Never Marry a Stranger Read Free Page A

Rosa took her worried gaze from Emily and gave Reggie a frank look of interest. “I will be so happy to talk with you, Lieutenant. Were you with Matthew during his marriage to Emily?”
    Matthew didn’t worry about Reggie’s response.
    “No, my lady,” the other man said promptly. “I guess I’ll get to know her right along with Matthew.”
    Matthew used a wince to hide his amusement. “Hamilton will find you a room, Reggie. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    As his parents accompanied him through the corridors, Matthew found himself nodding and smiling at the various servants who’d come to gape at him in astonishment. Some he didn’t recognize, but of the ones he did, many were wiping their teary eyes with handkerchiefs. He was strangely moved.
    Yet what impressed him was how many looked at his “wife” with true concern. Apparently, Emily had made herself at home in his household, and turned even the servants into her admirers.
    He wondered if she was faking a swoon to delay his inevitable questions until they were alone. That would be a good tactic. Her angelic demeanor anddelicate body made it easy to forget what she’d done. He had been celibate since last year, so he could be excused for his inability to look away from the woman in his arms.
    Lady Rosa opened the door to his suite.
    The chit had been living in his rooms, of course, he thought with amusement. To his surprise, she’d changed nothing of the masculine decor of dark wood, nor added feminine frills.
    He placed the woman gently on his bed. At last, his parents left them alone, after lighting lamps to combat the growing gloom of the evening. A servant had already lit the coal in the hearth to chase away the coolness of the autumn night. He was glad of that, for after the heat of India, England seemed far too cold. Absently, he rubbed his scarred arm where the skin had pulled tight over his elbow as he’d carried her. Not exactly painful but…uncomfortable, and a constant reminder of his mistake in battle.
    Matthew stood beside the four-poster bed, staring down at Emily—or whatever her name really was—for several long minutes. She didn’t stir. Long brown lashes lay on her porcelain cheeks; pink lips were parted softly with her breathing. Though he leaned close, still she remained unmoving. If she was pretending unconsciousness, she was doing a masterful job of it.
    He searched the wardrobe in the dressing room and found serviceable clothing, nothing indecentlyexpensive or flamboyant, several gowns a variety of black or gray. But of course she would have just emerged from mourning only months ago, he thought, smiling, wondering if she was the sort to miss lovely gowns.
    Back in his bedroom, he went to the dressing table, which had once housed his razor, shaving brush, and cup, but now held a woman’s matching comb, brush, and hand mirror set, as well as glass bottles of perfume. He went through the chest of drawers, but found no hidden jewelry, nothing that incriminated her in any way. He was relieved.
    But in the desk, several papers were gathered in a leather folio. He stared in surprise at a marriage license with his own signature on it. Had his injury made him forget something so monumental? But no, he could remember everything he’d done, every moment of his time in India. He peered more closely at the document, and realized that although the signature would pass cursory inspection, someone had carefully copied his own to forge it, to provide a way into a celebrated family.
    Not someone: Emily Grey. Unless that was a false name she’d written on the license.
    But even her name struck a chord within him. Had he met her before? Was that why she’d chosen his family?
    The town listed on the license was Southampton, where his ship had departed England, the weddingdate only two days before he’d left the country. She knew much about him and his movements before he’d deployed. But she’d been clever enough to pass them off as a