Never Marry a Stranger (3 page)

“Of course it’s fair,” she said, almost too hastily. She was supposed to be distraught and sad—but she could also be an understanding wife. She took a deep breath, then patted his hand where it still gripped her upper arm. “This is all a shock to me, too.”

He nodded.

“We have not seen each other in over a year,” she continued, feeling calmer, stronger. “I find myself wondering how you’ve changed, wondering what you’ve seen and done while in the army.”

He let her go and stepped back. “My parents said you’d spent six months with me in India.”

“Until you thought I would be in too much danger if I stayed with you. Do you remember any of that?”

He slowly shook his head.

“By the time I returned to England to meet your family, it was only to hear that they’d already had word that you were—dead.” She looked away, inspired to fumble for the handkerchief on her bedside table. She blew her nose.

When she looked back at him, he was walking toward the desk.

“I found our marriage license,” he said.

Her breath halted in her lungs as she waited for him to continue.

“It’s dated only two days before I left for India. I remember some of the preparations in London, the train journey to Southampton, but not how long I spent there.”

“Two weeks. It is where we met. I am from a nearby village, where my father was a country squire.”

“Was?” He sat on the edge of the desk, watching her.

Was he deliberately keeping his distance? What a shock he must be feeling, faced with a woman he thought intimately connected to him. But she could not let herself feel sorry for him, or feel sorry about what she was doing.

“My father and brothers perished in a boating accident on the Channel,” she said.

Even now the memories of the wind rising up, the waves crashing over the bow, haunted her, distracted her. In her nightmares she could still see her oldest brother swept over the side, vanishing from sight. She did not have to fake these emotions; they pierced her stomach with such sorrow that she’d been unable to come up with a lie for Matthew’s family.

“I was sailing with my father and brothers when the boat tore apart in the storm. As I clung to the wreckage, I thought for certain I would die. Then I
heard the sound of the ship’s bell and saw the schooner emerging from the mist. Yours was the first face I saw as you leaned out over the water above me, like an archangel come for me. I thought you were—fearless, so brave.” She looked away, swallowing. “You only smiled at me with encouragement, though I clung to your hand so tightly I could have dragged you under with me.”

She risked a glance at him, but he still watched her with intent.

Calmly, he asked, “You had no other family?”

“No one close. My mother died when I was a child. I thought my brothers would care for me no matter what.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty.”

“And there was no man in your life before me?”

She shook her head. “I spent most of my time in our small village. I just…assumed I would marry one of the gentleman farmers, a man of my father’s class, but I never found anyone. And then I met you. You were so caring, so concerned about me, making sure I had a place to stay with fellow parishioners. You stood by me at my family’s funeral, came to visit me every day. Talking to you made me remember that Father would want me to go on with my life. To distract me, you told me stories of your family, the cousins who were like brothers to you, the sisters you doted on. Hearing about another
family helped me remember the good times with my own.”

He cocked his head, his expression interested. “And what stories did I tell as I courted you?”

She smiled playfully, taking a chance that he would respond to flirting. “There were so many. We even spent our nights on the steamship to India talking under the stars as we related our childhoods. But one story I remember was how you played the big brother when your cousin Daniel was teasing your sister about her obsession with painting. If I remember correctly, Daniel ended up with paint all over him, and you were Susanna’s hero.”

A half smile quirked his mouth.

In a softer voice, she added, “As we spent time together, I came to see what kind of man you were, so close to your family, yet wanting to serve your country. I admired that.”

He looked away then. Was flattery going too far?

She walked slowly toward him. “I know it happened quickly, but somehow we fell in love.” The lies came out of her so easily now. “I was alone in the world, and I worried that I was clinging to you, my rescuer, but you did not agree. You thought…you thought we were perfect together.”

“I wasn’t looking for a wife,” he said.

“You said as much, even then. But what we had…you didn’t want it to end. So you proposed marriage, and wanted to take me with you to India.”

