Good Earls Don't Lie

by Michelle Willingham

  And all the while, Rose continued to search for a sign of her mother’s carriage, hoping they would find her before she came to any harm.

  It was late afternoon when they reached the water’s edge. Rose leaned closer to Iain, feeling exhausted and afraid.

  “Whatever happens, do not leave my side,” he warned.

  She raised a handkerchief to her nose, trying to blot out the harsh odors. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  They continued down the narrow street, and she saw men and women huddled together. One woman held a child’s hand, and she eyed Rose with interest. One by one, she saw more people beginning to follow them.

  “Iain,” she murmured, nodding toward the gathering crowd. “We need to find her quickly.”

  His expression grew wary, and he cursed in Gaelic beneath his breath. “I know it.”

  For the next few minutes, she gripped his hand while they rode through the streets. Her spine prickled with unease, and she wished Iain had a weapon to defend himself. As it was, he had only his fists.

  Right now, his demeanor was nothing like an English gentleman. Upon his face was the hard stare of a man who would kill any man who dared to harm her. She saw the outline of his muscles as his hands gripped the reins, his eyes searching the crowd.

  “There.” He nodded toward the far end of the docks, where the figure of an older woman stood near one of the ships. Men were busy unloading a cargo of tea and spices, and the woman continued to stare at the water as if she didn’t see them. Her bonnet was untied, and she was gripping her hands.

  But before they could reach her, someone grabbed Rose by the arm. She gasped, and caught the glint of a knife. Iain shoved her back, just as the man slashed it downward.

  He dodged the blade, but another man pulled her from the carriage while Iain was distracted by his assailant.

  Rose fought hard, screaming and struggling to escape. She jabbed her elbow against the man, and he dropped her onto the cobblestone street. Her hands broke her fall, but her legs tangled up in her skirts. On the opposite side, she saw Iain fighting against three more opponents.

  “Rose!” he called out.

  “I’m all right.” She tried to get up, but her knees buckled beneath her. Fear overwhelmed her, and when the man seized her again, she reacted out of instinct and slammed her fists into him. He let out a howl, and she realized she’d struck him between his legs.

  I won’t be weak. And I won’t let anyone harm the ones I love.

  Despite her lack of strength, she was enraged that these men would dare to attack them. She refused to remain on the ground, useless. She started to get onto her hands and knees and spied the riding crop upon the stones. The moment she touched it, she felt resolution rising within her. Iain had once predicted that she wasn’t strong enough to survive a rougher life in Ireland—but he was wrong.

  She could cast aside a lady’s manners and defend herself when needed. She would stand tall and fight alongside the man she loved.

  Rose got to her feet and when someone else tried to grab her, she sliced the riding crop against his face. Before he could reach for her wrist, Iain seized the man and tossed him to the ground. “Are you all right, a ghrá?”

  She nodded. Blood stained his white shirt, and his sleeve was torn. The look in his eyes was wild, and before she could say another word, he shoved her behind him while he dropped into a fighting stance. Iain moved like a wolf when he fought. His fists crunched against a man’s face, then he punched another opponent in the ribs. Several larger men tried to attack him, but when Iain held up a knife covered in blood, the crowd scattered.

  “Anyone else?” he demanded.

  Rose went to stand beside him, the crop in her hand. She felt as if her gentility had been stripped away and in its place was pure survival. If anyone dared to harm them, she would fight alongside Iain.

  “Let’s go and get Mother,” she murmured.

  After that, the crowd dispersed. Iain helped her back into the carriage. Then they drove the carriage over toward the dock, where Iris was wandering. Iain pulled the vehicle to a stop, and helped Rose disembark.

  Her mother was pacing back and forth, and when Rose touched her arm, Iris let out a shriek. Then recognition slid over her face, followed by confusion. “Rose, what are you doing in a place like this? You shouldn’t be here.” Her mother’s hands were ice cold, and she was trembling.

