Читать книгу The Vengeful Bridegroom - Kit Donner - Страница 9

“Are you sure you want to do this, Gabriel? It all sounds quite outlandish.” Former mistress, Miss Caroline Montazy, watched Gabriel Westcott from across her seat in the carriage.

Gabriel turned from looking out the window and studied Caroline. No one observing her dowdy gray carriage dress and plain mantle with a severe bonnet perched on top of her blond hair would recognize her as an Original. He smiled stiffly and leaned back against his seat.

“Caroline, have you ever known me to be careless in any of my arrangements? I have thought long and hard over this plan, and I am convinced I will succeed.” He gestured to her costume. “You do look the part of my country cousin.”

She scoffed. “The part I play in this little drama, I hope, will be brief. We must get you married to this woman before her brother discovers you are one step ahead of him.”

“Exactly. We’re almost there. Don’t forget your lines, you must be convincing.” His revenge almost at hand, he wondered why he didn’t feel more satisfaction than he did. His goal almost realized, and yet he felt nothing. Sir Matthew Colgate would receive his comeuppance when he learned who had kidnapped his sister, Miss Madelene Colgate.

Caroline nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll do exactly as you require. I simply wish you weren’t going to such drastic measures to exact your revenge, especially on the girl, who appears to be innocent in any of her brother’s doings.” She peered at him more closely. “And that disguise. I can only hope the lady doesn’t immediately become indisposed and take to her bed after one look at you.”

Gabriel made no comment, satisfied his disguise would be a means to an end, even if he was unaccustomed to a heavy beard and spectacles. Their carriage came to a halting stop at a fashionable town house in Bloomsbury. Dusk had almost settled, creating a warm peach haze. As they descended the carriage, Gabriel vaguely noticed a peddler wheeling his cart of wood carvings down the street, and a maid on the steps of the next house over calling children in to wash for tea. Another ordinary day for most of the Town.

The town house, with standard façade of stucco over brick with a bowed window and flower boxes, looked empty, somehow deserted, until a young maid answered his knock. Before she could utter a greeting, Gabriel ushered Miss Montazy before him and followed her into the house, as if they had been welcomed there often.

“Good afternoon. We are here to see Miss Madelene Colgate. It is an urgent matter. Is she at home?” Gabriel removed his beaver hat and gloves and smoothed his hair while waiting for an answer, which came from the lady in question.

“Millie, who is it?” a lilting voice called down from the first-story landing. “Please tell whoever it is that I have just returned from calling and can see no one at the moment. Perhaps they could leave their card and return another time.”

She watched them look up at her in her carmine walking dress with feathered pelisse and red bonnet as she leaned on the gold railing. Perhaps they were friends of Matthew’s. Dismissing them, she began to turn away.

“Miss Colgate. I’m Leonard Brelford, your betrothed. I’ve come with my cousin. Do you forget we are to be married today?” His voice echoed in the hallway chamber. The stranger calling himself her intended walked toward the stairs, stopping at the bottom of the grand staircase. He put one foot on the first step and rested an elbow on the staircase newel. His gaze never left her, pinning her to the spot.

Madelene dropped her bonnet and put her red-gloved hands to her mouth. Not today. It can’t be today. Surely, it was to be tomorrow, the eighteenth of May. Today was only the seventeenth. She slowly walked toward the top of the main staircase to face him, the man claiming to be her husband-to-be.

Her first impression of the stranger was one of surprise. She would have preferred less bushy hair on his head and a clean-shaven countenance. His spectacles magnified his eyes in a strange way. I know I must seem small-minded to desire my husband to have a pleasing persona, but truly, he does have an aura of a rather overbearing nature.

She had hoped, irrationally, Matthew would find a new plan and extricate her from the present ridiculous marriage arrangement. Last night, he had even mentioned something about a valuable dagger.

But it must have led to naught. Unfortunately, she had been unable to find a solution herself with so little time.

She had one last hope. Perhaps she could reason with her false betrothed. “Sir, I would be persuaded not to sound unreasonable for your urgency. However, I must remind you that today is only the seventeenth, and my brother assuredly mentioned the wedding to take place on the eighteenth. You’ll need to return tomorrow.”

She gave him a beatific smile. “However, since you are here, we can discuss our plans in more detail for the marriage ceremony occurring tomorrow. Would you and your cousin, is it, kindly wait in the parlor? Millie can show you the way. I’ll just be a moment.” Again, she turned to leave. And again he stopped her.

In a few strides, he had climbed the stairs until he stood by her side, his hand outstretched in front of him. “Miss, your brother has changed the plans. I cannot believe he did not apprise you that we need to marry today. The sooner, the better.”

