The Unexpected Wife

by Jess Michaels

  Owen nodded slowly. “An impressive analysis of the situation. But I needn’t take down notes about you because I know you didn’t do the crime.”

  “You know?” she asked. “How’s that?”

  “Your alibi,” he said, motioning her toward the chairs before the fire. They sat, though he couldn’t say the lumpy seat was comfortable. “I spoke to Mr. Greenley, and your landlord did verify that you were in a meeting with him on the day in question. You couldn’t have reached London, a day-long journey on the best roads, in time.”

  She seemed to ponder that for a moment. “What if I had an accomplice?” she asked. “Or paid someone to poison Montgomery?”

  He almost laughed at how hard she was working to convince him she was a murderer. “You really do think of everything.”

  “I try,” she admitted. “I don’t want there to be a question later, you see.”

  “Well, I think of everything too,” he said. “I don’t wish to offend, but I doubt you have the funds to pay an accomplice to kill in your stead.”

  Her lips thinned. “My current surroundings give me away, do they?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. And I know this is not a recent development because Mr. Greenley complained incessantly about how your rent had been late over and over during the last nine months.”

  “Dastardly man,” she grumbled, and the flush of her cheeks made Owen wonder if Greenley had offered her alternative methods to keep a roof over her head, much to her disgust. To his, as well.

  “If you could not pay for the murder and you couldn’t get to London yourself,” he continued, slower this time. More gingerly, for what he was about to say might earn him a slap. “Then that would only leave one alternative. Someone you cared for would have had to commit the crime. I know your parents had supper with you that night.”

  “They don’t care enough about me to kill for my honor,” she muttered, her tone brittle and bitter.

  “Then it would only leave a lover,” he said. She jerked her gaze to his and the room seemed to get a little smaller as they stared at each other. “Are you the sort of woman who would take a lover, Celeste?”

  Her shoulders straightened. “I did not have a lover, no. But I think, after a year of neglect and cruelty, that I would have been in my rights to take one.” She arched a brow when he was quiet. “Have I shocked you, Owen? Have I reduced myself in your esteem?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Not at all. I happen to agree that based on all the circumstances, no one could fault you for finding…pleasure for yourself.”

  He shifted because this conversation was making his blood pump decidedly southward and he needed to get that under control before he shocked and horrified the woman. She’d suffered enough in the last few hours. Few months, if what was coming to light was accurate.

  “No lover, no money, no way to get to London…it eliminates you from suspicion unless I uncover some other evidence to the contrary.”

  There was a flutter of a smile that passed her lips. “I’m glad of it.” Her shoulders rolled forward. “I honestly have no idea what to think, Owen. Since I left my parents’ home, I have been unable to consider anything but Erasmus’s murder and this news of his other wives. But it is like it’s being told to me in a language I don’t fully understand. I can’t…I can’t fathom it.”

  He nodded. “I don’t pretend to understand what your position is. The shock of all this isn’t something I will ever diminish. But you asked me a moment ago if I had questions, and perhaps your answers will also allow me to give you more of the same.” He leaned closer. “Can you tell me something of your marriage to Montgomery?”

  She turned her head as if he had physically slapped her, and those blue eyes flashed. “Have you not mined the depths of my humiliation enough? Is there no bottom to this pit?”

  He reached for her before he thought it through and caught her hand. For a moment they both stared at their intertwined fingers, and then he released her.

  “Forgive me,” he said, pushing to his feet and stepping away from her so he wouldn’t be so foolish as to do something like that again. “I was too bold. I have no place to offer you comfort.”

  She shifted. “I appreciate the sentiment. I doubt I’ll receive much support from anyone else.”

  He folded his arms. “I realize that confessing your past to me, a near stranger, one with an ulterior motive, is not pleasant. But I’m not asking out of some salacious desire to pry into your pain. It is merely to better understand the circumstances so that I might solve Montgomery’s murder. And perhaps even help you detangle his deceptions of you.”

  She worried her lip a moment, which made him look at that same mouth. Even thinned with concern and displeasure, it was a kissable set of lips. And there went his mind again.

  Clearly he needed a woman if he was panting over the widow of a murder victim. One of three widows. God’s teeth, the woman was in trouble. She didn’t need him to add to that burden.

  “The marriage was arranged,” she said, her tone low and rough, as if she had to force the words from her lips. “Erasmus showed up in Twiddleport a little over a year ago. He swept into a country dance and made himself known. My mother…well, you have met her. She knew he was the son of an earl and her eyes lit up like a thousand candles as she set her sights on him.”

  “She didn’t know of his first marriage,” Owen said. “Even though she had heard of his origins?”

  “When pressed, I believe he told her some desperately sad story of losing his first wife quite tragically. He made it clear he didn’t wish to speak of it, so my mother railed at me not to mention it. I had no interest in getting to know him any deeper, so I complied.”

  Owen wrinkled his brow. “You had no interest and she insisted.”

  “She insisted will be written on her tombstone.” Celeste sighed heavily. “She hated that I was a bluestocking spinster and happy to remain such. She demanded I allow him to court me, and when that didn’t work, she upped my dowry and made the arrangement behind my back. I was kept in the dark and sold off like so much chattel.”

