Kay Springsteen (17 page)
Authors: Something Like a Lady
Annabella
’
s heart raced as she looked back and forth between the two men. Oh, sweet saints! Was she about to end up married to one of them? No! She couldn
’
t allow that to happen.
“
You
’
re mad if you think I
’
ll be a party to binding Lady Annabella to you against her will,
”
Vicar Hamilton snapped.
“
So you
’
d rather see her with child out of wedlock?
”
Annabella gasped and
pressed a hand to
her
middle
.
“
Wait! Wait just a moment.
”
A
baby?
Could she be…
had
she? Her stomach slowly turned over and bile tickled the back of her throat. How soon would she know if—
No! Please no!
Fiery fingers clawed their way up from her neck.
“
—quite certain you won
’
t change your mind and marry us, then I have no choice but to take the matter to Lady Annabella
’
s mother, the duchess, and her brother, the duke. I have no doubt they will find the marriage necessary and shall be none too happy that you delayed the matter,
”
Seabrook finished, a smug smile darkening his features.
She side-stepped, judging the distance to the carriage. As if reading her mind, Seabrook lowered an arm around her shoulders again and pulled her close.
Mother? Did he just say he would speak with my mother? And Markwythe?
She couldn
’
t allow that, not when she was supposed to be in London with the duke
. I should have just
gone
to London!
Then she could have made Markwythe
’
s life
miserable. Instead, she
’
d managed to become compromised by staying with a man unchaperoned, and now she was being called upon to marry him. As if Markwythe hadn
’
t done enough to ruin her life.
“
If you
’
ll both excuse me, I must send word for his grace to come to Wyndham Green posthaste.
”
Seabrook stepped away, his sudden absence sending a shiver through her.
Annabella grabbed his arm.
“
No, please.
”
Her stomach churned, accepting the dire fate she
’
d managed to create for herself even as her mind rejected def
eat.
“
I
’
ll… I
’
ll m-marry…
you
.
”
She almost choked on the last word.
Hamilton hovered as though uncertain still.
“
Er… I suppose we can start reading the banns—
”
“
My good vicar, might I have a word…
”
Seabrook
moved
close to the vicar and they turned toward the brook, presenting their backs to her. Then Seabrook began walking, leaving Hamilton
little
choice. He followed.
Annabella heard nothing but the rumble of their conversation, which grew fainter as they left her behind. What were they saying? Frowning, she stalked across th
e ground to catch up with them.
“
Then it
’
s settled.
”
Seabrook turned back to her with an arrogant smile and dipped into an elaborate bow.
“
Wonderful news, my lady fair. The good vicar
’
s father is the Right Reverend Seymour Hamilton, the acting Bishop of Guildford. Vicar Hamilton has consented to work a bit of magic and pull some strings. He feels certain he can secure a license for which we won
’
t have to wait. We
’
re to be married immediately.
”
He bent and retrieved his coat then gave it a good shake. Water sprayed through the air.
Several drops of water splashed her in the face. Frowning, she wiped at them. Was that even possible? Without reading the banns? She glanced at Vicar Hamilton, who suddenly seemed quite excited by the idea. She supposed if he was agreeing to it, then it must be allowed.
“
So quickly?
”
S
he forced the whisper over her tightening throat.
“
It seemed…
”
Seabrook lowered his gaze to her abdomen and stepped closer.
“
…the prudent course.
”
As if reacting to his look,
a flutter stirred in her middle
and sent
a chill rac
ing
the length of her spine.
Without warning, Seabrook draped his sodden coat over her shoulders. The weight of it threatened to push her into the ground.
“
What on earth?
”
She twisted, trying to get away from the intimate gesture as much as the wet fabric.
“
Darling,
apparently
you haven
’
t yet
glanced
down at yourself,
”
murmured Seabrook, obviously intending the words for her ears alone.
“
And while it pleases me no end that I am acquiring a wife who
seems to be
without vanity, this is one of those moments it would perhaps serve you to have a look.
”
“
What?
”
Annabella dropped her gaze. The gray muslin stuck to her like the skin she
’
d been born with, leaving her body every bit as exposed as Seabrook
’
s had been.
Devil
’
s fire!
Vicar Hamilton drove his ancient and battered Tilbury as though the devil
’
s hounds were at their heels. Considering the cracking and splintering sounds the old carriage made every time they jounced into a rut, it was a wonder the thing rolled in a straight line. Jon kept a wary eye on the wheezing, bony, old gelding — would it count as a miracle if he got
them
to the church without dropping over dead? The vicar took up fully half the seat, which left Jon and Annabella splitting what remained. Surely the size of the load alone was more than the
poor horse had drawn for years.
