The Unexpected Wife

by Jess Michaels

  “I want you to understand that I hear what you’re saying,” he began. “And I don’t entirely dismiss it. I will look into Rosie Stanton, as well as into the notion that…well, I suppose you are saying that someone is framing Abigail.”

  Celeste’s lips parted. That was what she was saying. She just hadn’t fully processed that utterly terrifying prospect until that moment. “Y-Yes.”

  “However,” he continued. “I cannot dismiss a suspect just because we all like her.”

  “Owen—”

  “I do like her,” he interrupted. “I do. But the simplest answer is often the right one. So I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “You would destroy her,” Celeste whispered, though there was no heat to the accusation. She knew Owen didn’t want this any more than she did or Pippa did or, it seemed, Gilmore did.

  “I wouldn’t desire to.” Owen sighed, and now his gaze darted away from her. “Also…I-I don’t think it is a good idea if you help me with the investigation anymore.”

  She stared at him in shock. “What?”

  “You have been of great assistance,” he said. “I don’t say that to placate you—I mean it sincerely. But you are emotionally compromised, Celeste. I suppose you always were, but I was selfish and I wanted you near. I wanted what you knew and I wanted…I wanted you. But I shouldn’t have let my own…my own feelings keep me from protecting you. I must do it now. It would be dangerous to let you continue.”

  She could hardly breathe as she gaped at him. His smile was long gone, his dimple faded into his cheek as he frowned and dodged her gaze. She no longer felt that pulsing pull that always charged the air between them. That fact made her question it entirely. Had she misread him entirely? Did the fact that she had never felt truly loved made her mistake any attention as that emotion? At least from his side.

  The love she felt for him was real. But now it burned inside of her, more powerful than any grief she’d ever felt. She wanted to run away from that pain, to run away from him.

  So she pivoted on her heel and stalked away from him without answering him. Pippa’s expression softened in what was dangerously close to pity as Celeste reached her and the duke.

  “We have come to deliver the information we meant to,” Celeste said. “And Mr. Gregory would like us to go.”

  “That isn’t—” he began.

  She held up a hand without looking back at him. “Do not trouble yourself. I understood your meaning completely. Good day, Your Grace,” she said with a quick nod for the duke. She slid her arm through Pippa’s and made from the door. “Good day, Mr. Gregory.”

  Pippa called out her own farewells and then staggered after Celeste in the hallway. “Dearest, what is going on?”

  Celeste caught her breath in a great gasp as they reached the foyer and Cookson rushed to have their carriage brought around. “He—he doesn’t want me. He says I am compromised and can no longer assist him.”

  Pippa’s lips parted. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you,” she whispered.

  Celeste ignored that statement as their carriage arrived and they were helped up into the vehicle. They settled in and the carriage moved into the busy streets.

  “Celeste,” Pippa said.

  “I have never been good at…understanding people’s hearts,” Celeste choked out. “I can often read their motives or guess their next action, but when it comes to how they feel, especially how they feel about me, I do not feel that I have a clear vision.”

  Pippa tilted her head. “You cannot see that Owen Gregory cares deeply for you? That he is likely in love with you?”

  Those words were like arrows and they found their mark in Celeste’s heart. But they did not solve the problem at hand, not even in the smallest way.

  “He might love me,” she whispered. “I have sometimes felt that he did, and I would be lucky to have the heart of such a man.”

  “He would be lucky to have you,” Pippa insisted.

  Celeste smiled at the correction and continued, “But I think until this case is resolved I will never be able to parse out what part of him truly loves me and what part is simply bound to me because I am a victim of Erasmus Montgomery. And so we must solve the mystery of what truly happened and why.”

  “But you said he wished to dismiss you,” Pippa said. “And you left. Do you intend to come back and convince him to allow you to continue?”

  Celeste froze. She could do that. She certainly had some ideas of how to convince him that would be most pleasing to them both.

