Unforgettable (Mockingbird Square 1)

“They were asking for a volunteer, so I put up my hand. I don’t think I did it because I actually wanted to die. I didn’t think of it like that. But I knew I didn’t care one way or the other. Not after reading the letter and knowing Juliet was lost to me. People said I was a hero, but I don’t believe that. I was shot, and the bullet grazed my skull.” Ash hesitated. “I could have died then, and for a while they thought I might, but as I began to mend I remember feeling glad to be alive. Even without Juliet, I had many reasons to live, Crevitch and my family being among them.”

George nodded sombrely. “I knew it but I didn’t want to admit it. You came home and recovered, and then you went to London and seemed to be enjoying your life again. There were some incidents . . . I believe you crashed your curricle?”

Ash smiled. “I was racing a friend. I think that I am rather a reckless person, Uncle, something I have tried to temper in recent times. I assure you that occasion in Spain was the one and only time I was intentionally careless with my life. I don’t want to die and leave Crevitch to some relative who will not love it as I do. I don’t mean Simon, of course.”

George nodded. “Simon is a good boy,” he agreed, “but he is not you, Ash. Crevitch needs you.”

They were silent a moment, the soft sound of rain outside the windows, and the murmur of voices as guests and servants went to their beds. His mother had already declared that any tidying up could wait until the morning.

“I was wrong,” his uncle said again. “I didn’t understand your feelings in the matter of Baroness Flett. Can you forgive me, Ashley?”

Something heavy lifted from his heart, and Ash smiled as he leaned forward to take his uncle’s outstretched hand. “I forgave you long ago. I am not one to hold on to a grudge. And besides, I will need your help with taking over the reins of the estate. There’s no one who knows the ways of Crevitch like you do, Uncle George.”

“You will stay then?” George asked him anxiously. “You won’t return to live in London?”

“Yes,” Ash assured him, “I will stay.”

And God help him if he ran into Juliet strolling about the village with her medical lover.

His mother was still awake when he went up to see her, on his way to bed at last. He wondered if she had been waiting for him.

“Were you pleased?” she asked, watching him from her mound of pillows, her frilly nightcap tied under her chin. “It seemed to go very well, Ashley.”

“Excellently well, thank you, Mama,” he reassured her, the old childhood name slipping out.

“I hoped you would not mind me asking Juliet Flett. I think it is time we put aside that silly rift, don’t you?”

“If that is what you wish.”

She was watching him closely and she looked a little disappointed.

“There was a time, Ashley, when you wanted to marry her.”

“I think you will find Baroness Flett has her heart set on Doctor Knowles.” He tried to sound light hearted but there was a touch of bitterness there.

To his surprise she stared at him and then she laughed. “Doctor Knowles is already married! He has a wife and a child on the way.”

Ash stared. “I’m sure she . . . I thought . . .” He floundered, trying to understand. He had put aside his happiness for her sake, played the martyr, and all the time there had been no need? But hadn’t she said she loved Knowles? Thinking back he realised she hadn’t. She admired the man, but it had been Ash who had assumed there was more to their relationship.

His mother was beside herself. “Oh Ashley, why do you think I invited her! I wanted you to ask her to marry you, you silly boy. She’s free now. She loves you and you love her. Why on earth are you still dilly dallying?”

He stared back at her and then a slow smile curved his mouth. “You’re right,” he said. “I have waited far too long. Which room have you put her in?”

Felicity hesitated. “I’m not sure I should say. It wouldn’t be proper for you to burst in on one of your guests in the middle of the night.”

Ash glanced down at the novel she was holding. “I’m sure that happens all the time in your romances, Mother. Come, won’t you help your son to find his very own happy ever after? Or do I have to march about the house, shouting out her name, waking everyone up, until she answers?”

She smiled. “No, Ash, you don’t have to do that. She is in the Blue Room. And,” as he left her in haste, “good luck!”

He found the Blue Room easily enough, but when he knocked and opened the door the bed was empty, although it looked as if someone had tried to sleep in it. Tried and failed.

He knew all about sleepless nights.

Should he search the house for her? He was tempted, but it was very late, and what if she had decided to go home after all? He wouldn’t blame her. He had been appalling to her, the worst sort of host, and she must think he hated her.

Well if she had gone home, he told himself, he would go to her.

Decision made, Ash set out for his own room, thinking to change into his riding clothes. He had flung open the door and was halfway across the room when he realised he wasn’t alone.