Embracing Ashberry (41 page)

Ellie shivered, she couldn’t help it. It was
Edward who asked the next question, for Ashberry’s lips were grimly
closed and Ellie didn’t believe she could frame the required words.
“Four years ago, four months before we left for Europe, was there
a, how should I say it, disagreement between the Hamster and my
father?”

The woman swallowed, her eyes narrowing at
the suddenly tense bodies of Ashberry and Ellie. After a moment,
she sighed softly, “No, it was earlier than that. Perhaps six
months before your departure. Whitney had already ended my support
but he was generous and I had enough to stay in my little home for
a few months longer. The Hamster sent his man, a snake he was, to
the house and insisted on relaying a message to Whitney.” Her eyes
turned to Edward, pleading with him to understand. “When I told him
Whitney would not be back, that he had ended the arrangement, the
man was furious, irate. He had a knife to my throat while he made
me tell him where to find your father. Whitney,” she sounded
disgusted, “Had the gall to only tell him of his mistress’ home.
Perhaps he thought I would sacrifice my life for his and he would
be free, but it was a foolish move on his part. I neither wished to
die nor did I believe Whitney would return to me. I sent him to the
London house, in Mayfair.”

Edward nodded, his gaze swinging helplessly
to Ellie, not daring to question the woman further. Ellie’s face
was white even in the dim light of the carriage lanterns and her
fingers were gripping Ashberry’s in a fevered grasp.

It was Charlotte who contributed quietly.
“He could have learned about Rose Hill simply by asking the
servants in neighboring houses.”

Refusing to bow to the terror closing in
around her, Ellie asked in a soft voice, “Would he have killed Papa
just for trying to escape like that?”

“No,” the other woman mused, “Death was a
last option, reserved for those who couldn’t ever pay, not for
those who wouldn’t. If Whitney was dead, the Hamster couldn’t
collect the debt. But he would have done something to remind
Whitney there was no escape.” She shuddered. “As it was, he left me
bound and gagged on my own drawing room floor, and he cut off my
clothes to humiliate me further. I believe he spared my life only
because he was convinced I had told him something of worth, and he
knew that he could have returned to me easily and finished the job
if I had lied or if it turned out that I still meant anything to
Whitney at all. I laid there until the housekeeper arrived the next
morning.”

Ellie could barely hear her own voice, so
loud were the demons screaming in her head. Still, she forced out
the words, surprised when Ashberry’s hand tightened around hers in
a near death grip. “This, this man of the moneylender’s,” she
asked, “How did he look, and sound?”

A strange question, the woman clearly
thought. She frowned, as if trying to deduce its purpose and then
her eyes widened. She took in Ellie from head to toe, noting the
girl’s pale countenance, her fragile posture and even Ellie’s
frenzied eyes glittering in the dim light.

The woman softened noticeably, her words
compassionate. “I will never forget him. Because I feared him, I
fled to the protection of a .. a ...”

“A brothel,” Charlotte supplied helpfully,
ignoring glares from both brother and husband.

“Yes,” the woman winced. “I knew there he
could not return for me.” She cleared her throat, her words raw and
her own face paling. “And that voice, I will never forget that
strange tongue. I had met him before, of course, and he had always
been civil. But then, before, my answer had never been a refusal,
only a promise to relay his instructions.”

It was Ellie who finally described him, her
voice toneless. “He was my height, dark in complexion, black curly
hair and brown eyes. He had the longest arms I’d ever seen on a man
that size and his feet were ... monstrously large.” She shuddered.
“And the voice ... I have found out since that he was from the
wilds of Louisiana, perhaps even New Orleans.”

“Yes.” For long moments, the woman was
quiet, as the two women communed in silent commiseration.

EIGHTEEN

Ashberry was not interested in watching his
wife find an ally in a courtesan, particularly one who had directed
Ellie’s attacker in the direction of the baron’s family. He blinked
and asked softly, “Madam, can you tell us if you’ve heard of this
man’s whereabouts recently?” His teeth flashed in the carriage and
everyone turned to see the fury in his face. “I’m afraid I have
some unfinished business with the man.”

