As soon as he could, Charles whisked Julia so that he could make good on those whispered promises.
And Julia was finally happy, finally home, and finally loved.
EPILOGUE
Two years later
“A VERITABLE BROOD.” THE dowager duchess smiled as the dowager countess handed over the newest addition, Viscount Philip Carrington, future Earl of Ranford.
“I wonder if this one will be a girl,” said the dowager countess as they looked out at the veranda and the figures of Julia, rubbing her swollen belly, and Charles holding her hand and kissing it tenderly.
“Perhaps so. It will be nice for Rachel and Sophia to have another little girl around.”
The countess smiled in contentment. Beyond the veranda, Edward and Tom could be seen playing a very boisterous game of catch with the rest of the children.
“We did well, Catherine,” she said now. “Our husbands would be pleased.”
“That we did,” responded the dowager smugly. “I always did have an eye for a good match.”
Lady Ranford merely smiled, secretly believing she had had more to do with Charles and Julia than Lady Hartridge.
“A shame we cannot think of anyone else to match,” the dowager went on, lifting her teacup.
“Do you think we shall live long enough to start in on Henry and the rest?” quipped Lady Ranford.
“Oh, I should hope so,” answered the dowager duchess. “But if not, I do believe that Rebecca, Caroline, and Julia will do a fine job in our absence.”
Lady Ranford chuckled softly and looked back out at her expanding family.
Charles had joined the men and children, and now Becca and Caro sat with Julia, chatting happily amongst themselves.
“I believe you are right, Catherine. The poor things won’t stand a chance.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NADINE MILLARD is a writer hailing from Dublin, Ireland. Although she’ll write anything that pops into her head, her heart belongs to Regency Romance.
When she’s not immersing herself in the 1800s, she’s spending time with her husband, her three children, and her very spoiled Samoyed. She can usually be found either writing or reading and drinking way too much coffee.
ALSO FROM BLUE TULIP PUBLISHING
When Ash Falls
London Fairy Tales, Book 4
by Rachel Van Dyken
PROLOGUE
ASH DIDN’T WANT TO remember her this way. Her beautiful face, so often lit with a breathtaking smile, was now cold and dead.
The first time he’d seen her, he had thought she was an angel, and he’d said that very thing under his breath when she had made her debut that season…
“Beautiful,” he murmured as Lucy took a turn about the room, gaining introductions to all the available gentlemen who came her way. Taking an earth-shattering breath, the kind that every man took when he was about to approach a beautiful woman, he made his way over to her.
Music faded into the background with each step. All Ash was aware of was the clicking of his boot against the floor as he progressed toward the beauty. One dance… if only she would give him one dance, he would secure her hand forever. He knew it in his heart, in his soul. She was meant to be his.
Heart beating out of his chest, he could barely contain his excitement as she lifted her eyes and met his gaze. Blue eyes twinkled in his direction, and then she lifted her hand in a wave. A wave? Something was wrong. Ash paused and then glanced self-consciously over his shoulder. There was no one but him, and then he gazed back at her. She crooked her finger, beckoning him forward.
Completely under her spell, he couldn’t deny her any more than he could cease from taking his next breath. Finally, he stood before her, at least a foot taller than she.
“Where have you been, you rogue?” She swatted him on the arm and gave him a coy laugh. “I have been looking everywhere for you!”
“For me?” Ash questioned. “Are you certain we have met?”
“Must you always joke at such serious times?” The girl laughed again, and he was caught at the sight of her dimples as they danced along her cheeks. Carefree. She appeared so carefree, so perfect, un-weighted by the things of this world, by the responsibility and darkness, by disappointment. He tilted his head and then reached out to touch her — perhaps she truly was a dream. And then a voice broke out into the pounding in his ears.
“Ah, sweetheart, you’ve met my brother.” Hunter stepped beside the girl and wrapped his arm around her.
Ash stepped back, his heart sinking down to his feet. She hadn’t been looking for him at all, but his older brother, his twin, the duke. It was such a sad joke, a sad existence really. Would he ever be first in anything?
Months had progressed into a year as he’d watched his brother and Lucy fall into such a deep love all he had been able to do was be happy for them and try to spend as much time away as possible. After all, it was not done to want your brother’s wife, to want to care for her and protect her. It was fate’s final, cruel trick to allow Ash to feel something for another and then have that person ripped away by his brother. Though he loved his brother more than his own life, it seemed Ash was always left with nothing while his brother was given everything.
