Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (29 page)

“Yes, last night’s escapades made that quite clear.” James’s
gaze drifted over her head studying something behind her.

The sheriff appeared, a half-eaten scone clutched in his
hand, a napkin still tucked in his collar. “Thought that was you racing down
the drive at a full gallop, my lord. What’s your hurry? Running from something?
Murder perhaps?”

“I wanted to grab some of Cook’s fresh scones before they
were all gone. I see you beat me to them. I don’t believe we’ve met?” James
held his hand out to the other man.

“Sherriff Carter,” he said and switched his scone to the
other hand, wiping his palm on his thigh before shaking hands with James. “So I
guess it’s you I’m arresting and Blackmore that’s being buried.” The sheriff
took another bite of his scone, apparently untroubled by the idea.

James shrugged, showing no signs of guilt, or even remorse.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, it seems you’re the only one in the  county who
doesn’t. There is a disappointed crowd at The Crossroads Inn. They decided to
pass the morning drinking instead of watching two fools shoot each other.”

“I’ve been riding since dawn. As for Lord Blackmore, I’m
sure he’s nursing a hangover.”

“And perhaps he’s nursing a pistol wound along with that
hangover. I’ll be riding over there to check and then I’ll be back. Did you
happen to see anyone who could verify your story?”

“Reverend Fitzgerald. He’s marrying Lady Keane and I
today.”

The sheriff turned to Astra, his gaze wide. “She failed to
mention that fact when she dragged me out of a cozy bed this morning. Is this
true, Lady Keane?”

She glanced at James and his warning gaze almost made her
unable to speak. “Well, I didn’t want a crowd at the church.”

Sherriff Carter looked from James to Astra. “If all’s as
you say, then that will be the end of it. For future reference my lord, dueling
is illegal in England. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. If you will
excuse me, the cook just brought out some apple smoked ham.” He bowed and
returned to the dining room off the main hall.

“I’m starving, but I suppose we have a few things to
discuss first.” He glanced longingly  at the direction the sheriff took, then
directed her to his study.

Astra led the way, not sure what to make of James’s casual
manner. Once in the study, he closed the door behind him and came around and
sat at his desk, putting the large black-lacquered barrier between them.

“You don’t have to marry me,” she blurted, too nervous to
take a seat.

“And look like a bigger ass than I already appear. I don’t
think so.”

Astra forced herself to sit. “Why marry today? Did you
talk to Fitzgerald or was that a ruse? Lord Blackmore is alive, is he not?”

“How kind of you to ask. I would say he’s well, but since
you’ve met the man, you know that’s not the case. I can say, however, that at
the moment he’s intact in body, if not spirit. We both missed.” James clasped
his fingers and rested his chin on his knuckles. His direct blue gaze asked for
something, but, what she couldn’t imagine.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m almost sure you would not
believe me.”

“Unfortunately, I want to.” For a moment, James dropped
his placid expression and dragged his fingers through his hair. He had deep
circles under his eyes and hollows under his stubbled cheek. “But I’d be a fool
to do so. Your record with men doesn’t serve you well.”

“I’m well aware of that and in no need of a reminder.” Astra
clamped her lips, not wanting to cry. She forced a shaky breath. “Is there
nothing I can do, or say?”

James stood and came around the desk. Astra hoped beyond
reason for some softening in him, praying that he would take her in his arms
and make everything all right.

“You can pull yourself together and act like you’re happy
about the nuptials. No doubt we will have quite an audience.” He sat on the
edge of the desk, studying her as if he suspected her theatrics false.

“Why today, James? How did you persuade Reverend
Fitzgerald to agree to it?”

“That was quite easy. He was thrilled. Even rode out to
have the bishop sign the special license. It seems the young reverend’s rather
fond of your friend Ivy Templeton. Did you forget about her? She would have
suffered far worse than anyone because of my very public argument with
Blackmore.”

Astra wiped the tears from her puffy eyes and dabbed her
runny nose with a delicate lace-edged handkerchief, a ridiculous choice
considering the circumstances.