  She blinked and pushed that thought away. “I didn’t mean we as in him and me,” she said and reached out to take Pippa’s hand. “I mean we as in you and me.”

  “Oh,” Pippa breathed, and a thrill lit up in her gaze.

  “I would like to visit this woman, Rosie Stanton,” Celeste explained. “She is like us, another woman he claimed to love. Another woman who lost and suffered because of him. I think we would get further with her than Owen could.”

  Pippa shifted. “But we don’t know her, do we? Couldn’t she be dangerous? And don’t you worry that Owen will be angry that you went behind his back and worked on the situation without him?”

  Celeste looked out the window at the passing bustle on the street. She tried not to focus on what Owen might think or say about her further interference.

  “If what I do helps end this madness, he will have to accept it,” she said. “I will make him accept it. Or…I suppose I will lose him.”

  Pippa said nothing for what felt like forever. Then she shifted to the side of the carriage where Celeste sat and wrapped an arm around her. Pippa rested her chin on Celeste’s shoulder and smiled up at her.

  “You said you sometimes don’t have a clear vision about how people feel about you,” Pippa said. Celeste nodded. “Well, I want you to know that I adore you. You and Abigail have swiftly become two of my very best friends, not something I could have predicted when we all found out what Ras had done.”

  “Certainly that is true,” Celeste laughed, even though her eyes were stinging with tears from the warmth of this woman’s friendship toward her.

  “If you think it is best that you and I do this, that you and I pursue this to protect Abigail, to end this investigation once and for all…then I am by your side.” Pippa shifted. “But do you think we should tell Abigail about what we are doing?”

  Celeste worried her lip. The fact was that the scribbled note in the book did implicate Abigail no matter how much Celeste didn’t want to believe that she was a murderer. “I think we shouldn’t tell her about the book…not yet. If she notices it is gone from her shelf, that is another thing, but until that moment, we leave that be. But as far as Rosie Stanton…we should be in this together, shouldn’t we?”

  Pippa’s shoulders rolled forward in what was plainly relief. “Good. I don’t want to keep too many secrets from her. And I think she would be of great help in both determining where this woman is and how to manage her once we find her.”

  “Then we are in agreement,” Celeste said. “And will speak to her as soon as we get home.”

  Pippa gave her one more squeeze before she moved back to her side of the carriage, and for the rest of the ride, they spoke of anything else but the demanding work about to come. Only the change of subject didn’t really help Celeste. She couldn’t help but think of Owen. And wonder if her next steps would cement a future life they could have…or push him away forever.

  Owen pursed his lips as he stood at the window, watching Celeste’s carriage ferry her and Phillipa away from his home. When he turned away, he found the Duke of Gilmore watching him intently.

  “It’s complicated,” the duke said.

  Owen snorted out a humorless laugh. “It is that, yes.”

  Gilmore inclined his head. “My apologies. I do hope, though, that the letters from Montgomery’s father helped, at least.”

  “Very much so.” Owen struggled to maintain some level of professionalism when all he coul
d do was think of Celeste and the look on her face when she’d walked away from him. It had felt so very permanent. He cleared his throat. “We need to end this. For their sake.”

  “For ours,” Gilmore suggested. “We are all emotionally compromised, I think.”

  Owen flinched at the use of the same phrase he had said to Celeste. Compromised. He was that. It had never happened to him on a case before. It was so very dangerous.

  “Well, I do thank you again,” Owen said.

  Gilmore arched a brow. “You want me to go, and I understand that. But we are not finished, I’m afraid.”

  “No?” Owen asked, thoughts of Celeste fading a bit at the expression on Gilmore’s face. It remained calm, but there was a hint of something dark there. Angry.

  “You suspect Abigail,” Gilmore said softly. “Now more than ever thanks to this mess about the book.”

  Owen took a step closer. “Are we going to discuss how you are compromised, Your Grace?”

