The Unexpected Wife

by Jess Michaels

  “R-Ras,” Pippa breathed, all the color from her cheeks.

  Abigail continued to stare, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

  “Good afternoon, wives,” he grunted. “God, if this wasn’t such a mess, your expressions would be joke.”

  “You’re alive,” Celeste choked out.

  He arched a brow at her. “Come now, I just called you the clever one. Don’t disprove me by stating the patently obvious. Rosie, love, why don’t you lead our friends to the parlor? I’ll follow behind.”

  Rosie stared at him a beat, and then she smiled. “Of course, lover. Ladies.”

  She motioned down the hall, calm as anything, as if she often led the wives of her presumed dead lover into a parlor while he trained a gun on them. Celeste sensed it at her back even when he wasn’t touching her.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  He pressed the gun closer now. She felt the barrel against her spine and sucked in a breath through her teeth. “You should have left well fucking enough alone, Celeste,” he growled.

  She blinked at tears as they entered a small parlor. Rosie glared at the women as she moved to the fireplace and folded her arms. “Sit.”

  Abigail and Pippa moved to do so, close together on the settee. Celeste planned to join them, but Erasmus caught her arm and yanked her back toward him, hard.

  “Except for you,” he grunted. “You, my dear, are an insurance policy that neither of my other lovely wives will do something foolishly brave.”

  “Stop it,” Abigail said, glaring up at him. “Don’t you hurt her.”

  “I’m afraid we’re past that point now,” Erasmus said. “But we can take our time, I think. I assume you all have questions.”

  “And I’m sure you’ll be happy to brag away about what you’ve done,” Pippa hissed.

  Erasmus smiled at her. “You changed your hair, Pip. I like it.”

  “Rot with the devil,” Pippa said in return. Celeste gasped at the fire in her friend’s eyes. Fire that faded as she met Celeste’s gaze. “We’re going to get out of this.”

  She nodded, though she didn’t believe Pippa. The gun jabbing her back certainly said otherwise.

  “You—you want to monologue, I think,” Abigail said. “You were always good at talking and talking. So why don’t you do so now? Explain yourself.”

  He shrugged as he took a seat and dragged Celeste down on his knee. She noticed that Rosie flinched when he did so. Not because of the violence, she didn’t think, but because of the intimacy of the action. Perhaps that could be used to their advantage later.

  “The only one I ever loved was Rosie,” he began.

  Both Pippa and Abigail recoiled, though their sadness seemed tempered. This man’s actions were killing any faint love that might have remained in the hearts of these remarkable women. His loss, Celeste knew. He didn’t. He was too selfish and cruel to know.

  “Then why marry me?” Abigail asked. “Why not marry her?”

  “We tried,” Rosie said with a shake of her head. “His muckworm of a father put a stop to it. Said I wasn’t good enough. Said I was looking for a fortune and threatened to take all of his if we went through with it.”

  Her pain was palpable, real, and had the situation been different, Celeste might have felt for her. The gun in her back and the smirk on Rosie’s face tempered that reaction.

  “I had to pretend to push her aside,” Erasmus continued. “And we convinced my father that I’d seen the end to my foolish notion. I married Abigail and lived two very happy lives.”

  “More than two,” Abigail said softly. “There were other lovers.”

  “He only wanted you to think that,” Rosie said, her face twisting with rage. “There was only ever me.”

  Abigail held Erasmus’s stare evenly. “So you say.”

  He smirked at her. “One lover, ten lovers, what does it matter? It worked out fine and dandy until my bastard of a brother took the title. He started looking into my dealings. He didn’t find Rosie, of course, but other debts and what he liked to judge as foolery. He cut me off.” His nostrils flared. “Lord High and Mighty always wanted to do it. Our mums weren’t the same, you see. His was buried in the ground hardly a year before our father married mine. If she didn’t treat Rhys right, how was it my fault? But he punished me for it.”

