The Rebel Heir (33 page)

Was he mumbling about…love? She wasn't certain if he loved her still, but she placed her hand on his shoulder anyway. “You have no need for bottles of love potion, Ash.”

“They're raspberry liqueur,” he admitted, turning back to her.

“I'm not surprised.”

“Of course you aren't.” An overwhelming sadness filled his eyes as he looked at her. “You're fully acquainted with my worst qualities.”

“I'm well acquainted with all of your qualities,” she replied. It was time to know her own mind. It was time to dare to live, to seize an opportunity for happiness and hold on tight. “I loved you last year when you left me in that hall wondering when I would see you again.”

“Oh, well, about that—” he began to argue, but stopped when he truly heard her words.

“I loved you when you kissed me to make your escape at the first ball this season.”

“Evie…” He murmured her name as he studied her face in awe.

“I loved you when you had my father invest in a scheme you thought to be false.”

“When you list it out in such a manner…” he began, but stopped when she grabbed his hand and wrapped her fingers through his.

She stepped closer until she was looking up to meet his gaze. “I loved you when you took me to the theater.”

“Clearly that didn't go exactly as I'd—”

“And I love you now,” she declared as she pulled his arm around her waist with their entwined hands.

“You do.” It wasn't a question so much as a confirmation of fact.

“I do. Even if I must borrow Lord Braxton's manacles and chains to keep you with me, I want to be with you, Ashley Claughbane.”

“You can keep me without chains, Evie. You've already done so for some time. I couldn't run last night, not even to save my own skin. I couldn't leave you.”

“And now? What if you leave
with
me?”

“Stapleton has my carriage out front, but I won't steal you, Evie. I want you to be my wife. I want a home with you, a future that stretches out forever.”

“I want you, Ash. I want you to kiss me, steal me away in your carriage, and make me your wife.”

“You only need ask,” he said against her lips as he kissed her.

As Ash swept her up in his arms and carried her away, she saw her father watching from the library window. A strand of her hair caught on the breeze and whipped across her face, reminding her that she wore no hat, no gloves, and not a single bit of jewelry adorned her neck. Yet, none of it mattered. Ash loved who she truly was beneath her veneer of lies, and she loved him—this untitled swindler who'd stolen her heart. She grinned and wrapped her arms farther around Ash's shoulders, and her father nodded in return.

Her summer of madness, this season of rebellion, and following her heart had led her to Ash. And she would spend the remainder of her life happily telling the man she loved that she wanted him to kiss her again and again and again.

“You're more beautiful than the bride,” Ash leaned close to whisper in Evie's ear.

“You've yet to see the bride,” she whispered back in the quiet of the church.

“That hardly matters.” He traced the backs of his fingers over the curve of her elbow as he spoke. “I know the truth.”

They'd only arrived back in town yesterday from their brief trip to Scotland's border. It was fortunate they'd returned when they did, because Evie's cousin, Victoria, was to wed Kelton Brice, Lord Hardaway, today. Of course, if they didn't start the wedding soon, it would be tomorrow before it began. Weren't these ceremonies supposed to take place in the morning? It was nearly noon and the bride had yet to arrive.

“Do these wedding proceedings seem a bit lifeless to you?” Evie asked, her eye on the somber groom and the stifled yawn from the man of the cloth.

“I couldn't say. This is the first wedding I've ever attended, aside from ours.” He entwined his fingers with hers. He was married to Evie. They would begin searching for a home this week. A wife, a home—he glanced at her sitting at his side and smiled.

“Our wedding lacked this level of formality,” she murmured, nodding through the gathered crowd toward the front of the church laden with flowers.

“Do you think so? I thought the foxed blacksmith really added something.”

Evie laughed, the sound carrying in the quiet church. She touched her lips with her fingers, her eyes still dancing in amusement. “I thought the rings we'd stopped to purchase in York were going to be tossed in the fire in his haste to be rid of us.”

“Who knew Gretna Green would be such a treacherous place? I'd rather pictured the entire town covered in floral patterns the way it's spoken about,” he mused in a low voice.

“I thought it was perfect,” she whispered with a sigh, looking up into his face.

“Keep that sense of delusion about old buildings and cranky townsfolk when I take you to visit the Isle of Man.”

She grinned. “I can't wait. I want to meet the other members of your family and see your home…”

“My home is with you, hopefully within a day's journey of London. We'll find an estate where we can share our lives. I might take up farming.”

Evie giggled at his side. “Your future in farming is about as promising as my future in embroidery.”

“Then we shall endeavor to find a new pastime together. I have a few ideas on that subject.” He slid his gaze to hers to give her a mischievous smile.

“Bird-watching?”

“If that's what you wish to call it,” he teased.

Evie squeezed his arm and smiled up at him. “I received a missive from Sue this morning. She and her husband are set to return next summer, and she would like to visit us then.”

“We should be settled well before that. I never thought I would have a wife and a home, much less that I would make plans nearly a year in advance to entertain a lord and lady.”

“I never thought that I would wed the founder of Crosby Steam Works and the man responsible for an invention that will change the world. I've always had my heart set on an unsuitable swindler and a generally disreputable rebel of a gentleman.”

“I always knew the steam works was true and not a ruse to steal money,” he replied.

“You're a terrible liar. Truly, you need to work on your skills, sir.”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I vow to practice my skills the moment we leave here in the carriage.”

“May this wedding be as fast as our own,” she muttered, making him laugh.

Just then, music from an unseen orchestra began to play and everyone began shifting in their seats with restless anticipation. “At last. It appears to be beginning.”

