Malia Martin (34 page)

“But, I will let you decide if you want to take that course.” Leighton casually slid the fingers of his right hand into the small pocket of his waistcoat. Then he pulled them out and clasped his hands before him. It was the first time Prudence had ever seen the viscount appear uncomfortable.

“My grandfather had a locked box buried in his garden. I found it one day when I was about ten.” Leighton smiled slightly. “I was playing pirates and digging for buried treasure. Anyway, I tried to open it at the time, but it was rusted shut. My grandfather found me, of course. Gave me a whipping and took the box away.”

“You have been playing pirates again, my lord?” Pru asked, though her throat had gone so dry, it was a wonder any words came out at all.

He nodded and pulled a thin packet from the inside of his jacket. “My grandfather is not just a Bedlamite, but the most evil man on earth, I think. These are legal papers proving the annulment of the marriage of Albert Von Schubert to Sarah Elizabeth Ashley. I did not find the original marriage papers, but this obviously proves they were married.”

“Annulment?” Prudence felt as if her brain had quit working completely. She could not seem to understand what everything meant.

“From what I knew, what you found out, these papers and some discreet questioning of my grandfather’s staff, I have pieced together a sad story. Suffice it to say, Ashley was conceived in wedlock, most definitely, but my grandfather had the marriage annulled after Ashley’s father died so that Ashley was born a bastard.”

“How? That isn’t legal, surely.”

“We are part German, Mrs. Ashley, distant relatives of the king of England. Wimsley can do anything he pleases.”

“Oh.”

Quiet filled the room then. Poor Leighton looked absolutely deflated. The strutting peacock had turned into a sad little pigeon. “It made me physically ill when I realized the extent of Grandfather’s maliciousness.” Leighton shook his head. “I’ve always known, of course, that he is really horrible, but …”

Pru just nodded. She knew, of course, that this information could make her free of Wimsley. With something this horrid hanging over his head, she could demand that he let Gravesly out of their contract.

But then she would have to wait for Wimsley’s death to tell James the truth. And probably, then, James would never speak to her again for keeping such a thing from him.

“Do you want to tell him, or shall I?” she asked.

Leighton closed his eyes and leaned against the wall as if his legs would no longer support him. “I am so very glad you have decided to tell him.”

“By him, I am assuming you mean me?”

Pru jumped, clenching her hands in her skirt.

Leighton glanced up and straightened away from the wall. “Ashley, we meet again.”

“Always a pleasure, Leighton,” James said, ice dripping from his words. Still, he came forward to shake the viscount’s proffered hand. Her husband topped Leighton by a good foot, and his hand was large and brown against Leighton’s slight white one.

Prudence felt a surge of pure lust as she watched her beautiful husband greet their guest. Neither the time, nor the place, but she just could not help herself.

Hadn’t that been her problem from their first meeting? She did not know whether to cry or laugh at the thought.

Pru rubbed at her temples, then realized that Leighton was staring at her pointedly.

“Go ahead,” she said.

Leighton nodded as Ashley glanced between the two of them, and then the viscount handed over the leather packet to her husband. “I want to apologize for the way my grandfather treated your mother, Captain,” Leighton said softly.

James stood very still, staring down at Leighton’s offering. “Excuse me?” he said.

“These are annulment papers, Captain, dissolving the marriage of Albert James Von Schubert and Sarah Elizabeth Ashley.”

Pru could not see James, but she heard the hitch in his breathing. She wanted to jump up and hold him, but she waited to see what he would do.

“Von Schubert?”

“My uncle,” Leighton said. “Albert is … was the earl of Wimsley’s younger son. About thirty-four years ago, he was in the army stationed in India. He married a woman there, your mother, and returned home, but died during the passage.”

James slowly extracted the leather packet from Leighton’s grasp.

“I have pieced together this story, and I am not sure on some points. It seems, though, that your maternal grandfather did not approve of the match. They married secretly and left India without telling anyone. On this point, I have not been able to figure out exactly what the problem was, but Wimsley’s maid told your wife that the earl had quite a fit when he found out exactly who your mother was. I can only surmise that for some reason my grandfather and your maternal grandfather were quite strong enemies.”

James glanced at Pru, his gray eyes the color of dark rain clouds.

She knew she had to tell him the whole truth. “Wimsley is the London backer of Gravesly’s smuggling ring. Leighton thought we could find something scandalous to blackmail him with so that Gravesly would be let out of the contract with the earl.”

James just nodded.

“When your mother reached England, widowed and with child, my … our grandfather did the unthinkable.” Leighton looked down at the floor. “He had the marriage annulled.”

Pru wanted to cry for Sarah Elizabeth Ashley.

“I realize that you do not trust me after our experience in India together,” Leighton said.

“What experience?” Pru asked.

“Nothing,” both men said together.

Pru frowned, but Leighton continued. “I want to assure you, though, that Wimsley is no longer as influential as he once was, and his mind is not as sharp. I, on the other hand, command loyalties from people in high places.” He took a step toward James, and said in a softer tone, “I will respect your wishes entirely. If you wish to fight this annulment in court, I will help. If you want to keep this whole thing quiet, I will do that as well. It is only fair that you make this decision now, since that right was so unfairly taken from your mother.”

James just nodded.