  Pippa shook her head. “If Leighton wished to protect his name and fortune from your machinations, one can see how and why he would do so. Considering you are standing in a parlor with at minimum three wives, a gun in the back of one of them. You sound like a villain from a book, you know. I despise you.”

  “But you didn’t always, did you, Pip?” he said, holding her gaze. “You liked me well enough for a very long time. Practically begged for me every night I was in your bed.”

  Pippa pushed out a breath of disgust. “And all while the supposed love of your life was below my stairs. What do you think of that, Rachel…Rosie?”

  Rosie was staring at Erasmus even as she answered Pippa. “I had his heart. His body was something else.”

  She didn’t sound entirely certain of that statement, though, and Celeste caught her breath. Rosie might be the escape route for all of them. If they could turn her to their side. That, it seemed, was the next step.

  “Still, it wasn’t enough,” Celeste said. “Because I came a year later. Why?”

  “Life is expensive,” Erasmus growled, pressing the gun harder. “And you were a way to bridge the gap. Nothing more, Celeste. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Clearly. You had some affection for Abigail, it seems. And desire for Pippa. Both of them have spoken at length about your time together. How much it meant to them.”

  Abigail shot her a look, and Celeste slid her eyes toward Rosie. The understanding dawned, and Abigail nodded. “Yes, that is true. We were happy together, weren’t we, Ras? Do you remember that afternoon at Bridgely? Your brother had some errand to attend to, and you and I stayed in bed all day making love and talking.”

  Erasmus stared at her. “I remember.”

  Pippa had a harder time hiding her disgust, but she seemed to understand what was happening here as well. What Celeste was trying to orchestrate from the increasingly red-faced Rosie. “We had a similar day. Less than a year ago, right around the time Rosie was giving birth, I suppose.”

  “I’ve had my fun. Why shouldn’t I?” Erasmus said with a shrug. “And I would have had my fun with Ophelia, as well. Extra fun since it would have shattered Gilmore. Toff prick that he was, my brother’s ‘true’ brother. It would have been nice to see him squirm and watch their friendship disintegrate.”

  Celeste caught her breath. “You…you made a mistake out of emotion.”

  “Suppose I did,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have shit so close to where I lived. Once it was clear the duke was investigating, that the truth would come out, my goose was cooked. I had to think fast. And what better way for a man to start over, to get out, than to die?”

  “So you faked your death,” Pippa whispered.

  “Indeed,” Erasmus said with another shrug. As if he hadn’t torn the world to shreds.

  “How?” Celeste asked.

  He smiled and she could see how proud he was of his actions. How smart he thought himself to be. “Found an herb in Abigail’s book of potions that slowed the heart, paid off an undertaker to claim I was dead, clutched a label from a bottle of poison. It doesn’t take many clues to lead people down the path.”

  “You bastard,” Pippa whispered. “Do you know what you’ve put your brother through? What you’ve put us all through?”

  “It keeps me from prison.” He shrugged.

  “But nothing else,” Celeste said. “Now that you are in hiding, you cannot have any more money than you did when you got so desperate as to seek out a fourth wife.”

  “Well, that’s where Abigail comes in.”

  Abigail blinked. “Me?”

  “You inserted yourself int
o this situation,” Erasmus said, and he gripped Celeste tighter as he said it, his fingers biting into her skin, bruising as the gun pressed ever harder into her back. She blinked at tears, both those of pain and those of terror. “You told Gilmore, yes?”

  “How do you know that?” Abigail asked, her voice shaking.

  “I know everything, my dear. I always know everything. You blew up my plans, you managed to destroy everything. So you are the perfect one to blame for my murder. I believe our intrepid investigator has already turned his sights toward you. The one that Celeste here is spreading her legs for.”

  Celeste flinched. “Don’t talk about him.”

  “Is he good, Celeste? Does he manage to make you react, you cold, empty harpy? Is he better than me?”

  She pivoted to face him as far as he would allow. “He is ten times the man you have ever been on your best day. And he is not a fool.”

