The Red Hot Earl Page 11

Thornaby struggled to stand, but Keldon and Moreley helped him. He weaved his way over to Ash, who also got up with Bianca’s and Tucket’s assistance.

  “Words cannot convey how sorry I am about your house,” Thornaby said. “How sorry all of us are.” He indicated the men flanking him.

  “I want to hear them say it,” Bianca pressed. “And you’ll apologize for everything. The shooting competition and everything you ever did or even thought about doing at Oxford. You all make me sick.”

  None of them could look at her. To a man, they dropped their gazes to the ground.

  After a moment, Thornaby lifted his toward Ash. “We’ve treated you awfully—from Oxford until today. But no more. I owe you my life.”

  “Yes, you do,” Bianca spat, thinking he didn’t deserve to be rescued by Ash.

  Ash touched her arm, and she looked up at him to see that he did not appear as furious as she was, at least not anymore.

  “I’m sorry too,” Keldon said. “Truly. We just meant to cause trouble, nothing serious. When you left the house party the other day, several of the guests were upset. They believed we’d somehow driven you to go.”

  “You did.” Bianca growled low in her throat.

  Thornaby nodded. “I was angry that people were siding with Buckleigh.”

  “There are no sides,” Ash said quietly. “That’s all in your imagination.”

  “Yes.” Thornaby sounded utterly defeated, and Bianca wanted to dance with glee.

  “Moreley?” Bianca prompted. “I believe it’s your turn.”

  “I, ah, I’m sorry. For everything. We won’t bother you again.”

  “Except for rebuilding his house and supporting his St. Stephen’s Day party,” Thornaby said, his eyes gleaming with determination.

  Bianca fixed each of them with a stony glower. “Only we have no place to hold it now.”

  “You can use Thornhill,” Thornaby readily suggested.

  “I’d rather not,” Bianca said coolly.

  Ash shook his head and coughed. “It’s too far. I would host it at Buck Manor, but that’s also too far.”

  “It’s a pity your brother won’t host it,” Keldon said.

  Yes, it was. Bianca’s anger at him sprouted anew. “That is not an option.”

  “Is Thornhill really too far?” Thornaby asked. “It’s only five miles. We can transport people, and whoever needs to stay overnight can do so. We’ll make it work. Just tell me what we need to do.”

  “You’ll let my wife and my mother manage everything, and I mean everything. You will take their orders, and you won’t complain or rebel.”

  Thornaby nodded, then blinked, cocking his head to the side. “Your wife?”

  Ash put his arm around Bianca’s waist, and she pressed into his side, reveling in his warmth and basking in the joy of being alive—with him. “Bianca. We will be wed next week. Forgive us for not inviting you to the breakfast.” He said the last with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “I wish you both a hearty—and heartfelt—congratulations.” Thornaby tried to smile but gave up. “I wouldn’t expect to be invited.”

  “It’s settled, then.” Ash exhaled, and his shoulder twitched against Bianca.

  “Come, let’s get you to the coach. I want to take you home so you can rest.”

  “I won’t leave the house. Not until the fire’s out.” He looked at the burning structure, and she felt his body go rigid. “My mother is going to be devastated.”

  Bianca flicked a glance toward the trio of miscreants. They hung their heads in shame.

  Ash kissed her temple. “I’m fine now, my love. Let me help with the effort to put out the flames.”

  “I’ll help too,” she said.

  “So will we.” Keldon started toward the line passing water. Moreley and Thornaby joined him.

  Bianca encircled Ash’s waist and squeezed him tight. “I’m just glad you’re safe. When I think of what could have happened…”

  “Shh, my love.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “I am here with you, where I plan to stay for a very, very long time.”

  She looked up at him with love and admiration. “Forever, I hope.”

  His lips curled into a happy smile. “Forever.”

  Chapter 11

  The day of Bianca and Ash’s wedding dawned cold and gray. Ash would have loved snow, but he also wanted to be able to get from Buck Manor to the Hartwell Church and back to Buck Manor for the wedding breakfast without incident.

  And so it was with great delight that he and Bianca emerged from the coach at Buck Manor only to have a dusting of snowflakes settle upon them.

  Laughing, Bianca looked up to the sky. “What a perfect gift for our wedding day.”

  Ash smiled down at her. “I arranged it special.”

  She slid him a glance of sheer disbelief, then laughed again. “I shouldn’t put it past you, actually. You have been an absolute hero for everyone, so why not for me?”

  He curled his arms around her waist and brought her against him so he could kiss her. The contact was brief, but incredibly heady. “I only care about being a hero for you.”

  “They’re here!” the Marchioness of Darlington called from the doorway. She’d left the church with her husband and Ash’s mother as soon as the ceremony had finished so they could be here to oversee the wedding breakfast preparations.

  Ash and Bianca had visited with the vicar for a while, primarily to discuss plans for rebuilding his house. The entire village was eager to see his property made whole again.

  And no one was more eager than Thornaby.

  Ash guided his wife into his house—no, their house—where a line of guests was waiting in the hall, Thornaby among them. Moreley and Keldon were also there. Bianca hadn’t wanted to include any of them, but Ash had persuaded her that it was time to truly put the past behind him. He only hoped they were as committed to that as they professed to be.