“Ivy understands. People are cruel.” Astra sniffed, hoping
James took a hint from her last statement. His calm seemed rather cruel. At
least if he yelled at her, she might be able to explain herself.

“Perhaps, but she won’t suffer because of my actions. Fitzgerald,
and no doubt our hungry sheriff, will spread the word that the argument with
Blackmore was a misunderstanding. I’ve been smitten with you, you see. Last
night forced my hand. I was jealous and finally confessed my feelings to you.
And to my vast surprise, you returned my affection.” James pressed his hand
over his heart and made a mocking face that redefined the word callous. “I
couldn’t contain my joy and asked you to marry me on the spot.”

Astra stared into her drenched handkerchief, fighting to
contain her heartache. How could he be so smug and amused by something that was
tearing her apart?

“I do love you, James,” she whispered.

He stood and walked away, leaving no doubt that he
dismissed her confession as not worth addressing.

“Anyone who heard last night’s fiasco—and I’m sure many
did thanks to your wailing daughter and shrill mother—will understand how a
newly engaged couple living under the same roof could no longer contain their
smoldering passion. And being Godly and all that, we decided we must marry
immediately. Everyone is happy and Ivy is exonerated.” He paced the room, his
agitation finally creeping into his voice.

“Except for you. You’re not happy.”

James paused at the window, braced his hand on the frame
and stared out at the lawn. “I hope I can be.”

Astra blinked, his words more than she expected. “What can
I do? What do you want from me?”

He turned and leaned on the wall, several feet away from
her. His tired eyes glistened with intense emotion, though his expression was
stoic. “Never lie to me again.”

“I did not. I—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “You kept the truth about
Lark’s father from me for far too long.”

She bowed her head unable to tell him that Lark’s welfare,
protecting her reputation, was more important than Astra’s own happiness. She
would do anything—but James already knew that. Even trapping a man into
marrying her was fair game when it came to securing Lark’s future. She closed
her eyes and nodded.

“Don’t push me. Don’t expect anything from me.” He shoved
away from the window and settled behind his desk. “I’m going to need some time
to put things in perspective. I was blindsided last night and feel the fool
twice over for not seeing it coming.”

“Do you care for me still, at all?”

His gaze turned cold and hard. “Don’t ask me to reveal
myself to you. I’ve done that enough already.” He rubbed his temples. “I have a
splitting headache. I need to eat.”

Astra stood. “I shall bring you a plate”

“Don’t.” His words were harsh. “I don’t want you to
grovel.”

“Then what do you want, James? I
am
sorry. I know
you don’t want to hear it, but I am. I had no idea my mother would stoop to
this kind of deplorable manipulation. But I should have, shouldn’t I? But to
use Lark” Astra shook her head, suddenly deflated by her outburst and sheer
exhaustion. “I should have known, though. I did not reveal our affair to my
mother. That she hadn’t continued in her campaign to have me seduce you should
have warned me that she already knew.”

James bowed his head. “Don’t ask for my forgiveness right
now. I’m too confused. Too tired. I don’t want to say all is well in this
moment, when I can’t be sure of it. Or my feelings.”

“As always, thank you for your honesty, James.” She
sniffed, and wiped her dry, swollen eyes for good measure though she suspected
she would not cry again for a very long time. She had no tears left. “Our
guests will be up soon and I need to wash my face before I must face them.”

James followed her to the door. “Invite them all to stay
and celebrate tonight. We are to meet Fitzgerald at the church in a few hours.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He paused at a side table, poured a brandy and slugged it
back. “I’m quite serious.” He motioned to her with the glass. “Care for one to
get your strength up?”

Astra clutched her stomach, eager to leave the room and
either lie down or throw up. “No, thank you. I thought you would be the last
person to want our guests to stay any longer than necessary.”

“That’s why I intend to let everyone know that this is a
love match and I’m eager to spend some time alone with my wife. No one will
have the nerve to stay past tomorrow. The bigger we make this, the quicker talk
will die down. There will be nothing further to talk about.”