  “Perhaps not,” Erasmus said with a half-smile. “But he is a slave to evidence. He has plenty. The book about poisons that Abigail had on her shelf? The message that I deserve it that was written in the pages?”

  “What?” Abigail gasped.

  “Between that and the fact that Abigail was in the house at the time of my death, I think she’ll hang.” He shifted his attention to Abigail. “When you do, my brother will find a letter from me, marked to be sent in the event of my untimely death. The one that reveals that I had a child with Rosie. With Abigail swinging from the gallows, with his entire life falling apart around him, he will wish to quiet any whispers about an illegitimate son. He’ll offer my sweet, mourning true love a fine settlement. And we will run away happily ever after.”

  Pippa covered her face. “You abandoned that child. Your son. He is why I came here looking for you, looking for Rachel…er, Rosie. I have been looking out for him these past few months.”

  “Very kind of you,” Erasmus said with another of those smirks. “And you could have kept him, but now you’ve all gone and mucked this up right and good. So we’re going to have to go with a different plan.”

  “Ras,” Abigail said. “Please…”

  “Always liked it when you begged, my dear. That’s why I always made you do it,” Erasmus said. “But it seems that the discovery of yet another lover has driven you to the brink. You’re going to shoot Celeste. And Pippa. In a rage, you know. That rage you hide inside yourself that will finally come out. You’ll attempt to kill Rosie, too.” He glanced toward her. “I’ll shoot an arm, love. Nothing permanent.”

  “You’re going to shoot me?” Rosie gasped.

  “I must do so to make it look right.” He shook his head. “Think of the future. You survive this vicious attack and my brother will pay you double what he might have otherwise. You and I can go to America, a new life with no other wives. Freedom to do anything. Nothing holding us down.”

  “Except for your son,” Pippa said.

  Erasmus glanced at her. “We won’t even need him with this new plan. Why take him when we could be truly free?”

  “You would abandon our son?” Rosie whispered.

  “No one is abandoning anyone.”

  They all pivoted toward the door, toward the voice there. Celeste knew it before she even looked. Owen stood there, his own weapon trained on Erasmus. With him was the Earl of Leighton, and he stared at his brother, face entirely drained of color.

  “What is this, Ras?” he whispered. “What have you done? My God, what have you done?”

  Chapter 23

  Owen could hardly breathe, hardly think, as he stared at Celeste, perched precariously on Erasmus Montgomery’s lap with a pistol pressed into her side. And he needed to think. He needed to remain calm even though the woman he loved was threatened.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, never removing his eyes from her, willing her to see that he would protect her.

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “None of that.”

  “Very romantic,” Montgomery snapped. “But why don’t we get back to the matter at hand? Rhys, you fool. Why couldn’t you leave bloody well enough alone?”

  “Because I thought you were murdered and I gave a damn about bringing the killer of my only brother to justice,” Leighton said, his voice shaking. “And here you are, playing out another game with people’s emotions. Like we’re all pieces on your bloody chessboard.”

  “You were always better at that game than I was,” Montgomery said.

  “But not this one. This game you are expert at,” Leighton replied, turning his face in disgust. His gaze landed on Phillipa. “Has he hurt you?”

  “No,” she whispered, and cast her eyes to the ground.

  “I’m also fine, thank you both for asking,” Abigail muttered.

  “My wife, eh?” Montgomery said. “Tsk, tsk, big brother. That isn’t very proper at all.”

  “Enough of this!” Leighton snapped. “You are going to put that fucking gun down and you are going to answer for what you’ve done.”

  “You’re not my lord and master. You’re barely my brother,” Montgomery snapped, and Owen flinched. He was dangerous, and even more so as he became agitated.

  Leighton seemed to see the same because he drew in a few breaths. “You must know this is inescapable now.” His tone was much gentler. “Please, Ras, let Celeste go, let the others go, and you and I can talk. We’ll mitigate the damage, we’ll—”

  “Will you shut your mouth?” Montgomery drawled. “Bloody fucking hell, shut your mouth. Stop pretending you give a damn about me. Yeah, we need to work this out. But it’s on my terms now, my lord.”

