The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery L.C. Sharp (i read books .TXT) 📖

Juliana stood up and checked her appearance in the mirror. After smoothing a bit of stray hair back under her cap, she decided she was tidy enough. She wore no powder on her hair or face, and she wore a practical green gown with a closed front, with small hoops. Her mother would not approve. Amelia offered to accompany her, but she shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I won’t subject you to my mother’s disapproval.”

Amelia’s offer meant more to her than her mother’s opinion. In fact, she cared nothing for her mother’s opinion anymore.

On the way to the drawing room, Baynon informed her, “Sir Edmund left strict instructions that you were not to leave the house, should company arrive. Not even to walk in the garden alone.”

She knew why. They could try to abduct her, to spirit her out of the country. That way she would avoid justice, but she’d be a felon all her life.

Nervously she smoothed her skirts, then, head high, went to the drawing room.

She faltered in the doorway before she lowered her gaze and performed the usual obeisances. When her parents sat, Juliana remained standing, as was her wont.

Her mother appeared the same as ever, her stiffly formal gown in dark red requiring that she occupy the sofa on her own. Her father was also formally attired, not a hair out of place on his gray-powdered wig, his features impassive as he received her greeting.

“We have caught you in undress,” her mother said.

About to beg her mother’s forgiveness for appearing before her inappropriately dressed, Juliana realized how carefully her mother dropped those little criticisms. She would play that game no longer. “This is perfectly acceptable day wear, ma’am.”

The countess’s eyes widened fractionally, but her carefully made-up face allowed for no expressions. If she smiled, she’d crack the maquillage. “The style makes you appear plain.”

This the reproach and the needling intended to undermine her confidence. Only now, after spending time away from her mother did Juliana see how her mother had manipulated her, chipped away at her confidence. “Different,” she suggested.

“You are being properly chaperoned?” was her mother’s next question.

“Yes, ma’am. I share a bed with Sir Edmund’s oldest sister, for propriety’s sake. He is required to remain here by the terms of the agreement with Magistrate Fielding.”

“I see,” her mother said. “Well, we will take over now. I am home, over my shock, although I remain permanently distressed by your actions.”

“By order of the court, I must stay here,” Juliana said, refusing to be riled.

“We will obtain your release from Fielding,” her father added.

As if he ruled the world. “He will not allow it. The magistrates are concerned that you will send me abroad,” she reminded him. “Sir.”

“Pah!” Her father snapped his fingers. “You think I care for their concerns? If I wish to have you moved to France or Italy, I will do so. However, we will wait to discover if you carry a child. I have spent a week convincing the Crown Office that your child should hold the title in due course. I want him born an Englishman.”

Her father’s words tore her in two. What kind of life would she give her son, should she have one, as a disgraced woman with a bare income? Whereas, if she let him go to her parents, he would have a title at the most and a comfortable fortune at the least, her father’s unentailed property.

Could she deny him that? But could she send any child to be reared as she’d been?

And what if she had a girl? Would she dare even think about that?

Once they had their heir, they would not care. She did not fool herself with the thought that her parents had ever cared about her. She had no illusions anymore.

But much though she would hate to do it, she had a bargaining counter in her potential child. “I will not be traveling abroad,” she said firmly. “And if I have a child, I will decide its future.”

“You would have us cut you off without a penny?” her mother asked silkily.

She absorbed the threat like a blow, and gave one of her own in return. “If you do so, I’ll make sure that everyone in London knows of it. If you leave me destitute, I will...” Inspiration came to her. “I will offer myself for sale. After all, that is what you did, did you not? How would you feel if your daughter became queen of the demimonde? That would curtail your visits to Covent Garden, would it not, Papa?”

She hit her mark. Her father paled, then reddened.

Behind her, the door opened without warning. Juliana did not have to look around to know that Ash had entered. She sensed him, in the tightening of the atmosphere.

She turned to see him. He was not happy. When he bowed, Juliana opened her mouth to perform the elaborate introduction that her mother expected. But Ash cut her off, holding his hand up. “You know I am Ashendon,” he said. “I see no need for ritual.” While the countess spluttered, he turned his attention to Juliana. “Why are you standing?”

Drawing up a chair, he bade her sit, then found one for himself. “Tea will be served directly. Did you come to ensure your daughter’s welfare?”

Her father had time to calm down. Just as well, considering his health.

“We know she is alive,” the countess said. “That is better than she deserves.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “You came to discover if she is expecting your grandchild.”

Frost settled over her parents. Her father said, “And to bring her home.”

“They know I cannot come,” Juliana said.

A ghost smile flickered over his lips. “Indeed. Then I need not repeat it.”

A fraught silence followed.

Ash leaned back, resting his hand on the arm of his chair. “I expected you to call, and to make demands we cannot meet. I do not have anything in particular to report to you.”

“I cannot bear the idea of