Embracing Ashberry (44 page)

But not from Ellie’s mind.

Caroline’s words continued to echo. ‘He’s
being so terribly overbearing because he loves me, you know.’ She
was quite confident in the emotion, and not just Eldenwood’s but
her own. Ellie had seen clearly the serenity on her face, the
acceptance there, and the young matron promised herself she would
put her mind to the problem as soon as Charlotte was safely
delivered.

Not many more minutes passed before the
physician arrived to stay and Ellie was shown to the door. She
wandered through the study and conservatory, finally finding
Edward, John, Ashberry and Sebastian in the morning room, where
Edward was stretched out on Charlotte’s chaise, snoring. Sebastian
and Ashberry, too, were dozing, both in armchairs near the fire and
John was curled uncomfortably onto the window seat. Ellie sighed,
moving to stand behind her husband’s chair, smiling at the
exhaustion on the men’s faces. They were nearly as tired as
Charlotte herself, she thought, impulsively rubbing her hands
against the back of Ashberry’s neck and then sliding them around
and down onto his chest. She pressed a kiss to his hair even as he
shifted in the chair, his hands coming up to clasp hers.

When he pulled her around in front of him,
she shook her head and shrugged, glancing at Edward. He was rumpled
and the smell of brandy permeated the room. “The doctor says it is
close to time,” she whispered in Ashberry’s ear, allowing him to
sit her across his knees.

He nodded, laying her close against him,
despite the presence of the other men. The room was dim, dark in
the evening and the men had left most of the lamps unlit. Ashberry
explained against her ear, the words so quiet that they would not
disturb the slumbering men. “The conservatory was cold, so we moved
in here when evening came. Eldenwood felt it was better than going
back to the study—he went in to fetch the madeira and could still
hear Charlotte but Edward nixed the drawing room—he said the chairs
were too uncomfortable.”

She stayed there, resting against Ashberry’s
chest, as the fire crackled and burned. The marquess’ arms slipped
around her and she sighed, grateful for the embrace despite the
impropriety of it before her brothers and brother-in-law. Both were
quiet and Ashberry lifted his glass to her lips, smiling when she
realized with relief that it was not brandy but simple wine. Ellie
drank deeply for a moment before lying back against Ashberry’s
shoulder. She sighed happily even as he drew her knees up against
his hip and tucked her into his embrace, settling her there. With
Ashberry’s body warmth nearly impossible to resist, Ellie, too,
fell asleep listening to the fire sizzle in the grate.

Ashberry allowed Ellie to sleep nearly
another hour before he gently woke her, not daring to keep her in
his lap any longer and have the other men wake and witness her
there. She shook out her skirts even as Sebastian and Edward began
to stir. Her eyes unashamedly met John’s amused ones, for her
brother was nothing if not a light sleeper, as she slipped away
from the men’s compotation. Both Ashberry and John had brandy
snifters again in their hands despite the hour and Ellie couldn’t
help smiling as she slid the door latch closed behind her,
whispering to a maid to bring them dinner trays. Ellie knew
Ashberry’s arms had drawn back reluctantly. He, though conscious of
propriety, had felt no shame in his affection for her and Ellie
tucked that snippet of information into a corner of her puzzling
mind.

Ellie didn’t even bother to climb the steps,
for at the top Sarah and Lucy were just beginning to descend. Their
smiles said that the ordeal was over and Charlotte well. Ellie drew
a deep breath and waited.

When they reached the bottom, both women
embraced her. “A girl,” Lucy whispered, clearly pleased. “A
squalling and very healthy little girl.”

Ellie’s face broke into a smile. “Thank
goodness,” she sighed gratefully and led the two women to the
morning room to deliver their news.

Much later, Ashberry joined Ellie in their
bed, yawning even as she rolled against him. He tucked her bottom
into the crux formed by his thighs and stomach before rubbing a
hand down her side and finally covering her belly with his large
hand.

Ellie stilled beside him, waking abruptly
even as his mouth came to rub against the skin just below her ear.
The question was soft but direct. “Are you?”

She had no choice but to answer. “I don’t
know,” she admitted after a moment. She stopped, holding her breath
for a few seconds before correcting herself. “I can’t be certain
yet.”