  He could hear the pain of that statement. The anger that bubbled right at the surface of her. The helplessness she had felt then and continued to feel now thanks to desperate people who didn’t think of her comfort or happiness in the least.

  “And so you married,” he said softly.

  “I tried to jump out the window first, to escape,” she said with a small smile. “But I was sadly caught and marched up the aisle, and became…well, I thought I became Mrs. Erasmus Montgomery.”

  “And how did he treat you?” he asked.

  She clenched her hands on her thighs, rubbing them against the fabric of her gown as if that could comfort and soothe her. Make this more palatable.

  “With…indifference, mostly. The moment he had his prize, the money, he no longer pretended charm. He took his husbandly rights, I suppose to give me no cause to annul the union. I asked him if I would go with him to London. After all, if I were to be chattel, at least in Town I could have some happiness. I have friends there.”

  “He refused,” Owen supplied.

  She nodded. “He laughed in my face, deposited me in this home and left. He never wrote. Occasionally he’d show up here, horse wet with exertion, face wild with emotions I didn’t understand. But I think I saw him maybe three times in the year we were wed? We had no relationship, we had no connection. And now I suppose I understand the why of that much more.”

  “And he never spoke of his life in London when he came.”

  “No,” she said. “He…oh God’s teeth, this is all so humiliating.”

  “Any fact might help,” Owen said softly.

  She took a moment to gather herself. “He did talk in his sleep on the rare occasion he deposited himself in my bed. He often said the name Rosie. I thought it to be a lover of his, but perhaps it is one of the other wives?”

  Owen straightened. “No. That isn’t either of their names, nor the woman he wa
s courting for his fourth marriage.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “There must have been legions of women he betrayed. What a club to be a part of. And news of this will spread, there will be no way to keep it from happening. The murder of a bigamist son of an earl? If no one else tells the tale, my mother will not be able to stop herself.”

  “Even though it will hurt you? Hurt herself?”

  “Gossip is currency,” she all but hissed. “She will revel in my pain as swiftly as she does in anyone else’s if she gains some notoriety for the story.”

  She rested her head back in her hands for a moment, and that gave Owen the opportunity to observe her unhindered. He felt for her, of course. He felt for all the women Montgomery had betrayed, for he had seen their various reactions over the past few days. Their humiliation and their destruction did make them part of a small sorority.

  But Celeste stood out from the others to him. She was so very clever and lovely.

  And a plan began to form. One that might not be a very good idea, considering the instant attraction he’d felt toward her. But there were other considerations. She had already shown herself to be a mind that would work well within the job he was doing. She had provided him information he hadn’t had before. And since he was certain she had not committed the crime, something he couldn’t say about Montgomery’s other wives, she might also be a useful tool in uncovering further information on that score.

  Plus, in truth, he wanted to help her. He wanted to…save her in some odd way, even though he couldn’t. But couldn’t he make it easier?

  “I am returning to London soon,” he said slowly, as if hearing the words would help him decide if he wanted to continue saying them.

  “Of course you must,” she said, glancing at him briefly. “You have done your duty here. You must have a great deal to do in Town.”

  “Yes, and some of it might require additional answers from you,” he said, feeling stronger about this with every word. “I will be examining timelines and looking into connections that you might have the only information about. The distance between there and Twiddleport will slow the exchange of that information and perhaps cause difficulty in my case. Would you…would you come to London with me?”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in shock. “Go with you!”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He was convincing himself even as he tried to convince her. “It could be of great help to me.”

  She still looked stunned, but he could also see that the idea of escaping this horrible house and the parents that had forced her into this situation was intriguing to her. “Where would I stay?”

  He hadn’t thought of that. With him would be a very bad idea. “The…er, gentleman who hired me…if you are to go with me, you’ll meet him. I might as well tell you.”

  “My mother would be hysterical to know I have the information she was so interested in. A secret pleasure amongst all this pain.” She smiled briefly. “And who is he?”

  “It is the Duke of Gilmore.”

  She leapt to her feet. “Great God!”

  “Yes. I’m certain he will make arrangements when he realizes how vital you could be to the resolution of the case. As will Montgomery’s brother. The two of them are friends and they both seemed determined to get to the bottom of this for their own reasons.”

  “I-I don’t know,” she whispered, but he could see she was poised on the edge of saying yes. How much she wanted to say yes.

  “Please,” he said softly.

  Her eyebrows lifted and then she exhaled a ragged breath. “Very well. When would we depart?”

  “Tomorrow, if you can be ready,” he said.

  Her eyes widened again. “You do not hesitate.”

  He caught that stare, holding it steadily, hoping she could see his honor. “No, I do not. And I do not lie. I promise you that you can depend on me and that I will make this as easy for you as I can.”

  Her breath hitched. It seemed that promise was not one she had been able to trust often in her life. Not from her family. Not from her false husband. He wanted to be able to earn that trust. An odd thing to feel toward a stranger, lovely or not.

