by Sahara Kelly
“She was. Now she’s Amelia McPherson.” Ian looked the man in the eye. “Yes, the Amelia DeVere and I are wed. And we have every expectation of leading a long and happy married life together.”
“Ah, well, of course.” Mortimer struggled for words. “Of course, Ian. I wish you both the very best.”
“Thank you.” Ian realized if they stayed in London he was going to have to deal with a lot of conversations just like this one. He was struck with the urge to grab his wife and hightail it back over the border at the earliest possible moment.
But there were formalities to be endured. “So when may I expect to see my wife’s case presented?”
“I believe Sir Percy’s intent is to clear his desk this afternoon. He said something about going down to the country for the weekend and perhaps part of next week. And he only has three cases to adjudicate, so I see no problem there.”
“Very good, thank you. I will take a seat in the hall. If you would be so kind as to send notification to Sir Percy about my custody request?”
“Of course, Ian. Of course. Only too happy to be of service to one of our fine Bow Street Runners. I will do so immediately.”
“Thank you.”
He bowed and left, knowing he’d dealt enough shocks to this poor clerk for one day. And guessing that the rumors would soon start spreading out like the verbal ripples of a whispered spider’s web over London.
After all, it wasn’t every day that an Incomparable beauty with a damaged reputation ended up arrested and charged with theft.
*~~*~~*
Amelia sat straight, her hands clasped on her lap, her feet together. She was the model of ladylike propriety, even though she felt grubby and stifled by the small room in which they had locked her. As if she was some kind of common felon.
She tried to focus on the thought of Ian and that he was there working on her behalf. But not knowing what was going to happen overwhelmed her attempts at rational considerations.
She gripped her hands together and tried not to shiver.
The knowledge that she was back in London, under such circumstances, was no comfort at all. What on earth Rigsby would do when he learned of the situation, she had no idea.
He’d already banished her—what else was there? Besides she had a husband now, and she didn’t think Ian had much use for the DeVeres. She bowed her head. Why was her life the way it was? Would she ever be able to just be happy? The way she felt she could be at Kilmalochan. With Ian.
There was a rattle at the door as somebody turned the large key.
She stood, her heart thumping, her hands still clasped tightly. “Who is it?”
A woman stood outside, dressed in black with buttons all the way up to her high collar. Her hair was pulled tightly back and she looked quite menacing.
“Come on with you. Sir Percy’s about to deal with your case.”
Amelia stepped forward only to have her arm grabbed by fingers of iron. “No messing now. Walk where I tell you, don’t speak and do as you’re told.”
Gritting her teeth against the urge to say something quite unladylike to this unpleasant woman, Amelia held her tongue and walked down a dim hallway to a large wooden door.
The woman knocked once, and it was opened by a man in similar garb—all black and buttons up to his neck.
Amelia’s sense of foreboding grew as the man nodded at the woman and the fingers on her arm were removed, only to be replaced by a larger and stronger grip. “This way.”
She nodded and walked down yet another hallway, this one with one or two lamps to light their way.
At last, they reached the end and her jailer opened the last door without knocking. She was shoved roughly inside and the door closed behind her. There were windows and light, and it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust.
Then she saw that she was in a large hall, and that on either side were large desks, some cluttered with papers, some empty and one or two with men writing at them.
At the end, on a raised dais, was a huge desk, mostly bare, behind which sat an equally large man in fine clothing. This, she surmised, must be the Magistrate. She did not recognize him though, so he wasn’t anyone who frequented the same balls and parties she had attended.
He looked up and beckoned her. “Come, come.”
Obediently Amelia walked the length of the hall, the clicking of her heels on the stone flags echoing around the high ceilings. It wasn’t until she was almost at the end that she saw who was standing to one side and watching her.
Ian.
It took every ounce of strength she had left not to run to his side and throw herself into his arms.