She felt him nod. “You will tell me when you
know?” he asked. “Despite my overreactions, despite whatever advice
my sisters have given you?”

Ellie was surprised he asked the question.
“I will,” she whispered.

The marquess was silent for several minutes,
so quiet that Ellie wondered if he was drifting to sleep. Instead,
he moved his arm to curl beneath her breasts in a comfortable
position before he told her, his voice cautious. “Edward and I—we
need to find out why your father is in London.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Ellie asked,
“Why?” The word was soft, nearly unsaid in the room, though
Ashberry heard it easily.

“Because,” he whispered patiently, “He’s
hiding—from his friends, from us, from Parliament, his clubs. I
need to know why.”

Ellie’s fingers pressed against his arm.
“Don’t shut me out of it,” she asked, twisting around and meeting
his eyes.

Ashberry nodded. “I can’t promise I won’t
sometimes react without thinking, Ellie, and try to shield you from
things that will hurt you. But I will try not to exclude you.” He
closed his eyes and rested his chin against the top of her soft
head.

The room was quiet until Ellie sleepily
whispered, “I hope you are right.”

Ashberry smiled, though he had no idea what
he was right about. Perhaps the baby, he mused, smiling at the
thought. “About?” he prompted.

Ellie’s voice was husky with sleep even as
she turned and nuzzled into the pillow. “I hope I am in love with
you.”

Ashberry’s heart thudded against his chest.
Sleep escaped him as he rocked Ellie back and forth in his arms,
hardly believing that she was asleep until she fussily turned onto
her stomach, nearly shoving her elbow into his stomach before she
sighed. Holding back a laugh, he watched her snuggle down into the
mattress, her fingers curling by her ear into the pillow. With a
smile on his face, he lay facing up on the bed, staring at the
canopy, dreaming of and for the years to come.

* * * *

Ellie chose to stay home when Edward and
Ashberry made their way across town to Manley’s. Ashberry had
breathed a silent sigh of relief and was grateful to the fates that
he hadn’t been forced to convince her it would be unsafe. Or worse,
he mused, he hadn’t needed to backtrack by ordering her to stay in
the house. She still hadn’t bled, for close to 8 weeks now, and he
knew that she must soon accept the truth of her condition. He had
carefully masked his instinctive reactions so far, simply
engineering a few arrangements outside of her sphere of vision but
the notion that she might try to participate in their little outing
nearly had him walking on nails when he had gone to her with his
plans.

Instead, she had been remarkably sanguine
when he had told her of his plans, kissing his cheek fondly in the
dining room, in front of Alexander even, and whispering only that
she would appreciate him not seeking out her father to do him
violence.

Ashberry had promised not to the thrash the
man, though he couldn’t say what Edward had planned for the
erstwhile father.

The marquess and Edward slipped into
Manley’s unnoticed and back into the offices of its owners,
disreputable reprobate brothers Harrison and Robert Kirk. Harrison
Kirk was slouched at his desk, whiskey glass in hand as he watched
two of his employees tally the night’s markers thus far.

“Good night?” Ashberry asked solicitously,
not bothering with greetings.

Kirk’s smile was as mercenary as any. “Most
men are fools, as you know.” His eyes slid lazily to Edward. “You
must be the younger Whitney.”

Edward didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“I’m not sure I appreciate the connection these days,” he growled.
“Except for my grandfather’s sake.”

Kirk perused his face, considering. He had
years of experience now and could read men better than most. “A bit
young, still, but you have a good face and I’ve heard good things
of you.” He frowned. “Do your family a favor and stay out of here,
would you?”

“Hardly a worry,” Edward replied, his own
eyes leaving Kirk’s to note the small size of the office, the worn
furniture. “I prefer other types of risk.”

Ashberry’s mouth quirked. “There aren’t many
men who stay away from these hells, as Kirk well knows. The
temptation is great, particularly when you are on a downturn in
your regular businesses.”

Edward wasn’t interested in a lecture. His
father had been providing enough of an onerable example over the
previous year. “And my father?”

