Page 17 of A Bride for the Beastly Duke
Ava gave an embarrassed laugh, but the priest did not seem particularly perturbed by her daughter’s forthrightness.
“Very well little girl. I shall call you Lily. Have you been baptized?” The priest’s glance flicked from Lily to Ava.
Lily also turned to look at Ava. “Have I, Mother?” she asked innocently.
Ava cleared her throat and nodded. She could well understand why the priest was asking. Had he guessed the circumstances of Lily’s birth, he would know that it would not be easy to find a priest willing to baptize her. Fortunately for Ava, her parents were very good friends with the local priest, who had agreed to come to the house and baptize Lily.
“Oh, that is very good; that is very good. I trust I will be seeing you on Sunday. Can you sing?”
Lily pondered his words seriously. “I think so.”
“Wonderful. I shall expect you on the front pew singing your heart out for the Lord.”
Lily again glanced at Ava uncertainly. Ava could not blame her. In London, they had avoided attending services, simply because of the scandal it might elicit. But if the priest himself was inviting them, she saw no reason why they should not go. She felt a warm kernel of gratitude in her belly because of his openness and welcoming attitude. She realized that he was the first person to extend her such an open and easy acceptance in a long time.
The priest took his leave and was soon replaced with a lady who introduced herself as Louise, sister to Tina Sutton. She was just as rotund as her sister and as apple-cheeked. “Tina told us about you; she said you are kind and good. I am ever so glad. His Grace needs some good in his life after everything that has happened.”
This was the second person who had said something like that to her, and Ava’s curiosity was piqued. “Have you known His Grace long?”
“Well not reallyknownhim, but when they were boys, he and his brother used to run around here in the summer months like a couple of wild cats, just laughing and chasing each other and playing. It drove their father wild.” She grinned. “I heard him scold them once that their behavior was not becoming of a future nobleman, but they barely listened to him. What boys that age do?”
“Hmm.” Ava smiled vaguely, not really knowing how to answer since she had hardly been around any boys in her childhood.
“In any case, I know how hard he took my lord duke Jonathan’s death. At least he has somebody to comfort him now.” She beamed at them both.
Ava nodded jerkily.
The people of the village had absolutely the wrong idea about her marriage with Edward, but there was hardly a thing she could do about that. She did feel tremendously put out at Edward for putting her in this position and then leaving her all alone to deal with it.
“Uh yes. His poor brother. It was tragic what happened,” she murmured.
Louise’s eyes gleamed. “Terrible rumors, of course, but I am sure there’s no truth to them.” She made to step away.
Ava clutched her arm. “Rumors? What rumors?”
Louise waved a hand. “Oh, you know, there’s always something nefarious going on.”
Ava frowned. She could not imagine what the other woman meant.
Chapter Eight
To whom it may concern,
I am writing this of my own free will and do swear that it is as accurate an account of what I witnessed as the mind of a human can recall. On the night of September 3rd, 1810, I was seated in a tavern near the shore in the town of Marseille, country of France. I was out of my soldier’s uniform in an effort to go unnoticed amongst the local populace. I was sitting alone, having neither coin nor interest in company of any kind.
As I sat sipping my ale, there broke out, at a nearby table, a loud argument. From the manner of their speech, I knew them to be Englishmen as well although I did not recognize them from my garrison. I thought it imprudent to remain in the tavern, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I walked out and around the corner to an alleyway where I paused to light a cheroot. As I stood leaning against the wall, staring into the night as I smoked it, the two men poured out of the bar. One was staggering in a drunken manner while the other one pulled and pushed him about.
They walked past me, and I watched them go. At the end of the alley, the sober one unsheathed a sword and drove it right through the other’s belly. He let the man fall to the ground and walked away.
I stared for a moment more in stupefaction before running forward to examine the man on the ground. He was already dead as I reached him, and there was nothing further I could do for him. Walking as quickly as I could back to the garrison, I reported the incident to my captain and left it in his capable hands.
That is the end of my account as I recall it, and God be my witness.
J. T. Sommers
Edward did not know how many times he had read that account, but every time he did, the same question occurred to him. Why did J. T. not describe how the man looked? There was no indication of his height, his weight, the color of his hair, whether he limped or not, or if he was young or old—just nothing.
Somewhere between the time that he had witnessed someone kill Edward’s brother and the inquiry into his brother’s death, J. T. Sommers had disappeared. According to the army, he had gone away without leave, but Edward doubted that. It was just too convenient for somebody. Summers had written the letter the day after he had witnessed Jonathan’s death. He had given the letter to his superior and then gone back into the field.