“Your friend Lord Hardaway looks to be quite angry,” Evie whispered.

“He doesn't seem pleased, does he? At least he made a timely appearance. More than I can say for your quite late cousin.”

“Victoria? Do you see her?” She craned her neck to see over the sea of hats blocking her vision. “I've never seen such a crowd at a wedding.”

“No, I was referring to her sister, Lady Isabelle.”

“It is troubling that Isabelle isn't present today.” Evie shook her head as she looked around for any sight of her cousins. “Poor dear. Should we go look for her after the ceremony? She threatened to wear black, you know. Perhaps she thought in the end not being present for one's sister's nuptials was better than appearing in bombazine. But there's certain to be talk of her absence tomorrow.”

“She's the one who has eyes for Hardaway?” Ash asked, looking at the man standing at the front of the church. “Why anyone would want that man is beyond my understanding.”

“Isabelle claims she has moved on and is interested in some other blond and broad smiling fellow. But never mind that. I thought you and Hardaway were friends.”

“We are.” He nodded, not understanding her comment.

Evie mumbled something that sounded like, “Men,
humph
.”

“Do you see the bride anywhere?” he asked a moment later when the orchestra moved on to their second selection of songs. “I'm looking forward to this ending; the ride away from here sounded so appealing.”

“I already told you I can't see a thing.”

Another melody passed with Hardaway shifting on his feet before the watchful eyes of the
ton
. Then Ash saw Evie's cousin Victoria come into view, her gaze focused on a point at the front of the room, beyond where he sat with Evie. Her eyes were wide and her face rather redder than he remembered it being. She was panicked. He'd seen the look before on the desperate faces of people buying love potions and healing waters.

Ash shifted his gaze to see what had given her the wild look in her eye and saw only Hardaway. Ash had only shifted his gaze for a second, but when he looked back, Victoria was turning, her gown in hand as she hitched it up to indecent heights and set off at a run. Gasps carried over the crowd like crashing waves on a beach as Hardaway stood watching her leave. His friend blinked, clearly trying to make sense of the situation before a harsh look crossed his face and he took off running after his wayward almost-wife, calling after her.

“Did Victoria…” Evie looked up at him with wide eyes. “Did she leave Lord Hardaway at the altar?” She looked around as if her cousin might be hiding somewhere in the shocked crowd. “Where has she gone? Should we do something?”

“Yes, we should do something—let her flee.”

Evie only stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. In the past few months, he quite believed he had.

“You should know, Evie. You can't stop someone from leaving until they're ready to stay.”

Her look of shock turned to one of resigned acceptance. “And then
this someone
will stay forever?”

He smiled down into the face of the woman he loved and wrapped both of her hands within his. “Staying forever sounds like an exciting adventure.”

“I suppose you're right—Victoria will figure it out, the way we did. In the meantime…I'll race you to the carriage.”

With that, Evie pulled away from him and scurried down the church pew toward the door. When she shot a playful glance back over her shoulder, he knew—he would only run when it was in the pursuit of Evangeline Claughbane, his wife, his love.

When Lady Evangeline Green first appeared on the page, it was in her sister's book,
Desperately Seeking Suzanna
. Evie was only supposed to be the beautiful and overly perfect sister in the background of that book, but there was something about her strained efforts at perfection that spoke to me. I knew then that I had to write her story.

Have you ever attempted to be perfect to make someone happy?

I tried for more years than I care to admit to be perfect enough to please a few people in my life, but it was never enough. No matter what I did, I could not live down the mistakes I'd made years before. Then one day, after I'd allowed things to progress in this manner far too long, always listening to the reminders of my wrongs, always trying to be a bit more or a bit less to achieve some ideal version of myself to please them, I walked away. Although there were no vases of flowers upended at a ball, in the end I found the same strength that Evie did and faced down those who thought so little of me. It wasn't until I was halfway through writing this book that I realized just how close to home this story was for me. So it's only fitting that the acknowledgments should speak from my heart as well.

I write romance novels because I want to make readers smile. If you've ever met me in person, you know I'm a fan of smiling. Through these stories, I want to share love and happiness with the world, and like Ash, I want to be a purveyor of hope. If anyone has ever held it against you that you once had a summer of madness, a semester of insanity, or a year of complete lunacy, know that you are perfect just as you are. You, dear reader, are beautiful. Keep smiling, and thank you for reading.

Special thanks to: Mary Altman, Michelle Grajkowski, Mr. Alpha Male, my sweet little monkey, the Bad Girlz of badgirlzwrite.com, and the entire Sourcebooks team. Hugs to all!

E. Michels

Elizabeth Michels is the award-winning author of the Tricks of the Ton series and the new Spare Heirs series. She grew up on a small Christmas tree farm in South Carolina. After tiptoeing her way through school with her focus on ballet steps and her nose in a book, she met a boy and followed him a thousand miles away from home to Kansas City, Missouri. They spent their summers visiting his family in Middlesbrough, England, soaking up culture, history, and a few pints along the way. Elizabeth attended Park University, where she graduated magna cum laude with a BA in interior design.

Elizabeth now spends her days creating plots and concocting characters at her home in a small lakeside town in North Carolina. When she is not typing as fast as human movement will allow, she is caring for her husband and little boy. Elizabeth Michels is a lover of happily-ever-afters; whether in her writing life or in her home life, she spends her days with one word on her lips—
love.
She invites you to read her stories, get lost, and enjoy. Elizabeth loves to hear from her readers. Please visit
www.elizabethmichels.com
for more information.

Thank you for reading
!

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