Harrison shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to have
trouble covering his debts with his winnings from his peers—we
haven’t had to stop him yet though my brother Robert, who works the
floor, is watching him. We can’t, of course, control how he plays
privately but he seems to win more than he loses.” He glanced at
desk. “He’s here tonight. At last report, he was playing piquet.
It’s not a game where his talents shine particularly well.”

Ashberry drawled, “And how deep is he?”

The other man smiled, a pleased smile. “I
have to say, an hour ago he was only down about three thousand
pounds for the night. Last week, he lost about five thousand pounds
to the house.”

Edward’s eyes darkened. It wasn’t huge
amounts given the overall income of the estates and related
properties, but it would have been nearly impossible to hide such
sums from Edward’s solicitors unless Whitney truly was paying off
the house by winning it from others. After a word of advice from
Eldenwood, Edward had retained a firm for the express purpose of
managing his entitled interests; for the time, those interests
included keeping a close eye on his father’s financial
dealings.

Ashberry frowned. “I don’t suppose you have
any private rooms, Kirk? Unoccupied ones?”

Kirk did, and the two men found themselves
behind the doors of one. It was heavily furnished, with dark
oak-paneled walls and deep red leather chairs around a well-worn
table. Gas lamps gave the room a yellow glow that the dark green
carpet reflected. The room was obviously meant for private games of
chance, Ashberry mused as he settled into one of chairs, swallowing
back the urge to cough in the stale air as Edward took the chair
beside him, facing the doorway.

Whitney’s eyes were suspicious when he
stepped into the room. Behind him, the door slammed shut, obviously
closed by the messenger Kirk had provided. When Whitney recognized
the room’s occupants, he scowled.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly, not
sitting.

Ashberry looked at the man, amazed at how
much he had aged in the last year. He sighed, gesturing to the
chair, the glass of port provided. Reluctantly, Whitney stepped
into the room and took the seat. Even more slowly he touched the
glass. His gaze shifted to Edward before he denied swiftly, “I’m
not sinking you into bankruptcy, if that’s your concern.”

Edward shrugged, his focus on his father’s
face. “I’m not concerned,” the son replied easily. “In fact, I know
that Rose Hill did very well this year.”

“What do you want then?” The question was
directed to both. Whitney’s eyes glanced at his son only for a
moment before resting on Ashberry.

Ashberry shrugged. “We have news.”

Edward explained, “You have a grandchild,”
he offered quietly. “A granddaughter. We named her Caroline
Amelie.”

Whitney’s face gave no outward sign of
interest, though Ashberry was close enough to see a brief
tightening around his mouth. “I shall send the child a token of my
esteem,” the baron acknowledged softly. “And your wife?”

Edward shifted, his eyes still meeting his
father’s directly. “Healthy. We expect there will be more
children.” He paused. “An heir, when God provides.”

Whitney inclined his head. “Is that
all?”

Ashberry sighed openly. Obviously, Whitney
would have to be encouraged to chat. “We know about your
ex-mistress, Whitney,” he began quietly. “In fact, we spoke to her
recently.” He had Whitney’s attention at that.

Edward didn’t bother to prevaricate. “What
in the hell were you thinking?” he asked bluntly. “You put us all
at risk—and look what happened.”

“Do you believe I wanted that son of a bitch
to hurt anyone?” Whitney broke off, disgusted with his son. He cast
an accusing look in Ashberry’s direction, finding the other man
relaxing casually in his chair, apparently negligent in his
attention. Fixing his gaze on his son-in-law, Whitney muttered,
“This is all your fault, you know.”

Ashberry thought he had better intervene
before Whitney's defensiveness ended the communication. In a smooth
tone of voice, devoid of censure or anger, he said simply, “We came
for another reason as well—I wanted to thank you for taking care of
Ellie’s nemesis is such a diligent way.” Ashberry paused, letting
his words sink in before adding, “I admit I would have appreciated
a confidential word on the matter so I hadn’t wasted my own
resources pursuing it, but it was a relief to find out that the
bastard had died on a ship you put him on.”

Whitney sat back in his chair at this
announcement, considering the men before him: Edward defensive,
Ashberry as unperturbed as anyone he had ever seen. Whitney offered
quietly, “I considered killing him outright but I couldn’t bring
myself to do it.”