She stared askance at this stranger before shaking her head, unwilling to admit to herself that his calm dispassionate voice unnerved her. “Mr. Brelford, I can assure you that we have until tomorrow. Matthew told me it was the eighteenth of May, and he would certainly not have forgotten to tell me if the date had changed.” She gave him another beguiling smile, usually effective on most gentlemen. Her shoulder turned, his arm shot out to forestall her.

“Miss Colgate, it is to be today. Probably your brother did not wish to worry you. Sir Colgate informed me only this morning he thought it best to have the ceremony one day ahead. I’ve brought my cousin, Miss Caroline Montazy, to serve as a witness. Dare I hope your trunk is packed?” He scooped up her bonnet and thrust it in Madelene’s one hand, then grasped her other hand to pull her down the stairs.

She tugged to escape from his grasp, a futile effort. There had to be a way to delay what seemed the inevitable, if only for a day. “Please, sir, I must change and make myself more presentable. I must look a regular sight. And we should truly wait for my brother.”

She could only stare at the back of his bushy head in frustration when he didn’t respond but brought her down to the vestibule. Her red boots tapped on the black and white tiles as she followed him, her hand still gripped in his.

“Miss Madelene Colgate, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Caroline Montazy. Caroline, meet my bride-to-be.” Madelene thought he certainly conducted these arrangements in a formal business manner, with no hint of warmth or pleasantries. A forewarning?

She nodded at the other woman, desperate to keep her wits about her. It was all happening so quickly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss, Miss Montazy.” Surely, her cheeks were a bright red to match her costume, while her heart beat at a frantic pace. She needed more time and something cool to ease her parched throat.

The cousin gave Madelene a warm smile. “I am delighted that you are to be part of our family, Miss Colgate.”

“Yes, of course. I had just hoped…” She hesitated, still plotting a delay. “Mr. Brelford, I believe it would be best to wait for my brother to straighten this matter out. Why don’t you and Miss Montazy retire to the parlor while I change into more appropriate attire?”

She turned to Millie, who was watching the proceedings wide-eyed. “Millie, would you bring some lemonade to the parlor?”

“No time to waste. Thank you, Millie,” Mr. Brelford told the maid firmly. “I’ll have one of the coachmen return for Miss Colgate’s trunk.” Miss Montazy stepped toward the door as Mr. Brelford looked at Madelene expectantly.

“No, wait.” Madelene touched her sham betrothed’s arm. Vanity, thy name is woman, she thought. “I cannot wear this dress to be married in! I have a lovely white gown I thought—”

Mr. Brelford perused her clothing. “Nothing wrong with your attire. We must go. Time is of the essence.”

Married in red! It simply wasn’t done, she thought in horror. But then she realized since no one was to know of their marriage until afterward, she doubted anyone would learn of her entirely improper wedding garments.

Mr. Brelford placed his arm at her back to escort her out the door.

“Mr. Brelford, you may, perhaps, be accustomed to others obeying you without question. I happen to not be someone so easily cozened. I’m sure you can appreciate how much it would mean for me to have my brother at my wedding. He’s the only family I have left, and I believe it best to wait for him. I do not think he will be long.” Of course, she had no idea where Matthew could be. But it might not be too late.

She tried to see behind his spectacles and bushy eyebrows in anticipation of his reaction.

His jaw moved slightly. “I see. No willingness to go to the slaughter, eh? Must I remind you that you have chosen your path, as has your brother, and now it is time to take it? I will not stand for any further shilly-shallying. You are wasting my time.”

Madelene drew back her shoulders in defiance. She was unaccustomed to anyone treating her without deference, and he wasn’t her husband, yet.

“No.” She hoped she could conduct a defense over the deafening sound of her own heartbeat. “Mr. Brelford, I plan to tarry in the parlor for my brother. If you will not wait with me, we will join you later. What church is it again? We will meet you there, as soon as opportunity allows.” She clasped her shaking hands and walked toward the parlor, assuming her guests would follow her.

Once seated in a comfortable chair, she looked up to find Mr. Brelford standing near the door. “Please, sit down. And ask Miss Montazy to join us. We should really try to make this as pleasant as can be, especially since, we are, will be, ah, married.” She choked slightly on that last word before attempting a smile, which faded when she noticed the dark look he gave her as he leaned against the doorjamb.

“Miss Colgate, I have advised you that I cannot delay. I have a schedule to keep.”

With raised eyebrows, she returned, “You mention a schedule as if you are driving the mail coach. I do not understand your urgency, nor do I care to. Let us relax and become better acquainted.” This did draw a brief smile from him, one she eagerly matched, until she saw him walk straight toward her. Her smile and courage quickly deserted her.