“Undoubtedly,” the woman replied softly.
“Indeed, if I believed him to be in London, I would have my revenge
as well. However, I cannot help you. After the Hamster died, he was
left with only the protection of his knife and there were many
relieved men in London who were only too ready to seek their
revenge on the man. Unfortunately for all of them, he had reasoned
that danger. He boarded a ship for the colonies the morning after
the Hamster’s death, apparently stealing every penny on the man,
and disappeared from England completely.”

Ellie’s sigh of relief was nearly loud
enough to echo. “Thank you so much,” she told the woman gently. “I
can’t tell you how, how much you’ve explained.”

The woman’s lips pursed together
thoughtfully. “If you find him,” she said to Ashberry carefully, “I
would much appreciate knowing his ... location after you have
finished your own business with him.”

Ashberry grinned, but it was the smile of
deadly intent. “And I would return the sentiment, madam. In fact, I
imagine that I should not have any business remaining with him when
you had finished yours.”

“Indeed,” she agreed, straightening in her
seat. The conversation was clearly over. “But I would send you word
regardless.”

“Thank you, madam,” Ashberry’s voice was
grim. He rapped the driver’s box as he drew an envelope from his
jacket pocket. “My man said that you wished this in return for your
time.”

The woman took the sealed package from the
man across from her, eyeing him, considering. “I do not need to
count it, do I?” she asked. “I believe you will be quite busy in
the next few weeks?”

“That I will,” Ashberry confirmed. “And you
are correct, you do not need to count it,” Ashberry finished as the
carriage halted. Outside, on a side street, they were parked next
to a hackney cab while the footman spoke to the driver.

Sizing up the situation outside, the woman
smiled. “As I will likely not see you again,” she said, “I believe
it is appropriate to say that I am grateful there are honorable men
and women as you are among the fancy.” Taking her skirts as the
footman opened the carriage door directly to the hackney’s open
one, she stepped cleanly down from Eldenwood’s carriage and into
the cab, drawing her own black silk over her face as she settled
into the seat.

No one spoke until the footman had climbed
back into the seat and the carriage pulled forward. Finally,
Ashberry asked, his voice strangely emotionless, “Is Caroline in
labor?”

“Yes!” Charlotte erupted, her tone
censorious. Ellie winced inwardly, glad she would not have to face
the girl later as an adversary. “While you boys were out playing
foolish games of vengeance, your sister, Shane Trinity, is bringing
a child into the world—and we had to leave her side to come and be
sure neither of you did anything foolish. Why else would we be in
her carriage instead of your own?”

Edward sighed. “Why ever did you tell Ellie,
Charlotte? We didn’t want to upset her—”

Ellie snorted, drawing a startled look from
both Charlotte and Ashberry. “Charlotte didn’t tell me anything I
didn’t know already,” she said furiously. “And I wasn’t about to
let my husband ‘dispose of the rodent’ or let you ‘dig the damned
grave,’ Edward.”

Ashberry’s heart beat hard at her words. The
fantastic emotions he had felt since he had stepped into the
carriage were finally beginning to sink in. Anger, lust,
helplessness, agony, heartache and love—they seemed to be in combat
for the ranking position. He looked at Ellie, whose eyes he could
hardly see in the dim light. “You were listening to our
conversation?” he asked softly, dangerously.

She looked at him, a stubborn twist to his
chin that Ashberry was only beginning to associate with a backbone
honed from the most indestructible diamond. “I came to find out if
you were coming to bed and heard you in the study.” Her eyes teared
suddenly and Ashberry was barely able to catch her as she landed
against him, the proud chin suddenly wobbling with emotion. “How
dare you plan something like that, Stephen, that could endanger you
and our life together?”

“Not to mention Edward and our marriage!”
Charlotte was still famously angry with her brother, though by now
Edward’s arm was tucked around her and his other hand rested on the
babe inside her. “What would have happened to us if the pair of you
had been at the mercy of the hangmen, or been transported? What
would have happened to my baby?”

Ashberry stayed quiet as the carriage
returned to Eldenwood House. It was clear to him that the ladies
thought he and Edward had committed some unforgivable sin: even
Caroline glared belligerently at him before clutching his hand and
asking him to sit with Eldenwood in the library. The anxious earl
had appeared in Ellie and Charlotte’s absence to sit, colorless, by
his wife’s bedside, only to be firmly sent away by Sarah. Aunt Lucy
simply shook her head at him as Ellie went to comfort her mother,
relaying the outcome of their mission to the worried baroness.

