Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1)

by May Burnett

  This time Charlotte’s mouth remained open for a full three seconds. Her heart began to beat fast with incipient hope, but she forced herself to speak calmly. “Even if that were true, how can you possibly know?”

  “My friend Alphonse volunteered to investigate Conway’s antecedents in his home county, in Kent. He talked to Conway’s uncle and to the elderly parents of the first Mrs. Conway. Lydia Conway was alive until September of 1811, when she died of pneumonia, and that marriage was presumably just as legal as yours – or rather more so, since yours was bigamous on your husband’s part.”

  “I cannot believe it. Have you seen the evidence yourself? The marriage lines, the church records, the gravestone of this other woman?”

  “No, but Alphonse would not make a mistake on such an important matter.”

  There was a silence as Charlotte tried to decide if the suave Frenchman would be capable of such a cruel joke, if she could trust what James was telling her. She desperately wanted to believe him. James could have her tonight without inventing such a story; they were already practically naked, together in this inn room. He could have no motive to deceive her, or give her false hope. While she considered, he quickly finished his ablutions.

  At last she let out the breath she’d been holding without realising it. “If I see written proof, I’ll believe it.” The implications began to sink in. “Why, that rotten scoundrel! Here I have tortured myself over being virtuous and respectable all my life, and it’s all for nothing! I was already ruined and not even aware of it!”

  “You don’t look ruined to me,” James said cheerfully. “Your robustness is one of the things I find most attractive about you. I’ve always been partial to Amazons.” He stood up, soapy suds running down his long body. He reached for the can of clean water placed next to the tub and carefully rinsed the soap off before reaching for the linen towel.

  “You know what I mean. How can you even talk of marrying me when I have such scandals in my past? Born illegitimate, and married to a bigamist, what man would have me?”

  “This man. I’ll marry you and be grateful if you’ll have me, Charlotte. None of these things were your own doing, or your fault. The men in your life have treated you shabbily, but I will stand by you, no matter what. Will you give me the chance?”

  Charlotte angrily passed the back of her hand over her eyes, but foolish tears still threatened to spill over. Her voice sounded raw. “If you are quite sure that’s what you want, James.”

  “Perfectly, gloriously, happily, irrevocably sure. I was never as glad as when I discovered that you are free to marry. And we are already engaged, too. Is there anything else worrying you?”

  “Having your mother as a mother-in-law might put off the stoutest of women, James.”

  “I know, but you, darling, are equal to anything.”

  Charlotte blushed under his admiring regard.

  “Do we have to talk about my mother at a time like this?” James asked as he rubbed the linen towel over his torso one last time.

  “No, James, we don’t. I feel my scruples melting in the warmth of this fire. Looking at your body is giving me a most peculiar feeling.” In her heart, her belly and unmentionable places, but she would not say that aloud.

  “Good,” James growled. He sat in the armchair, and pulled Charlotte onto his lap. “Now, where were we?”

  “Discussing whether we should lie together tonight, even though we aren’t – yet – married.” Charlotte squirmed a bit, and felt something hard twitch against her bottom.

  “How goes your vote?” He brushed his hands ever so slightly across her hard nipples.

  “We-ell …”

  “Look at it logically. In the light of this new information, you are a spinster engaged to me – we would not be the first couple to discreetly anticipate their vows. Neither of us is a virgin, and we plan to marry soon. I see nothing very wrong in our giving each other pleasure. But the decision is yours, now and ever.”

  “It’s amazing how logical you can be under circumstances such as this.” Charlotte shook the linen towel from her body. “Don’t you think there has been enough talk, and we should proceed to these intimacies you promised?”

  “You mean it?”

  The way James looked at her, as though his very life depended on Charlotte’s answer, dissolved her last doubts. She nodded.

  James took a deep breath. “Then let’s all the pleasures prove, as the poet says, love. Come to bed.”