“And you didn’t mind becoming an officer’s wife, following the drum?”

She shook her head. “There was nothing in Southampton for me. A distant cousin inherited our family manor, but I did not want to live with strangers. You were all I thought I would ever need.”

“And we married so quickly that I did not even have my family join us?”

“You were scheduled to leave. There was no time.”

Emily held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask when they’d notified his family of the marriage. Because then she would have to mention the letter that loomed large in her mind, containing a secret that could destroy this fake marriage and her life. For Matthew
had
written his parents about a marriage—but she wasn’t the bride.

Lady Rosa had mentioned it to her when she was still ill, and Emily remembered feeling dull and resigned, thinking her masquerade was finished. In the letter, Matthew wrote that he had married, but gave no other news, not even his wife’s name, promising to explain everything when he had more time.

But he never had. The Leland family simply assumed he’d been preparing his family for Emily, making them even more willing to accept her. And all along, the worry lurked in the back of her mind that another Mrs. Matthew Leland would return.

What had happened to his
real
wife, and why
wasn’t she with him? For this was the one woman who could spoil everything she had worked so hard for.

It was so easy to study her, Matthew thought as he watched his “wife.” Emily Grey had not only beauty, but true poise—and an answer for every question. She’d leapt into his arms as if he truly were her long-lost husband. She even cried on command.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble to build a life for herself here; his memory loss played right into her hands.

But not every word was a lie, for her story made him remember the boating accident. The local Southampton authorities had begged for any soldiers willing to sail out into the storm to help mount a rescue.

“Matthew?”

She stood close to him, put her hand tenderly on his arm. He could inhale her sweet scent, stare into the lovely blue of her eyes. A woman of such beauty surely knew how she affected the male of the species. Did she think she could sway him so easily? He looked forward to matching his intellect against hers.

He remained seated on the edge of the desk, which almost put them at eye level. He gave her a tired smile. “I’m sorry, my mind must have wan
dered. It is so damn frustrating to know something happened, but be unable to conjure up even one memory. How could I forget
you
?”

She blushed and looked away, pink highlighting the perfection of her skin.

“So you spent six months with me?”

She nodded.

“And there wasn’t a child?”

She shook her head, then whispered, “But how I wished for one when I thought you dead.”

It was his turn to nod, his deepest concern satisfied. At least there would not be a child hurt by what she’d done. “I am sure I’ll have many more questions, but not tonight. I am exhausted.”

“Oh, of course you are,” she said swiftly, her forehead creased with worry. “Can I do anything to ease you?”

He tilted his head and smiled, even as her blush deepened. He held her eyes for a moment, and she stared at him. He won this small contest when she lowered her gaze. The devil inside him wanted to ask what she was offering tonight. Her lips would taste sweet; her body would ease his tired soul and let him truly forget.

But would she surrender willingly, while inside some part of her retreated?

He didn’t want to use her like that, even though this situation was of her own making.

“Go to sleep, Emily,” he said at last, straightening up and brushing past her. “Is anyone in the adjoining bedroom?”

She shook her head, then spoke with obvious incredulity. “But this is
your
bedroom.”

“But you have been using it. I’ll use that one for now. Don’t most couples have separate lives, separate beds?” he asked casually. “Or were we so very different?”

She hesitated, then softly said, “We were good together.”

He gave her a half smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I would hate to think I left you with sad memories.” He walked to the door leading to the dressing room connecting the two bedrooms.

“Remember, Matthew, we can make new memories,” she called. “Good night.”

He wished her the same.

When he was alone, he stripped the cravat from around his neck then looked at it too long as it dangled from his fingers.

His mind was racing, and he wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a long time. Silently, he crossed to the door leading into the hall and left his suite.

I
t was easy enough to find Reggie, who would be housed in the bachelor wing.

Matthew knocked on the door of the first guest chamber. From the other side he heard, “I’ve already poured you a brandy.”

