Unforgettable (Mockingbird Square 1)

"Thank you, Yvette,” she said, as her maid set down the brush.

It was no use dwelling on the past, Juliet told herself firmly, as she climbed into bed. What was done was done, and to believe it could be altered was only to cause more anguish to herself. She closed her eyes, weary from the swim and her encounter with Ash, and slept.

In the morning there was a note from Crevitch Castle, which Yvette handed to her silently, her eyes curious. Juliet waited until the other woman had left the room before she broke the seal and read it.

Meet me in the summerhouse at noon, it said. And Juliet didn’t need a signature to know who it was from.

Ash allowed Truscott to smooth the shoulders of his jacket. The man was obsessed with imaginary wrinkles, but Ash bore it as best he could. It was the valet who made the master, or so he had been told. At least he had stopped harping on about the tear in the sleeve, and the water soaked clothing from last night. Ash had made some excuse about rescuing one of the swans from a fox, but he didn’t think Truscott believed him. His valet might have asked more questions, but by then he had seen his master’s shoes and was speechless.

“When will we be returning to London, sir?” he asked, and glanced about him with barely concealed distaste.

Ash wasn’t sure whether to laugh or reprimand him. “I’m not sure,” he said instead. “You do realize, Truscott, that I will be living here more or less permanently, once I am married?”

The valet looked appalled. He tried to disguise his emotion but without much success. He cleared his throat a number of times, while Ash awaited his response.

“But don’t you find it rather, eh, tame here, my lord?” he ventured at last, his eyes a little wild.

“Crevitch Castle is my family home. There have been Linholms here for generations, all the way back to Lord Radulf and Lady Lily. I consider it a privilege to live here, Truscott.”

The valet was silent after that. Thoughtful. Ash wondered with interest wh

at his next move would be. Quite possibly handing in his notice.

Downstairs the Dowager Lady Linholm was waiting for him. She looked agitated and her first words were anything but friendly.

“Simon has sent me a letter. It arrived this morning, post haste.”

“Is he unwell?” Ash asked swiftly, thinking that must be it. His brother’s leg was infected again.

“He is unhappy,” she retorted. She was twisting a paper between her fingers, and, guessing this was the letter, he reached for it. His mother placed it behind her back.

“Mother, what is wrong?” he asked her sharply. “What has happened?”

She seemed to come to her senses then, and her voice turned more wheedling. “Ash, I know you think you have the right to do whatever you want to. But it is time you thought of others. Your brother for instance.”

No, he still didn’t understand.

Lady Linholm must have seen his exasperation because, with an impatient huff, she pushed the letter into his hands and bid him, “Read it!”Bewildered, Ash unfolded the crumpled sheet. The writing was his brother’s, but it looked as if he had been in a hurry. Or in the grip of some strong emotion. As he knew, Simon did tend to get het up about things.

‘Dear Mama, I am coming to Crevitch, and I am bringing the girl I hope to marry. You may be surprised to hear this but I have been thinking of marriage for some time.’

Ash looked up with a tentative smile. “But this is good news, surely?”

His mother made an impatient gesture at the letter, and Ash read on.

‘My future wife’s name is Miss Christina Beales and there is a problem. Ash has already decided to marry her. I did think of allowing him to, Ash is my brother and the head of our family, but in this I feel I must stand strong, and Miss Beales has given me cause to believe she will not marry Ash and loves me. You see my dilemma, Mama. That is why I am coming to Crevitch, to have it out with my brother.’

“But he never said anything about her to me!” Ash said, startled and irritated in equal measure. “I told him my plans for Miss Beales and he never said a word!”

His mother shook her head. “How could he? He idolizes you, Ashley. Simon would not want to upset you, even at the cost of his own happiness.”

Ash tried to come to grips with this. He frowned down at his mother. “Am I so blind and selfish?” he asked her at last.

She tried to smile. “Sometimes,” she said. “But you have a great many good points as well.”

He met her worried eyes. His brother loved this girl and he’d said nothing. Simon should have known him better than that. His brother’s happiness was important to him, and although Christina Beales had seemed the perfect solution to his future, he saw now that he hadn’t really considered the matter very deeply. Not from Miss Beale’s point of view, anyway. The Earl of Monkstead had helped him to do that and at the same time prevented him from making a disastrous marriage. He was grateful.

And what of Juliet?