The Unexpected Wife

by Jess Michaels

  There was a deafening silence in the room for what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but felt like a lifetime. Owen rolled away, allowing Celeste to see what had transpired. Abigail was barely rising from the floor in front of the settee. Leighton had grabbed for Pippa and was holding her against his chest, turned away from Erasmus’s body.

  Dead. This time in reality, if the glazed emptiness of his stare was any indication.

  “Miss Stanton,” Owen said softy, his voice gentle. He held out a hand. “Give me the gun.”

  Rosie stared at the dead body, then at the gun in her hand. She let out a keening cry that seemed to tear the room down as she dropped the weapon with a clatter.

  “What have I done?” she gasped out. And then she ran from the room.

  Leighton released Pippa and took a long step after her. “Wait there!” he called out.

  “Go with him,” Celeste whispered. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  Owen didn’t seem to believe that, but he squeezed her gently and then took off after Leighton and Rosie. Which left the three wives of Erasmus Montgomery to stare at his dead body on the floor.

  “Oh, Ras,” Abigail said, sinking down on her haunches. She felt for his pulse. After a moment, she shook her head. “He is well and truly gone this time.”

  Pippa covered her mouth. “I cannot believe it.”

  Celeste didn’t add her voice to their chorus. They had loved the handsome, selfish, cruel man who lay at their feet. Or loved something he had presented to them, something he had offered in order to save himself. But Celeste hadn’t. And she felt almost nothing as she looked down at him.

  “What he said about how he faked the death….” She shook her head.

  Abigail pressed his eyes closed and got to her feet, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “He was always…clever, despite himself.”

  “Yes,” Pippa said softly. “Despite himself.”

  Leighton and Owen returned to the room, panting but long faced. “Rosie is gone. She raced off and we lost her in the crowd.” Owen crossed back to Celeste as if he couldn’t stand not to be near her. As she wrapped an arm around him, she leaned into him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat, the warmth of his presence that somehow made the horrific events of this long day bearable.

  Leighton sank to his knees before the body of his brother and stared. “We were never brothers,” he whispered. “His mother made certain of it. And yet I feel…”

  Pippa stepped toward him, rested her hand on his shoulder. “Rhys,” she whispered. His given name, not his title. He glanced up at her, held her stare for a long, charged moment, and then shook his head.

  “I would suggest that the ladies leave. Gregory, perhaps you could escort them in Abigail’s carriage. I will call for Gilmore and we will…take care of this.”

  Owen tilted his head. “Take care of it?”

  Leighton met his eyes. “I asked you to find out who killed my brother, and now we know the sordid truth.”

  Celeste stared at this man. Unlike his brother, he had never been anything but decent and kind toward her. She saw his pain, she saw his grief and loss and his strength. She saw all he was that his brother had never been. And she mourned for him.

  “I’m so sorry, my lord,” she said.

  Leighton looked up at her. “You are too kind, Celeste. I do not deserve your apology and I owe you a great many more.” He sighed as he pushed to his feet. “I think Erasmus has done enough damage to everyone involved, even the young lady who shot him. If there is anything that men like Gilmore and I know how to do, it is to make things easier for ourselves, to cover up the cracks so the world sees perfection.”

  “The cracks were not yours to fill,” Pippa said softly. “The imperfection never yours.”

  “But it shares my name. My blood. And it is my responsibility.” Leighton glanced at Pippa again and then at Owen. “Let me do it, Mr. Gregory. Let me cover this up. Not to save myself—there is no doing that. The world knows of Erasmus’s bigamy and betrayal, and I will spend years regaining the honor he took from our family. But let me cover up the rest for them.”

  Owen looked at Abigail and Pippa. He looked down at Celeste. And he nodded. “I will meet with you later. And you will tell me how to word the report.”

  Leighton stepped forward and extended a hand. “Thank you, Owen.”

  “Rhys,” Owen said as they shook. Then he led Celeste from the room with Abigail and Pippa trailing behind them. Celeste was numb as they got back into the carriage. Numb as they rode off back to London. Back to a reality she could not see played out before her except in shades of pain.

  And she could only hope there would be one light in the distance. One light held by the man who now held her. But it was not guaranteed and she would have to wait to see if it were even possible.

  Owen lay in bed, his arms around Celeste. It had been twelve hours since the horrible events in Lambeth. Ten since he had escorted Pippa and Abigail back to their home and brought Celeste to his. They had not spoken. He thought she could not yet. He certainly couldn’t find the words to talk about what had happened.

  Seeing her with the gun jabbed in her side, hearing Montgomery declare that he would kill her, knowing that bastard meant it…it had ripped a hole in Owen that he doubted would ever be filled. He would wake the rest of his days from that nightmare, sweating in pure terror.

  He could only hope that the woman laying beside him right now would still be there during those future nights, future nightmares. That would make the rest almost worthwhile.

  She stirred a little and he tightened his arms around her. She was still in her gown. He’d made no attempt to undress her, just let her fall into his bed, weeping until she slept. He’d only removed his own boots, his shirt so he could feel her against his skin. Know she was real and whole.

