The Vengeful Bridegroom Page 5

  Crack! He never saw her come from behind and hit him with the bed warmer.

  Gabriel Westcott! Of course, Matthew thought. That blighty bugger! That swine! Westcott had his bloody hands on Madelene! He should have realized as he stared down at the bettor’s book. It was the only answer. Westcott must have thought to make me a fool by forcing Madelene to marry him and receive sizable winnings from the wager at the same time. Westcott must still blame him for his sister’s broken heart.

  It wasn’t his fault. He had tried to keep young Miss Lucinda Westcott at arm’s length, but she proved harder to convince than a thief to give up a grand living. Because they had one night of indiscretion, Lucinda believed he should marry her. However, the young woman didn’t realize she simply couldn’t convert Matthew, the bachelor, to Matthew, the husband.

  By a trick of fate, Lucinda actually believed his banbury tale that he only had a few months to live from a disease with no known cure. She was all tears and ineptitude with death, but agreed it was better they never see each other again.

  Convinced matters with the young woman were settled, Matthew couldn’t have been more surprised when Lucinda’s brother issued a challenge. Matthew had to face him on the dueling field.

  He closed his eyes thinking back on the day of his greatest humiliation: when inebriated, he couldn’t shoot straight.

  Granted, the man could have killed him, but only wounded him. Westcott had offered Matthew mercy, which he readily accepted. Matthew could hardly believe his eyes when Madelene almost created a disaster grabbing his pistol to shoot his enemy. Thankfully, the man was as quick with his reactions and the shot rang wide.

  Westcott claimed victory, even if they both walked away. Matthew thought the man was satisfied by the blood he had drawn and his injury which had taken a long time to heal. Madelene had seen to his recovery but his left arm still hung by his side, virtually useless. She couldn’t fix everything.

  After the duel fiasco, to his great relief, he’d heard the rumor Mr. Westcott and his sister had left for Italy for an undisclosed period of time. There were too much gambling and other hedonistic pursuits to enjoy rather than be disturbed with one small chit and her feminine sensibilities. He assumed her brother would see to her.

  When someone told him recently Lucinda had died around the Christmas holidays, stunned, he felt a moment of pity for this particular girl, but nothing more. He knew many willing women who could satisfactorily occupy his time and not his heart, especially when they learned he was a baronet.

  Time was his for the wasting until his coffers had run dry, and he had had to devise a plan where he could save the family home, his reputation, and provide for his sister. Damn! His plan would have worked, if Westcott hadn’t interfered.

  Matthew began making inquiries about Westcott’s estate and where he might possibly locate the man and his sister. If he found his sister, he’d find the dagger. When he had the dagger in hand, he could collect his handsome purse from the count, as well as secure his safety from any number of the count’s minions.

  “Well, Colgate. Hard to believe, but I see you found someone to marry your sister.” A loud voice carried across the lounging room.

  Matthew glanced over and saw Lord Vincennes walking toward him. How did he know?

  “Saw it in the Post tonight. Says she married a Gabriel Westcott. I believe he is in shipping.” His lordship leaned more directly into Matthew’s line of vision. “Isn’t he the same man you dueled with last year and gave you that useless arm?”

  Matthew gave his lordship a false smile. “Turns out, they fell in love on the dueling field, but told no one. Not even me. Lucky that, eh?” He hurried out of the room without waiting for a response to a man who had lost quite a few guineas on Matthew’s wager.

  Madelene found a dark blue traveling gown and dressed quickly. She planned to be on her way back to London before Westcott awakened. He deserved the headache he would have later, because, after all, he had tricked her into marrying him. And there were times when a lady simply had no recourse but to save herself. Before she dressed, she confirmed the blow dealt him had not been fatal.

  She decided the best plan would be to post a letter to Matthew explaining what had happened, and to journey to visit Aunt Bess for a brief spell. Later, her brother would help her obtain an annulment from Westcott as he had promised with Mr. Brelford. One man or the other couldn’t make a difference.