Finally acting with subdued wisdom, Edward
and Ashberry retreated to the comfort of the earl’s liquor supply
where Ashberry kept careful tabs on both brothers-in-law. Edward
paced, clearly disturbed by Charlotte’s anger while Eldenwood
stared moodily, starting at every sound that filtered through the
floor above them.

Still, Ashberry couldn’t help thinking of
Ellie, her outburst in the carriage and her indignation over the
risks she believed he would take by exacting vengeance on her
attacker. Did it mean what he thought it meant? He knew, he was
certain now, what Ellie’s commitment was to their marriage. Her
courage, her righteous but unnecessary anger, even her reliance on
his sisters were all clues but her loyalty and trust had always
been his primary comfort, and he clung to those even in her
behavior of the evening. He didn’t know why she didn’t say the
words, why she wasn’t convinced herself, but her performance
tonight had ended any questions he had. Ellie loved him.

He had thought to be angry, furiously angry,
but his newfound certainty over Ellie’s love had drained away the
emotion, leaving him curiously ambivalent about, even admiring of,
her behavior. He mused about the reaction, convinced his anger
would return later when she confronted him, as she surely would. In
the meantime, the marquess decided, he would simply sit and allow
Ellie’s love to help him forget about Caroline.

At least that was how he hoped to pass the
hours.

It was nearly dawn when Ellie and Charlotte
slipped into the library. Ashberry looked at the pair, startled by
their drawn faces. “Caroline?” Eldenwood sat up, suddenly
tense.

Charlotte dismissed the question with a wave
of the hand. “Still in labor,” she elaborated wearily. “Sarah
insisted we come down and rest.”

Edward immediately was at his wife’s side,
guiding her to a chaise while Ellie stepped close to Ashberry,
leaning against the supporting arm he had laid out. “The doctor’s
here now,” Ellie told the earl quietly, “Until the baby comes.” She
followed docilely while Ashberry led her to a daybed tucked beside
the fireplace and underneath a window.

“How much longer?” Eldenwood questioned
anxiously.

It was Charlotte who sighed. “No one knows,
my lord,” she admitted. “It’s not a perfect science, especially
since this is the first one. Lady Whitney, she’s had four you know,
she thinks a few more hours. The doctor said it could be as long as
late this afternoon.”

Eldenwood groaned and hung his head, gulping
from his glass as he did. Ashberry sank down beside his wife, not
surprised when she laid her head down against his lap. Despite her
anger with him, in this situation Ellie continued to rely on his
support. Ashberry had sensed the anger of both girls subside once
they had entered the Eldenwood residence, but Ashberry didn’t fool
himself into thinking that the confrontation was over. He knew it
was simply banked until a more appropriate time. He soothed Ellie’s
cheek and neck and kept quiet, at moments plotting and at other
moments worrying, while Ellie and Charlotte both slept.

The baby, named Andrew Shane Windham, was
born just before the noon hour. He was immediately proclaimed by
the relieved earl to be the Viscount of Willowood, the earl’s minor
title. Charlotte, rested after a long nap on the chaise, sat with
her sleeping sister faithfully until Edward insisted they return to
their own home and Charlotte retire in her own bed.

Ellie, having slept first on the daybed and
later on a daybed in Caroline’s sitting room, convinced Ashberry to
stay until Caroline awoke—not a difficult task since the marquess
was anxious to see if his sister would take ill. Only when the hour
was late did the weary couple make their way to Ashberry House, the
marquess’ mind on the sight of Ellie holding the newborn son and
Ellie’s exhausted mind thinking of little other than her own
bed.

When she awoke, well rested, the sun was
high and the lord’s bedchamber empty. Or so she thought. Ellie rose
up on her elbow and looked around the neat room, its furniture in
place, its curtains opened to allow the sunlight to spill into the
room. Not seeing anyone, she dropped down onto her back onto the
mattress and sighed, staring contemplatively at the fireplace,
which burned low.