  “Owen?” she said softly, her breath gentle against his bare chest.

  She glanced up at him, and he smiled at her. “Sleep. You need to rest.”

  “What time is it?” she asked, her fingers tracing patterns into his skin.

  “After four,” he said. “Very early.”

  “I cannot believe I slept like that,” she said. “How could I sleep after what happened?”

  “Your body needed to release,” he said, smoothing his fingers through her hair the way he loved to when he held her like this. “You needed to turn off the world and recover.”

  “What will happen now?” she whispered.

  He shifted. “Well, Leighton and Gilmore will pay their way into a cover up, I assume. The rumors of a murder will transform to one of a suicide, or if Leighton pays enough, perhaps an accident. Some of the pressure will come off. Not all. But enough that Leighton will at least be able to move again.”

  “You will be agreeable to that lie?” she asked.

  He drew in a long breath. “That isn’t an easy question,” he said. “And I admit that I have lain here thinking about it all night. Leighton is a decent man, despite his bad relations. And Gilmore is too. I was hired to uncover the truth to their satisfaction, and I did that. Would revealing the desperate truth to the public, to the authorities, do anything positive? Or would it bring ruin?”

  “And what about Rosie Stanton?” she whispered.

  He held Celeste tighter as a shudder worked through her. “She is running now. Perhaps she’ll return for the child she left behind. The son Montgomery wanted to abandon. Leighton will have his say in that, and I think Phillipa, too, since she is involved in his life in some way.”

  Celeste nodded against his chest. “I suppose that is a bridge to cross in the future.”

  “It is. Perhaps it is not a bridge you need worry about, except as a friend to the parties involved.” Owen leaned down to kiss her forehead.

  She was quiet for a moment and he let her be. Enjoyed the presence of her in his life, in his bed, in his arms. But there were things that needed to be said now. Things he refused to avoid.

  “You
mouthed that you loved me when Montgomery had that gun to your back,” he said. “When you thought you would die.”

  She stiffened against him. “I did,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure you understood. I thought you did, but…”

  “Oh, I most definitely did.”

  She lifted her gaze to him. “And what did you think? Be honest with me. It was a moment of great pressure and I don’t expect you to pretend that you return my feelings if you don’t. We never made promises to each other and I—”

  He cupped her jaw and tilted her face up. With a smile, he caught her lips with his and kissed her, first tenderly and then with more passion as she lifted against him with a sigh.

  “I love you, Celeste,” he whispered against her lips as they broke apart at last. “Not because it was a situation filled with tension, not because I don’t want to hurt you, not because I feel an obligation. I have loved you almost since the first moment I saw you. I will love you until the moment I take my last breath. So when you ask what I thought, it was this great, discordant joy in the midst of terror and anguish. But I must ask if your heart still feels the same now that a gun isn’t pressed to your flesh.”

  He held his breath as she sat up and stared at him. “Are you mad? I adore you, Owen Gregory. With all my heart and soul. I love you so very much.”

  She launched herself into his arms and he caught her, joy filling him in every part of his being. And a longing to be with her that he had tamped down reawakened as he drew her across his body, laid back with her covering him.

  “Show me,” he murmured against her lips.

  Chapter 24

  When the door to Rosie Stanton’s house opened and revealed that Erasmus was alive, Celeste had many thoughts. Chief among them was the sinking dread that she would never be happy again. That the actions of one selfish man would end her life, either by snuffing it out with his gun, or grinding all the good away until there was nothing left.

  But as she straddled Owen’s hips, her mouth seeking his with urgency, being met so sweetly and passionately, those fears melted away. The future wouldn’t be perfect. There were many unanswered questions and doors that would be forever closed because of her bigamist husband.

  But one door that was open now was the one that led to Owen. The one that merged their hearts and their bodies and their lives from this day forward.

  And because she had almost lost that, she found herself desperate to feel it now. She pushed at her skirts, bunching them around her waist, she fumbled with his front fall and he caught her hand with his, pulling away from her lips to smile up at her.

  “We have all the time in the world,” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “I need this now.”

  He held her stare and then nodded. With a flick of his wrist, he opened his trousers and let the flap fall away. She licked her lips as she looked at him, hard as steel, as ready as she was. And hers. He was hers, from head to toe. Including this magnificent cock she caught in her hand and stroked once, twice, until his eyes rolled back and he let out a deep, guttural moan.

  And it was too much. She leaned forward and brushed the head of him against her lips, stroking him back and forth across the crease.

  “Celeste,” he grunted, but she didn’t allow him to protest or question. She took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him, reveling in his taste.

  He lifted into her, taking a little more, and she didn’t resist. She stroked over him, drawing him to the brink, slowing to take him back. She watched him, loving how he gripped his hands against the coverlet, dug his fingers into her hair to hold her closer.

  She gave to him and the tingling between her legs multiplied with his pleasure. Until she knew she would come with just a touch when the moment arrived.

  At last he grunted, pushing her mouth from him, dragging her up his body, pulling her over him once more so that his cock slipped into the slit of her drawers and teased her entrance.

