine why you’ve taken me in such dislike,” she murmured. “I had so hoped we could become friends.”

  “It’s obvious why, my dear.” Ethan’s gray eyes flicked toward Grismore. “You understand his motives for this nonsense, don’t you?” he inquired scornfully.

  Grismore met his keen, piercing gaze and winced. “Indeed I do, my lord.” His voice was faint. He glanced at the Duke, who was still frowning imperiously at him.

  “Indeed I do,” he said more strongly.

  Faced with the Duke of Bennington, who stated that the girl was his granddaughter, and the Earl of Stonecliff, who clearly intended to keep her for his wife, and the woman herself—a most uncommon beauty with delicate manners and elegance in every line of her bearing, in every nuance of voice and expression, the truth was obvious.

  Vulgar greed had driven Winthrop to lie and vilify his cousin’s wife and, in short, to go to desperate lengths to try to steal away the Stonecliff inheritance.

  And I have almost let him draw me into his plot with this vile tale, Grismore realized in horror. I’ve narrowly escaped a fatal misstep.

  He backed away as if saving himself from a deadly precipice.

  “My lady, kindly accept my deepest apologies for any pain my inquiries may have caused you. I was only trying to do my duty by the late earl, to serve him as best I could—in the same way that I hope to serve you now and in the future, both you and Lord Stonecliff.”

  “Noooooo!” Winthrop, in frustration, snatched up the vase at the edge of Grismore’s desk and flung it across the room. It shattered against the mantel with a crash that echoed through the austere chamber.

  “Latherby!” Mr. Grismore called out, and Lucas Latherby appeared from the anteroom, his gold spectacles glinting upon his nose.

  “Kindly escort Mr. Winthrop from the premises.”

  “You can’t do this, you can’t! It’s a lie....”

  Latherby grasped him by the arm. “Come along.”

  His voice was cool and formal, but Josie saw the gleam of victory in his eyes.

  “Need any help?” Ethan took a step forward.

  “My lord, my lady.” Latherby threw Josie a quick smile full of meaning. “Allow me. Nothing will give me greater pleasure.”

  If she hadn’t been so relieved, Josie might actually have felt sorry for Winthrop as he was dragged, still shouting, from the office.

  Mr. Grismore invited everyone to be seated. With Winthrop’s fading cries still piercing the air, they accepted.

  “Now,” Mr. Grismore said, drawing a shaky breath as he surveyed the impressive assemblage. “Only a few formalities remain—several papers, some signatures, my lord.” He inclined his head apologetically to Josie and bestowed on her his most ingratiating smile. “Forgive me, my lady. You have my word, this will not take long.”

  Josie had waited her entire life to have someone care for her, want her, stand up for her, the way that Ethan, the Duke, and Alicia had just done. Her heart was soaring.

  “It’s quite all right,” she informed the solicitor with a brilliant smile. Ethan’s hand snugly encased hers.

  “I don’t mind the wait.”

  * * *

  Outside on the sun-dappled street, Josie kissed the Duke, and hugged Alicia.

  “But how did you know to come today?”

  Her grandfather smiled approvingly at Ethan. “We received a note from your husband early this morning, alerting us to what was taking place.”

  She threw Ethan an amazed glance. “You never told me....”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up, sweetheart. I didn’t know if the Duke and Miss Denby were otherwise engaged this morning—or if they would be willing to subject themselves to the interview. But I figured it was worth a try, better to have too much ammunition than not enough.”

  Her eyes shone. “It was very good of you to come. I can never thank you enough.”

  “It’s the least we could do, Josie. You are our f-family.”

  “From now on, we
will always be at your side, my dear.” The firmness of the Duke’s tone and the misting over of his eyes brought a lump to Josie’s throat. “Families stand together and look after their own.”

  His keen gaze shifted suddenly to Ethan, tall and strong beside Josie, yet with a shadow of pain flickering across his face at the Duke’s words. They all sensed what Ethan was feeling at this moment.

