Читать книгу The Vengeful Bridegroom - Kit Donner - Страница 10

“What is this? You don’t have the dagger, Colgate? You were to deliver it to my associate in Canterbury by tomorrow morning.” The Count Giovanni Taglioni sat in his gilded chair behind his large rosewood desk as if he were judge and jury in the Old Bailey, his swarthy features forbidding with black eyes and a minute mustache. By the look on the count’s unforgiving features, Matthew knew he had to offer a plausible excuse for the unfinished matter of the dagger.

The count’s dark eyes narrowed on him, awaiting an answer that no doubt would displease him, very much. The air simmered with the smell of opium, although Taglioni appeared quite lucid. Perhaps his imbibing only waited for this business to be transacted. Various dark candles placed on white pillars around the deep blue parlor did little to welcome visitors, while the light at the count’s desk proved especially unilluminating. Attired all in black, Taglioni was known not to suffer fools lightly.

Could it only have been three weeks ago when Matthew had stood before the count in this dark chamber in the large glittering town house in Mayfair? How the count had even found him to request his assistance still puzzled Matthew. Their meeting had taken place at the late hour of midnight, as the count directed in the note he sent to Matthew, asking him to come to 5702 Trumbull Place and to be vigilant of anyone watching his movements.

“Please do not worry, my lord. The dagger is very safe. I simply need a few more days to collect it, and then I will deliver it as planned.” Perspiration beaded Matthew’s forehead, which he attempted to mop with his handkerchief.

The count viewed Matthew with half-masted eyes. “I will be generous and give you more time. You have exactly a fortnight to return the dagger, as originally planned. I’m assured you won’t disappoint a second time.”

Matthew nodded and rose shakily, anxious to depart this claustrophobic atmosphere.

“Colgate. One more thing. Have you considered my offer for your lovely sister, Miss Madelene?”

Clasping his hands in front of him, Matthew bowed his head slightly. “Ah, yes, my lord.” He paused. “Although my family is honored by your request, I fear that my sister has already accepted another’s hand in marriage.”

The count snickered, reaching for his snuff. “I believe you misunderstood me, Colgate. I was not offering matrimony for your sister, since I understand she has no dowry. I am also not willing to settle for no as an answer. You see, I have decided to take your sister, Madelene, back to Florence with me. That is the best solution for all. See that you provide the dagger and your sister within a fortnight.”

Matthew nodded and found his hands trembling. He would think of something. Better to let the count believe he would follow his orders. By the time Matthew returned the dagger, Madelene would be safely married and living in Scotland, far from the powerful count. He hoped.

Mr. Brelford did not seem inclined to converse as their carriage rocked down the cobblestone streets of London and out into the dirt and stone lanes of the country. Madelene couldn’t remember the route she and her brother had taken years ago to Dumfries, and the opaque night only curtained the view outside her window.

With little else to occupy her, Madelene fell into an uneasy sleep.

“Miss Colgate, we are stopping here for the night.” She vaguely recognized her husband’s voice through a haze of sleep and felt his strong hand on her shoulder.

Voices of the groomsman and ostler could be heard outside as Madelene rubbed her hands and her face to bring herself into wakefulness. Her neck pinched where she had rested it near the window, and her back ached from the bumps and jolts along the way. She was glad to escape from the confines of the carriage and to gain distance from her—the stranger whose nearness disturbed her.

Madelene followed him into the Cock’s Crow Inn where Great George, the innkeeper, showed them into a private dining room for a light repast. Great George must have been named for his size and bellowing loud voice, for she had no doubt his voice could be heard miles down the road.

Exhausted beyond thought, she removed her bonnet and stifled a yawn behind her red glove. Feeling the need to be wit-filled taking their first meal together, Madelene stretched her arms above her head and walked the perimeter of the room a few times to undo the stiffness remaining from the carriage ride. She noticed the clock on the fireplace mantel showed nine o’clock.

The door banged open when Great George swept into the room, hurrying his servant girl with bread, cheese, and wine for them. Bowing to Mr. Brelford, he told them, “We haven’t had travelers for a day or so. We’re right glad of your fine company. Mary, there, will fix up a room for you.” He twisted his rotund self out the door, yelling over his shoulder, “Pork pies on their way!”

