Celeste looked back, and her heart skipped as Owen joined them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and for a moment there was only peace in the world. What a rapturous thing it was, to have a person who could bring such a feeling and with such ease.
“I do, indeed,” he said as he pressed a kiss to Celeste’s cheek. “A treasure worth more than rubies.”
Pippa smiled, though a flicker of sadness sparkled in her eyes. Then she nodded. “I see that Abigail has finished her conversation with Lena and Harriet. I will join her.”
She slipped away, and Owen watched her before he glanced at Celeste. “She told you of her and Leighton’s plans?”
“Yes. There is a certain longing there, I think.”
He was quiet a moment. “I don’t think you’re wrong. I recognize it as very much like the longing I once felt for you. Do you worry?”
“Only that they are in such a difficult position. I fear they will not let themselves comfort one another, even if that is their mutual desire.” She frowned. “I would like them to be happy. Pippa and Abigail deserve the same joy I’ve found with you.”
“Your concern for your friends does you credit.” He smiled. “But no one could be as happy as we are.”
She laughed. “That may be true. I do love you, you know. With all my heart.”
“Then I am truly the luckiest man in the world.”
“No, I am the luckiest,” she corrected him. “Because I now have a husband in truth and you are well worth anything I went through on the road to you.”
Excerpt of The Defiant Wife
The Three Mrs Book 2
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Summer 1813
Phillipa Montgomery had expected a great many things in her life, but marrying a bigamist, nearly being murdered by him and then helping one of his other brides ready for her wedding…well, she never would have guessed that one.
Yet here she was, standing in the home of her late…husband? It was easier to just call him husband even though he never really had been.
She was helping adjust the beautiful white feather-and-pearl headpiece in Celeste Montgomery’s hair while Abigail Montgomery fastened the pretty sapphire necklace Celeste’s future husband had given her, the one that matched her eyes.
“You look so happy,” Abigail said, the tightness to her smile mimicking the same emotions Phillipa felt as she looked at her friend
Not because she begrudged Celeste her happiness. No one deserved it more! But just because happiness was a feeling that had fled from Pippa’s life years before, thanks to Erasmus Montgomery and his bitter lies, and she was, she could admit, if only to herself…jealous.
“I am so happy,” Celeste breathed. “I could not have imagined that when Owen knocked on my door not so very long ago and destroyed my world with news of Erasmus’s duplicity that I could ever be so happy.”
Pippa smiled, and this one felt less tight. Owen Gregory, the investigator hired by Erasmus’s brother, Rhys Montgomery, the Earl of Leighton, was the best of men.
Pippa swallowed hard at the thought of the earl. Pushed at things she ought not think when it came to the man.
“I don’t think anyone could have imagined anything that has happened to us all in recent months,” Abigail sighed as she sank onto the settee in the dressing room. “Between finding out our supposed husband had multiple wives, to each being suspected of his murder, to then finding out he wasn’t dead after all.”
“And then he tried to kill us,” Pippa added with a shake of her head. “And now he is dead and you are marrying again. It’s a whirlwind.” Exhaustion overwhelmed her at just the thought of it.
Celeste turned away from the mirror and faced the others. “Yes, all those things are truly terrible. I don’t deny it. But I also don’t want to forget that what we went through brought us together.” She reached out and caught Pippa’s hand, then motioned for Abigail to take her other. When she had joined their circle, Celeste smiled through tears. “I’m so lucky to know you both. To call you my friends, as close as sisters despite all the terrible things. So I can’t regret any of the worst, as it has brought me so much happiness.”
Abigail leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “And it will only bring you more, I think.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Gracious, we are almost out of time.”
Celeste’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I can hardly wait.”
Pippa smiled at her eagerness and squeezed her hand. “I will go tell the vicar and Mr. Gregory that you are almost ready while Abigail puts on your finishing touches.”
“Thank you,” Celeste breathed with a smile that rivaled the sun.
Pippa slipped from the warmth of her friend’s joy into the hallway and drew a long breath as she pulled the door shut behind herself. Her hands were shaking and she smoothed them along the silky skirt of her gown.
“Phillipa?”
She froze, still facing the shut door. That voice was one she had come to know very well. Too well, truth be told. She swallowed hard, tried to wipe all emotion from her expression and turned.
Rhys Montgomery, Earl of Leighton, stood in the dim light of the hall and her breath caught just as it always caught, from the first moment she met him. He was a beautiful man, there was no denying that. He was tall, very tall, at least a head taller than she was. He had dark hair that swept over his forehead in nothing ever but perfect waves. And blue eyes. The deepest blue she’d ever seen.
He was never mussed, he was never out of place. No, he was too proper for that. Too serious, thanks to the hell his half-brother had unleashed upon them all. Although she thought Rhys…Lord Leighton…had probably always been a thoughtful sort of person.
His perfectly sculpted jawline tightened and those blue eyes flickered over her face. “Are you well, Phillipa?”
Because there were so many Mrs. Montgomerys going around lately, those in the inner circle had taken to calling the women by their first names, at least in private, to reduce confusion. But she would never get used to the way Leighton said Phillipa. It rolled over his tongue almost like a caress and made her stomach flip in ways that it most definitely should not.