“While I can certainly appreciate your wit, my schedule has only to do with one passenger, which would be you.”

Her eyes widened as she watched him draw closer. “Don’t come any closer. There is no need to bully—” Before she knew it, he had swept her up into his arms and headed for the door. She even tried to grab the doorjamb as they walked through the doorway, but her strength was no match for his determination. Before Mr. Brelford strode out the door with Madelene squirming in his arms, Millie grabbed Madelene’s pelisse, the bonnet she had dropped, and reticule, and threw it up on top of her.

As he carried her down the steps toward the carriage, she sputtered and spewed in his arms, very strong and brawny arms.

No escape. And he left her with no pride.

“Please, put me down. I can walk of my own accord,” she demanded. This was most improper, but she would have no contradiction from the will of her soon-to-be-bridegroom, she realized.

At the carriage, Miss Montazy looked out the window while a footman held the door open for Madelene and her kidnapper. Mr. Brelford lifted Madelene into the carriage and dropped her on the squabs before climbing in after her. He placed his arm around her, probably concerned, given the chance, she might bolt.

With the wind knocked out of her sails, she fidgeted with the strings of her reticule on the way to a church, the name of which she had no notion. This stranger had caught her off guard, tossed her emotions into a whirlwind from which, it appeared, there was no alternative but to marry the man. She bit her lip while staring out the window as the carriage jerked into motion. She could only hope she had remembered to pack everything for a month’s stay in the country.

Tears formed as she looked back at 21 Sullivan Court, the Georgian town house, and the only home she had known. What would Matthew do without her? He would be directionless without her or their father.

Madelene drew up her shoulders and shored up her confidence. She would go to the altar willingly, but she didn’t have to like it. She would consider it a brief sojourn in the country until she returned, and life could resume as she knew it.

She had enough mettle in her to get through this unfortunate event and prayed the days would pass quickly. For some reason, even knowing she was helping her brother did little to bring solace to her heart.

“Millie! You must know where they have gone!” Matthew pleaded with the young woman who sat in the kitchen crying into her apron.

“But I don’t, sir. I don’t know the name of the church. I only heard they was to be married today.” Her pasty complexion was pinked with raw tears.

Matthew braced his hand against the doorjamb. “You say he told you his name was Leonard Brelford?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Aye, sir, that is what ’e done says. And his cousin was with ’im too. ’er name was Miss Caroline sumthin’.”

He yelled, “Can you not tell me anything that might help?”

Millie only cried louder and harder. “I don’t know nothin’. It all ’appened so fast.” Her Cockney was more pronounced when she was anxious and had displeased him.

Matthew rubbed his face and wandered away from the kitchen to the parlor. Seated on the settee, he moaned into his hands. All of his plans for naught. While he had been making final preparations with the authentic Brelford, some stranger, calling himself Brelford, had swooped up his sister and taken her somewhere in London, or anywhere in England, or the seas, for that matter.

This stranger must have learned of their plan and spirited his sister away. That could be the only possibility. But why? And was this stranger actually going to marry his sister? Or just ensure the wager would end with his sister unmarried? He was sure to lose everything by the end of day tomorrow.

His only recourse was to find Madelene immediately, for she had to marry the real Brelford, unless. Unless. The more he thought on it, it could just be possible that there was one other person who had placed a bet Madelene would be married, and ensured it happened. There was more blunt to be had betting Madelene would marry in three days than not. He determined to go to White’s to search for answers.

The dagger. He had forgotten about the dagger. Matthew dashed upstairs and burst into Madelene’s bedchamber.

It was gone. Madelene’s trunk where he had hidden the valuable dagger was missing, along with his sister. No one knew he had hidden the object in her trunk but him.

Time was now his foe. He had to get the dagger back before anyone found it. Madelene would have no understanding of its value or importance because he had only mentioned the dagger in passing without any of the details.

Matthew had stolen the dagger from a young man, having intercepted him on his way through Covent Garden. Surprise on his side, Matthew had plucked the dagger from the youth’s belt before the boy knew what had happened. On his return home, he congratulated himself the theft had not resulted in violence.

It had been just as the count instructed him on where to locate the youth and how to steal the dagger, with a promise of a handsome purse for returning it to its rightful owner, the count. Matthew had hidden the dagger in Madelene’s trunk because many sought the valuable object, and he feared he himself would be the victim of thieves. He was to have returned the dagger to the count on the morning after next.

Now disaster loomed everywhere he turned. No Madelene, no won wager. No dagger. It didn’t bear thinking about. He went to change his clothes for the club. Perhaps a look at the betting book and a bottle would help with this unfortunate change in circumstances.