  His own family had never stood behind him. Even in death, his father had put constraints on him and tried to control him, casting doubts upon his judgment, maturity, and sense of responsibility. That was at the root of this entire humiliating interview, an interview that might not have gone so well had not Josie’s newfound family showed her the kind of support he had never known.

  “Lord Stonecliff, you have brought my granddaughter home to me. And given Alicia here the sister she’s always yearned to find. We are in your debt.”

  “I’m the one in your debt, sir. Your presence here today turned the tide. For that, I can never thank you enough.”

  “I see you’re injured?” The Duke was eyeing the sling.

  “A mere scratch.”

  “Much more than that,” Josie interrupted. “So much has happened since I came to Belgravia yesterday. Ethan saved my life.”

  At their gasps, she tucked her arm through his good one, and nodded. “Yes—won’t you come back to Mayfair for tea and I’ll tell you all about it—and we can become better acquainted,” she finished shyly.

  “Oh, yes, we’d be delighted. We have a great d-deal of catching up to do, don’t we, Grandpapa?”

  “Yes, for far too many years apart.” The Duke glanced at Josie then at Ethan, clearly including him in his words. “But we’re all together now, a family,” he said firmly. “And there is much for which we need to be thankful. We will come to tea, granddaughter,” he told Josie with a smile. “But this getting-acquainted time must be only the start.”

  Riding back to Mayfair in the carriage, with the Duke and Alicia following in their own, Josie leaned her head against Ethan’s shoulder and thought she would die of happiness from the simple loveliness of this moment. She had the most wonderful man right there beside her, and at long last she’d found her family. The interview with Grismore was behind her, and so was the danger and uncertainty of the past.

  And as the carriage pulled to a halt before the town house, Ethan grasped her hand in his. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said softly, reading the emotion welling up in her eyes. His smile shook her to the core of her soul.

  “We’re home.”

  * * *

  It was a perfect morning for a wedding.

  Sunshine bathed the tiny stone church nestled in a grove of shade trees less than ten miles from Stonecliff Park. Inside, its snug interior was bedecked with candles and flowers. A sense of peace clung to the sturdy old walls.

  And the bride, in a gown of palest ivory satin, glowed with a radiance that put the sunshine streaming through the windows to shame.

  Josie heard the vicar’s voice as if from a great distance. “My lord, do you solemnly take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold....”

  To have and to hold. She and Ethan. Forever.

  Happiness rocked Josie’s heart. She was so caught up in emotion that she couldn’t even concentrate on the vicar’s droning voice. All she saw was Ethan, handsome and elegant, smiling down at her, his hair smooth and black as coal, his eyes gleaming beneath those dark, aristocratic brows. She knew that the Duke and Alicia sat in the first pew, smiling, and that Clara and Colonel Hamring were beside them, holding hands—they had been married two weeks earlier. And Ham sat just behind them, stiff and straight in his Sunday-best clothes.

  But after one quick glance at them as she’d floated down the aisle, she hadn’t been able to see anyone but Ethan. Her heart—her husband.

  This time it would be for real.

  The five guests in the church—the only guests invited to this most private of ceremonies—all believed the couple was merely renewing their vows now that they were settled on English soil.

  Only Josie and Ethan knew that this was truly their marriage ceremony—that the first one didn’t count.

  It had been Ethan’s idea, his insistence, to have this ceremony.

  “But Snake is dead,” Josie had pointed out when he’d first told her of his intentions. “No one will ever know that I was already married to him when you and I got married in Abilene—”

  “I’ll know.” He’d tipped her head back and stared fiercely into her eyes. “We’re going to be married by the vicar—officially, legally, finally.”

  So here they were. Suddenly Josie realized that everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to speak those wonderful words.

  “I do,” she said in a clear, loving tone, and then Ethan removed her glove and slipped the ring on her finger.

  For a moment she stared at it. Latherby’s ring had been returned to him after the kidnapping. Since then, until today, she’d worn Ethan’s grandfather’s ring—at his insistence. But now he had given her a ring all her own. It was gold, set with a brilliant sapphire surrounded by a circle of diamonds.