  With a few pounds in her reticule, which she believed enough to hire a coach to take her to the next town north, Madelene started for the door without a backward glance at her fallen husband.

  A sudden hard yank on her cloak threw her to the floor, where she landed on her backside with a thump. Her husband sat next to her, staring at her oddly.

  “Surely you’re not taking leave of your husband on your wedding night? If this is the way you treat all your suitors, there is little disbelief why no man has actually made it to and from the altar with you.” He winced when he shook his head.

  Madelene watched him feel the back of his head for injury. Mercy! She had nearly escaped and been on her way. She wouldn’t turn her back on this man again, a hard lesson to learn.

  She tried to free her cloak from his tight grip, hoping he was too weak to offer a defense. Unfortunately, his determination was probably greater than his strength, because she soon realized she wasn’t going to be leaving their bedchamber in the very near future.

  Perhaps another go at persuasion. She turned to him with quivering lips. “Mr. Westcott, you must see that this will never work. We loathe each other, and we certainly do not wish to be married to each other. We can be reasonable about this—”

  “Absolutely not. No amount of begging or inducement will shake loose my resolve to keep you as my wife. I will not entertain any bargains you may have hatching in that noggin of yours, so let’s not hear anything more about it,” he told her darkly, as he rose stiffly from the cold floor.

  She continued to sit on the floor stewing before he grabbed her under her arms and hauled her to her feet, ripping her cloak off and throwing it over the trunk.

  “Mrs. Westcott, thanks to your efforts of lighting the first room on fire and a hit on the head, I find myself very fatigued. I would advise you to join me in bed.”

  Madelene’s eyes opened wide. “No, Mr. Westcott, this is not what I had planned—”

  She found herself unceremoniously thrown onto the bed where she landed in a heap on the far side next to the stone wall.

  “You’re correct, this is not what I had planned either, but your shenanigans weary me. Get some rest, and we’ll start in the morning for my home in Shropshire.”

  She watched in surprise as Gabriel fell on to the bed and onto her traveling gown, anchoring her to him. Her heart beat fast as she worried what he might do to her. Indeed, she was his wife, and she had caused him a spot of trouble this night. Did she have enough fight left in her to save her innocence?

  He leaned back against the pillow and studied her lazily with one eye open. “Do not waste your time trying to escape. Rest assured, I will know when you try to leave this room. And if you do somehow manage to escape, I’ll find you, wherever you go.” His last words, a threat and a promise before sleep claimed him.

  Madelene heaved a sigh and looked around the room to determine how far away the bed warmer lay. Definitely out of reach. She pursed her lips in defeat. Obviously, she should have hit him a lot harder, a fact she’d remember for next time. A glance over at her husband showed him fast asleep. Close enough that she could feel his heat, touch his strong jaw, and know his indefatigable will.

  She wouldn’t give up and would make him regret ever taking her to wife.

  Someone shook her shoulder. “Not now, Millie, I need a little more sleep,” Madelene muttered.

  “The name’s Westcott, not Millie, and it’s time for you to rise, Mrs. Westcott. We have more miles to cover on our journey.” He returned to the washbasin before going to the door and calling do
wn for more water.

  Patches of sunlight shone through the mottled window, illuminating the small room. Madelene slowly sat up, pushing her hair behind her, and looked around the room. It was true. All true. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was more of a daymare.

  What would the new day bring, her first full day as Mrs. Gabriel Westcott? Hopefully, an opportunity to escape.

  She rose from the bed and looked down to find her traveling dress wrinkled. Her eyes not fully opened, she crossed the room to her trunk when Westcott stopped her.

  “No time for changing. Perform your ablutions, and I’ll have your trunk taken down to our carriage.”

  “But I can’t,” she began, then shook her head. She needed to conserve her energy, having decided she would do whatever it took to leave Mr. Gabriel Westcott and this marriage far behind.

  After a quick breakfast, they sat silently in their carriage continuing west, both occupied with their own thoughts.