  Owen cleared his throat. “And what are those terms?”

  Montgomery shook his head. “I want my money, Rhys. I want the money you stole from me.”

  “I didn’t steal anything. You had access to an inheritance for years, far beyond what Father left for you. I cut you off because you couldn’t manage to keep any control over yourself. I stole nothing from you.”

  “Leighton,” Owen said. “Look at Celeste.”

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face entirely white and pinched with pain. Montgomery had jammed the gun so hard against her ribs that Owen was certain she would have a massive bruise. If she survived this.

  But no, he couldn’t think of an alternative to her survival. Not if he wanted to function.

  Leighton cleared his throat. “Please let her go.”

  “I have leverage with this one,” Montgomery said with a flash of a grin toward Owen that made him want to grab the man and strangle the very life out of his body. “And I think I might have some leverage with that one, too.” He nudged his head toward Pippa. “Tough luck, Abigail—looks like you don’t have a champion.”

  At the fireplace, Rosie Stanton gave a little cruel laugh.

  Montgomery arched a brow at his brother. “Tell me what I want to hear and then I’ll give you gentlemen what you want.”

  “Money,” Leighton said softly. “Enough to start your life wherever you want. With your family, Rosie and the…” He cleared his throat. “The child. Assuming you want him.”

  There was a beat where Montgomery gave no answer, and it was all the answer in the world. Rosie Stanton stepped forward, her hands behind her back as she glared at him. “You would truly abandon our son?”

  Montgomery pursed his lips. “He served his purpose if we get what we want, didn’t he? Do you really want some screaming brat bogging us down, ruining the fun we’ll have?”

  “He’s my child!” she screeched at the top of her lungs.

  Montgomery looked at her with disgust, undisguised and cruel. “Maybe you don’t want to come then, eh, girl? Maybe you want to stay behind and face whatever consequences my brother has in mind for your part in this?”

  Rosie was silent for a moment, staring at him like she didn’t even know him. And then she pulled a pistol from behind her back and trained it on him, on Celeste just as surely. And Owen’s heart felt li
ke it was being torn from his chest.

  Celeste bit back a yelp as Erasmus yanked her so that Rosie Stanton’s gun was only pointed at her. A shield to protect him, just as he’d always been using others to protect himself over the years. They were all victims of it, everyone in this room. Even the woman who could very easily end her life.

  “I’ve been following you for years,” Rosie sobbed, the gun shaking in her hand. “Watching you bed woman after woman and tell me it was for our future. Watching you waste everything you got and pretend that it was for me and our son.”

  “For you,” he said. “You ungrateful cow. And now you point a pistol at me? At me? The man who has done all this to give you what you wanted?”

  “It was never about what I wanted. I lived in your house in Bath and I listened to you bed her—” She pointed the hand that didn’t hold the gun toward Pippa. “—again and again. I watched you waste all their dowries on your frivolities while you promised it was for me. And you convinced me to bear you a child. I thought it was because you loved me, but…you don’t love anyone but yourself, do you?”

  “Christ but you run your mouth,” Erasmus barked at Rosie, but Celeste blocked him out. She focused instead on Owen. Owen’s handsome face, Owen’s fear that lit up his beautiful pale brown eyes.

  I love you, she mouthed.

  Those eyes widened and he swallowed hard. Nodded once. And then looked hard at Erasmus. She glanced up at her once husband. He was so busy screeching at Rosie, berating her, that he had loosened his grip on Celeste a fraction. Owen was practically spelling out to her that this was her chance.

  Her only chance.

  She drew in a deep breath and then swung her elbow back. She hit Erasmus in the center of his chest and he gasped in surprised pain. She dove out of his arms, flattening on the floor.

  Not a moment too soon, because just as she did Rosie shook her head. “You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

  She fired the gun as Celeste covered her ears and screamed. A weight hit her, and for a moment she thought it was Erasmus, falling over her as he died. But it wasn’t. It was Owen, and he was warm and real as he covered her.