  She’d never thought anyone would give her something so beautiful. Never thought she’d have a fraction of all she now possessed: a family—a grandfather and sister—dear friends, and most of all, a husband who adored her. She’d never thought she’d have such a safe and lovely home, a place she would never, ever have to leave.

  Before the vicar could continue, Josie lifted sparkling eyes to meet Ethan’s gaze. “I know this part. It’s time to kiss the bride,” she murmured, an anticipatory catch in her throat. His answering grin heated her pulse as he pulled her into his arms. With joyous laughter bubbling inside her, Josie spoke so softly, no one else in the church could hear.

  “First tell me, Ethan Savage, how many times in this lifetime do you plan to get married?”

  Ethan’s arms tightened around her, and there was no mistaking the tenderness in his eyes. His mouth slowly descended toward hers.

  “That’s easy, my beautiful little love. Just this once.”

  Read on for an excerpt from Cold Night, Warm Stranger

  Cold Night,Warm Stranger

  He stroked her hair, his fingers winding gently through the vibrant red curls. The warmth and gentleness of the simple touch set off a wave of yearning inside her. His touch was so heartbreakingly gentle for a man of such powerful proportions—and the expression in his eyes was one of such warmth as she had never seen before.

  No one—no one—had ever looked at her in quite that way. Before she knew what she was doing, she moved a step closer to him. “I’m cold. So cold. I just want to be warm.”

  “Then this is your lucky day. You see, there’s three things I’m real good at, angel—shooting a gun, tracking a man—and keeping women warm.”

  She laughed in spite of herself, caught in the spell of hard silver eyes, in the delicious sensation of a strong hand caressing her neck. Then, as he pulled her slowly, gently into his arms, Maura’s knees shook and she swayed. He caught her with one swift movement and scooped her up.

  His eyes were intent on her face as he carried her toward the bed. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  “I’m not,” she whispered, half defiantly.

  But that wasn’t true—her heart was thundering like a train, and her breath felt trapped in her chest. Yet she knew that she didn’t want to leave—not really. She was cold. She wanted to be warm. She was lonely. She wanted to be held. For just one night, this one damned empty, wild, blizzarding night she wanted someone, something...

  His chuckle scraped over her rough as burlap as he lowered her onto the bed.

  “Reckon you won’t need all these clothes, Maura.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” She sat up quickly on the mattress, brushing a stray curl back from her cheek. “Even with that fire”—she nodded toward the lovely golden-red blaze—“it’s going to be awfully cold in here.”

  “Don’
t count on it, darlin’.” Amusement gleamed in his eyes as he gave a tug at the tie that fastened her robe. When its folds parted and she gasped, he gave a sudden sharp laugh as he saw the red and black flannel nightshirt covering her body, the navy blue woolen long johns encasing her legs, the brown socks hiding even her feet.

  “I see you like a man to work for his pleasure.” He grinned. “Never figured you’d be so full of surprises.”

  “More than you know,” Maura muttered a bit breathlessly, thinking dazedly of her virginity, of her own recklessness at being here, at letting things progress so far. She ought to warn him—no, she ought to stop him—but before she could say a word, he pushed her back against the pillows with a strength that shocked her, straddled her in one easy move, and with a dark grin that curled her toes, he began to peel off everything that stood in the way of what he wanted.

  “Wait—wait just a minute!” Maura pushed his hands away as he began to sweep her nightshirt over her head. She tugged it back down. “I never said I would let you...”

  “You never said you wouldn’t.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to say anything!” Breathing hard, she knew she had to decide: stay or go. Yes or no.

  Once and for all.

  “Well?” he growled. “What do you want to say?”

  Maura had no idea. She simply stared at him, trying to think, trying to keep her mind on the decision before her, when he looked so ruggedly handsome, all she could think about was how she’d like to comb her fingers through his black hair, or touch that dark stubble along his jaw, or... kiss him.

  “Time’s up,” he announced suddenly, and with one movement swept the nightshirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. Her hair cascaded down, bright as the flames of the fire, to swirl around her shoulders, and her golden-brown eyes went wide with shock.

  Now she wore only her thin white camisole above the long johns and coarse brown socks. She was practically naked.