  He and Bianca spent the next half hour greeting people, followed by a joyous wedding breakfast in the dining room. Afterward, they withdrew to the drawing room, where they drank champagne. Ash watched with pride and love as his countess laughed and spoke with everyone in attendance. Perhaps she didn’t laugh with Thornaby and the others, but she was polite and they were effusive in their kindness and praise.

  “You’re a lucky man, Buckleigh.” Thornaby came up behind him, prompting Ash to turn.

  “Thank you. I am.” While Ash appreciated the man’s reversal, he was also incredibly puzzled by it. “I hope you’ll forgive me for asking, but after so many years of you torturing me, I find myself wondering what led you to make such a change in your behavior.”

  “I would forgive you anything,” Thornaby said earnestly. “And I mean that. You saved my life. There is something rather clarifying about nearly dying. My life came into a focus I’d never seen before.” He glanced at the floor, then sipped his champagne. When he looked at Ash again, there was a weight in his gaze Ash had never seen before.

  “I’ve always felt inadequate,” Thornaby admitted. “You didn’t know this, but I struggled at Oxford. Reading was very difficult for me. Words and letters—and numbers, even—would jumble in my vision.”

  “I didn’t know that. You always behaved as if you knew and excelled at everything.” Ash didn’t mask the wryness in his tone.

  A small smile flitted across Thornaby’s mouth. “It’s terrible to say, but I understood your…challenges.”

  As if provoked by Thornaby’s mention of his disease, a shudder rippled across Ash’s shoulders, and he tipped his head to the side. “Why is that terrible?”

  “Because I was horrible to you because of them.” Thornaby grimaced. “It made me feel better about my weaknesses to exploit yours. If that isn’t abhorrent, I don’t know what is. That you could forgive me for how I treated you, especially for causing your house to burn—”

  Ash saw the tears in Thornaby’s eyes despite the man quickly blinking them away. “I do forgive you. Because w
hat good would it do to continue to hold a grudge? That certainly doesn’t benefit me. As you said, I’m a lucky man, and I intend to be grateful.”

  “What a beautiful sentiment,” Thornaby said in soft wonder.

  Ash considered Thornaby’s revelation. “I do understand your coping behavior. I chose a different path—I used to hit people.”

  Thornaby’s eyes widened. “You never hit me.”

  “I was too small.” Ash chuckled. “You—or more likely Moreley—would have pounded me into the dirt. Actually, Moreley did do that once.”

  “So he told me.” Thornaby dipped his chin in apology. “I think I missed that. Whom did you hit?”

  “Many people. Men, I should clarify. I was a pugilist in London.”

  Thornaby gasped in surprise. “Were you? How extraordinary. And that helped your affliction?”

  Ash nodded. “Boxing gave me strength, obviously, but also courage to face others as well as myself and my limitations. It also showed me that I wasn’t as limited as I’d thought.” He grinned. “I was quite good at hitting people.”

  “I think I’d like to see that.” Thornaby cocked his head to the side. “Could you teach me?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Ash marveled at how far they’d come in such a short time.

  “Thank you.” Thornaby lightly clasped his bicep. “I’m grateful for your forgiveness and, dare I say, friendship.”

  Ash waggled his brows at him. “Go ahead and dare. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and speak with my brother-in-law.”

  Thornaby inclined his head with a smile and let go of Ash’s arm. Ash lifted his glass in a silent toast, then strode toward the Marquess of Darlington, who stood near the windows, his focus trained on the champagne in his hand.

  “Darlington,” Ash said. “You look as though you’re in need of cheer.”

  The marquess shook his head and blinked. “’Tis nearly the season for that, I suppose. Sorry, I was ruminating.”

  “May I ask about what?”

  “Mostly about Hartwell House and how badly it’s in need of repair.” Darlington grimaced. “Never mind. After the fire, you are up to your eyeballs in repairs.”

  “Reconstruction, you mean,” Ash said wryly. “Bianca and I are looking forward to St. Nicholas Day tomorrow at Hartwell House.”

  “Yes, it should be quite…cheerful.”

  Ash laughed softly. “Indeed. As you said, it is the season for it. Come, let us join our wives.” A thrill danced up Ash’s spine. He loved referring to Bianca as his wife.

  When they arrived, the third woman had left so that it was just Bianca and her sister. They were animatedly discussing their brother.

  “I still can’t believe he refused to give you your settlement,” the marchioness said crossly. “I plan to speak with him as soon as possible. It’s bad enough he didn’t come today.”

  “To be fair, I didn’t invite him,” Bianca said.

  “I did.” Ash had reasoned that as long as he’d changed his mind and decided to include the men who’d bullied him and burned his house to the ground, he ought to also invite Bianca’s brother, even if he’d behaved in an utterly wretched manner.

  “You did?” A host of emotions flitted across Bianca’s face. Her features finally settled on irritation. Ash just wasn’t sure where it was directed. He coughed gently and rolled his shoulder. “And he didn’t come,” she said in flat disappointment.