His name fit.
For he was the ash after the fire of Hunter burned out.
He was nothing but soot, darkness, and sand. One day, his ashes would trickle away into the wind, never to be remembered and never mourned, but forgotten.
“Ash! Do you hear me! I love you! I love you!” Hunter yelled at his brother as he shook his shoulders, and then his eyes widened with desperation as slapped him across the face.
Ash stared at the blood staining his hands. He tried to wipe it off. Tried but failed as it continued to drip down his wrists into his jacket. “I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating over and over again, but it did not matter.
The carriage had come too fast. Lucy had thought Ash was Hunter and had run to him right into the street.
The fault was his.
He knew it, Hunter knew it, and Lucy, beautiful Lucy, his brother’s innocent wife was dead, and it was all because he had lied about who he was, tried to be better than just the second son.
He backed away, slowly at first, and then he ran.
His feet ached, his stomach heaved, and finally he stopped in the middle of the street, hoping, praying that someone or something would hit him. Death, it seemed, was his only option; it was his wish, his choice. For how could he live with himself after what he had done?
Hunter had loved Lucy, but so had Ash. She was his everything, his only relative other than Hunter, and although he had wanted her for himself, he had pushed those emotions so far beneath the surface of his heart that he hadn’t understood how far the love had run until now, until it was too late.
On legs like lead, he walked until he reached the tombstone of his parents. Both taken from him too soon. What would they think of him now? He was the disappointment in the family, the second son by minutes. And now he was a murderer.
Disgusted with himself, he sat down on the cold grass, leaned his head against the stone, and cursed. His brother — his only living relative — and he had ruined his life and ruined his parents’ memory in the process. All he had ever wanted as a boy was to please his father, yet all he’d received was disapproval. One time — just one time — he wanted to make someone proud, make himself proud.
But it was impossible.
He looked down at bloodstained hands.
His future stared right back at him.
Flee! He needed to flee, to get away. No, not just get away. He needed to die. A life for a life. So he set about doing exactly that. It was not fair that he was able to live, to survive, when the one woman who had done nothing but brought happiness to everyone she’d met, lay dead in the street.
“Lucy,” he whispered as salty tears ran down his cheeks and across his lips. “I’m so sorry… but I will see you soon. I will see you soon.” He reac
hed into his pocket and pulled out the pistol. With shaking hands he lifted it to his chin and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER ONE
I have lost the war that wages between my mind and my soul. I have allowed myself to become swallowed up within the darkness and despair of the world I exist in. What cruel God would allow me to live when my greatest desire, was to follow her into the next world? —The Grimm Reaper
ASH TRACED THE SCAR beneath his chin. Usually his cravat did the job of covering the monstrosity, but today, today of all days, he needed another reminder of who he was, of what he was.
Thick and grotesque, the scar went from just above his throat across his neck and ended at the bottom of his ear. The carriage jolted, causing his hand to slip. He slowly lowered his chin and looked down at that hand, the same hand, the same fingers responsible for pulling the trigger.
Ash closed his eyes and squeezed his hand tight until he felt the leather numb his fingers. Another reminder. They were everywhere. Since that day, he hadn’t been able to hold a pistol in his right hand; too many memories caused him to pause before he shot. In his certain business, pausing meant death. And though at one time he had wished for it, he had found a greater purpose: killing those who deserved it more than he and watching the life drain from their bodies as he said a prayer for their damned souls.
Exhaling, he slapped his glove, once, twice against his thigh and then put it back on his right hand. He squeezed into the smooth leather, relishing the way the tightness fit around his fingers. Every day he drew a breath was another day he was alive; every time he had a sensation of warmth or contentment, it was soon followed with guilt. Guilt that Lucy would never again experience any of those things, guilt that he was.
“Are you certain you are up to it this time, Ash?”
Ash’s head snapped to attention. He gritted his teeth as his nostrils flared in irritation. “Up to it? When have I ever given you reason to doubt my abilities?”
“Never.” Pierce pulled out two of his pistols and laid them across the seat next to him. “But you’ve also never had to do a retrieval. I fear you’ll shoot every bloke within the woman’s vicinity before even asking the first and most important question.”