  Chapter 28

  Charlotte awoke with a start. For the first time in weeks, her rest had been deep and soothing. She felt rejuvenated, ready to jump from the bed and take on the world. Yet what bed was this, and whose was the warm, hard body snuggled against hers?

  Memory came rushing back like a tidal wave, and her fingers convulsively tightened on the feather pillow under her hand. She’d been shown things in this very bed that had been a closed book to her, for all her previous marriage – not a marriage at all, if James was to be believed. She fervently hoped that he had spoken true, and they could marry, as he had promised. Then she could awake like this every morning, with his wonderfully wicked, talented body next to hers … why, the things they had done last night! She’d cried out loud, something she’d never have thought herself capable of doing. James was so very wicked in bed. That thing he did with his tongue, surely it had to be illegal? He had just laughed at her shock and proceeded to demonstrate that she’d been a complete novice where such pleasures were concerned. One more thing to hold against Peter Conway, but she would not waste any more thoughts and regrets on him.

  The sun was peeping through a split of the thick curtains, tiny dust motes dancing in the ray of light. She heard the daytime noises of a busy inn, clattering pans, the clucking of chickens, neighing, coaches coming and going. How late was it? Shouldn’t they be on their way northwards long since? Yet this unaccustomed feeling of rest was worth a bit of delay. No doubt her lover also needed his sleep – James had certainly earned his exhaustion last night.

  She did not feel guilty. That was the strangest thing: she’d resisted so long, so stubbornly against the notion of becoming a fallen woman, but this morning she felt no different from the day before – if anything, freer and better. Were all the stern warnings of ruination and lost honour issued to keep women from discovering these delicious pleasures? No, the main reason must be to prevent unsanctioned pregnancies. Had they – could she … Charlotte bit her lips. Last night, in the heat of passion, she’d shoved aside any thought of consequences. But in the light of day, it was obvious that after receiving James’s seed in her womb several times, she might already be carrying his child. That would make it even more essential that they marry … Dear God, she prayed, if you will still listen to me after this night, let it be true!”

  James stirred and opened his eyes. “Is it morning already? What is it, love? You look very serious.”

  “I have been wondering if those pleasures we proved – which were delicious, James, thank you – might have consequences nine months hence.”

  “Ah, yes.” He smiled. “We’ll be married long before then; don’t fret.”

  “Can you be so sure?”

  “Yes. So sure that I have no qualms at all running the risk once again, if you are not too sore.”

  “No … but in broad daylight?”

  “Morning is an excellent time for love-making. Didn’t you know that?”

  She smiled at his enthusiasm. “Better than night?”

  “Well, we’ll have to experiment, with morning, noon, afternoons, early and late evenings, the small hours of the morning, and so on – with enough practice we may be able to fix the best time, for us. I cannot speak for others.”

  “You are just trying to make me blush.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Shouldn’t we be on our way? This inn is only three or four hours from London, we have barely begun our long journey. Unless you have changed your mind and want to go back?”

 
“What, after you went to the trouble of abducting me? No, I’ll be sticking to you like glue. But given our strenuous activities last night, and that I need some things from home, it seemed a good idea to break our trip for one day.”

  “Stay here in bed a whole day?” The very notion sounded decadent.

  “Not in bed, necessarily, though I’m willing if you are. I expect some deliveries in the afternoon.”

  “Have you ever spent a whole day in bed?” Charlotte tickled James on the shoulders. He snorted.

  “No, I have not yet stayed in bed for a whole day, when I was healthy; and fortunately I’m almost never sick. However, with you to keep me busy, I wouldn’t mind trying it. Soon.”

  “If you are awaiting somebody, we might as well get up –“

  James did not budge. “Not so fast! We have not yet experimented with morning love-making. If you’re game.”

  He was incorrigible. What should she do with him? “I am if you are.”

  “Oh, always,” he assured her. “Just say the word. I’ll rise to the occasion, even when I’m eighty.”