  At the duke, then.

  Ash exhaled. As long as he was admitting what he’d done, he’d be completely honest about what had happened next. She deserved the truth, and he planned to never keep secrets from her. “I wish I could say he at least responded, but he did not.”

  Bianca scowled, and her sister let out a surprising description of their brother, complete with a curse. Gasping in surprise, Bianca swung her gaze to the marchioness. They and the marquess promptly dissolved into laughter.

  His mother joined them. “You look as though you’re having a jolly time. Everyone is, I think. I should know, as I’ve spoken to everyone about St. Stephen’s Day. Support for the event is overwhelming. Even from the viscount.” She cast a look toward Thornaby, and Ash knew her well enough to recognize a thread of anger and distrust in her gaze.

  The emotions stuck out to him because she rarely displayed them. However, Thornaby was a special case. When she’d learned Thornaby and the others were behind the house burning down, she’d been inconsolable. She revealed that she’d written to him and Keldon, sending a rider with the missives before speaking to Ash and Bianca. Then when they’d said no to requesting help, she hadn’t wanted to admit she’d already done so. While Ash was ready to forgive, she hadn’t yet reached that point. But Ash knew she would. She was far too kindhearted not to.

  “Let us drink to the earl and his countess,” Thornaby called out, raising his glass. “Buckleigh is a true hero—in every way. Without him, we would not be celebrating St. Stephen’s Day this year as we ought.”

  Keldon lifted his glass. “Hear, hear!”

  Ash felt the need to correct them. “Actually, if not for my lovely wife, there would be no St. Stephen’s Day celebration this year. It is her passion and her drive that will continue this tradition.” He gazed at Bianca with all the love overflowing his heart.

  She smiled in return, her eyes promising a future filled with that same passion and drive. She lifted her glass in appreciation, and the room erupted in a chorus of “Hear, hear!” and “Congratulations!” and “To the earl and countess!”

  Pride and joy filled Ash’s chest as he drew Bianca against his side. As he looked around the room, he counted his blessings. “I wish the same happiness for all of you.”

  * * *

  St. Nicholas Day was the official start to the Christmas season. Everyone celebrated in different ways, but the people of Hartwell had long made the day special by exchanging gifts among immediate family members. Bianca and Ash, along with her sister and her husband, spent the morning distributing gifts to the women and children who were not just in need of things but of good cheer. Bianca’s heart swelled as she watched a young boy play excitedly with a half-dozen toy soldiers.

  “This was a wonderful idea,” Ash said softly as he came up beside her. “May I suggest we do it every year?”

  She beamed up at him, glad that he shared her desire to help those in need. “Oh, I insist.”

  He chuckled. “Of course you do. I can imagine what you might say to my next suggestion.”

  “Please allow me to speak first,” she said. “And I hope you don’t think me too forward. I realize Shield’s End was your house, but it was sitting empty, and Hartwell House is in horrible disrepair.” A light sparked in his eyes, and she watched as his lips curled into a warm smile. “Is my proposal the same as yours?”

  He lightly clasped her waist. “If you were going to suggest we rebuild Shield’s End as the new Institution for Impoverished Women, then yes. We are of the same mind. Again.”

  She laughed gaily. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. We seem to want precisely the same things.”

  “Which is why we were destined to be.”

  She sighed, moving closer to him as he moved his hand around to her lower back. “Yes.”

  “I look forward to having the plans drawn up when we go to London next month.”

  “You’re going to send inquiries before that?”

  He nodded. “Next week. I know you’re anxious to get started.”

  She glanced toward the people who would benefit from the new institution. “Now more than ever. And there should be a dedicated school with a teacher and a larger farm that will feed the occupants.” She tipped her face up to meet his eyes. “Perhaps we could even build individual cottages for families.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Your heart is as beautiful as I remember.” He brushed his lips across her brow. “Keldon has offered to oversee the building while I and Thornaby are in London for Parliament.”

  She riveted her g
aze back to him, still in awe that he’d forgiven his tormentors so easily. Well, perhaps not easily. They’d discussed it at length, and she understood his reasons—they had everything to do with him and his sense of peace, not absolving the others’ guilt. “You are the best of men.”

  “You make me want to be.” He grimaced slightly. “I do wonder if you’ll still think that when I tell you that I don’t have a gift for you today. It’s coming. I’m afraid that between the wedding and preparing for today, we’ve been quite busy.”

  Bianca laughed with relief. “Good, because I don’t have your gift yet either.” She lowered her voice. “But let me just say that I am confident we can think of plenty to give each other later. In our bedchamber.”

  He drew her into a shadowy corner and kissed her until they were both breathless. He stroked his finger along her cheek. “My love, you are the only gift I’ll ever need.”

  Don’t miss Poppy’s story in The Gift of the Marquess! Then find out what happens with the St. Stephen’s Day party and why Calder is such a Scrooge in Joy to the Duke! Coming in October and November 2019!

  * * *

  Thank you so much for reading The Red Hot Earl! It’s the first book in my Regency holiday series, Love is All Around. I hope you enjoyed it!

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