“And what’s that?”
“Pardon?” Pierce flicked the blade of his dagger.
“The most important question.”
“Oh, of course. That would be… if we are, in fact, in the right cottage. Wouldn’t do to rescue the wrong damsel and all that. Too messy. We’d have to kill her to silence her, and I do hate having such beautiful blood on my hands.”
“Sentimental poet.” Ash smirked. “Fine. I promise not to shoot anyone or anything until we ask the question.”
“And after?”
Ash sighed. “I must be allowed to shoot something.” If he didn’t, the constraint might drive him mad. He’d been sitting in the same blasted carriage for days now. Who knew it took so long to escape to Scotland?
“Shoot a tree.”
“A tree? Be quick about reminding me why I brought you on this mission again.”
Pierce shrugged. “Because you need someone who has the social skills of a gentleman.”
“And what do I have?”
“That of an ass,” Pierce said happily and then added, “The donkey, not an actual ass, you get my meaning.” He chuckled happily. “Now, is there anything else I need to know about this damsel? She’s Russian? Escaping her horrid family in hopes to marry into the peerage? What else?”
Giving a shake of his head, Ash spread his hands. “I was told nothing more than to retrieve her and the guard and bring them into London.”
“Guard?”
“Yes, guard. As in, she has a Royal Guard who remains loyal. My guess is they will be extremely difficult.”
“Lovely.” Pierce placed his dagger on the seat next to his pistols. “All accounted for. Now, let us be quick about this. I have a saucy wench waiting for me at The Beast’s Scottish estate.”
“I doubt the Royal Prince of Maskylov would approve of your behavior under his roof.”
“The Beast is currently rotting in London.” Pierce picked at a piece of lint on his trousers and shrugged. “Besides, I like to have my appetite sated before I travel for days on end with a beautiful woman.”
Ash snapped to attention, bringing his head up almost painfully to regard the other man. “How do you know she’s beautiful?”
Pierce shrugged and then grinned wickedly. “Damsels, my friend, are always beautiful.”
Ash hoped not. The last thing he needed was a self-absorbed princess. He was no nursemaid, and he would rather gouge his own eyes out than cater to a simpering female.
BLUE TULIP PUBLISHING
BOOKS IN ORDER OF DATE PUBLISHED
To Refuse a Rake by Kristin Vayden
Pursued by Kristin Vayden
Knight of the Highlander by Kristin Vayden
The Only Reason for the London Season by Kristin Vayden
What the Duke Wants by Kristin Vayden
An Unlikely Duchess by Nadine Millard
Drown by Jennifer Rae Gravely
Seeking Scandal by Nadine Millard
Hourglass by K.S. Smith Megan C. Smith
To Tempt an Earl (Greenford Waters Legacy) by Kristin Vayden
Betraying Ever After by Kelly Martin
Phoenix Rising by Elise Faber
Rivers by Jennifer Rae Gravely
Hourglass Squared by K.S. Smith Megan C. Smith
Out of the Blue by E.L. Irwin
The Forsaken Love of a Lord by Kristin Vayden
Unwilling by KD Wood
The Dark Hour by JF Jenkins
When Ash Falls by Rachel Van Dyken
The Second Life of Magnolia Mae by Angela Schroeder
Forbidden (Regency box set, four authors)
The Mysterious Miss Channing by Nadine Millard
Dreamweavers by C.C. Ravanera
BOOKS RELEASED AS SECOND EDITION
Surviving Scotland by Kristin Vayden
Living London by Kristin Vayden
Redeeming the Deception of Grace by Kristin Vayden
Upon a Midnight Dream by Rachel Van Dyken
Whispered Music by Rachel Van Dyken
The Wolf’s Pursuit by Rachel Van Dyken
The Ugly Duckling Debutante by Rachel Van Dyken
The Seduction of Sebastian St. James by Rachel Van Dyken
The Redemption of Lord Rawlings by Rachel Van Dyken
Divine Uprising by Rachel Van Dyken
BOOKS TO BE RELEASED
Alexander King by Rachel Van Dyken
Dark Phoenix by Elise Faber
Blood Bonds by Joe Walker
Bound by JM Chalker
bluetulippublishing.com
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO FROM BLUE TULIP PUBLISHING
p;
Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3) Page 28
