Andrea Kane (51 page)

“Come, love,” Ashford murmured, as if reading her mind. “It’s time to bid the past good-bye.”

THE WEDDING WAS THE
GRANDEST EVENT OF THE SEASON.

All fashionable London abandoned their Town houses that misty April morning to ride to Northampton and celebrate the marriage of the Duke of Markham’s son and the Earl of Farrington’s daughter.

Markham’s enormous chapel was filled to capacity, and its ballroom spilled over with the hundreds of guests who attended the lavish breakfast. Everyone agreed that the bride and groom made a breathtaking couple—she clad in yards of satin and lace, he dressed in a formal black frock coat and cashmere trousers.

The gossips stood off to one side, whispering about how shocking the newlyweds were in their open displays of affection, their sinfully suggestive glances. The Earl and Countess of Farrington and the Duke and Duchess of Markham stood off to another side, watching their children’s unmistakable love and desire with the gratitude of parents and the joy of couples who know firsthand how rare and irreplaceable those feelings are.

Off near the table of refreshments, Chloe was having a most interesting time holding court with the Thornton grandchildren—other than Laurel’s brand new son who was asleep upstairs in the nursery—and listening to Ashford’s sisters and brothers in heated debate.

“Ten more minutes at the most,” Blair stated, watching Ashford stare across the room at his bride.

“Thirty,” Laurel disagreed. “Give them credit for some self-restraint.”

“Ashe—self-restraint?” Juliet laughed aloud. “No, Laurel, never. I’d say twenty minutes,” she added, assessing Ashford’s obvious impatience but factoring in Noelle’s breeding. “Not because of Ashe’s endurance,” she clarified wryly. “The man is about ready to erupt. But Noelle is holding her own nicely, despite her eagerness to leave.”

“You’re all wrong,” Sheridan concluded, gazing shrewdly from Ashford to Noelle. “Our new sister-in-law is as restless as our brother—and equally as heedless of others’ opinions. Five minutes. If that.”

“I agree,” Chloe inserted with an emphatic nod. “Knowing my sister and her feelings for Ashford, I’m surprised the two of them are still here now.”

All four adults whipped about to stare at her.

A corner of Sheridan’s mouth lifted. “Thank you, Chloe. I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

Blair was gaping. “How old did you say you were?”

“Thirteen,” Chloe supplied helpfully, tickling Cara as she dashed by.

“Thirteen.” Blair gave an amazed shake of his head. “Very well, we’ve all made our guesses. Now, how much are we betting?”

“How about five hundred pounds?” Juliet suggested. “That should make a nice donation.”

“Fine with me,” Laurel agreed.

“Done.” Sheridan winked at Chloe. “I’ll share a portion of my winnings with you.”

“That’s not necessary, my lord. Since you’re obviously donating the money to charity, please include my portion along with yours.”

“Gracious as well as smart,” Sheridan praised.

“Are you
sure
you’re thirteen?” Blair asked again.

Chloe grinned. “Quite sure.” Abruptly, she looked past him, pointing across the room. “Look. We’re about to get our answer.”

All four Thorntons followed her gesture, spying Ashford as he made his way towards Noelle. Intently, they watched the bride and groom.

Noelle and Ashford saw only each other.

“How much longer do we have to stay here?” Ashford muttered in his bride’s ear after he’d finally reached her side, eased her off to a relatively private spot.

Trailing her finger down the lapel of his coat, Noelle laughed up at him, her face radiant with happiness. “I was ready to leave an hour ago, my lord. But I know how bound to protocol you are.”

One dark brow rose. “Say your good-byes, Mrs. Thornton. And make them brief.”

“Yes, sir.” Her grin turned impish. “As promised, I shall be a dutiful wife.” A seductive pause. “
Very
dutiful.”

Ashford’s eyes emanated a fierce heat that singed her down to her toes. “On second thought, forget the goodbyes,” he commanded. “They take too much time. I want my bride. Now. Even the ride to London is going to be far too long.”

Noelle’s smile vanished, and she gazed up at her new husband, her heart in her eyes. “In that case, let’s just advise our parents. They can announce our departure to the others, after we’ve gone.” Her fingertips grazed his jaw. “I never did see your bedchamber, you know.”

“You’ll be in it in two hours,” he vowed. “And you’ll have plenty of time to scrutinize it. You won’t be seeing anything else until we leave for our wedding trip next week.”

Capturing Noelle’s arm, Ashford eased their way through the crowd until they reached their parents.

“We’re leaving,” Ashford stated bluntly. “I hope the four of you understand.”

“We understand.” Brigitte inched a sideways glance at Eric. “Don’t we, darling?”

Eric gave a resigned sigh. “Yes, I suppose we do.” He pressed his lips to Noelle’s forehead. “Be happy.”

“I will, Papa.”

Eric turned to Ashford. “You’re a fine man, Ashford. Be good to my daughter.”

“Always. You have no worries on that score,” Ashford replied as Noelle hugged her mother, exchanged a woman-to-woman glance with her that said more than words ever could.

“Welcome to our family, Noelle,” Daphne Thornton said, seizing Noelle’s hands and giving her a radiant smile. “We’re proud that Ashford was smart enough to choose you.”

