tones trickling from across the room.
“When?” Priest paced in front of the fireplace.
“Next week.” Ashley sprawled in a nearby armchair, sipping from a dram of amber liqueur.
“You’re not going through with it.” Priest spun, his accent thick and hushed. “I won’t allow it.”
“Take it up with my parents.” Ashley stared at his drink. “It can’t be helped.”
“You’re weak.”
“And you’re naive. You always have been with your goddamned whimsical ideals.” Ashley swilled the rest of his glass. “It’s like you never grew up. Never left this room. We’re not careless boys anymore, Priest. This is life. The strife of being an adult. We always knew what we had…” He straightened. “We knew it would end eventually.”
“Happiness. That’s what you speak of.”
“Yes. We were happy.” Ashley set the empty glass aside and sighed. “That sentiment doesn’t fit into my life.”
My muscles gathered and tensed, my breaths rushing out. But I held still, feigning sleep, waiting.
“So what’s your plan.” Priest whirled toward him, his whisper seething. “Are you going to leave her a letter and slink away like the coward you’ve become?”
“It’s different this time.” Ashley dragged a hand down his face, his voice crestfallen. “She has you.”
“She wants both of us. Don’t underestimate her pertinacity, my friend. She’ll cut your pretty rosebud before the nuptials are over.”
Nuptials? Was that what Ashley referred to as next week?
I set my jaw, fingers twitching.
“Did she tell you the story about the Marquess of Grisdale?” Priest laughed hollowly. “She was only fourteen and—”
“Yes, I know.” Ashley stood, his gaze darting in my direction. “I’m going for a walk.”
Priest followed him out of the bedchamber.
Had Ashley seen me awake? I didn’t think so. Either way, I wasn’t about to let the conversation drift away from me.
I pulled on a nightgown and followed the sounds of their voices through the manor. A maze of corridors led me past torches and gilded paintings. The hour was late, and all the servants were asleep in their quarters at the opposite end of the estate.
Through parlors and great rooms, I trailed undetected. When I found them in the kitchen, I slipped into a shadowed alcove across the hall.
“While I was in London, they hanged another couple for sodomy.” Ashley stood at the long wooden table, his hands braced on the scarred surface. “The conviction of the two men rested entirely on the hearsay of a landlord and his wife, who claimed to have witnessed the crime through the keyhole of a door. Their testimony described anatomically impossible acts, and there were no other witnesses or evidence.” With his eyes starkly staring before him, he seemed to be unconsciously fascinated by the scratches on the table. “The gaoler escorted the alleged lovers to the gallows with twelve other men.”
“Stop this.” Priest leaned in and got in his face. “That won’t be us.”
“They were hanged alongside thieves, rapists, and murderers. I read the newspaper report. The crowd of spectators hissed and jeered. Not at the other criminals. No, their loathing disapproval was directed at the two men who committed a crime where there was no injury done to anyone.” He straightened and stepped away from Priest, his expression empty. “I’m returning to London on the morrow. I have my wedding and obligations to attend—”
“You fell in love with two pirates.” I charged into the kitchen, my hands fisting at my sides. “I know that comes with a slew of concerns and difficulties, so we’re going to hash it out right now.”
Neither man looked surprised by my abrupt presence. They must have known I was eavesdropping. Ashley moved to put distance between us. But Priest grabbed him and slammed him face-down on the table.
“Concern number one.” I stood beside them and bent down to meet Ashley’s angry eyes. “Neither Priest nor I can give you children. No heir means your father, the first Viscount Warshire, will be the last viscount.”
“I don’t care about that.” With his cheek pressed on the table and held in place by Priest’s hand, the candlelight flickered upon him and communicated to his hard, tense features and rumpled hair. It was the appearance of a man desperately trying to control that which could not be tamed.
I’d already gleaned his indifference about children. He never mentioned a desire to be a father. Never showed interest in the matter.
Reaching down, I cupped his crotch, where he stooped over the table, pinned beneath Priest’s immovable body. He wasn’t hard, but the intimate touch seemed to calm his thrashing. I needed his attention.
“Two.” I