He entered the room to find Reggie sunk low in a wing-back chair before the hearth, his head leaning against the back, his eyes twinkling. A tumbler of brandy was cradled between his hands, while another waited on a small table beside him.

Matthew grinned, took his glass, then with a sigh, stretched out in the next chair. Reggie continued to eye him lazily, waiting.

Matthew lifted his glass. “To my wife.”

His chuckle merged with Reggie’s laugh, and they clinked glasses before drinking deeply.

“How you kept a straight face is beyond me,” Reggie said, his shoulders still shaking. “Good thing no one was looking at me, because I probably would have given the whole thing away.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You would have taken it for the opportunity it was.”

“And was it?”

“Was it what?”

“An opportunity?”

Matthew hesitated. “I guess it was—is.”

“And how did you leave this new wife?”

“Shh,” he said, smiling even as he glanced at the door. He knew his family was far away, yet there were always servants about to see to a guest’s comforts.

“Well?” Reggie demanded, sitting up a bit to focus his stare on Matthew.

“I left her alone. And no, I didn’t take advantage.”

Reggie’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “So she was
willing
? And awake?”

Matthew rolled his eyes and took another sip of his brandy. “Of course she was awake. But it didn’t feel right to press it.”

“Right? She’s claiming to be your
wife
!” Reggie said with disbelief. “She’s
asking
for your attention.”

“No, she thought I was dead,” he mused. “She’s obviously here for some other reason.”

“And you couldn’t get it out of her?”

“No, she’s very good. I’m vastly impressed.”

“You mean you’re vastly besotted. She’s as scandalous as you spent your life longing to be. Your cousin Daniel will be no match for you now.”

“Oh, please, who knows what trouble he’s gotten into since I’ve been gone? And you know too much about me,” Matthew grumbled good-naturedly.

“I should. I’ve known you since we were green officers together in Southampton, waiting for a ship to take us around the world.”

“Apparently, that’s where I married Emily. Were you my best man?”

If he were outside, Reggie’s constantly gaping mouth would have drawn flies.
“That’s
what she’s claiming?”

“I did meet her there, you know. Remember the family killed in the boating accident?”

“You’ve mentioned it a time or two.”

“She’s the girl I rescued.”

“In more ways than one, obviously.”

Matthew lifted his glass again. “Obviously.” He wouldn’t say it aloud, but there
had
been a connection between them, and he still felt drawn to her. The protective instinct was too deep in him, had gotten him in trouble before—and obviously had again.

“So she met you…” Reggie urged.

“And then she must have decided to use me, once my name turned up on the casualty list. A lot of the facts are real, of course; her description of the accident, and the way I spent time with her, was correct—to a point.”

“You must have been very impressive.”

Matthew winced. “Hardly. We talked, that was all. She was a frightened, bedraggled kitten of a girl, whose family had all just died tragically. I felt sorry for her.” He remembered her lost amidst the damp towels, too shocked to even grieve at first. How could he not have pitied her?

“Keep talking.”

He shot a distracted glance of amusement at his friend. “Very well, it was more than pity on my part. I could have just given her money and left. Instead I found her a hotel room, ordered her hot food and maid service, and came back the next morning to see how she’d fared. Even in her grief she’d been sweetly charming, for she hadn’t wanted to burden me, tried to pretend that everything would be all right.”

“And you got involved.”

Bemused, he murmured, “I did the one thing that led her directly to my family. I gave her a letter of introduction to them, including both their London address as well as the one here in Cambridgeshire. I told her if she ever needed help, to go to my family in my name and ask.”

“By the devil, you really did ask for this.”

Matthew shrugged. “Do you think—” he began, then broke off for a moment. “In her terrible grief, could Emily have fantasized more to my kindness than there had been?”

Reggie peered at him over his glass. “You mean is she touched in the head?”

“She said she had no close family left. Could she have convinced herself we really had married?”