  Rose exchanged a look with Iain, who removed his coat and put it around Iris’s shoulders. They guided her back to the carriage, and Rose said, “Come, Mother. We need to go home.”

  “But James’s ship. It’s here, don’t you see?” Iris pointed toward a Blackwall frigate, which was swaying in the evening twilight. Three tall masts rose from the ship, and the sails were tied down. “I need to know if my son is all right.”

  Rose held her mother’s hand and waited a moment. “If James was on board, he’s not anymore, Mother. All the passengers must have left hours ago. He might be waiting for us at home, even now.”

  But her mother would not be dissuaded. “I thought I heard his voice, Rose. I’ve been waiting for him. Won’t you ask and see if he’s there?” Agitation and worry edged her tone.

  Iain glanced at both of them, and Rose shook her head. The risk was too grave. “Not just now, Mother.”

  Before they could help her into the carriage, Iris broke free and hurried toward the ship. Rose was about to follow, but Iain caught her hand. “Wait.”

  There, on board the ship, stood her brother. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved or cut his hair in months, but Iris was laughing and weeping as she embraced him.

  “He’s alive.” Rose could hardly believe it. James looked as if he’d been to the ends of the earth, but seeing him here made her throat constrict with happiness. An invisible burden of worry lifted from her shoulders, and Iain helped her up the gangplank.

  Her brother embraced her, and after a good hug, Rose pulled back, wrinkling her nose. “James, I do love you, but you need a bath.”

  “I am so thankful you are home,” Iris murmured.

  Her brother’s gaze passed over to Iain, and he offered a questioning look. Rose smiled and said, “James, this is Iain Donovan, the Earl of Ashton. The man I am going to marry.”

  Hours later, Rose felt as if her life had been upended and scattered like marbles rolling across the floor. James was home now, but only after he’d delivered Matthew Larkspur, Lord Arnsbury, back to his own residence. It wasn’t clear what had happened to his best friend, but Rose had caught whispers of imprisonment and torture. James had made her swear not to tell Lily.

  “I don’t want her to intrude upon his reunion with his family. She needs to let him acclimate to being home again. He’s not the same man she remembers.” James’s tone held weariness, and he sent a kindly smile to their mother, who was still holding his hand.

  “She’ll go to him, no matter what you say.”

  Her brother shrugged. “Not until the morning. Grant the man a night of sleeping in his own bed.” He eyed Iain. “Just as you should go to your own bed. And not my sister’s.”

  “Do not act like a beast, James.” She didn’t like his insinuation.

  In answer, Iain took Rose’s fingers in his, rubbing them lightly. “In due time, a chara.”

  The sensation sent an unexpected ripple of warmth within her. She stood from her chair and was startled when her knees swayed.

  Iain caught her and held her steady. “I can see myself out, Rose.”

  She knew she should say yes. But there was still blood upon his shirt, and his lip had swollen up from where he’d been struck at the docks. She felt the need to tend his wounds and delay his departure a little longer.

  She took his arm as they left the drawing room. Iain started to walk down the hallway, but she redirected his path to the servants’ staircase. His face turned questioning, but she guided him to follow her up the narrow stairs until they reached an empty room. It held a small basin, and she brought him inside.
r />   “Sit down, and let me wash away the blood,” she bade him.

  “This isn’t wise, Rose.” Even so, he obeyed and sat upon the wooden stool.

  She knew that. But she poured water into the basin and pulled out a handkerchief, soaking it. She touched it to the dried blood on his face, wishing she could wipe away the pain as easily. “You were hurt this afternoon.”

  His expression was rigid, and she tried to be gentle. Then she leaned down and touched her mouth to his in a soft kiss.

  “I would never let any man hurt you, Rose. I would die first.”

  “I know. And that is why I am going back to Ireland with you.” She stroked his hair, and he pulled her onto his lap. “When that man pulled me out of the carriage—”

  “—I was going to kill him,” Iain finished.