Flames from street lamps wavered in the onset of darkness as the trio descended from their carriage and walked up the steps of the south front entrance to the Roman stone portico of St. George’s Bloomsbury. The Corinthian pillars under a coffered ceiling, part of Hawksmoor’s designs, accented the stepped tower with George the First’s Roman-clad figure atop.

Madelene tried to stem her shaking hands by clasping them together. The stranger, who would soon be her husband, walked beside her with his hand on the center of her back, his expectation that he clearly expected her to flee.

In the carriage, she thought to rail at Mr. Brelford for his appalling behavior in carrying her off in such a manner, but he completely ignored her by talking quietly with his cousin.

With little to do, she had moved closer to the inside wall of the carriage to subtly sneak a peek at her betrothed. Could this man really prefer the company of men? Madelene found this difficult to believe, although she had never met someone of that ilk before. And why this should be the first thought to have occurred to her, she couldn’t exactly say.

Madelene breathed a sigh of relief she would not know his touch because of his predilections. She could feel his heat emanating from her side, and she kept telling herself it would do no good to find this man the least bit attractive.

Out of the corner of her eye, noting his acceptable looks, she had hoped he would be somewhat more handsome than what her brother had described. He certainly was not unattractive.

Interestingly enough, the man before her bore little resemblance to Matthew’s description. Her brother hadn’t mentioned any bushy eyebrows or unruly brown hair or the spectacles and bushy mustache, which helped to hide his features.

He looked to have a strong chin and dark eyes, the color difficult to ascertain. Indeed, he appeared fit and healthy in his weathered broad-shouldered black coat and faded breeches. Her betrothed would benefit from a more stylish hair design and fashionable clothes. Little wonder at this marriage to gain an easier living, or perhaps he possessed unsettled debts such like her brother.

She supposed he could have been a laborer. The way he had carried her from the parlor to the carriage with little effort spoke of his strength and fortitude. But his manners implied an entirely different situation.

Not that his looks or beastly manners mattered a whit to her. He would be her husband for one month only, and in name only. After all, it wasn’t as if she would need to spend all of her time in his presence. Indeed, they need not spend any time together. She was looking forward to visiting Aunt Bess, whom she hadn’t seen since her father’s funeral.

Through the doors, the vicar in formal robes greeted them in the dark silent alcove. Gold friezes shimmered in the candlelight, creating a soft, hallowed warmth around the small group. Father John guided them to the east apse on the right side of the church, mainly used for baptisms and a few hurried marriage ceremonies, their steps echoing on the wood floor.

Madelene shivered, in part due to the church’s dampness, but more from her impending marriage of doom. She could hear the shackles clank closed ever so softly. What would it take to be free of him, of this marriage? Only her brother imprisoned. It seemed she was the one to be imprisoned behind wedding vows.

She swiftly glanced at the man who held her arm and escorted her to their place before the altar. He certainly seemed determined to wed her. His face lit by candlelight was a complete mask. How little she knew about her husband-to-be. He must be desperate since he, too, was marrying an unwilling stranger.

Odd, her brother would benefit from this marriage as well as the man standing next to her. But Madelene? She would claim her reward within a month to return home to London and Matthew, free of his creditors.

She looked forward to the day she could continue her work on her designs for ladies of the ton. Even Matthew had no idea. Her secret shared with only Madame Quantifours herself, the establishment on Bond Street.

Madelene kept looking back to the large wooden doors, hoping and praying her brother would come dashing through and call a halt to this, this travesty, this mockery. Where could he be? He had to know she needed him at this moment.

When the vicar began the marriage rites, Madelene’s heart pounded uncontrollably, almost to the point of feeling faint. Swooning, maybe that would work. But one look at the sternness of Mr. Brelford’s visage made her think twice about creating any delay.

“I will.” Her voice registered barely above a whisper in answer to “…keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” Could this truly be happening?

It was done. There was no turning back.

She waited with bated breath at the end of the ceremony, when he turned to her, his new bride. His shadowed brown gaze held hers briefly. She tried to read emotion in his face, a hint of kindness or understanding.

Nothing.

With a hand under her elbow, he hurried her to the table with the parish registry and showed her where to place her signature.

Resigned, she signed Madelene Colgate before Miss Montazy called her over to congratulate her and welcome her to the family. In a daze, Madelene hardly noticed the walk back to the entrance and down to the carriage.

Settled into the carriage with its dark ruby squabs, the newly married couple began their journey north to Dumfries to see her aunt. Unbeknownst to Madelene, her new husband had an entirely different direction in mind.