“Out of desperation, do you mean? Don’t you think someone that daft would have given herself away in a year’s time? I don’t imagine your family are all that foolish.”

“You’re right, of course,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “If she had fantasized the marriage, she would have gone to my parents immediately. Instead, six months passed—and someone had forged a marriage license for her. I’ll have to study it again, and see the name of the man who supposedly performed the ceremony.”

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Reggie said. “You don’t think she did the forgery herself?”

“She could have. With my letter, she had the opportunity to copy my signature. But she might not be alone in this. I wonder if she brought someone into the household with her?”

“Or if there is someone nearby, at her beck and call, just waiting. What will you do if that’s the truth?”

“Take it as it comes,” Matthew said, letting a smile widen his mouth. “It’s just so curious why she wouldn’t simply ask for my family’s help, as I gave her permission to do.”

Reggie rolled his head back and forth against the chair, sighing. “I recognize that lame grin of yours. You’re enjoying yourself.”

“What’s not to enjoy? I have a beautiful woman doing her best to please me.”

“And a little danger to make it exciting,” Reggie added. “And here we thought England would be boring after India.”

“I have learned my lesson, you know. Though scandal is pleasurable, nothing real can come of it. I’ll enjoy unmasking Emily, but that will be all.” He’d had enough of entanglements to last a lifetime. It was time for some fun.

After finishing off his drink with Reggie, Matthew said good-night and returned to the family wing. In his new bedroom in his old suite, he stripped off his clothes and fell into bed. Still, he lay awake too long, imagining his “wife” in the next room, asleep in his bed.

As he looked at the ceiling, he heard an unusual sound in the corridor. He came instantly alert. In that moment it occurred to him that Emily might actually try to escape.

He pulled on his trousers and peered out the door, but saw no one. Though a lamp at each end of the corridor provided faint lighting, he saw no shadows, heard no sound. Swiftly, he went back through his room and the dressing room, then leaned his ear against Emily’s bedroom door. Nothing.

He told himself that she would not flee in the middle of the night. He’d found nothing hidden in her room that would help her escape, no money, no jewels.

But then he imagined his parents’ faces if she were gone in the morning, if he had to explain what she’d done—what he’d done in response. No, he wouldn’t let it end like this, not until he knew everything. Very carefully, he eased her door open.

Faint moonlight came through the windows, highlighting where it touched, deepening the shadows where it didn’t. Though it had been several years, he knew the room well, was able to skirt the desk chair and the chest at the foot of the bed.

And then he saw her.

She was asleep in his bed, her expression as serene as an innocent. The counterpane was pulled up to her waist, letting him see her nightgown, plain and unadorned, but so fine that it outlined each curve of her body, from the delicate bones of her shoulders to the tips of her breasts. Her lips, softly parted with her breathing, were made for a man’s kisses.

He stood staring for far too long, until at last he shook himself out of his lust-filled stupor. He’d assured himself of her whereabouts. Of course she hadn’t fled from him. Whatever her motive was, she had gone through too much to back down now, especially when he’d given her the perfect reason to stay. It was time for him to find his rest at last.

But back in his new room, he still tossed and turned, for he now had the sleeping image of her in his head.

Arthur Stanwood, prosperous Southampton innkeeper, was prosperous no more. His creditors had at last come calling, and they weren’t the sort to give one a bloody note of debt and wait for an honorable response. No, they would kill him soon and take all that he had left, if he didn’t come up with the money he’d gambled away. Over his breakfast, as he read the
Times,
he found his solution.

Captain Matthew Leland, cousin to the Duke of Madingley, had returned from the dead.

Emily Grey had tried to tell him she’d married the bloke before he went off to India. She, a country girl, wed into a duke’s family? He hadn’t believed it, knew that she’d only been using the dead man.

With the old vicar dead, Stanwood had thought for certain that he had her completely under his control. But she’d disappeared. He’d been too careless, he realized. He stewed for months over her escape, searching his brain for the name she’d given him, which was his only clue.