But, conscious of the stern gaze of the Magistrate, she managed to control her first impulse and kept it to a warm smile. The one she received in return melted the fear that had frozen her heart and she lifted her chin higher on the strength of it.
“Amelia DeVere. Or as I am now informed, Mrs. Amelia McPherson.”
She turned to face the dais. “Yes, sir.”
“You are charged with the theft of a very valuable piece of jewelry that belonged to the estate of Lady Mabel Springer. How do you answer this charge?”
“With horror, sir. I am completely at a loss to explain how a small brooch given freely to me by a stranger could have been stolen. Therefore, I must insist that I am not guilty of this malicious charge.” Her voice was clear, firm and she made sure that she revealed little emotion. This was not the time or the place for the vapors.
“Very well, your plea is thus entered.” He made a note in a large ledger on the top of the desk. “It is customary for us to retain individuals charged under warrant. We have some basic facilities where they are housed until the case comes before the court. However, your husband’s choice of career renders this an out-of-the-ordinary situation. I am assured that he is trustworthy and he assures me that you will obey any and all dictates of the court if I release you to his custody instead of returning you to the cells.”
Her ears rang a little. She thought he’d said Ian could take her away.
“So I am remanding you to the custody of your husband, and placing my faith in his observance of the laws of the land. He will return you to the Court when your appearance is commanded, and you will obey. Is that clearly understood, Mrs. McPherson?”
“Yes, sir. I understand quite clearly.” She glanced at Ian. “I am proud to have such a man as my husband and willingly accept these terms.”
Ian reached out a hand to her and she took it. Nothing could have stopped her at that moment, not the Magistrate, nor all the judges in the land. She just needed to touch her husband.
“Very well.”
And it was done. Ian looked up. “Thank you Sir Percy. You’re a man of honor.”
The older man smiled. “I was a newlywed once, myself.” Then he cleared his throat. “However, I’m now charged with helping to keep the law. Do not make a cack-handed pie out of this situation.” He waved a quill at Ian. “I know more than a few people at Bow Street.”
“Understood, Sir Percy. We shall wait for word.”
“Give Mortimer your direction. Do you know where you’ll be staying in London yet? With the DeVeres?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Ian shook his head. “We will be making other arrangements. But I will make sure Mortimer knows as soon as we do.”
“Very good. Now off with you. I want to shut this book for the day and get started on other matters of more pleasant aspect. Good day to you both.”
Amelia dropped a curtsey as Ian gave a small bow, and together they walked quickly from the hall and back through the ante-room to the front of the building.
Before they went outside, Ian pulled Amelia into his arms and kissed her. She melted, kissing him back, wrapping her arms around as much of him as she could, and relishing the feel of his tongue in her mouth once more.
She moaned, a sound of joy and relief, and he finally let her up for air.
“I know it’s not appropriate, bu
t dammit, love. This is madness and who cares?” He kissed her again and she willingly participated, her hands at his neck, her body plastered to his.
For several minutes they shared passionate kisses, whispers, touches—all the things Amelia had missed during her journey south alone. Then she pulled back, breathless, trembling, smiling at his dear face. “Ian, I’m filthy. I suppose we could go and petition my brother to give us rooms. God knows there are more than enough in DeVere House, but somehow…” her words tapered off.
He linked his arm through hers. “Don’t worry. I’m hoping my messages may have paid off, and we’ll be able to stay elsewhere. My flat won’t do for what I need.”
He drew her to the door, opened it and led her outside to the top step of the building.
There was a small knot of people at the foot of the stairs and they turned as one when Amelia and Ian appeared.
Amelia gasped.
She was looking at Sir Lucius Gordon, Lady Julia Gordon, Charles Fontaine—the Earl of Penvale, someone who might be his wife, and finally Delaney Deverell and his new wife Léonie.
Oh my God.
Confronted with her past, realizing that she’d slept with two of these men and her husband probably knew it, she trembled. The agonies and emotions of the past couple of days welled up to smack her in the face and she blinked as the world turned grey and wobbled before her eyes.