  Gilmore’s jaw tightened. “I think that would not be wise. For either of us. But I know you count Abigail’s understanding of herbs and chemicals as a mark against her. Do you know why she does it?”

  Owen shook his head. “I admit I don’t.”

  Gilmore paced away. “Her sister died very young of a fever. She was bled, blistered and forced to vomit regularly. It was a terrible death and Abigail was scarred by witnessing her sister’s suffering.”

  “How do you know that?” Owen asked. “I do not think you and Abigail have the kind of relationship where she would confide such a thing to you.”

  “No, she would not,” Gilmore said. “But I have researched.”

  Owen arched a brow. “All the wives?”

  Gilmore said nothing, but his expression gave him away. Not all the wives. Just the one.

  “The reason Abigail has an interest in herbal remedies and tonics is that she wanted to help. To keep anyone else she cared for from ever experiencing the horror her poor sister did. Her interest is admirable and should not be condemned.”

  “Then what do you make of the note in her copy of the book?” Owen asked. “How do you suggest I explain that?”

  Gilmore’s lips pursed as he went to the sideboard and flipped through Abigail’s copy of the book. He stared at the scrawled message in the margin. “The woman would never lower herself to write to me,” Gilmore said. “So I’ve never seen her handwriting. But I still have deep questions about whether or not she would write something like this. That is my explanation, I recognize it might not be yours.”

  He set the book down and stood there, staring off into nothing for a moment. “Compromised. What a concept.” The duke shook his head. “And now I should go. I have kept you too long.”

  Owen walked Gilmore to the door and they said their farewells then. He watched the duke ride away on his fine stallion and then returned to his office where he stared at the two books on the sideboard. His mind turned to Celeste. To what he could lose if he couldn’t resolve this and as swiftly as possible.

  And he thought of what Gilmore had said about Abigail’s handwriting.

  “He might not know what her handwriting normally looks like,” Owen muttered as he snatched up the book. “But I know one man who might.”

  He could only hope that this new idea might get him closer to the truth. Closer to resolution for him…for Celeste. For all of them.

  Chapter 21

  Abigail was sitting in the parlor reading when Celeste and Pippa returned. When they entered the room, she looked up, smiling at them in greeting. “There you are! When Paisley said you rushed out, I was worried. Where have you been?”

  “With Owen and the Duke of Gilmore,” Celeste said, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.

  Abigail set her book aside with a pinched expression. “Gilmore. I cannot understand why he would continue to involve himself in this mess. Has he not done enough?”

  Celeste pondered for a moment telling Abigail that Gilmore had taken her side in the arguments with Owen, but decided against it. Their cantankerous relationship was not one she could take time to explore at present, and it would mean revealing Owen’s doubts about Abigail.

  Right now she wanted to focus on something else.

  “Have you ever heard of Rosie Stanton?” Celeste asked.

  By the way Abigail’s cheeks paled and her gaze jerked away, the answer was clear.

  Pippa caught Celeste’s hand and squeezed as Abigail pushed to her feet and walked across the parlor. As if putting distance between them could make this go away. “Where did you hear that name?” Abigail asked, her voice rough.

  “Where did you?” Pippa whispered. “Because there is no surprise to you about it, no denial.”

  Abigail was silent for what felt like a lifetime. Two lifetimes. Long enough that all of Celeste’s fears rose up in her chest and roared through her bloodstream. Questions she didn’t want to have, suspicions she didn’t want to believe.

  “I am…not surprised,” Abigail said softly. “I knew about her. I knew about all of you.”

  Celeste pulled her hand from Pippa’s and crossed to the fireplace, trying hard to measure her breathing as the shock of that admission rushed through her system.

  “How long did you know?” Pippa asked.

  Abigail shrugged. “I discovered his duplicity a few months after he married Celeste. I was digging into some financials after a creditor demanded immediate payment and I realized Ras had not been paying his debts. I peeled back the layers of this onion.” Her hands began to shake. “This horrible, rotten onion. I discovered all his lies, all his duplicity.”

