The Vengeful Bridegroom Read online

  Madelene could not help staring at little George as she held him in her arms. He slept peacefully, his cherubic mouth opened slightly. How could she love this child in such a brevity of time? Oh, how she wished he was hers. She wanted to remember his every sigh, his every smile, and attend his every waking moment. Most mothers’ wish, she imagined. She smiled, feeling foolish. That could not be possible.

  Who was his mother? And why had his mother let him be taken from her to be sent here to Shropshire? Maybe George’s mother thought he’d be taken better care of by his father, Gabriel.

  Madelene wanted to believe she jumped to conclusions in assuming her husband was the father. But what other explanation could there be? And she could hardly contain anger toward him, after he brought such a sweet one as George into their home. Sometime today, she promised herself, Gabriel would explain everything. The thought saddened her that Gabriel had known another woman, and this woman had given birth to his child.

  Her attention turned back to the little one she held in her arms, amazed how immediate the world had changed. In the flicker of a candle, her heart had turned topsy-turvy, first with Matthew injured and accusing Gabriel of the foul deed, and now this tiny soul, who needed a mother and father. Death and life, so unchartered.

  She decided to find her husband and placed George in his cradle, looking around the lovely apple green room, her favorite color. Her sojourn at Westcott Close brief, she never knew this room existed in the opposite wing of the house, the same floor as her own bedchamber.

  She had been astonished when Mrs. Lavishtock had shown her this nursery, already filled with a cradle and toys, clothing, an assortment of accessories the little boy would need.

  Her husband must have been planning all this time to welcome his son home, but why had he never mentioned the child to her? What other secrets did he have? Did he not trust her?

  Their future together now seemed more hazy than vivid.

  Once Matthew left for London, where would that leave her? With a motherless child, missing diamonds, and someone trying to kill her.

  She had to share her concerns with her husband. He would know what to do. Although she had dismissed the broken gig wheel as accidental, Madelene could not forget about the poisoned soup or the push into the lake, which almost became her watery grave. She shuddered, remembering the warm water and being unable to catch her breath. It was the most frightful experience, and one she wouldn’t soon forget.

  Mrs. Lavishtock burst into the room to interrupt her musings. Indeed—Madelene smiled—their housekeeper had no quiet way about her. “I’ll watch the young one, dearie. Why don’t you take tea? Fanny has arranged the parlor for you and the master.”

  Madelene thought they were fortunate to have such a kind soul in their household. She always seemed to know how to make things right. “But George—”

  But Mrs. Lavishtock tsked her out of the room. “I’ll have Fanny watch him a bit later. You can visit tonight, when he’s sure to be awake.”

  After one long last look at the child who had fallen into her life and already stolen her heart, Madelene sighed and walked down the stairs toward the parlor.

  Gabriel stood when she walked into the room. He smiled at his wife, admiring her loveliness, her pretty pink cheeks and shiny blue eyes. He thought her quite handsome in her robin blue morning gown.

  They hadn’t spent much time together lately, and he missed her. Missed her soft voice and her warm smile. The look only she could give him when something he said or did exasperated her, a combination of a frown and smile.

  Time had been their enemy; now he intended to reclaim it. There was much to discuss between them. He opened his mouth to speak but she started first.

  “Mr. Westcott, I feel an urgent need to speak with you about something uppermost on my mind.”

  Of course she would want to know about the child, and he had every intention of enlightening her.

  Gabriel ushered her into the comfortable rose Chippendale chair near the serving table, then sat across from her on the brocaded divan. “Madelene, I would know what disturbs you.” He knew very well it could be a number of things, like her brother, or the baby, or the dagger.

  As he waited for her to begin, he noticed her hands gripped the rails of the chair for support.

  “I hope this doesn’t sound insupportable to you, but I believe someone here might be trying to do me harm.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He thought himself prepared for anything. But this.

  My God. He should have known. No one had alerted him of any new happenings with his wife to cause him concern. Then with the incident the other night and George’s arrival—

  Gabriel couldn’t contemplate, didn’t want to give much credence to her words. However, he had to admit, there could be a spark of truth behind them. He had so much on his mind of late. The doctor’s words about her poisoning flew back to him.

  “I was hoping the poison was simply an accident,” he tried to reassure her.

  “But the push into the lake wasn’t,” she replied, much too calmly.

  Gabriel leapt to his feet, placing his hands on his hips. “Whatever are you referring to?”

  “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you,” she began and leaned back in her chair. “But that night, I waited by the lake for you to return from your meeting with Matthew. As I waited, obviously too close to the lake’s edge, someone came from behind me and gave me a very hard push, which sent me into the lake.”

  Pacing the room and listening to her story, Gabriel could hardly believe it. No one had mentioned this. He thought he had kept her safe, having all those he trusted to watch over her. Someone hadn’t done their job. He kept his expression calm, belying the raging anger and guilt welling inside.

  He looked over at his wife, who had turned a chalklike white. “Pray continue, although, thank God, I do know the happy ending.”

  “It was Falstaff. He was with me and began barking when he saw me in the water. You know I can’t swim…”

  He swept over to her chair and knelt next to her, grabbing her hand. “My God, I had no idea. I should have been there.”