  She touched his mouth with her finger. “No. What I meant was that I realized something about myself. When I saw those men fighting you, I wanted to tear them to pieces.” She smiled at the incongruity of it all. “I will be fine in Ireland, despite all the hardships. Because it means I will see you each day. No matter what happens, I will love you. And I am strong enough to face anything, so long as I am with you.”

  “My rose has thorns when she needs them.” He kissed her gently and traced the edge of her cheek. “I will be glad to make you my wife, a ghrá. And I promise that I will work myself to the bone, to give you everything you want.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Iain, you needn’t bother. For everything I want is right here.”

  Ireland

  One month later

  “Rose, you look beautiful,” Lily proclaimed. Her sister bent down and smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the ivory gown. Lady Ashton had loaned Rose a long veil made of Irish lace. The woman had been quiet and pensive ever since she had returned to Ashton.

  Honestly, Rose was surprised she had come, but perhaps it was because her daughters had insisted. There was a truce between them—likely because Lady Ashton knew that Rose’s connections in London were stronger than her own. Both her mother and grandmother had already begun introducing her daughters to wealthy gentlemen, and Moira had accepted the help.

  Both Sybil and Colleen had thought the wedding should be a grand affair, but Rose simply wanted the people to have a feast and a reason to celebrate.

  There was no doubt that Ashton lay in ruins, and the people were starving. Never in her life had she witnessed such hardships. But the tenants had welcomed her, so grateful for the food and supplies donated by the Sinclair family and those she and Iain had purchased with her dowry. When the news had spread among their neighbors, more than a hundred people returned.

  “It’s almost time for the wedding,” Lily interrupted. “Are you ready?” They had decided to hold the ceremony outside, so all the tenants could witness their union.

  She nodded. But then, Lady Ashton spoke up. “May I speak with you a moment?” The woman’s expression held wariness, as if she was uncertain whether Rose would agree.

  “Of course.” She nodded for her sister and mother to go on without her.

  The door closed behind them, and Rose waited for Moira to begin. The woman’s face was flushed, and it seemed that she didn’t know how to start. She wore a gown of deep mauve, and her dark hair was pulled into a knot. There were no jewels, for she had sold most of them to pay for her daughters’ Season. But even so, she was a beautiful woman.

  Rose smiled at her and touched the long veil. “I wanted to thank you for this veil. It’s exquisite.”

  Lady Ashton’s troubled look did not diminish. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

  Rose reached out a hand to her. “I am very glad to wear something that belonged to Iain’s family.” Although Moira had appeared uneasy about the wedding, the gesture was a welcome peace offering. Rose felt certain that in time, she could build a good relationship with her mother-in-law.

  The matron lowered her gaze but took her hand. Rose squeezed the cold fingers and added, “I know that you have suffered a great deal, and nothing I say can ever change it. But I hope that you will find a way to live in peace with Iain and leave the past behind.”

  Moira appeared worried. “I don’t know if I can. Not after all that’s happened.”

  “Go to him,” Rose said softly. “He will want to see you.”

  “I’m not so very sure about that.”

  “He will forgive you,” she insisted. “You have time to make it right. Go now, before the wedding.”

  Rose didn’t know what had caused the woman to have a change of heart, but there was regret in Lady Ashton’s demeanor. And whether or not Iain was born from the earl or another man, she strongly believed they could begin again. On impulse, she hugged the woman.

  And Lady Ashton offered a tentative smile.

  Iain could not have been more surprised to see Lady Ashton at his door. “Have you come to stop the wedding, then?” His words were half-teasing, but the sadness in her eyes caught him unawares.

  When she shook her head, he added, “Then why have you come?”

  His mother was holding something behind her back, and eventually, she withdrew it. Iain saw that it was a small oil painting of a man and his wife.

  “When I went into the attic to find the veil for Rose, I discovered this painting,” she began. “This is your great-grandfather, the third Earl of Ashton.”

  He wasn’t certain what to make of it, but then the weight of her words struck him. She’d said it was his great-grandfather.