For the first time in her life, Amelia fainted.
Chapter Twenty
“It must have been the shock, poor dear.”
Lady Julia Gordon leaned over Amelia and placed a cool cloth on her forehead.
“I can’t begin to imagine.” The Earl of Penvale added dryly.
“Charles, you say one damn word out of place and I swear you’ll answer to me.” His wife Hannah cast him an angry look. “The poor woman has been through hell the last couple of days. I think she deserves our sympathy.”
“Thank you, my Lady. I appreciate the support.” Ian sat next to Amelia’s prone body, holding her hand helplessly.
“Oh, call me Hannah, do. I have no idea who my Lady is.” The young woman bustled around pouring tea with verve and energy.
“You know, I have staff who will do that, Hannah.“ Delaney Deverell watched from the fireplace, where he had withdrawn to what he probably considered to be neutral territory.
“Shush.” His wife Léonie silence him with her hand. “Let Hannah pour. We all need something to do until Lady McPherson awakes.”
“’T’is indeed odd, Ian.” Deverell looked at him. “You marrying Amelia.”
Ian sighed. “We’re hand-fasted, Dev. I told you all that. Yes, in Scotland we’re wed. Here, however, on English soil, it’s a wee bit vaguer. I have to see about that. But first we have to get this damn charge out of the way.”
He knew they all understood that. In fact it was why they’d been gathered outside the Magistrate’s offices. He’d sent a brief word to Dev, asking for information on a couple of matters pertaining to the Springer estate.
It was no surprise that Dev had called in the troops—Charles and Ian had worked together once before. Lucius Gordon had crossed paths with him while Ian was helping Dev straighten out a mess with Léonie.
So seeing them all gathered there…it brought a smile to his face and a warmth to his heart. Unfortunately, it had knocked Amelia off her feet at the same time.
“All right.” Julia stood. “Amelia should come around shortly. However, I think it would be much better if all you gentlemen took yourselves off to wherever it is you go in this lovely house to drink brandy. Pour yourselves a glass, catch up on everything, then come back here. Give us half an hour or so.”
Charles looked at Ian. “See what you’re getting yourself into, Ian? Bossy as the day is long.”
Ian looked back at Charles and grinned. “And here’s you looking all peaky and worn down.”
Hannah laughed. “Thank you Ian. Now do be a good lad and take the rest of these husbands out of here. We shall go on quite nicely without you.”
“That is correct.” Léonie nodded. “Go away Dev. Take your friends. There’s a fire in the small salon. Go go…” she shooed them out of the room.
When the door closed, Julia leaned over Amelia once more and spoke in a normal, chatty voice. “And now, dear girl, you may open your eyes. They’ve quite gone.”
Amelia did as she was bid, not quite sure what she expected to see. It wasn’t what she might have anticipated—frowns and looks of scathing disgust.
No, to her surprise, all three women were sitting near her, Julia next to her, and there was tea, smelling salts and even a fan lying around. Even her travel-stained bonnet lay off to one side, where one of the ladies must have placed it after removing it.
She struggled to sit up, dismayed that the room still shifted a little. “Ugh. I fainted. What a terribly missish thing to do. I beg your pardon.”
Léonie pulled up a small side chair and sat, almost in front of Amelia. “Now, Mrs. McPherson. We are going to clear the air and speak honestly, all of us. You were not a very nice person and Julia and Hannah especially have reason to be suspicious of you.”
Amelia felt the blush heating her cheeks, but she kept her head up. “I know.”
“Fortunately, I picked an astute husband who made it clear he didn’t like you from the start. So I am less inclined to toss you out into the street.” She looked at the other two. “All right, none of us are inclined to toss you out into the street. That was just a figure of speech.”
“You could have been stern for a few minutes longer,” Hannah frowned.