  Madelene smiled at him and touched his cheek. “But Mr. Bush, on his way home, heard Falstaff barking and followed the noise. He heard me calling for help and jumped in the lake. Luckily for me, he is a good swimmer and was able to pull both of us from the lake.”

  Shaking his head, completely astonished by this news, he rose and walked back to the divan. “I must thank Mr. Bush when I see him again.” He turned his gaze back to her. “I wish you had spoken to me sooner.”

  As her husband, he had not done a good job protecting her, and he planned to fix his oversight immediately. He determined to speak to all the servants to learn whether anyone had seen or heard anything untoward that night. Even with everyone’s vigilance, someone had gotten to Madelene. Could it be someone within the house? He’d ask Windthorp to make discreet inquiries.

  When considering all Madelene had said, Alec came to mind. His young Italian friend had been acting strange lately, as he thought more on it. Disappearing into the night with nary a word of her adventures or her destinations, or at least that was what the butler Graham had relayed to him. She still dressed as a young man, assuming she would be safer, he concluded. What could she be about?

  Could Alec possibly be involved with the attempts on Madelene’s life? And if so, he believed himself to be the reason.

  What about the count? He was obviously still in the vicinity, and while he might want to do harm to Madelene, the night she was pushed into the water, he had been hunting Matthew and the dagger.

  “Whatever should we do?” He heard the unmistakable worry in her voice.

  “Madelene, you have my word I will look into this matter. Until I can be assured of your safety, you will need to remain within sight of either myself or Windthorp,” he said, hoping to lessen her fears.

  Madelene’s deep blue eyes begged for answers, but she
would have to be satisfied with his solution. “I cannot fathom it could be one of the servants. While I might be able to find a plausible answer for the poison, I know someone pushed me into the lake. I have no doubt on it.”

  Gabriel sat near her and reached across the serving table for her hand. He needed to touch her, reassure her that all would be well. He’d stake his life on it. No one will take Madelene from me.

  “Mr. Westcott.” Gabriel and Madelene turned to see who intruded on their conversation. Windthorp.

  “Forgive the disturbance,” he said in his dry tone, “but I have information I believe you need to hear, immediately. I will await you in your study.” He left as quietly as he had appeared in his own ghostlike manner.

  Gabriel knew Windthorp would only seek him out if his news was of the utmost urgency. He nodded to Madelene. “Please finish your tea. I’ll send Fanny to you for company.”

  Madelene rose from her chair, clasping her hands together. “Gabriel, I, I would like to take dinner in the nursery. It would bring me a measure of comfort.”

  Her request surprised him. “We do need to speak of George, perhaps later today. Donna Bella and the young lady, what is her name, Charlotte, whom you hired as his nurse, can see to him. I would prefer you take dinner with your husband, as we have much to discuss.”

  Madelene had directly ignored his orders. Well, perhaps not exactly an order, more of a request to join him at dinner. Gabriel smiled to himself. Could he be jealous Madelene wanted to spend time with George and not him? Sighing, he returned to his meal in the large dining room with only Hazelby for company.

  After dinner, Gabriel stood at the nursery door, waiting for her to answer.

  Madelene opened the door to her husband, knowing he was bound to appear at some time and not a little disturbed she had not attended him at dinner.

  “Ah, so this is where you are hiding,” he told her, entering the room.

  She closed the door behind him, waiting for his irritation to show itself. “I told you earlier I wanted to take dinner with George. Charlotte and I fed him, and he fussed a bit before falling back to sleep.” She felt a bit defensive upon his intrusion into the nursery.

  Gabriel walked over to the sleeping baby and tucked the blankets more closely about the little boy. His tenderness should be no surprise, she supposed, given the babe was his.

  Looking at her in the dim candlelight, her husband murmured, “I see. There’s always tomorrow night.”

  He wasn’t annoyed with her? She still didn’t know her husband well enough to understand his moods.

  “I see you have already changed into your nightclothes.” He took a step toward her. “Shall we repair to our room? It has seemed like a year since we last slept in the same bed.” His voice warm and seductive while he reached for her.

  Madelene backed away, although she yearned to walk in the opposite direction. She wanted to recapture what they had lost in such a brief time but they still had many things to sort out between them.

  She had had all afternoon to ponder their situation and decided she needed more information on Alec and the baby. And even more important, she needed to know who she could trust.

  “Gabriel, I, I need time. We need to talk before—”

  “I know. We have to return to our own lives. You deserve answers, and I’m quite prepared to give them to you.”

  She stared wide-eyed at her husband, surprised, yet relieved at his forthcoming candor. “Not here, not now.”

  He nodded and gave her a quick smile. “We’ll sort everything out in the morning. I have new information about your brother and that night. I thought perhaps—”

  George’s crying interrupted further conversation. Madelene swept past Gabriel to gather the babe in her arms, trying to shush him and talk to her husband at the same time.

  “Tomorrow morning,” she whispered, then her attention returned to little George.

  Gabriel gave her a curt nod and left the room. He knew she would need time to adjust to these new arrangements.