  “No one can do that, I fear. It will be a difficult path I’ll just have to travel for a while.” She set her shoulders back and he could see a steel enter her, a strength he might not have guessed just by looking at her. He respected it enormously, for he knew what it was like to have to step into the wide unknown and pretend that he was just fine.

  “Good, I’ll make some arrangements for us and whoever will accompany you, and send word ahead to the duke to see if he can provide accommodation.” He dug into his pocket and handed her a card. “I’m staying at Twiddleport Inn just up the lane if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll send you the information about a time for leaving in the morning.”

  She blinked as if she was slightly stunned by all this, but then she nodded. “Very well. I’ll be ready.”

  She followed him to the foyer and they said their goodbyes before he walked away toward the inn. But he couldn’t help but take a look back at her before he turned the corner. She remained on her doorstep, watching him, and lifted a hand to wave one last time. When he glanced away, he knew deep within himself that that something had shifted today. For his investigation. And perhaps for both of them. Now he just had to make sure that he didn’t tumble them both into a worse mess than they were in right now.

  “Mama, you are standing in Mabel’s way,” Celeste said softly, interrupting her mother’s tirade.

  There had been no way for Celeste not to send a quick note to her parents, telling them she would go with Owen in the hopes of helping him solve his case. And she had known Lady Hendricks would come crashing down on her house to whine and moan and talk ceaselessly.

  She’d been right. For here they were, wedged into her chamber as she and her maid, Mabel, tried to pack her things. And Lady Hendricks was, as always, predictable in her theatrics.

  “I cannot believe you are just going to flit off to London with some strange man you’ve never met before. This is how you got into this kind of trouble in the first place.”

  Celeste hadn’t been fully listening to her mother’s ramblings until that moment. She straightened up from the chemises she was folding and pivoted. “That is not how I got into this situation. You will not rewrite my history to make me a silly girl who chose poorly. I never wanted this marriage to Erasmus Montgomery. You nearly yanked my hair out hauling me back through a window to prove it.”

  Her mother grew red at the challenge of that statement and glanced at Mabel. “Not in front of the servants,” she hissed, as if the maid couldn’t hear that either.

  Celeste rolled her eyes. “Mabel knows everything anyway.”

  Mabel stifled a small smile and went back to her folding and packing without comment. She’d learned long ago not to involve herself in the politics of the Hendricks family.

  “You should take me with you,” her mother huffed, and sat down hard in the chair before the fire. “I can help you.”

  Celeste nearly tore a chemise in her attempt to remain calm. “Help me with what? I’m certain it will be very boring, Mama. I’ll be sitting around in home likely smaller than this one, waiting to find out if Ow—Mr. Gregory needs information I might be able to provide. I’m a widow, technically. I have Mabel as my companion, I do not need a chaperone.”

  “But Mabel will not be able to see what is to your advantage,” Lady Hendricks insisted. “After all, how often do you have the prospect to go to London and partake in the opportunities it provides?”

  “What opportunities?” Celeste asked with a side glance to Mabel, who shrugged lightly. “You’ve never been one to enjoy museums or parks.”

  Her mother’s face twisted as if Celeste had said something vile. “Not parks, you ridiculous girl. I’m talking about gentlemen. It turns out you were never truly married. This trip to London could allow you to come to some other arrangement if it is played
correctly. A real husband, perhaps this one with a little more influence.”

  Celeste froze and so did Mabel. She shot a look to her maid, and Mabel did the kind thing and slipped from the room without comment. Once she was gone, Celeste turned to her mother.

  “Have you gone mad?” she asked, trying to meter her tone. “What has happened with Erasmus is going to be public, Mama, if it isn’t already circulating all through London. Everyone will know I am the third wife of a bigamist husband. It will not cause anyone to pile up at my door hoping to align themselves with this nightmare. I will be lucky if I am not booed out of Hyde Park if I’m recognized.”

  Her mother’s face paled. “Well, I suppose…that is…”

  Celeste shrugged. “In truth, it might be better for you and father to simply cut me off and forget you had a daughter.”

  That was a terrifying thing to say when Celeste had no idea of her future. Worse was that her mother pressed her lips together and was clearly considering the option. At last she said, “Perhaps staying here would be better.”

  “Yes,” Celeste said, and went back to her worn portmanteau to begin to add things again. “And I will write you to let you know all the gossip.”

  That seemed to please her mother, for she brightened up considerably. With a sigh, she stepped up to Celeste and pressed the briefest of kisses to her cheek. “Do that. And I hope it won’t be as terrible as you predict. Goodbye, dear.”

  That was all she had to say before she departed the room. Perhaps departed Celeste’s life permanently, for she hadn’t disagreed about the idea of cutting her off. It was a strange feeling, the concept that she might be free, at last, of her mother’s meddling.

  She jumped a little as Mabel re-entered the room and gave her a look of concern. “Are you well, Mrs. Montgomery?”

  Celeste frowned. “I think we can’t call me that anymore, can we? Back to Miss Celeste?” As Mabel nodded, Celeste managed a smile. “In truth, I’m not sad about that part. The role of Mrs. Montgomery never felt like it was mine. Turns out it wasn’t. And yes…I’m as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”