  “Today I need to feel you,” he gasped as he wound his fingers into her hair and tilted her face so she would look at him. “Today I need to love you completely. And tomorrow you can suck me dry.”

  “Tomorrow and forever, for all of it,” she promised.

  He thrust hard and fast and filled her to the brim with him. She ground down with a garbled moan, lost in the gorgeous sensation of their joining. Bound by the fact that they would never have to be parted again. That there were no more questions. He loved her, she loved him, and this was everything.

  She rolled her hips over him, their kisses growing more and more heated, more and more desperate as her pleasure mounted. The edge of release was right there, the cusp of madness so close she could feel it. When it came, when she came, she threw her head back, slamming her hips to his in the quiet as she said his name over and over, said she loved him over and over. He caught her hips, the tendons in his neck straining as he lifted into her, lifted her off the bed, forced her to ride through her crisis and into his.

  She smiled as he cried out and pumped into her, joined fully at last. Then she collapsed onto his chest, their bodies still connected, slick and hot. The silence that followed was perfect. The silence of knowing.

  But finally he tightened his arms around her and let out a sigh. “You asked me earlier what came next,” he said. “And I think I gave you a coward’s answer by telling you tales of what everyone else in our lives would do next.”

  “You want to tell me about us,” she said, resting her hands on his chest and her chin against them. “Oh yes, I’d love to hear that.”

  “I want to marry you, Celeste. Not now if you don’t want it. I know you’ve been given very few choices and haven’t had any autonomy, but when you are ready. And in our future I see evenings at Lena and Harriet’s salon. I see nights in this bed, doing what we just did, slower and with more licking.”

  She laughed even though tears had begun to sting her eyes. “And faster?”

  “Sometimes faster,” he promised. “I see you inserting yourself in every investigation, because I know you. And I see myself needing your input because you make me better at what I do. Better at who I am.”

  “I would like that,” she whispered.

  “And I see you exploring whatever you’d like to do or be. Write a book? Paint? Become an accomplished pianoforte player? I want to see you do it all. Whatever you want, whoever you wish to be.”

  The tears slid down her cheeks now. Joyful and hopeful for the first time in perhaps her whole life. “If you are a soothsayer, Owen Gregory, I love the future in your eyes. I want all of it. As soon as possible.”

  “Marry me?” he whispered, brushing his lips to hers.

  “Did I not say yes?” she asked. “I thought I had been saying it the first moment you stepped into my parlor. But let me be clearer. Yes. Yes to it all. Yes to you and our future. Just…yes.”

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later

  Though the room wore black for propriety, for the world had now been convinced that Erasmus Montgomery had died of an unfortunate accident, the party was anything but bleak. The parlor in the little blue house across from Pettyfort Park was bright with a fire and friends gathered to celebrate the recent union of Owen Gregory and Celeste Hendricks no more and Montgomery never quite. But now she was Celeste Gregory, and that was more than enough.

  Celeste smiled at Harriet and Lena, already a welcome addition to her circle of friends, fellow wives. Abigail stood with them, chatting intently.

  The Duke of Gilmore lingered to the side of the group with Lord Leighton. The two old friends were deep in conversation, as well, though Celeste wasn’t certain the topic was as light as whatever the women were engaged in.

  Pippa was by herself at the fire, staring into the flames. As Celeste approached her, Pippa jumped. “I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh that didn’t quite meet those bright green eyes of hers. “I was miles away.”

  “Understandably,” Celeste said, taking her arm.

  “It
was a beautiful wedding,” Pippa said with a sigh. “And you will be truly happy, as you have been these last two weeks while the special license was rushed through. You could not wait a moment more, could you?”

  “I couldn’t,” Celeste said with a laugh. “Both because I am so deliriously in love and also because the longer I waited, the more likely it was that my parents would show up here to put their noses in my future. The rush kept them in Twiddleport, where I hope they will stay.”

  “I understand that completely.” Pippa bent her head.

  Celeste wrinkled her brow. “How are you?”

  “It’s lonely at the Montgomery residence now that you are gone,” Pippa admitted. “Abigail and I have each other, of course, but things are still strained. I wish she had told me the truth sooner, and she wishes the same. It’s a small wall between us, but a wall nonetheless.”

  “One you will overcome, I’m sure,” Celeste assured her.

  Pippa frowned. “It will be harder soon. Though Rosie Stanton has not reappeared, both Leighton and I have concerns about her son’s future. We depart for Bath shortly, and I have no idea how long we will remain there, making arrangements for the boy.”

  Celeste glanced toward Leighton again and found he was watching Pippa, though his eyes darted away when he was caught at it. She had her own questions about those two and what their connection was and could be.

  But she kept them to herself. It was a complicated thing, after all, and not one she was ready to push. “You will be of great help to him, I know,” Celeste said. “Have Leighton and Gilmore had any information of where Rosie could have gone?”

  “There is some indication she might have fled to America. They said something about a ship to Maryland or Lower Canada,” Pippa said. “But I do not know whether or not to trust in that.” She caught her breath as if to say more, but then she smiled over Celeste’s shoulder. “But now here comes your husband. Mr. Gregory, you have yourself a treasure.”