“I’m fine,” she gasped out with a forced smile. “I was just coming to assure the groom that the bride is almost ready for him.”
He inclined his head. “And I was sent by said groom to check on the bride.”
Her smile became more genuine. “Mr. Gregory is anxious then.”
“Very.” A flutter of a smile crossed his lips and she swallowed at the sight of it. The man was truly handsome and she had no right to dwell on it so much. For too many reasons.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m glad to have caught you alone. There is something we need to discuss.”
Her heart rate ratcheted up a notch and she fought to keep that reaction from her face as she motioned him back up the hall toward the stairs. At least if they were walking side by side, he couldn’t look at her so intently. “What is it?”
He paused, like this conversation was uncomfortable. “My brother’s son.”
Now she stumbled and he reached out to catch her elbow. The briefest of touches, gone the moment she was steady, but she felt it ricochet through her body just like his words did.
The son was not her child, though she had raised him since his mother disappeared. Pippa’s former servant, a woman who had turned out to be a long-time lover of Erasmus Montgomery. His true love. They’d had a child, one Erasmus saw as a bargaining chip and who Rosie, the mother, truly loved even if she had made a series of terrible decisions that separated them.
But now Erasmus was dead. Struck down by Rosie, herself, who had promptly run away.
“Kenley,” she breathed, trying not to think too hard about those chubby cheeks she adored. She had not seen the boy in weeks, though she regularly heard from the servants who had taken over his care.
Rhys flinched. “He named him…Kenley?” he asked, his voice cracking in a way that revealed emotion he didn�
��t show on his angled face.
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “That was our father’s given name. Taken from our grandmother’s maiden name.”
“I…I didn’t know. Turns out I didn’t know much. But I am sorry for the grief all this has caused.”
“I know you are, even if you needn’t be.”
She lifted her gaze and he held it for a moment. Everything else in the hallway melted away then. All that was left was him as he held her attention, as he made her forget that anything else in the world existed.
She blinked and fought to maintain whatever little dignity she had left. “I appreciate your kindness more than you could know, my lord. When it comes to the child, though, I could make arrangements to return to Bath. Everything will be topsy-turvy because of the wedding, but I’m certain I could be ready the day after tomorrow and be home before the week is out. I could prepare a full report on the boy, and we could find some kind of schedule that would suit you as to his health and well-being.”
She expected him to agree and for that to be the end of it. She didn’t exactly look forward to a return, but she had always known it was going to happen. She had responsibilities there, of course. She couldn’t live in the fantasy land of London forever.
But to her surprise, he shook his head. “No.”
Her brow wrinkled. “N-No?” she repeated.
“I need to assess the situation for myself.”
She stared at him. “But you…you have so much to attend to here. I know your world has been turned upside down, Rhys…” She shook her head. “Lord Leighton. You cannot possibly spare the time for this.”
“He is a child,” he said, his gaze holding hers again. “His life and future are the most important matters I have to attend to. I could not focus on the more frivolous resolutions knowing that I had not dealt with this first.”
Her lips parted at the passion with which he spoke about a baby he had never even met. Never known the existence of until just two weeks before. “You are truly a decent man.”
His jaw tightened and those bright blue eyes flickered over her again. “Not very decent, I assure you.” He straightened his perfectly placed jacket with what looked like discomfort and then began to move down the hallway again, forcing her to follow. “Will you accompany me to Bath?” he asked.
Her heart lodged in her throat and she had to swallow hard to have any hope of speaking. “Yes,” she squeaked out. “Of course.”
“I know you didn’t come here with a companion,” he said, and his gaze moved straight ahead as they went down the stairs together toward the parlor where friends were gathered for the wedding.
“No, I…it is complicated,” she said. “I came here alone.”
“Then I will hire someone to attend you on the journey,” he said. “For propriety.”
She almost laughed at the very idea but held back the unladylike reaction. At the door to the parlor, she stopped and said, “I’m not certain that propriety applies when it comes to me anymore, but anything for your comfort, my lord. I will be ready to return to Bath whenever you need me to be.”
“Thank you,” he said softly.
She inclined her head and touched the door handle. “We will discuss particulars later, I’m sure.”
He nodded and she entered the parlor. He didn’t follow, but she felt his stare on her as she walked across the room. Felt it burn into her back like a flame. And knew how careful she had to be, because the warmth of his fire was most definitely off limits to her. For now. For always.
#
Rhys took a long sip of the glass of champagne that had been forced into his hand for the toasts and twitched his nose at the tickle of bubbles it left behind. It was a festive drink and a festive occasion, and he was happy for the couple. He’d begun to consider Owen Gregory a friend, and Celeste—well, now she was Celeste Gregory, not Montgomery—deserved the love she had apparently found.
All the women his brother had destroyed were owed happiness and likely a great deal more.
His gaze flitted across the room toward Phillipa Montgomery. She stood with Abigail Montgomery and the bride, their heads together in serious conversation. God’s teeth but she was beautiful. He never wanted to see it so clearly, but how could one not?
