"Wow," Michael O'Connor said softly. "Uncle Ryan got laid at sixteen."
Angelina threw up her hands in exasperation, but the boy's continued fascination with Ryan's teenage behavior caused enough laughter to break the tension in the room.
"Gimme a little more of that Madeira sherry," Kevin McGuire said. "You keep a good table, Ashley. It's been a wonderful Christmas for us because of you."
Ashley smiled. "Thanks," she said. "It's certainly been the most interesting holiday I can ever remember in this house."
"Who is the distinguished gentleman whose portrait is hanging over the fireplace?" Kathleen asked.
"That's my grandfather, Edward Livingston Kimbrough," she answered. "There are other ancestor portraits hanging all over the house. The one in the front hall is the Kimbrough who built the hall."
The rest of the evening continued on with light conversation, but the tension still lingered below the surface. Finally the guests began feigning yawns and deciding it was time for bed. Frankie practically took her son by his ear upstairs, because she could see he was dying to hang around and question his uncle, but Angelina remained until all of her daughters and their husbands had gone.
"Well, I think I'm ready for bed too," Ashley said.
"Wait," her mother-in-law said quietly. "I want to speak with you."
"Lina, there is nothing to say. It's over and done with. I'm just sorry that Deirdre nursed her anger for so long. She has hurt her husband very much. How soon after your return from Venice did they marry?"
"She had just become engaged to Robert before we left for Venice," Angelina replied. "The wedding was planned for the following spring, and it was celebrated then. I never knew she felt this way. She did not really love him, of course. Carlo Fabiano was suave and charming. Deirdre was very sheltered, and had never met anyone like him. They were never alone, that we knew of, but rather traveled in a group of other young people. We knew his reputation, but assumed she was safe, and in the end she was."
Ashley nodded.
"I told you the truth." Ryan suddenly broke into the conversation. "I hadn't seen or communicated with Bianca in over twenty years."
"We will speak upstairs," Ashley said quietly.
"Cara-" her mother-in-law began, but Ashley held up her hand.
"This is between your son and me, Lina."
And her tone told Angelina Mulcahy that Ashley was not to be trifled with in this matter. The older woman watched as the younger left the room. Then she turned to her son. "You should have stayed at a hotel," she said. "What in the name of God possessed you to accept the contessa's invitation? Are you so insensitive then? That is the Irish male in you, Ryan." She stood up. "I am going to bed, and you had better straighten this out with Ashley immediately." She departed the living room.
He sat alone for several minutes. Then, standing up, Ryan Mulcahy went upstairs to meet his fate. He found his wife awaiting him in their sitting room. "Baby, listen-" he began, but she put up a hand like a traffic cop.
"Sit down, Ryan," she told him.
"You can't be angry at me for something that happened when I was sixteen," he protested, obeying her directive.
"Of course I'm not angry at you for losing your virginity to the contessa," she told him. "I'm angry at you because you didn't trust me enough to tell me before we went to Venice. What a little ninny Bianca must have thought I was, Ryan."
"I'm sorry. You're right," he agreed. "But to be honest with you, I never even considered that summer again after it happened."
"It was thoughtless, Ryan," Ashley said. "I know our marriage began as one of convenience in order for both of us to save our assets, but you've said you love me, and I certainly love you. You know everything there is to know about me. I made no secret of my past with you. Marriage is based upon trust, among other things. That you didn't trust me enough to share that bit of information with me makes me reconsider whether we really have a marriage, or at least the chance of a real marriage."
"I swear to you I never thought of Bianca in all the years since that summer," he protested. "I do love you!" He stood up. It was impossible to feel the way he felt right now and remain seated, but she did stay seated. And calm. Frighteningly calm.
"That isn't the point, you moron!" Ashley shouted at him. "You brought me into the house of the woman who taught you all about sex, and you didn't warn me beforehand. Why the hell couldn't you tell me, Ryan? Why couldn't you allow the decision to stay in a palazzo or a hotel be mine?"
"It would have been inconvenient to stay in a hotel," he said. "I needed to be where the wardrobe was. It's my business! And how the devil was I supposed to tell you? 'Oh, by the way, baby, our hostess relieved me of my virginity when I was sixteen, but don't let it bother you. She's a real nice gal.' "
"Don't you dare hide behind your business, Ryan! All you had to do was explain to me about that summer. I would have understood. Do you think I'm so unsophisticated that I would have had a hissy fit, and refused to stay with the contessa? Hell, the woman is over twenty years older than you are, even if she does still look good, and after all, I am your wife. If you were still in love with Bianca di Viscontini you would have married her. But you should have told me, and you didn't. How can I ever trust you again, Ryan? How do I know what else you are keeping from me?"
"Baby, listen to me."
"Do you have something I could possibly want to hear, Ryan? I don't think so. At least not now. The couch in your office opens into a bed. Go sleep there tonight."
Suddenly his voice was cold. "I will not sleep in my office while my mother and the rest of my family are in the house," he snapped. "You can make whatever arrangement you want tomorrow when they are gone, but not tonight."
"Very well," Ashley agreed. "Tomorrow I will return to my old bedroom. You can have this. And, Ryan, you are not to tell anyone that I am pregnant. I had intended announcing our happy news tonight, until your sister decided to drop her bombshell."
"Yeah," he said. "It would have been a bit anticlimactic, wouldn't it?"
"I'm going to bed," she replied, and she slept as far away from him as she could that night, taking the bolster that usually lay at the head of their bed and running it lengthwise like a barrier between them. But the real barrier was the fact that he was a fool, Ryan knew.
The next morning they joined their guests for the breakfast buffet before the limousine arrived to transport them all home. The chatter was light and inconsequential. And afterward Ryan's eldest sister, the formidable Bride, took Ashley aside.
"I want to apologize for my sister," she began. "Okay, so we all were counting our chickens before they hatched, and Ryan's marriage took us by surprise. Especially as neither of you made any bones about the fact that it was to save yourselves, and not true love. But we're not fools. Well, maybe Dee is. We can see that you and Ryan do love each other at this point, and we don't want to see either of you unhappy because Dee can't get over her past. She hurt a lot of people last night. I'm sorry. The rest of us feel terrible about what she did. I hope you won't hold it against us. This was really a wonderful Christmas, and to be honest, we haven't had such a nice time in years. Any of us."
"Apology accepted," Ashley said. "And don't worry, Bride. I'm not going to throw your brother out. But he is going to get a very hard lesson in sensitivity training. I do love the big lug."
Bride smiled warmly. "Geez," she said. "You really are the right wife for him, Ashley. He needs someone who won't put up with his crap. We're with you all the way." And Bride Mulcahy Franklin actually hugged her sister-in-law.