All the while, Mr. Brelford remained silent, in deep thought standing by the window. Her legs unsteady, exhaustion hung on her shoulder, Madelene couldn’t decide which she was in more dire need of, food or a bed. She certainly had little energy to ponder her predicament other than self-assured Mr. Brelford had arranged for two rooms, which would enable her to have a good night’s rest.

“Help yourself to the food, Miss Colgate, ah, Mrs. Brelford. You must be hungry,” Brelford told her politely, then turned his attention to the window again. Madelene wondered what he saw in the darkness.

She glanced over at this stranger, still too new an acquaintance to call “husband.” “Please sit. I find I cannot dine whilst you stand. Share the bread with me?” she asked her husband evenly.

He cast a cool gaze her way before joining her at the small table.

Gabriel had never been hesitant before in any situation, but now he had wedded his enemy’s sister, he took time to contemplate his actions and wondered whether the revenge he demanded from Matthew Colgate could be enjoyed at the altar of Madelene’s innocence.

And then there was the Count Taglioni, whom he had met a few times while in Florence due to Gabriel’s friendship with the count’s niece, Alessandra. He didn’t approve of the count then, and his opinion hadn’t changed since Taglioni had arrived in London. When Gabriel learned the count showed more than a passing fancy for Miss Madelene Colgate, it proved unsettling.

He knew what had to be done. Now he could hardly accept she was his wife, and little did she know her surname to be Westcott and not Brelford. She had signed the registry before him, and he made sure she had been called away before he signed his true surname.

By the time Madelene’s brother, along with the rest of the ton and the count, heard the news of the marriage, he and Madelene would be long gone from Town.

Yes, Miss Colgate had indeed captured his attention at the time of their one and only meeting. He remembered her deep blue eyes shooting arrows at him on the dueling field for wounding her brother.

Her dazzling blue eyes certainly had left her mark on him. She never understood it might have been worse for her brother. Gabriel could have killed Matthew. Later, he realized while caring for his sister, Lucinda, in Florence, he wanted his revenge to last longer.

And Matthew Colgate provided the perfect opportunity by arranging a wager that someone would marry his sister in three days. Of course, his own pocket would increase in coin from winning the bet, but he continued to want the young man to suffer. Suffer he must, since there was no way Matthew could know his sister’s location and the status of her welfare.

A niggling thought that perhaps Matthew might be relieved and unconcerned his sister could not be located bothered him briefly, but he dismissed it out of hand. What brother would not care about his sister?

Yes, everything was falling into place, just as he had planned. Gabriel would decide when the time was right to return Madelene to her brother. When he divorced her, it would bring shame on the Colgate name and both brother and sister would be unwelcome in polite society. They would be ruined.

As for him, he could easily find a replacement bride, but there was more to consider than simply finding a wife. He would also need a mother for his children.

Madelene. His wife. The beautiful Madelene that no man could tame. Rumor had it she had broken many a heart with her own heart unengaged.

Gabriel knew his heart to be safe from her wiles, but after seeing her on the dueling field, tending to her brother, he had wanted her. Wanted to possess her. He wanted her to look at him with as much tenderness as she had given to her brother, undeserving though Gabriel himself might be. Perhaps only then would his lust for revenge be satiated. Perhaps.

“Mr. Brelford, you seem quite lost in thought. I would prefer we converse to break the silence.” She reproved him with a smile.

He scratched his beard, deciding how best to answer her request. “What had you in mind to discuss?”

“How long do you anticipate our journey to Dumfries? I’m sure Matthew told you about our Aunt Bess? I remember she’s rather hard of hearing but quite kind. I hope the weather will be pleasant during our stay, until, of course, we’re able to return to Town and seek our annulment.” She smiled tentatively at him and hurried a glass of wine to her lips.