There was just something about the woman. And it wasn’t her mop of curly blonde hair that never seemed entirely tamed by whatever pretty style she wore, or the long expanse of neck that made a man want to trace it with his fingertips. It wasn’t her green gaze that was filled with intelligence. It wasn’t just her lovely figure or her bright smile.
All those things were wonderful, of course. Undeniable in their attraction. But there was something deeper that always made Rhys turn his head when she entered a room. Always made him track her like a hawk.
It was her spark. Despite the terrible situation the woman was in, there was always this light in her. Like a never-ending candle burned in her soul. Her mouth almost always held a little smile, like she knew a secret, even when she was at rest. How he wished he could ferret that secret out. Give her a few more secrets to make her smile like that.
Only…he couldn’t. Ever. Because she was the widow of his brother. Well, she sort of was, if one ignored the bigamy. He couldn’t ignore that, though. It had already destroyed his world. His future. His name.
And so for at least two dozen awful reasons he had to ignore the longing that tightened his chest any time Phillipa entered a room. He had to chastise himself whenever he woke hot and hard because of dreams of her. He had to stop memorizing her scent and the way she tilted her head back when she laughed.
“Leighton.” Rhys’s best friend, the Duke of Gilmore, stepped up beside him and joined him in looking over the threesome of ladies across the room. Gilmore’s sister had been the latest target of Rhys’s brother before Erasmus’s death. Both the one he faked and the real one. Gilmore had hired Owen Gregory to look into the blackguard pursuing his sister’s fortune. And when Erasmus had been presumed murdered, Rhys had hired him in turn to find the culprit.
Complicated, to say the least, but he was pleased that his friendship with Gilmore had not been damaged. He had few enough people he was close to, he didn’t want to lose the duke.
“Gilmore,” he said, and they clinked their glasses without drinking. Before they could speak, Owen Gregory stepped up to join them. Rhys smiled at him. “It was quite the ceremony. My most sincere wishes for your happiness. Mrs. Gregory is a wonderful woman.”
“She is,” Gregory said with a happy smile that felt like a punch in Rhys’s gut. “I am the luckiest of men.”
Rhys let out the air in his lungs. “Will you stay in London?”
“Yes. I intend on taking her away this winter and having her all to myself, but for now I have work to do. So we’ll settle into my little home here and practice being newlyweds.”
Once more, Rhys’s gaze flitted to where it didn’t belong: Phillipa.
“And what of you gentlemen? Now that the situation with Montgomery has been resolved, what are your plans?” Gregory asked.
Rhys shook his head. “There is little resolved for me, I fear. Only new problems begun. We can cover up the murder, and I will. My brother was, as far as the law is concerned, a suicide.”
Gilmore grunted a sound of displeasure. “And it only took a few bribes and payoffs. Not that I blame you, of course. It was the most palatable story.”
Rhys flinched. “None of this is palatable. But the specter of murder or suicide or anything else surrounding his death doesn’t change that the world knows what he did before that end. They know about the multiple wives and the debts and the bad acts. There is much to resolve, both the public…and the personal.”
Gilmore and Gregory exchanged a glance filled with concern on Rhys’s behalf. “Can I help?” Gregory asked.
Rhys felt heat suffuse his neck, creep toward his face at the humiliation. “You’ve done so much to help already,” he said. “And I appreciate your
kindness, your counsel and your friendship, both of you. But what is left to manage is something I fear I must do alone.”
Gregory looked as though he wanted to argue that point, but before he could his gaze moved toward the three Mrs. Mongomerys. Well, two Mrs. Montgomerys now, and one Mrs. Gregory. There must have been some communication between husband and wife that Rhys couldn’t understand because everything in Gregory’s demeanor changed. He relaxed, loosened. Rhys envied him for that.
“There will be time enough for maudlin reflection on my destroyed life,” Rhys said, giving Gregory a playful shove toward his new wife. “Today is for celebrating. Go to her, as it is obvious you wish to, and don’t give another thought to me.”
Gregory tossed a grin over his shoulder and then did as he’d been told, moving toward Celeste like a thirsty man toward water. When he was gone, Gilmore sidled close and nudged Rhys with his shoulder.
“What exactly are you left to manage?” Gilmore asked. “I am not fawning over a new bride, so perhaps I can be of help.”
Rhys sighed. “My first focus must be my nephew.” He gulped at the idea. “That child should not suffer for what his parents did, not to themselves, not to each other. So we will go to Bath likely the day after tomorrow and I will see what is best in that situation.”
Gilmore arched a brow. “We? Who is we?” Rhys was quiet for apparently too long because the duke answered his own question. “We being you and Phillipa?”
There was something in his tone that made Rhys duck his head. “Don’t,” he growled.
Gilmore moved to stand in front of him so he could look him in the face and effectively block any attempt at escape. Because his friend knew him so well, damn him.
“I have been your friend for how long?” he asked softly. Gently, even.
Rhys shook his head and refused to meet Gilmore’s stare. “I don’t know. Too long. All my life. Long enough for me to tell you that I don’t need your opinions.”
The Unexpected Wife Page 23