“You are a quick study.” She watched him, strong and
confident in his tailored riding suit. The dark blue coat stretched across his
broad shoulders as he poured the brandy in his glass with more force than
necessary.

James tossed back the liquid in one gulp. “Not quick
enough.”

Astra turned to go, almost feeling as if she were his partner
in a lavish charade, but again he reminded her she was merely the villainess in
a sordid drama. “I must check on Lark. She was sleeping when I woke and I want
to make sure she’s calmed down.”

“Don’t look so sad when you tell her the good news.” James
straightened and tugged on his wrinkled waistcoat. “And now, for the
performance of my life. Luckily, you’ve taught me well.”

James held open the door. Astra stepped out of the study
and practically stumbled upon a crowd of guests returning from an early morning
ride, or more likely, a foiled dawn duel.

“Lord Keane, we heard the news. Bravo. You swooped up the
beautiful widow before any of us got a chance at her.”

James grabbed the offered hand of a tall man whom Astra
recognized, but at the moment was at a loss to name. “Couldn’t risk a handsome
fellow like yourself stealing away the woman that I love. I couldn’t afford to
wait another minute to ask Lady Keane to be my wife.” James grabbed Astra’s
hand and kissed it.

Astra almost choked in an effort to find her voice.
“Excuse me. This is all so overwhelming and I must find a gown to wear to my
wedding.” Thankfully the party was entirely male and dismissed her with warm
wishes, understanding the importance of a woman’s wedding day. They probably
all thought she was distraught because she did not have time to order a new
gown. Someone called for champagne and the men jostled a smiling James along to
find food and libation.

Astra trudged up Eastlan’s grand staircase, her heart as
heavy as her pounding head. Yes, she had taught James well. Too well. She would
gladly trade her sophisticated, polished husband-to-be for the brash colonial
who wore his feelings on his sleeve.

Astra turned away from the cracked mirror that hung in the
church’s vestibule. The lavender gown she painstakingly chose for her wedding
dress brought out the purple circles under her eyes and tinted her white pallor
an unattractive shade of pale green. Astra shoved away her last thought before
another round of perspiration sprouted on her upper lip.

“Astra, I understand you are nervous but you must calm
yourself. Your powder is turning to cake.” Her mother approached Astra armed
with a freshly dusted puff. Astra crossed the room to escape the assault.

“Enough powder. Nothing is going to disguise the fact that
I have not slept since the night before last.” Or the fact she had been
throwing up for the last hour.

“Some rouge then,” her mother returned the puff to the
array of beauty aids she had strewn across a rough wood bench, her make-shift
dressing table. “You are entirely too pale.”

“Of course I’m pale. James hates me thanks to your
meddling,” snapped Astra. Her mother’s irritating good cheer broke through
Astra’s numb state.

“He certainly does not hate you,” Lady Phillina said from
a worn leather chair that must have been passed down through generations of
rectors. “I think our James is happy to do the right thing by you, dear. He has
been celebrating all morning with the guests. I’ve never seen him so jovial.”

Or drunk. Astra rested her forehead in her palm. Why she
bothered to wear the dress James had admired all those weeks ago was beyond her.
She’d be lucky if he could even stand for the ceremony.

“I agree with Lady Phillina, Astra.” Her mother gently
patted Astra’s shoulder. “If he hated the idea, he wouldn’t have insisted on
having the wedding today. Even I was shocked by his enthusiasm.”

“He doesn’t want to put off the inevitable, no matter how
painful.” Astra turned, now  grateful for the small comfort of her mother’s
touch.

Her mother surprised her with a handful of creamy rouge
she smeared across Astra’s cheek with her free hand. “If he thought it painful
I doubt he would have insisted that Lark attend. She is so excited to walk down
the aisle with her bouquet of flowers.”

Astra strode to the mirror, forced to look into her
guilt-ridden eyes once more. She did her best to tame the red streaks across
her cheeks. She kept her gaze above the modest neckline of her simple lavender
gown. If she had any sense of justice, she would wear the low-cut green
confection she had worn the night before, or better yet, borrow another gown
from Ivy. A blood red one this time to suit the occasion.