  Celeste watched as Abigail bent her head, as tears slid down her cheeks in silent streams. Her friend’s pain was palpable, rage and betrayal slashed across her face. It mirrored Celeste’s own.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked, choking on every word. “If you knew about us, why didn’t you tell us the truth then?”

  Abigail refused to look at either of them. “I was a coward at first, so shocked by his betrayal that I could scarcely move. If it came out, I would be ruined. We would all be ruined. So I hid. I tried to pretend it wasn’t true. I tried to pretend everything would be fine.”

  “To protect yourself.” Pippa’s disgust dripped from every word.

  “Yes,” Abigail gasped out. “At first I could only think of myself. Then as the shock wore off, I began to see the error of my ways, but I was frozen as to what to do. If I told you both, what would have happened? Exactly what has happened: destruction and ruination and despair. I was trying to uncover the least horrible way to do so when I realized Ras was courting again.”

  “Lady Ophelia,” Celeste breathed, and the truth of everything came very clear. “You were the one who wrote the anonymous letter to the duke that set Owen’s investigation in motion.”

  “Yes.” Abigail shook her head. “Arse though he may be, Gilmore and his sister didn’t deserve the hell that would be unleashed on them if Ras succeeded again. I wrote and told him to suspect Ras. I thought he might try to keep it quiet for his sister’s sake, that Ras would be stopped or punished, but not revealed. And it all backfired. And he’s dead. And it’s…my fault.”

  She sank into the closest chair and put her head in her hands. She wept, not silently like before, but with great heaving sobs that spoke to the weight of what she had carried. The depth of her pain. The guilt of what it had all led to.

  “I’m sorry,” Abigail whispered at last. “I’m so sorry that my inaction and inability to come to terms with this caused you both so much pain. You have become dear friends to me and I hate myself for what I failed to do.”

  Celeste came closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t say that I’m not…upset that you didn’t reach out to us sooner.”

  “We could have put our heads together, just as we have since we met, and worked out what to do,” Pippa added. Her pale cheeks were red with emotion now, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Inst
ead of us being mown down so unexpectedly by the news.”

  “I should have,” Abigail said. “If I had known your character, your wonderful personalities, I would have. But I was so afraid of what I would unlock if I reached out. I failed you, and again, I am so sorry.”

  Celeste could see that Pippa might not be fully ready to accept that apology. She had loved Erasmus, just as Abigail once had. Their betrayals at the hands of that man were very different than her own empty relationship with him.

  And that meant she had to take charge now. She was not as emotionally impacted by what had happened, so she could see things more clearly than either of her friends did. And what she saw was that any of Abigail’s strange behavior was likely explained by her actions and inactions when it came to Erasmus’s bigamy. She hadn’t killed him. Celeste knew it deep in her heart. She knew the woman before her, so wracked with guilt, could never harm the man who had ripped her heart out. If she’d wanted to, she would have had plenty of time to do it long before that night in the parlor.

  “Abigail, you are Owen’s prime suspect in the murder,” she burst out.

  Abigail jerked her head up. “What?”

  “He would be angry at me for telling you, but I think we must all be honest now. His focus has landed on you.”

  “Oh God, I feared that might be true. There are so many reasons to suspect me. And the secrets I’ve hidden will only make me more the suspicious.”

  “And that’s why we’re not going to tell him those secrets,” Celeste said, grabbing Abigail’s hands with hers and squeezing gently. “Not unless we have to do so. But to save you, we’re going to have to determine a way to prove it wasn’t you. Perhaps we’ll find the true culprit on the way to that, but the most important thing is to make Owen see that you are not the killer.”

  Pippa stared at Celeste for a moment, then finally looked evenly at Abigail. “I’m angry with you,” she said softly. “But I don’t want you to be accused of something you didn’t do. I agree with Celeste that we must protect you.”