Authors: Jill Gregory
Tags: #romance, #cowboys, #romance adventure, #romance historical, #romance western
“Did you or did you not find employment”—he
uttered the last word with disgust—“in America working in a...
dance hall
?”
“I—”
Before she could finish the sentence, an
imperative rap on the door interrupted.
Grismore frowned. “Come in,” he snapped, but
as he peered toward the door his expression of irritation changed
to one of surprise and respect.
“Your grace!”
The Duke of Bennington walked slowly into
the inner chamber, accompanied by Alicia Denby.
Stunned, Josie jumped up from her chair. She
drew in her breath, but before she could do or say anything, Alicia
sent her a determined, reassuring smile that bade her be
silent.
When Josie glanced questioningly at Ethan,
to whom she had confided all last evening when they’d returned from
the rookery, he winked.
“Forgive the interruption, Mr. Grismore, but
I understand you are interviewing my granddaughter this afternoon
and I could not allow such an impertinence to continue.”
“Your... granddaughter?” Grismore’s mouth
opened and closed several times, like that of a grounded fish
gasping for air.
“That is correct.” The Duke was frowning. “I
won’t have her interrogated like a common pickpocket apprehended by
the police.”
Josie made a small choking sound. Ethan
turned to her with an expression of concern as he took her hand.
“There, there, my love,” he murmured while smoothing her brow with
exaggerated care.
“My wife has suffered enough indignity for
one day, Grismore, don’t you agree?”
“Well, yes, my lord, I wouldn’t wish to...
that is... I say... you never mentioned that your wife was
granddaughter to the Duke of Bennington, my lord. I apologize. If
this is the case, certainly there is no need—”
“There is
every
need!” Winthrop
shouted, staring from one to the other of them and fairly jumping
up and down with frustration. “This dance hall girl is not your
granddaughter, sir! She cannot be, this is a trick... a
lie....”
His voice trailed off in the icy silence
which followed. The Duke regarded him with cold contempt. The
Earl’s lip curled in mockery. Miss Denby walked over to take
Josie’s arm and tuck it protectively in hers. And Josie merely
stood with shoulders straight and head held high, her eyes filled
with exquisitely ladylike sadness.
“Oh, dear, Mr. Winthrop—I can’t imagine why
you’ve taken me in such dislike,” she murmured. “I had so hoped we
could become friends.”
“It’s obvious why, my dear.” Ethan’s gray
eyes flicked toward Grismore. “
You
understand his motives
for this nonsense, don’t you?” he inquired scornfully.
Grismore met his keen, piercing gaze and
winced. “Indeed I do, my lord.” His voice was faint. He glanced at
the Duke, who was still frowning imperiously at him.
“Indeed I do,” he said more strongly.
Faced with the Duke of Bennington, who
stated that the girl was his granddaughter, and the Earl of
Stonecliff, who clearly intended to keep her for his wife, and the
woman herself—a most uncommon beauty with delicate manners and
elegance in every line of her bearing, in every nuance of voice and
expression, the truth was obvious.
Vulgar greed had driven Winthrop to lie and
vilify his cousin’s wife and, in short, to go to desperate lengths
to try to steal away the Stonecliff inheritance.
And I have almost let him draw me into
his plot with this vile tale,
Grismore realized in horror.
I’ve narrowly escaped a fatal misstep.
He backed away as if saving himself from a
deadly precipice.
“My lady, kindly accept my deepest apologies
for any pain my inquiries may have caused you. I was only trying to
do my duty by the late earl, to serve him as best I could—in the
same way that I hope to serve you now and in the future, both you
and Lord Stonecliff.”
“Noooooo!” Winthrop, in frustration,
snatched up the vase at the edge of Grismore’s desk and flung it
across the room. It shattered against the mantel with a crash that
echoed through the austere chamber.
“Latherby!” Mr. Grismore called out, and
Lucas Latherby appeared from the anteroom, his gold spectacles
glinting upon his nose.
“Kindly escort Mr. Winthrop from the
premises.”
“You can’t do this, you can’t! It’s a
lie....”
Latherby grasped him by the arm. “Come
along.”
His voice was cool and formal, but Josie saw
the gleam of victory in his eyes.
“Need any help?” Ethan took a step
forward.
“My lord, my lady.” Latherby threw Josie a
quick smile full of meaning. “Allow me. Nothing will give me
greater pleasure.”
If she hadn’t been so relieved, Josie might
actually have felt sorry for Winthrop as he was dragged, still
shouting, from the office.
Mr. Grismore invited everyone to be seated.
With Winthrop’s fading cries still piercing the air, they
accepted.
“Now,” Mr. Grismore said, drawing a shaky
breath as he surveyed the impressive assemblage. “Only a few
formalities remain—several papers, some signatures, my lord.” He
inclined his head apologetically to Josie and bestowed on her his
most ingratiating smile. “Forgive me, my lady. You have my word,
this will not take long.”
Josie had waited her entire life to have
someone care for her, want her, stand up for her, the way that
Ethan, the Duke, and Alicia had just done. Her heart was
soaring.
“It’s quite all right,” she informed the
solicitor with a brilliant smile. Ethan’s hand snugly encased
hers.
“I don’t mind the wait.”
* * *
Outside on the sun-dappled street, Josie
kissed the Duke, and hugged Alicia.
“But how did you know to come today?”
Her grandfather smiled approvingly at Ethan.
“We received a note from your husband early this morning, alerting
us to what was taking place.”
She threw Ethan an amazed glance. “You never
told me....”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,
sweetheart. I didn’t know if the Duke and Miss Denby were otherwise
engaged this morning—or if they would be willing to subject
themselves to the interview. But I figured it was worth a try,
better to have too much ammunition than not enough.”