  Gabriel had known Miss Madelene Colgate would not be easily subdued, but he wanted her and wouldn’t let her go.

  Madelene hated Gabriel for tricking her into marriage and removing her from her home and family. As the carriage wheels bumped along, taking her farther from London, she kept telling herself, “Escape, escape, escape.”

  Chapter Six

  “You want me go with you to Shropshire?” Mr. Leonard Brelford looked over at Sir Matthew Colgate with surprise, his drink forgotten in his hand.

  “Yes. You’re the only one I can depend on to help me.” His friend stood by the Fleeting Stag’s fireplace with his brandy, staring distantly down at the amber light.

  “I see,” Brelford said, but he didn’t. “You plan to save your sister from this Westcott bloke and bring her back here so I can marry her as we had planned?” he asked, dreading the answer. Although he much admired his friend, he had been greatly surprised and greatly relieved when someone else had married his sister.

  Colgate frowned and shook his head. “No, no. I have to travel to Shropshire to collect something my sister mistakenly stored in her trunk. I have to take it to Canterbury within the month, and I am uncertain how long this endeavor may take.” He dropped his voice, clearly concerned someone might overhear their conversation.

  “But your sister. Surely you’re worried about her welfare.”

  “Of course,” Colgate responded. “However, the man who married her is known to me to be an honorable one and will see to her needs. But I promised a person of great power that I would recover this valuable dagger and deliver it to his family. In turn, I will receive a great deal of money.” He finished his brandy in one long swallow.

  “I see.” Brelford paused. “A dagger. Why was this dagger in Miss Colgate’s trunk again?” Certainly it sounded like a far-fetched plan, which still didn’t sway Brelford’s admiration and affection for Colgate. If only he could show him how he really felt, the young man would have no further need for the female sort.

  Colgate grunted before replying. “I had it on good authority someone planned to steal the dagger from me, which is when I decided to hide it in Madelene’s trunk, until I could safely hand it over to the—rightful owner. If I cannot return the dagger, I cannot even consider what might happen.”

  “I see,” Brelford replied, not quite understanding Colgate’s lack of interest in his sister or his recklessness in willing to bargain with a nefarious person. Surely money was the root of all evil. “How long will we be gone and when shall we get started?” he asked, rising to his feet. He had preparations to make for their trip.

  His friend looked over at Brelford with a smile. “Early tomorrow morning. Meet me at my house in Bloomsbury. We’ll leave from there, perhaps be gone about a week or more.”

  Brelford nodded, then asked, “Have you thought about what you’re going to do if Miss Colgate sees you? She might want you to bring her home.”

  Colgate waved his hand in the air, as if what his sister might want was inconsequential. “If we’re quick about it, she’ll never know we were there. That’s my plan.”

  “And have you considered what to do if she or her new husband has already found the dagger before we arrive?” Brelford’s left eye began to twitch, which always happened when he became nervous or distressed.

  With his empty glass in hand and a fierce look in his eyes, Colgate replied, “I mean to collect that dagger with or without my sister’s help. No one will stop me.”

  Brelford could not resist chiding him. “Isn’t her new husband the man you fought a duel with and lost? Grateful he didn’t kill you. Leastwise, that is what you told me soon after.”

  “I don’t plan to lose twice to the same man,” his young friend told him before heading in the opposite direction for more libation.

  Another night, another inn. Bed warmers and any other potential weapons had been deliberately removed from their bedchamber. He grinned remembering how puzzled the staff looked when he requested any sharp objects be removed from their bedchamber, or any tools to start a fire. The idiosyncrasies of the gentry.

  At the door to their room, he gestured for her to enter before him as he leaned against the doorjamb, glancing around the room. Nondescript, sparse of furniture with little décor or niceties, their bedroom resembled most inn accommodations.

  She seemed nervous tonight, skittish, probably believing tonight would be the night he would truly claim her as his own. A desire he could not deny.

