“I thought it was terrible that I never got to meet Lierin,” Amanda declared. “How often did I stress to him that it was his duty to beget heirs for the continuance of the family name, and for so many years it seemed that Ashton wanted his liberty more than a family. When he finally did marry, he nearly caused my heart to fail by the suddenness of it, and then…poof!” Amanda snapped her fingers in the air. “He came home, wounded and…a widower.”
“You must be patient, Amanda,” Aunt Jennifer gently chided. “Ashton isn’t getting any younger, true, but at four and thirty he’s not exactly past his prime.”
“He might as well be,” Amanda quipped. “His mind seems set more toward building an empire than a family.”
“Ladies, you are picking me apart like a pair of hens squabbling over a cricket,” Ashton protested with a chuckle. “Have mercy!”
“Mercy, he says!” His grandmother gave him a sidelong stare, which was softened by a smile. “I should be the one begging for it.”
Ashton secured the house after the last guest had departed, or at least gone to bed, and made his way to his own chambers. A glowing lamp aided his passage through his study and sitting room, and a warming fire greeted him in his bedchamber. Willis had anticipated his need and prepared a hot bath in the adjoining room, a small space that had been set aside specifically for his grooming needs. He doffed his clothes and, lowering himself into the steaming liquid, leaned back to soak and think. The ash of a long, black cheroot grew lengthy as he mulled over the happenings of the day, and absently he flicked the gray flakes into a porcelain dish that resided, alongside a crystal decanter and various jars, on a table near the tub. Leaning his head back against the high rim, he watched the smoke drift lazily toward the ceiling, while a train of long-suppressed impressions flitted through his mind. It seemed almost strange to savor and enjoy them without the tormenting feeling of loss.
He vividly remembered the morning when he first saw Lierin. She had been with an older woman on a street in New Orleans where shops for frilly, feminine things abounded. So completely did she take his eye, he had ignored a pressing appointment and followed them at a distance for six blocks or more. She had seemed unaware of him until she paused in front of a millinery shop and, from beneath a silk parasol, gave him stare for stare with a coquettishly raised brow of question. Much to his disappointment, a barouche had stopped alongside, giving him no time to press for an introduction, and the two women were whisked from sight, leaving him without even the tiniest prospect of ever seeing her again.
His hopes dashed, he had finally turned to the issue of his appointment and hailed a livery to convey him to the man’s address. It had not promised to be a cordial meeting, and he had prepared himself for a heated debate, determined to protest the seizure of his steamboat and the arrest of its crew until he achieved satisfactory results. A charge of piracy had been brought against them, and the action was purportedly substantiated by proof, although a short time later the evidence was found to be falsified.
Arriving at Judge Cassidy’s residence, he was shown into the man’s chambers and was in the process of giving the honorable magistrate a piece of his mind when, from an adjoining room, an enraged and decidedly feminine shriek had brought him to an abrupt halt. No one had forewarned him that the aging magistrate was entertaining his granddaughter from England and that she was the very same one he had eyed so closely that afternoon. His anger had dissipated when she stormed into the room, and he had marveled at his good fortune at finding the young lady again. As for Lierin, she had suffered a momentary twinge of surprise when she saw him, but having a proper credit of Irish blood from her mother’s side and being well fired with indignation, she had soundly berated him on his undisciplined conduct before an official of the law.
Ashton had been more than happy to accept the chastening. From the first moment he had found himself staring into the darkly lashed, blazing green eyes of Lierin Somerton, he had known that his life would be lacking a most important substance without her in it. With the opportunity to evaluate her at closer range, he had quickly concluded that she was an exceptionally beauteous young woman. The flashing eyes, the slim, pert nose, and the soft, expressive mouth had been structured with a delicate stroke of perfection that had captured his total interest. Thoroughly intrigued, he had stared so long that Lierin had finally become flustered beneath his openly admiring stare. She had later confided that she had never seen such a bold light come into a man’s eyes, for they had fairly gleamed with warmth.
In a more decorous manner Ashton had offered a polite apology to her grandfather and went on to explain in careful detail the reason for his visit. Judge Cassidy had been amused by his infatuation with Lierin and extended an invitation for dinner on the premise that he wanted to review the case in more detail. Actually he had had more devious motives in mind, which he admitted to later, and they were to see one of his granddaughters settle down in close proximity to him so he could enjoy the companionship of his kin more freely than if they were wed to one of those English foreigners such as their mother had married. With the judge’s favor bestowed upon him, Ashton had courted Lierin with a carefully controlled zeal.
Ashton rose from his bath and rubbed a towel over his matted chest and muscular ribs as his mind continued to flit through his memories of Lierin. He donned a long velvet robe, poured a drink, and, taking the cheroot, went out onto the balcony. The cool night air was laced with the fresh, pungent smell of a nearby pine, and he inhaled its fragrance as one of the pleasures of being home. He rested a thigh on the rail and leaned back against a post as he lost himself again in his memories.
Lierin had changed many things in his life. Once upon a time he had avoided marriage as if it were a deadly disease, but when he had to face the prospect of leaving New Orleans without her, he had been loath even to consider it. He could not name the exact moment when he started to think of her as a prospective wife, but it was a hope that had quickly risen to the forefront of his mind. Then, for all of his experience in entertaining women and potential customers, when it came to asking for her hand, he had done so rather haltingly, afraid she would insist upon a long and normal courtship and the questionable blessings of her father, but to his surprise she had been as eager as he. He had felt strangely humbled when he saw her eyes light up with joy, and quite unabashedly she had thrown her arms about his neck and cried in sheer happiness, “Oh, yes! Yes! Oh, yes!”
Despite their mutual eagerness, there were still problems to be faced. Her father’s absence meant the marriage could not be sanctioned by him, and it had seemed doubtful that Robert Somerton would give his permission even if he were there. Lierin had sweetly suggested that her grandfather might be approachable on the matter of her hand. The strong possibility they were all inviting the wrath of the father did not escape their attention. Ashton had laughingly threatened to seduce her and get her with child, just in case her sire had to be convinced that she needed a husband.
Ashton had seen his own character go through other alterations during the abbreviated time he had been with Lierin. He had never really noticed flowers before, but while on a walk through a park, when Lierin had pointed out the beauty of them, he had become appreciative of their delicacy and fragrance. Throughout his years he had watched many a sun lower in the west and casually admired the hues, but when the two of them had shared a sunset from the window of their hotel suite, the event had become a glorious ending to an almost idyllic day wherein her face, her laughter, her soft voice had filled his heart with bliss.