And Pru began to cry. It surprised her, really; she had been trembling, yes, but keeping the tears at bay. And then suddenly something wet plunked onto her skirt and then another and another. Within seconds her face was wet with tears.

James turned, then stopped and watched her for a moment. He looked as if he might say something, but then he just shook his head and left without another word.

James took the stairs to his private rooms in a daze. He staggered into his sitting room, dropped into a chair, and stared at the wall, one hand wrapped around the proof that he was not truly a bastard, the other, palm up on his knee.

And he did not move until night darkened his window. And then he stood up, walked carefully over to a vase that sat on his mantel, picked it up, and threw it across the room.

It crashed against the wall and broke into a thousand small pieces.

His father, the father he had dreamed about his whole life. The father he had hoped would someday show up on his doorstep professing pride and ownership of his son, was dead, had been dead for James’s whole life.

Why hadn’t his mother told him that much, at least?

James took up the matching vase and threw it at the exact spot the other had gone. The crash reverberated in the large room nicely.

He could not blame his mother, though. A woman in such circumstances did not have many choices. And she did her best. And she had loved him.

Wimsley, on the other hand, was of the devil’s own blood.

“James?”

James glanced up quickly at the sound of his wife’s voice. She stood in the doorway that separated their rooms, her short hair mussed, her wrapper hanging about her shoulders.

Was it so late that she had been asleep? “I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“I was not asleep.”

They did not speak for a moment, and then Prudence closed the distance between them and took him in her arms. He stood stiffly, but his wife kissed his neck and his jaw and then tucked her head beneath his chin and held him against her tightly.

And it felt so damn good that he just let her hold him. And then, instead of saying anything, James leaned down and took his wife’s full lips in a deep kiss that seemed to fill his very soul.

They kissed, and he touched her, everywhere that he could. He pushed his fingers through her short, springy hair. He had loved her long hair and had a moment of grief when he saw her new cut.

But now he knew that he would love his wife’s hair in any form. And if she were to shave herself bald, then he would love her head. He laughed a little at this thought, and she moved as if to pull away, but he did not allow her to.

James deepened their kiss and smoothed his fingers around her face, touching her eyelids, her nose, her lips against his, her chin. And then he pulled her close, loving the feel of her body pressed to his.

He laid her carefully on the plush rug beneath their feet and peeled her wrapper and night rail from her. And then he worshiped her with his mouth.

James kissed the inside of Pru’s elbows, he nibbled at her neck and licked the soft skin of her belly. He smoothed his hands along the inside of her thighs and wet the underside of her knee with his tongue. And then, finally, he took one small, white toe into his mouth and sucked.

She writhed beneath his ministrations, her moans like music in the night.

And then, after quickly shedding his clothes, he pushed his knees between his wife’s thighs and entered her, and it truly felt like the world melted away from them. It did not matter. None of it mattered when he could come into the soft wetness of Prudence. They rocked against each other, kissing and loving and finding their release together.

And they slept together afterward in James’s large bed until the dawn came.

James opened his eyes reluctantly when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the windows. The world was back.

Prudence turned over in bed to snuggle up to her husband, but he wasn’t there. He must have awoken early.

She sighed, for she had quite hoped for a repeat performance of the night before. Just the thought made her shiver.

Prudence was not sure how everything was going to work out, but she knew with all of her heart that if they did it together, they would be okay. Because she loved him.

And she was rather sure he loved her, too.

And that felt so good, Prudence wanted to jump out of bed and sing.

James pushed open the door of his bedroom and stood looking down at her.

“You’re dressed,” she said with a pout.

He did not smile. “I am going to confront Wimsley.”

Prudence pushed up to kneel on the bed. “Confront him? What are you going to say?”

James took in a deep breath. “He has to pay for what he did.”

Pru nodded tentatively. Something about her husband’s demeanor scared her. “Yes, what he did was truly awful.”

“And I have the means to bring him down.”

“Bring him down?”

“I have already seen Leighton this morning. He has agreed to get together the proof needed to show the world that the great earl of Wimsley is actually making his money by smuggling untaxed goods into the country.”

Prudence felt as if someone had just hit her with a grapnel. “But …” she blinked several times and tried to keep breathing. “But to bring Wimsley down means that you will take Gravesly with him.” And her as well. But she did not add this. Of course her husband realized it.

“I will protect you.”

“You can’t, James. Wimsley is not the type just to let this happen to him. He will tell the world who I am.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” James said dully. “I have no one to prove myself to. I do not care if scandal hovers over me for the rest of my life.”

“But what of Gravesly!” Pru crawled off the bed to stand before James. “Harker will surely go to jail. And I will, too.”

“I can protect you,” James said stubbornly.

Prudence made a disbelieving sound and shook her head. “You are not thinking right, James. Yes, you have the means to have Wimsley thrown in jail and humiliated in front of his peers. But if you exercise those means, you shall ruin the lives of every family in Gravesly.”

James blinked, but did not look at her. “So be it,” he said.

Prudence felt her chest constrict and her throat tighten. “Fine,” she said then. “But I will not stay by your side while you do this horrible thing, James. I am going back to Gravesly to do everything I can for those people, because
they
are my family.” She pushed her husband out of her way, rushed into her room, and slammed the door behind her as hard as she could.