“I agree,” Pierce added. “You’re exactly what our son needs.”

“Thank you,” Noelle answered, hugging first Daphne, then Pierce. “You won’t miss Ashford’s contributions,” she whispered fiercely as she embraced Pierce. “As it happens, my new husband simply cannot beat me in piquet. And I intend to save all my winnings in a symbolic tin cup. By year’s end, the bandit will be able to feed an army, I promise you.”

Pierce released his daughter-in-law, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I’m sure the bandit will be grateful,” he whispered back. “I’ll be sure to give him your message when I see him.” He gave her a swift, unobtrusive wink.

“Go,” Daphne urged her son, biting back a smile. She wasn’t sure which she found more amusing: Noelle’s fervent vow to Pierce or Ashford’s blatant impatience as he shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “I arranged for your carriage to be brought around a short while ago,” she continued. “It’s ready and waiting. As for the guests, everyone is so deep in their cups, it will be an hour before anyone notices you’re gone. When they do, we’ll make your excuses. Now, go and begin your life together.”

Neither Noelle nor Ashford needed further encouragement.

With a torrid glance and a murmured, “Come, Mrs. Thornton,” Ashford ushered Noelle out the door and towards the privacy that awaited them.

Across the ballroom, three disgruntled siblings rolled their eyes and began muttering.

Sheridan’s face split into a broad grin, and he gave Chloe’s hand a congratulatory shake. “Four minutes—as Chloe and I suspected. That will be five hundred pounds apiece, please.”

“Fine,” Juliet grumbled. “Don’t start your customary gloating. We’ll pay you later.”

“Good.” Sheridan nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll go share the happy news with Father.”

So saying, he crossed over, catching Pierce’s eye and motioning him into the hallway.

Once both men were outside hearing range, Sheridan murmured, “Good news. I’ve just won fifteen hundred pounds. I’ll have it this afternoon—in pound notes, not a bank draft.”

Pierce’s brows rose. “Just how did you win this money?”

“On an infallible wager with Laurel, Juliet, and Blair.” Sheridan’s grey eyes twinkled. “I bet them that Ashford and Noelle wouldn’t last another five minutes in public. Chloe agreed wholeheartedly. Good odds, wouldn’t you say?”

“Excellent, I’d say.” Pierce’s lips twitched.

“In any case, I’ll give you the money when all the guests have gone home. I’ll even add five hundred pounds of my own, on Ashe’s behalf. When you see him, tell him it’s my way of easing whatever unwarranted guilt he might still be harboring.”

“Guilt?”

“Um-hum. Over opting to retire from his more active role, or rather, his resurrection of your more active role. You know, the role he thinks none of us knows about.” With an offhanded shrug, Sheridan ambled back into the party.

“What was that all about?” Daphne asked, walking out to join her husband.

Pierce’s teeth gleamed, and he looped an arm about his wife’s waist. “It’s about an extraordinary family, Snow Flame—a family that, mere hours ago, increased by one remarkable young woman. And about a legend that, thanks to all of us, will live on forever.”

Andrea Kane is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels—including fourteen historical and twelve contemporary novels—that have been published in sixteen countries and translated into more than twenty languages. Whether she’s writing about Regency England, America on the brink of civil war, or New York Police Department detectives caught up in mayhem and murder, Kane’s ability to create unforgettable stories has earned her a loyal worldwide following.

Kane published
My Heart’s Desire
, her first historical novel and the first book in the Barrett Family series, in 1991. Others quickly followed, including
Samantha
, the second book in that series;
Echoes in the Mist
and
Whispers in the Wind
(the Kingsley in Love series); and the acclaimed Black Diamond, Thornton-Bromleigh Family, and Colby Coin series. Stand-alone historic romances include
Dream Castle
(1992),
Masque of Betrayal
(1993),
Emerald Garden
(1996), and
The Music Box
(1998).

Kane’s groundbreaking romantic thriller
Run for Your Life
(2000) became an instant
New York Times
bestseller. This was followed by a series of suspense novels featuring NYPD detective-turned-private investigator Pete “Monty” Montgomery. Kane’s current contemporary series introduced FBI special agents Sloane Burbank and Derek Parker. Other thrillers include
No Way Out, Scent of Danger, Twisted, I’ll Be Watching You, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice,
and, most recently,
The Line Between Here and Gone.

Kane is a self-proclaimed “cerebral” type, and prides herself on her questioning, analytical mind, which has led to her passion for mysteries. She has spent many happy hours with the classic novels of Agatha Christie, trying to outsmart Hercule Poirot.

She is also a die-hard sentimentalist. She cries at old movies and believes in striving for happily-ever-after. In Kane’s words: “The idealist in me loves writing romance, and the pragmatist in me loves writing suspense. I feel very fortunate that I’m able to combine the two, and give you books that keep you at the edge of your seat, but at the same time, make you care.”

Kane lives in New Jersey with her family.

Andrea Kane as a little girl, with her first puppy, Inky, named for the black spots on his white back.

An eight-year-old Kane, a proud sleepaway camper for the first time.