Julia sighed. “It’s no good. We’re rotten at that sort of thing. At least I am.” She turned to Amelia. “I didn’t like you. I had no reason to because you were an utter worm to me. But I’m ridiculously happy with my husband and my son. And the next babe will be another blessing. “ She rested a protective hand on a slight bulge beneath her gown. “So anyway, I have decided that letting bygones be bygones is the best path for all of us. And we’re all quite fond of Ian, and certainly do not want lose that friendship.”
Hannah nodded. “Julia’s right. Ian was a huge help when I had a horrid problem. He is a lovely man and if he’s picked you for his wife, then there must be something in you that we’ve all missed.”
“So, Amelia.” Léonie’s green eyes were intense. “You must answer one question and answer it truthfully. Swear to us.”
Looking at the three faces, and the genuine concern she saw in each of them, Amelia’s eyes stung with unshed tears. They should hate her. They should revile her and relish in her misfortune.
But they did none of those things.
She did not deserve their help, or their compassion, but they were offering both. It was an epiphany, a revelation of the kind of company she’d kept for too long. If only she’d made friends like these when she was younger, how different her life might have been.
The least she could do was honor their request. “I swear to truthfully answer any question you ask me.” She followed it with a decisive nod. “On my mother’s grave.” There was no other oath she could have taken that would mean more.
“Very well.” Léonie accepted her promise. “Do you love Ian?”
“God, yes. Above anything else.” The words tumbled out without hesitation, a statement of fact and a vow of commitment. “I don’t know why or how it happened…but he is the most important thing in my life. I can’t wait to clear up this mess here in London and go home. Because I finally have one. I have a home waiting for me in Scotland, in Kilmalochan, with my husband, the young Laird. And when his father passes, we’ll be the Laird and Lady of Kilmalochan. With luck we’ll have children to teach, and to carry on the name.”
Three faces stared wide-eyed at her.
“Ian has given me a future. He’s wed me according to the traditional laws of Scotland, his country, and I will honor that marriage to my dying day. I love him with all my heart. There will never be anyone else for me. Ever.�
�
The silence was deafening. Then Julia cleared her throat. “Uh…you mean Ian is a Laird?”
*~~*~~*
“Oh fuck. The cat’s among the pigeons now, and no mistake.”
Ian murmured the words to the others as they returned to the parlor and overheard Julia’s question. It hadn’t been half an hour, but he was worried. It was completely unlike Amelia to faint and he had to wonder if she’d fallen prey to some illness while making that journey to London from Scotland.
“What was that?” Lucius blinked, then turned to Ian and stopped him with a hand firmly in the center of his chest. “You’ve got a damned title?”
“Other than Bow Street Runner?” Charles skidded to a halt.
“Thought so,” smirked Dev.
The other two rounded on him.
“You did not.” Lucius protested. “Never said a word about anything like that.”
Dev raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I say there was more to him than meets the eye? Didn’t you ever wonder how he got membership to the Mitra Club?”
Charles and Lucius looked at each other, then back at Dev.
“Well no,” Charles muttered.
“See?”
“Och shut up, the three of you.” Ian removed Lucius’s hand and marched on. “It doesn’t matter right now.”
“Very well, your Lairdship.” Charles’s voice reeked of sarcasm. “I still think it’s a shabby deal when a man can’t be honest with his friends.”
“Call me Ian, or I’ll knock all yer teeth down yon throats and then we’ll see if yer wives still desire ye.”
“And there’s the Scotsman we know and love.” Dev grinned and walked in to the small parlor. “Well, the secret is out. And I see our Lairdess is awake.”
“Amelia can be addressed as Lady McPherson if you must be formal,” Ian sighed. “But I wish you’d all get past the title nonsense and down to business.” He walked to the couch, shooed Julia from her seat and took it himself, putting his arm around his wife.
She nestled against him with a little murmur of pleasure. “I’m sorry.”