  Alone in his bed, he waited a long time to see his wife, but she never appeared. Disgruntled, he’d simply have to be patient awhile longer.

  The next morning found Gabriel on his way to London. He had received an urgent message from his man of affairs at his Town office that one of his ships had sunk off the coast of the Canary Islands. Although he knew this was the absolute worst time to leave Madelene and the baby, he had to answer to his customers expecting their supplies and see to insurance arrangements.

  Before he left, he met Mrs. Lavishtock in the front parlor and demanded she prepare every plate for Mrs. Westcott. It was only when the housekeeper promised vociferously she was already handling the matter that he felt satisfied.

  In the yellow parlor, Gabriel gathered those he knew he could trust—Windthorp, Mrs. Lavishtock, Fanny’s brother, Graham, Fanny herself, and Hazelby—and demanded that one of them would always be near Mrs. Westcott and protect her and the baby at all costs. He would return as soon as he was assured matters had been seen to in Town.

  As for who posed a danger to Madelene, there had to be a connection with her brother. Trouble followed him like rain after dark clouds.

  After everyone had left, he requested Mrs. Lavishtock to remain. The housekeeper eased her bulk onto one of the settees and gave him a sparkling smile. Could she know what he intended to ask of her? His housekeeper seemed to know a lot about what happened around here, even before it happened. Then he shook his head for his imagination. Impossible.

  “Mrs. Lavishtock, I need your assistance. I’m planning a special introduction for Mrs. Westcott.”

  She eagerly nodded, her turban perched precariously on her head. “Och, I think it a brilliant idea!”

  Gabriel frowned. “But I haven’t told you what it is yet.”

  She smiled a knowing smile. “Oh, but Mr. Westcott, whatever you have planned will be brilliant!”

  “Oh, right. Well, I don’t have time to go into many details. I’ll leave it to you. Use whatever resources are required. I’d like to open the house in a week or so to introduce my wife to whoever might be residing in the county at this time. It will have to be a small, informal affair since many acquaintances are enjoying the Season. The Derby’s next week. You know, we haven’t had a soiree here since before Lucinda—”

  “Yes, yes, magnificent! I’ve already started planning the menu. You don’t need to worry, Mr. Westcott, I’ll see to everything. You get to London and get back here to your beautiful wife and nephew.” She wobbled out the door, seeming intent on continuing the preparations.

  What? How? When he returned, he would definitely have to look into Mrs. Lavishtock’s history. She couldn’t be some sort of seer or witch, could she? How did she know who George was, unless Donna Bella or Carlos had told her? However, since neither party spoke the other party’s language—He shook his head. He had more pressing concerns.

  He took one last look of Madelene sleeping peacefully in her bedchamber. It was harder to leave her than he realized.

  Madelene came to breakfast in her rose morning gown and learned from Fanny that her husband had gone to Town. Why did he not take her with him? London. How she missed Town during the Season. Now was about the time for the Derby. And the dances. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give to go to a dance. But she was no longer a young girl seeking fun and frivolity, but married with a husband and babe to care for.

  On her mind was also her fledgling business, which she had left in the most capable hands of Mrs. Quantifours. She wondered how the older seamstress fared. Even though they had maintained sporadic correspondence, Madelene urgently wanted to return and help with the new planned fashion plates. Mrs. Quantifours assured her all was well, and she had hired a businessman to see to the numbers. Still, Madelene would have preferred hearing the news directly and not through the post.

  “Ruff, ruff, ruff.”

  She looked down to find Falstaff at her feet. That little terrier was never far from he
r side, either from affection or the realization Madelene almost always had a biscuit in her pocket.

  “Greetings, fair sister.”

  Madelene looked up in surprise to find her brother in the doorway, leaning heavily on a borrowed cane. She pushed back her chair and hastened to the door. “Matthew! Should you be up and walking around? Has Longhorn been consulted?”

  Her brother waved her off. “Mad, I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own. And I’m famished.” He limped over to the sideboard. “What do we have here? Scrambled eggs and lox? Delicious! You do have a good cook here at Westcott Close.” He piled his plate and hobbled to the table where Madelene waited for him.

  While she would always worry over him, Madelene had been trying to determine the best time to speak with her brother about returning to London. She could only persuade him if she was assured he would suffer no more ill effects from the journey.

  “Matthew, I am terribly delighted you have left your sickbed. You may be able to return to Bloomsbury soon, I hope,” she told him, brightly, hoping he would believe it would be best for him, and not necessarily in her best interests.

  “But, Mad, I thought you liked having me here. This is a good place for a person to mend and have plenty of time to think.”

  This did not bode well, she thought. “Oh, and have you come to any conclusions?”

  He continued eating and did not answer her directly. “I shall be on my way soon, I hope, but I need your help. I want you to get those diamonds from your husband.”

  Madelene frowned, completely taken aback. “What are you speaking of? I have no notion of diamonds. I only knew you sought the dagger. What makes you think Mr. Westcott has diamonds in his possession?”

  Before replying, he drained his coffee cup and patted his mouth with his napkin, probably trying to gather his thoughts to compel her to assist him. She knew all his wiles.