  His body ached with wanting his nubile bride after spending much time in close proximity to her during their journey. He could smell the rosewater scent on her skin and shiny black hair. The previous night, he had glimpsed fair skin and graceful ankles in her borrowed robe and knew a fierce desire to possess her.

  But he wanted her to want him with the same ferocity. After they consummated the marriage, it wouldn’t be long before he would be satiated with her and anxious for their sham marriage to end. Then he could begin his search for a more suitable wife.

  Appreciating the fact they both wanted their journey to be over, Gabriel thought to ease Madelene’s mind. “Since I can’t trust you not to effect a plan of flight, we will sleep in the same room and in the same bed, as we did last night. However, I have no intentions on your body. You’re much too skinny for my taste, and your feet are a bit scrawny, almost like a child’s.” He ignored her blazing blue eyes and turned to remove his coat and boots before starting to wash.

  Perhaps this will give her something else to think about. He heard Madelene’s footsteps on the creaking boards as she paced the room. Gabriel dried his face and turned to watch Madelene stop long enough to pull off her bonnet and gloves, her lips in grim impatience.

  “Madelene, you must be exhausted. Tomorrow we should reach Westcott Close, which will certainly be a relief to both of us.”

  She turned to face him with her hands on her hips. “Sir, the only relief I will know is to return to my own home, and for an annulment to take place in the greatest of haste, if I am, indeed, Mrs. Gabriel Westcott.” She paused. Her words boiled in fury.

  Gabriel sat on the bed and sighed. “You are truly my wife. After you signed your name to the registry, I had Caroline call you away in order that I might sign my correct name. I planned for you not to know my true identity until we were far from London.”

  As he stretched his legs out on the bed, he realized again the painful cost he would have to pay to have her near him. “Please join me, or I will have to carry you over here.”

  She must have believed he was serious because in no time, Madelene had washed, slipped into her bedclothes, and hesitantly climbed onto the bed. His eyes closed, he promptly rolled over and pinned her next to him. He actually felt more exhausted than he appreciated, because in little time, he let sleep overtake him.

  The hour grew late. Madelene lay stiffly in bed, noticing the stars from the window and wondered what tomorrow would hold when they actually arrived at his estate in Shropshire. She blinked, remembering. Skinny? Child’s feet? Even with a cuff t
o his shoulder in indignation, he merely grunted, stretched, and continued slumbering. She finally drifted into slumber worrying why it seemed important he desire her instead of being relieved he didn’t.

  She dreamt someone stroked her arm, then the curve of her cheek, and next her lips, the touch as soft as silk. She smiled, thinking this must be what bliss felt like, and snuggled deeper into the side of another warm body.

  Body? She sprang into wakefulness and tried to pull away from strong arms that held her tight against him, her husband. Her husband? She was still unaccustomed to thinking of Mr. Westcott as her husband.

  She struggled briefly until daring a glance at Mr. Westcott, who, with eyes closed, appeared to be sleeping. She watched him suspiciously, but his controlled breathing indicated he continued to slumber.

  Had she imagined his touch? Or perhaps, Mr. Westcott himself dreamed he held another woman in his arms? She steamed, thinking her best revenge would be to roll him off the bed. But one glance of his strong physique gave a halt to that idea. If only she could stay awake, then he couldn’t touch her again without her knowledge.

  But I can’t stay awake, and it really had felt quite lovely. With little choice, she fell asleep in his arms, missing the smile on her husband’s face.

  Madelene couldn’t believe they had almost arrived. She felt like she had been riding in a coach for months instead of three days. A few miles back, Mr. Westcott had decided to exchange the carriage ride for a horse, anxious as he was to arrive at his home.

  Earlier on the journey, Mr. Westcott had offered that he had inherited his uncle’s estate several years earlier. His wife Aunt Adelphia had raised his sister and him but she had been gone some time. After a sojourn in Italy, he now divided his time between his town house in London while managing his shipping affairs, and on his large estate on the border of Wales.