As they rounded a bend, the wheel beneath Jon lifted from the road. Visions of the three of them flying through the air to meet a bad end had him reflexively grabbing for the side of the carriage box. It was bad enough with the three of them being crammed onto the narrow seat as it was. One of Annabella
’
s soft thighs pressed tightly against his. The intimacy of the touch might have been welcomed had he not been aware that her other thigh was squeezed just as tightly against the vicar
’
s.
She
’
d managed to pluck the saturated fabric of her dress away from her body eno
ugh to present a bit more decency,
but she
’
d ended up keeping his coat — fine with him, given the way Hamilton had kept ogling her. For a man of the cloth, he didn
’
t seem particularly
“
clothlike.
”
They bounced into another rut. Annabella flailed with one arm and managed to land it on his knee. His blood heated another notch.
What are you doing, Seabrook?
He wished he knew. Whatever had possessed him to torment Annabella? He could easily have sent a message to Grey informing him of the chit
’
s whereabouts and then let his friend deal with finding out what his stepsister was up to.
From the corner of his eye, he studied Annabella. Her lovely green eyes usually reminded him of the finest emeralds. He
’
d been fighting a basic physical attraction for a beautiful woman since he
’
d first laid eyes on her. But the night before, everything had changed. And he wasn
’
t exactly certain when. In her foxed state, she
’
d not made much sense with her babbling, but something about her vulnerability had tugged at his soul. Now she stared at him, unseeing, with blankness in her eyes that chilled Jon to the marrow. Those deep pools of green stood out starkly against her face, which presently resembled a bucket of ashes. Was he so abhorrent to her? It hadn
’
t seemed so when she
’
d cried herself to sleep in his arms.
Annabella blinked and turned her face to the road ahead. He could put an end to the sham instantly by an admission of the truth. She
’
d hate him — then again, she likely already did hate him. That alone would start their marriage on a hardship. And yet… Jon opened his mouth but the words escaped him.
Then Hamilton pulled the horses to a stop in the churchyard and the moment was lost.
The sun had disappeared behind an overcast sky, but the church, constructed of golden-hued stone, gave the illusion of glowing. Nestled between two separate wings of the church, the stone bell tower rose well above the slate roof to preside over the yard. Colorful stained glass windows had been placed along the two sides of the building Jon could see, boasting of a fairly flush parish.
Little wonder, if the vicar was in the habit of issuing unconventional marriage licenses that bypassed the law for the immoderate price Jon had agreed to pay him.
“
We shall have to hurry if we
’
re to have the deed finished before noon as the law requires,
”
said Hamilton, scrambling from the carriage. Breathing heavily, he hurried up the path to the heavy wooden door.
Right.
Jon supposed he
’
d have to take
some
of the law into consideration… Where exactly did the man draw the line
between risk of
prison
and benefit of
profit? A shudder
gripped Jon
a
t
t
he rec
ollection of
the m
an
’
s offer of marriage.
He apparently had a high opinion of himself.
All things considered,
Annabella
was still the stepdaughter of a duke.
He eased from the seat, turned and held out a hand.
“
My lady,
”
he murmured, keeping his voice gentle.
Her delicate hand trembled as she slipped it into his, but she allowed him to assist her without argument. When she stood on the ground in front of him, she lifted her face and regarded him with pleading eyes. She was a creature trapped, unable to fight, unable to flee.
He couldn
’
t do it, couldn
’
t force her into a marriage that so obviously distressed her. His sport had gone on long enough — too long, really. He drew a breath.
Sharp pain assaulted the top of his right foot.
“
Egad!
”
he exclaimed, leaping back as the pain traveled upward into his leg and brought the prick of tears to his eyes.
“
What the devil are you doing, woman?
”
“
I beg your pardon?
”
Annabella blinked, but her feigned innocence didn
’
t fool him. The chit had stomped on his foot with the force of a Percheron stallion. Green eyes flashed.
“
I believe we have a wedding to attend?
”
She pushed past him, treading on his injured foot.
Jon hissed in a breath as the pain in his limb renewed itself. Had he thought her defeated? She
’
d merely been recovering her impudent manner. Teeth clenched against the throb
bing
in his foot, he followed his unwilling bride toward the church.
A young lady met them at the door, one hand adjusting the dark curls that had been haphazardly piled beneath a straw hat.
“
Vicar Hamilton says you must hurry.
‘
Tis almost noon.
”
She lifted her face with a smile and gasped. Her smile evaporated.
“
Lady Annabella!
”
Her jaw worked as though she wanted to say more but couldn
’
t force the words free.