  “He had green eyes,” Moira whispered. “You can see it for yourself.”

  Iain accepted the portrait, and when he took a closer look at the man, his blood ran cold. It was like looking into a mirror. There was no doubt at all that he was a blood relation to this man. He set down the portrait, and the hair stood up on his arms.

  Moira spoke first. “You have to understand how broken I was after I was violated by a man who was not my husband. And because Aidan sought revenge, he died. I found myself with a living reminder of that night.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Every time I looked at you, I could only think of the violence. I couldn’t see that you were a gift that Aidan left to me, so I wouldn’t be alone.”

  Moira turned away, her shoulders slumped forward. He couldn’t answer her, though he knew what she was saying. She finished with, “There is nothing I can say to undo the years I mistreated you. I neglected the only son remaining to me. The last piece of my husband, because I was too blind to see the truth.”

  For a time, he was frozen, not knowing how to respond. He was the Earl of Ashton in truth. By blood and by birthright.

  “I will leave, if you ask it of me,” she whispered. “I deserve to be cast out for what I did.”

  A part of him wanted to lash out at her, for the years she’d made him feel like a shadow worth nothing at all. But what good would it do? She had aged into a fragile shell of a woman who had based her life upon misery and bitterness.

  He had Rose now, the woman he loved more than life itself. He had brought her here to help him rebuild Ashton . . . but perhaps she could help him rebuild more than the estate.

  With a heavy sigh, he placed his hand upon his mother’s shoulder. “Will you walk with me when I meet my bride?”

  Moira took his hand and pressed it to her forehead. Against his fingers, he felt the wetness of her tears. “I will, yes. Thank you.”

  It would take time to let go of the past. But it would begin with a single step.

  The wedding ceremony was a blur, and Rose could hardly remember anything that was said. She could only look into Iain’s green eyes, feeling as if her heart would burst from happiness. When he kissed her, the crowd erupted into cheers. Bagpipes sounded in a merry tune, and Iain lifted her up, turning her in a slow circle so she could see the revelers.

  “I’m so happy,” she murmured, as he let her slide down his body. The crowd parted, and he kept their pace slow as they walked toward the elaborate feast that w
as waiting.

  “’Tis a good thing we have men guarding the food,” Iain admitted. “Else there would be a mad rush toward the tables.”

  “What will we do when the food is gone?” she asked.

  “I have been thinking,” he said. “Our family owns property in Wales that has land for farming. I may send half of our tenants to farm the land and then bring them back with the harvest, until our own crops improve. I will pay for the ship’s passage with a portion of the harvest.”

  It was a good plan, and she believed it would help all of them. “The tenants can return for the winter and stay in their homes.”

  “Aye.” He leaned down and kissed her again when they reached the long table with seats prepared for them. “But I’m not thinking of the tenants just now. I’m thinking of how I’ll steal you away during the céilí.” He whispered of how he would carry her off during the dancing.

  She sent him a soft smile. “Do we have to wait that long? I was rather hoping my pirate husband would abduct me right now.”

  He laughed and pulled out her chair, seating her on it. “Soon, a ghrá.”

  In the end, they stayed until nightfall. So many of the guests came forward to offer their thanks, it was impossible to slip away. Finally, Iain brought Rose down to join in the dancing. He took both of her hands in his, while the others circled around them. It overwhelmed him to think that this woman would now share a life with them. Even Lady Penford had joined in the dancing and was laughing when a large Irishman picked her up by the waist and swung her in a circle.

  “Are you ready, a chroí?” he asked.

  She squeezed his hands in silent answer. With that, he lifted her into his arms and strode toward the edge of the circle. Laughing, the men and women let them through, while they continued the celebration.

  “I’ve a gift for you, Rose,” he said quietly, when they reached the front door at Ashton.

  She sent him a curious look, and asked, “Does it have anything to do with the stone walls they’ve built over the past fortnight?”