And now here it was in the bloody
Times
, the answer to his desperation. The article mentioned that the captain had returned to his young, grieving widow—Mrs. Emily Leland.

It was time for him to pay a call on the lovely
“Mrs. Leland,” and see how she and he could help each other. Stanwood glanced at his pocket watch. If he took the train, he would be able to reach Cambridge that afternoon.

When Matthew awoke, he lay still, mind empty, not certain he remembered the last time he’d slept in so comfortable a bed. On the steamship, his berth had been made of hard wood with a too-thin mattress on top. And during his travels in India, luxury was the leaf of a dining table propped on three cane chairs.

After assuring himself of Emily’s whereabouts, he’d been dead to the world, not even remembering his dreams. But now the sun was peering through his draperies; he’d slept later than he meant to. The house was so quiet.

As usual, he was stiff as he sat up, the scars from his burns stretching tight across bone. He looked around—and realized he’d never slept in this room before. Early that morning his clothes must have been unpacked and pressed in the dressing room, and now a valet he didn’t recognize arrived to help him dress. Matthew sent him away. Although he wasn’t embarrassed about his injuries, he didn’t feel the need to have horrified servants spreading gossip.

He put a hand on the doorknob to his old bedroom, then thought better of letting himself be dis
tracted by the lovely Emily when his sisters were waiting to see him. He went down to the breakfast room alone.

In the doorway, he came up short. They were all there, his parents, sisters, Reggie—and Emily. None of them noticed him right away. They were talking excitedly among themselves, food forgotten. His sisters, Susanna and Rebecca, sat on either side of Emily.

A softening feeling of gratitude to God moved through him, that he was able to be with them again. There was a time when he lay writhing within the fiery agony of his burns that he’d almost wished for death. He’d learned the hard way that his life and family were important to him.

Susanna, at twenty-six, was only a year younger than he was. She acted as their father’s assistant in the anatomy laboratory, sketching the muscles and organs of the bodies the professor studied. She was a bluestocking of the first order, intelligent and calm, with the same auburn hair they’d both inherited from their father. Lady Rosa had long since given up on the idea that Susanna would ever exert herself enough to attract a husband, which still made Matthew sad. Even though he didn’t want a wife, it surely was better for a woman to marry a man and have her own household. And his sister deserved to be happy.

For the past several years Lady Rosa had concen
trated all of her matrimonial efforts on Rebecca, who was nineteen, a beauty, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. After a childhood weakened by many illnesses, Rebecca had matured into a poised loveliness that surprised Matthew, who rather thought that in rebellion she might end up being the wild one of his family.

But of course he hadn’t heard everything she’d been up to since he’d been gone. He looked forward to finding out. There had been a time, while he was recovering at the mission, when he thought he might never see his family again, so long did it take for him to heal.

To his amusement, they were all focused on Emily, the wife whose husband had returned to her. Her expression was animated as she spoke to his sisters, looking back and forth between them, gesturing with her fork. Susanna gave her a brief hug, as Rebecca giggled from the other side. How at ease they all seemed together, like real sisters.

Then Susanna saw him in the doorway. “Matthew!” Her voice was a shriek.

He gave her a fond grin. “Hello, little sister.”

And then pandemonium ensued as Susanna and Rebecca rushed across the room to throw themselves at him. He staggered back against the door, an arm around each of them, grinning as he hadn’t in a long time.

“No need to crush me,” he said with amusement.

“Oh, dear, you’ve been dreadfully injured!” Susanna said, pulling back and looking up at him.

“I am fully recovered now.”

“Mama said you were burned?” Rebecca’s sweet voice was full of hesitation, as if she thought even talking about it would hurt him all over again.

“There was an explosion. And I was bayoneted,” he said cheerfully. When they collectively gasped, he hugged them back against him. “But I’ve been recovered since the beginning of the year. You do not have to treat me as a fragile invalid.”