  “You hope.” She smiled at the picture.

  “No regrets, sweetheart?”

  “No, I feel light and happy, not at all like a ruined woman is supposed to. I cannot fathom it.”

  “Well, then,” – his lips closed on hers, his tongue invaded her mouth, and his hands, warm from the bed, were roaming over her most intimate places. She had learned a thing or two last night, however, and immediately retaliated by lightly stroking him where he was most sensitive, and very ready to serve her, she was pleased to discover. James had a lot more stamina than Peter had ever had – well, he was bigger and younger, and she would not, not, allow the memory of that rogue to intrude on the lovely memory she was making here and now.

  Then James did something clever with his fingers, and all thoughts, of ex-husbands or anything else, went out of her head in a wave of heat and pleasure.

  Afterwards she needed several minutes to catch her breath, and sat up with a groan. “I need the privy,” she said, disengaging herself from his arms.

  “And we’d better ring for the maid to bring the fresh washing-water. Good morning, again, Mrs. Ellsworthy.”

  “I am very hungry,” Charlotte was startled to discover.

  “I’ve noticed that you have a hearty appetite, even in trying times. I’ll do my best to keep you fed.” James pulled at the bell, and ordered breakfast served in their parlour as soon as might be.

  “They will need to put the room to rights,” Charlotte observed, trying to tidy her hair with her fingers. As she hadn’t put it in tresses the previous night, it was less manageable than normal. “Have you seen my brush?”

  “Here it is – let me assist you.” James passed the brush through her hair carefully, so as not to pull and hurt her. “I could get used to doing this.”

  “I do have a maid normally, to help with these chores.”

  “A husband is useful, too. “ He bent and placed a small kiss on her neck.

  “James, I really need to eat something. If you keep doing this, we’ll never get out of the bedroom.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He went back to brushing.

  Charlotte sighed. What had she let herself in for? And yet she wouldn’t have changed anything for the world.

  They partook of luncheon soon after. It turned out that by the time they descended it was already a few minutes after noon. As they waited for his deliveries, James insisted on demonstrating more techniques that Charlotte had not yet heard of, that could be performed sitting, standing, and without undressing; he seemed set on educating her in the shortest possible time.

  A little after four o’clock, when they were sedately drinking tea and eating hot cross buns, Alphonse strode into their private room, closely followed by a severely dressed man in his forties.

  “So this is where you’re hiding out!” Alphonse greeted James, before making an elegant bow to Charlotte. “My felicitations, Ma’am.”

  Was he mocking her? “On what?”

  “Why, on your impending marriage to this rascal, of course. I’m not sure that commiseration would not be more in order, but somebody has to take him in hand, and it might as well be you.”

  “You’re the only one qualified for the task, Charlotte,” James agreed, winking at her. “By the way, this is my valet. Your future mistress, Jouvin.”

  Charlotte nodded at the servant, who gave her a respectful bow, then turned back to the young Frenchman. “James told me that you have been investigating Conway’s background? I am obliged to you, Sir.”

  “It was my pleasure, Ma’am, and no trouble. I gather you require written proof before you’ll consent to make an honest man out of James. I have brought affidavits from the first Mrs. Conway’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Trepanner, with all the relevant dates.” He produced two loose pages from a pocket, and handed them to Charlotte.

  “How did you obtain those so quickly, Alphonse?” James asked.

  “Most providentially the Trepanners were already in London, anxious to retrieve their granddaughter. After my visit, nothing would do but to come straight up and search for her. They were overjoyed when I told them yesterday evening where to find the girl. As of this morning, if all went well, Miss Celia Conway will once more be residing in Kent with her maternal relatives.”

  Charlotte looked the affidavits over. They were not long, and bore out what James had told her. She turned to Alphonse. “Please tell me frankly – are you quite sure that I am free to marry James?”

  “If you and Conway were married before September 1811, then your first marriage was definitely invalid.” He looked straight into her eyes as he said, it. She could detect no trace of deception or doubt.