Her eyes shone. “It was very good of you to
come. I can never thank you enough.”
“It’s the least we could do, Josie. You are
our f-family.”
“From now on, we will always be at your
side, my dear.” The firmness of the Duke’s tone and the misting
over of his eyes brought a lump to Josie’s throat. “Families stand
together and look after their own.”
His keen gaze shifted suddenly to Ethan,
tall and strong beside Josie, yet with a shadow of pain flickering
across his face at the Duke’s words. They all sensed what Ethan was
feeling at this moment.
His own family had never stood behind him.
Even in death, his father had put constraints on him and tried to
control him, casting doubts upon his judgment, maturity, and sense
of responsibility. That was at the root of this entire humiliating
interview, an interview that might not have gone so well had not
Josie’s newfound family showed her the kind of support he had never
known.
“Lord Stonecliff, you have brought my
granddaughter home to me. And given Alicia here the sister she’s
always yearned to find. We are in your debt.”
“I’m the one in your debt, sir. Your
presence here today turned the tide. For that, I can never thank
you enough.”
“I see you’re injured?” The Duke was eyeing
the sling.
“A mere scratch.”
“Much more than that,” Josie interrupted.
“So much has happened since I came to Belgravia yesterday. Ethan
saved my life.”
At their gasps, she tucked her arm through
his good one, and nodded. “Yes—won’t you come back to Mayfair for
tea and I’ll tell you all about it—and we can become better
acquainted,” she finished shyly.
“Oh, yes, we’d be delighted. We have a great
d-deal of catching up to do, don’t we, Grandpapa?”
“Yes, for far too many years apart.” The
Duke glanced at Josie then at Ethan, clearly including him in his
words. “But we’re all together now, a family,” he said firmly. “And
there is much for which we need to be thankful. We will come to
tea, granddaughter,” he told Josie with a smile. “But this
getting-acquainted time must be only the start.”
Riding back to Mayfair in the carriage, with
the Duke and Alicia following in their own, Josie leaned her head
against Ethan’s shoulder and thought she would die of happiness
from the simple loveliness of this moment. She had the most
wonderful man right there beside her, and at long last she’d found
her family. The interview with Grismore was behind her, and so was
the danger and uncertainty of the past.
And as the carriage pulled to a halt before
the town house, Ethan grasped her hand in his. “Come on,
sweetheart,” he said softly, reading the emotion welling up in her
eyes. His smile shook her to the core of her soul.
“We’re home.”
* * *
It was a perfect morning for a wedding.
Sunshine bathed the tiny stone church
nestled in a grove of shade trees less than ten miles from
Stonecliff Park. Inside, its snug interior was bedecked with
candles and flowers. A sense of peace clung to the sturdy old
walls.
And the bride, in a gown of palest ivory
satin, glowed with a radiance that put the sunshine streaming
through the windows to shame.
Josie heard the vicar’s voice as if from a
great distance. “My lord, do you solemnly take this woman to be
your wife, to have and to hold....”
To have and to hold. She and Ethan.
Forever.
Happiness rocked Josie’s heart. She was so
caught up in emotion that she couldn’t even concentrate on the
vicar’s droning voice. All she saw was Ethan, handsome and elegant,
smiling down at her, his hair smooth and black as coal, his eyes
gleaming beneath those dark, aristocratic brows. She knew that the
Duke and Alicia sat in the first pew, smiling, and that Clara and
Colonel Hamring were beside them, holding hands—they had been
married two weeks earlier. And Ham sat just behind them, stiff and
straight in his Sunday-best clothes.
But after one quick glance at them as she’d
floated down the aisle, she hadn’t been able to see anyone but
Ethan. Her heart—her husband.
This time it would be for real.
The five guests in the church—the only
guests invited to this most private of ceremonies—all believed the
couple was merely renewing their vows now that they were settled on
English soil.
Only Josie and Ethan knew that this was
truly their marriage ceremony—that the first one didn’t count.
It had been Ethan’s idea, his insistence, to
have this ceremony.
“But Snake is dead,” Josie had pointed out
when he’d first told her of his intentions. “No one will ever know
that I was already married to him when you and I got married in
Abilene—”
“
I’ll
know.” He’d tipped her head
back and stared fiercely into her eyes. “We’re going to be married
by the vicar—officially, legally, finally.”
So here they were. Suddenly Josie realized
that everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to speak those
wonderful words.
“I do,” she said in a clear, loving tone,
and then Ethan removed her glove and slipped the ring on her
finger.
For a moment she stared at it. Latherby’s
ring had been returned to him after the kidnapping. Since then,
until today, she’d worn Ethan’s grandfather’s ring—at his
insistence. But now he had given her a ring all her own. It was
gold, set with a brilliant sapphire surrounded by a circle of
diamonds.
She’d never thought anyone would give her
something so beautiful. Never thought she’d have a fraction of all
she now possessed: a family—a grandfather and sister—dear friends,
and most of all, a husband who adored her. She’d never thought
she’d have such a safe and lovely home, a place she would never,
ever have to leave.
Before the vicar could continue, Josie
lifted sparkling eyes to meet Ethan’s gaze. “I know this part. It’s
time to kiss the bride,” she murmured, an anticipatory catch in her
throat. His answering grin heated her pulse as he pulled her into
his arms. With joyous laughter bubbling inside her, Josie spoke so
softly, no one else in the church could hear.
“First tell me, Ethan Savage, how many times
in this lifetime do you plan to get married?”
Ethan’s arms tightened around her, and there
was no mistaking the tenderness in his eyes. His mouth slowly
descended toward hers.
“That’s easy, my beautiful little love. Just
this once.”
Read on for an excerpt from
Cold Night, Warm
Stranger