“Yes, Aunt Bess,” he murmured and continued to stare at her. Truth will out soon enough. He supposed he should admire her pluck since she had been hastily wed and removed from her only known home and family. And where was the famous temper he had been warned about? The woman before him painted a picture of docility and femininity and seemed as devious as plum pudding.

Gabriel sighed in relief when Great George burst into the room with the hot pork pies.

“Eat up! Eat hearty! Mary says your room is quite ready,” he informed them, his smile broad and warm. He bustled out the door, whereupon silence again spoke the loudest in the room.

Gabriel watched Madelene eat quickly and wondered if she had given any thought to her wedding night. When the time was right, they’d have their wedding night, he thought with an inner smile.

“Mr. Brelford, I think I’ll retire. No need to accompany me, I’m sure Great George or Mary will show me the way. Have a restful sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning,” she told him, her words hedged in exhaustion. When she rose to quit the room, Gabriel also stood.

“Mrs. Brelford, I’ll accompany you. We are, after all, sharing the same room as man and wife.”

“Oh, but I thought. You see.” She halted in obvious perplexity. A frown marred her lovely brow. “That is, well, this is quite impossible. My brother—”

“Your brother isn’t here. Surely you understood the vows you recited earlier today?” He cocked his head at her, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t wish for me to heave you over my shoulder and carry you up to our room?” He almost smiled at the thought of her reaction or the amusement it would bring him.

“I should think not.” A look of indignation blew past. She sighed. “I guess I have made my bed,” she finished in resignation.

Interesting, she didn’t finish the thought. He watched her straighten her shoulders, turn toward the door, and begin climbing the rickety wooden stairs.

He admired her resolve. He also admired her backside, as her traveling gown clung to her hips and other places while she preceded him. Steady, he told himself.

At the top of the landing, outside their room, Mary greeted them and curtsied before hurrying past them and down the stairs.

His new bride hesitated before entering the bedchamber, warmed from the fire Mary had started for them. Few pieces of furniture adorned the room other than a large tester bed with a frayed blue counterpane and a table and chair in the corner of the room. Dull white curtains covered the windows.

When Gabriel entered the room, he noticed her trunk and his carpet bag near the bed before throwing his greatcoat over the chair. He turned to look at Madelene, wondering what she was thinking and feeling. And why it should matter to him. This game he had set in motion had many moves yet to make.

She stood with her back to him, warming herself at the fireplace.

“Mrs. Brelford, I’m going to return to the common room to discuss our travel arrangements for the morning with Great George. I would suggest using that time to prepare for bed,” he instructed her before departing the room.

“Mr. Brelford—” She held up a hand to stop him.

At the door, he turned to look at her. “Yes? Is there something amiss? Do you need something?” Gabriel couldn’t wait to be rid of the moniker not his own, hoping annoyance did not show in his voice.

“No, it’s of no consequence,” she told him, shaking her head. He walked out and closed the door. His boots thumped down the stairs.

Madelene slowly sank down on the floor next to the fireplace, hoping the warmth might seep into her bones and spirit. She still could not believe she was actually here, in an unfamiliar village, married to a stranger. It was an impossible position. If only her father could have saved her from this mockery of a marriage. Matthew should never have placed her in this situation.

Even knowing it was only for a short time did little to stem her resentment. She now had a husband to obey, which did not suit for a moment. Until she could discover another alternative, she’d have to endure these events thrust upon her. Somehow, she’d find the will and pray the month would pass quickly.

Frustration poured through her; she had to do something. When she looked down at her red walking dress, she suddenly despised it. She tore off the bodice and skirt and shoved them into the fire, wanting to burn the evidence of her wedding dress. Why couldn’t this all be a terrible dream?

Destroying her wedding dress would do naught to the marriage itself, but she felt a little better watching the cloth catch fire.

Until smoke began to billow out from the fireplace and suffuse their bedchamber. Clad in only a white short-sleeved shift, fine lawn tuckers, knee-high silk stockings, and shoes, and overtaken with fits of coughing, she tried to pull the garments out of the flames.

To no avail. Smoke quickly filled the room, and realizing she couldn’t stop the conflagration, she ran toward the door and jerked it open, bumping right into her husband.