  “It feels like a heavy stone falling off my shoulders,” Charlotte said wonderingly. “I had no idea it was quite so heavy until now, when it is gone. Not married! I can choose again, and have children! It is like a miracle.”

  “I thought you’d already picked James here?” Alphonse drawled. “If not, this is not going to be of much use.” He produced another document from his inner pocket. “It cost a packet, too.”

  “The special license?” James grabbed at the paper, unfolded and scanned it. “You left the name of my wife blank?”

  “I wasn’t sure of her exact legal name. You can fill that in yourselves.” Alphonse handed James a heavy purse. “Here are the funds you’ll need as a newly married couple, with Jonathan’s best wishes. He would have come in person, but is unable to leave his office just now.”

  James pocketed the purse without even counting the contents. It was clear to Charlotte that he had never been seriously short of funds in his life.

  “So when are you getting married? May I offer my services as best man?” Alphonse asked.

  Charlotte and James exchanged glances. “Soon,” James said.

  “I would like my sister Belinda to stand up with me,” Charlotte said hesitantly.

  “As to that, it would be churlish not to invite my brother George when I was witness at this own wedding, only a few weeks ago.”

  “You could marry tomorrow, on your way, and then have another ceremony for the family,” Alphonse suggested. “Best not put it off too long. You never know what might happen.”

  “I knew a man who was hit by a falling roof tile the day before his wedding,” the valet unexpectedly said, “and left his babe fatherless nine months later.”

  Everyone looked at him. “What a dreadful story,” James said. “Jouvin, you are the eternal pessimist. However, I take your point.”

  “If you’re determined to be hitched –,” Alphonse looked from Charlotte to James, – “I suggest that I proceed to the local village church now, and round up a priest to marry you there tomorrow at eleven. I’ll take the license with me and serve as witness. All you have to do is show up.”

  “I’d be honoured to be the other witness, Sir,” Jouvin added.

  “Very well.” James smiled at his fri
end and the valet. “I’ll never forget your help in this time of need. Thanks, Alphonse, I’ll see you in church tomorrow at eleven.”

  “Thanks from me also,” Charlotte added. “I’m glad James has such good friends.”

  Alphonse withdrew with a wink.

  “Did you bring my luggage?” James asked Jouvin. “It was not necessary that you should come as well.”

  “Oh, but consider, Sir, how long you may be gone, with nobody to starch your shirts, or blacken your shoes just so! Your reputation, and mine with it, might be ruined! My place is by your side.”

  “How did you arrive here?”

  “I brought your curricle, Sir, that you’ve been holding in readiness.”

  James pondered this. The travelling chaise was more suitable for the long trip to Yorkshire, but the curricle would be useful once they arrived.

  “Very well, you may come. But you travel in the curricle, with my coachman – he’s here too, I suppose?”

  “Yes, and your tiger, Sir, to look after the horses and open gates.”

  James sighed. “A good thing I received that purse, now that we have such an entourage. Tell everybody that they are welcome to attend the wedding tomorrow, and that I expect them to obey my wife’s every wish.”

  “Yes, Sir. And my sincere felicitations.” Jouvin withdrew with another bow, leaving the engaged couple to enjoy their tea once more in solitude.

  “You have thought of everything,” Charlotte said. “Next time I’ll leave the abducting to you.”

  “Good idea. Have you had enough of those buns? I wouldn’t mind going up to check if the suitcase has arrived, and then we could have another nap, as we’ll have to rise early tomorrow.”

  Charlotte guessed from the gleam in his eye that for James a ‘nap’ involved vigorous exercise.

  “Yes, I a nap might be a good idea. Lead the way.”

  “I already feel quite married,” James said sotto voce as they ascended the staircase side by side.

  “So do I, oddly enough. Of course, until yesterday I considered myself married too, but it’s not at all the same.”