The Unexpected Wife - Jess Michaels Page 0,84
going on?” Abigail asked. “Who is this woman? How do you know her?”
“I knew her as Rachel Simpson,” Pippa said, still struggling with the door. She shoved hard and the woman staggered back, allowing them entry into the foyer. “She worked for me back in Bath. Ras insisted I take her on as my maid. She had an affair with Ras that resulted in a child, but right before I came to London, she disappeared. She is why I was searching for Ras. But here you are…in a house that is supposed to be for his first lover and…and…”
She trailed off and staggered back. Celeste’s stomach flipped, nausea and fear and horror all at once.
“This was a plan, wasn’t it?” Celeste whispered. “You…you and Erasmus never parted ways, even when his father tried to separate you. You carried on even when he married Abigail. You knew he was playing Pippa for a fool. You were part of all of this, weren’t you?”
Before the woman could answer, the door behind them shut. Celeste pivoted, and her blood ran cold.
Because Erasmus Montgomery was standing there, a gun trained on her and an angry grimace on his face.
“You were always the most clever of this bunch,” he said. “I never should have married such a clever woman.”
“R-Ras,” Pippa breathed, all the color from her cheeks.
Abigail continued to stare, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.
“Good afternoon, wives,” he grunted. “God, if this wasn’t such a mess, your expressions would be joke.”
“You’re alive,” Celeste choked out.
He arched a brow at her. “Come now, I just called you the clever one. Don’t disprove me by stating the patently obvious. Rosie, love, why don’t you lead our friends to the parlor? I’ll follow behind.”
Rosie stared at him a beat, and then she smiled. “Of course, lover. Ladies.”
She motioned down the hall, calm as anything, as if she often led the wives of her presumed dead lover into a parlor while he trained a gun on them. Celeste sensed it at her back even when he wasn’t touching her.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
He pressed the gun closer now. She felt the barrel against her spine and sucked in a breath through her teeth. “You should have left well fucking enough alone, Celeste,” he growled.
She blinked at tears as they entered a small parlor. Rosie glared at the women as she moved to the fireplace and folded her arms. “Sit.”
Abigail and Pippa moved to do so, close together on the settee. Celeste planned to join them, but Erasmus caught her arm and yanked her back toward him, hard.
“Except for you,” he grunted. “You, my dear, are an insurance policy that neither of my other lovely wives will do something foolishly brave.”
“Stop it,” Abigail said, glaring up at him. “Don’t you hurt her.”
“I’m afraid we’re past that point now,” Erasmus said. “But we can take our time, I think. I assume you all have questions.”
“And I’m sure you’ll be happy to brag away about what you’ve done,” Pippa hissed.
Erasmus smiled at her. “You changed your hair, Pip. I like it.”
“Rot with the devil,” Pippa said in return. Celeste gasped at the fire in her friend’s eyes. Fire that faded as she met Celeste’s gaze. “We’re going to get out of this.”
She nodded, though she didn’t believe Pippa. The gun jabbing her back certainly said otherwise.
“You—you want to monologue, I think,” Abigail said. “You were always good at talking and talking. So why don’t you do so now? Explain yourself.”
He shrugged as he took a seat and dragged Celeste down on his knee. She noticed that Rosie flinched when he did so. Not because of the violence, she didn’t think, but because of the intimacy of the action. Perhaps that could be used to their advantage later.
“The only one I ever loved was Rosie,” he began.
Both Pippa and Abigail recoiled, though their sadness seemed tempered. This man’s actions were killing any faint love that might have remained in the hearts of these remarkable women. His loss, Celeste knew. He didn’t. He was too selfish and cruel to know.
“Then why marry me?” Abigail asked. “Why not marry her?”
“We tried,” Rosie said with a shake of her head. “His muckworm of a father put a stop to it. Said I wasn’t good enough. Said I was looking for a fortune and threatened to take all of his if we went through with it.”
Her pain was palpable, real, and had the situation been different, Celeste might have felt