The Vengeful Bridegroom (2 page)

A moment passed or was it an hour, before he added, “You know, our father would want you to do this.”

At the door, she swallowed hard and bowed her head. His argument was persuasive for all the reasons she should continue with this farce.
Living with Aunt Bess? Move all the way to Scotland? Seldom to return to Town, if ever?

This was her home. And what about her fledgling fashion designs? She needed more time to create a success behind the name of Madame Quantifours. But they needed funds now, and she couldn’t leave Matthew in this state, his tone mired in self-pity and anguish, even if he had brought this misery on himself. If he didn’t make it to the Continent, surely he would be sent to Newgate, if his debts were such as she imagined. She couldn’t let her brother dwell in prison.

But all those reasons meant nothing as much as doing that which her father would have wanted her to do.

She turned to face her brother and said, “Perhaps you could review your plan with me again. I did not catch all of the particulars.” She still had three days to plan the end of her arranged marriage.

Mr. Brelford opened the door to his rented lodgings to Matthew, who rushed in, hoping no one had seen him enter. Issuing no greeting, Matthew threw himself into a nearby worn chair, wiping sweat from his brow, relieved. No time to waste since he had a wedding ceremony to prepare. Everything was proceeding exactly how he had planned. At the earliest opportunity, he had hastened to share his news with his accomplice, although he heartily disliked Brelford’s address at Covent Garden. A couple of footpads had gained Matthew’s notice but fortunately the distance between his hack and 73 Swan Alley was quite abbreviated due to his earnest regard for his pocket and his life.

He took a deep breath and announced, “Brelford, my sister has agreed to our plan. I have sent a message to our Aunt Bess in Dumfries, where you’ll stay for the short duration of your marriage. Oh, I’ll send your share of the winnings to you as soon as everything is settled. I also made arrangements to obtain a special license.”

Engrossed in his thoughts, he ignored his friend to count on his fingers all the tasks needed to be completed. “We’ll have the ceremony at night. Remind you, no one can know until after the signatures are written in the parish registry. Better still, the following morning, we alert the
Morning Post
. There may be those who are betting Madelene won’t be married and will do everything in their power to prevent such a thing happening. This calls for extreme secrecy.” He began tapping on the arm of the chair in his enthusiasm. His ego convinced him that no one could put a halt to his stratagems.

He finally took notice of his friend, standing near a narrow cot with a half smile on his face. A smaller man in a cutaway coat of the latest fashion and shinier shoes than Prinnie would own, Matthew never had determined what his friend called his livelihood or where he had funds for his excellent taste in fashion, but little remaining for better rooms.

Matthew had grown accustomed to Brelford’s lack of animation and brevity of speech. Indeed, his friend possessed the equanimity Matthew could never claim. They were quite opposites.

Hands clasped together, Brelford inquired calmly, “What is it that you require of me to do?”

Matthew launched from his seat for he could hardly remain still. “Good man. You must meet my sister, Madelene, three days hence, on the eighteenth of May. We’ll head to the church from our house, hold the ceremony, then you and my sister will be off to Scotland.”

The small man blinked rapidly, a faint smile on his face. “It, it sounds simple. Afterward. Are, are, you sure we will be able to obtain an annulment with little difficulty?” His pale face shone in what little light there was left of the one candle.

Matthew shrugged. “If the marriage remains unconsummated, there are legal grounds for an annulment. No one needs to be the wiser on the actual reasons. We can’t have anyone crying foul on the wager. After the annulment, you can continue your secret life with no one the wiser.”

With hands on his hips, Matthew paused for a moment to reflect on how all the pieces were fitting into place. Truth be born, he gave little thought to his sister or Mr. Brelford. They both had agreed to his plan of their own accord, knowing what was expected of them.

I am undone by my genius. Little does my sister know our financial straits are not as bleak as I may have led her to believe.

A twinge of conscience hit him unexpectedly. He had thought his sister’s beauty and intellect would still bring offers of matrimony, but Madelene’s betrothed for a brief time, Aaron Winchester, had educated Matthew on the true nature of marriage and dowries. No sooner had Winchester courted Madelene and proposed marriage then he abruptly ended their engagement upon learning her dowry was quite paltry. His sister’s lack of matrimonial proposals was unanticipated.

With a change in his fortunes, Matthew decided he would fix everything after the marriage was annulled. He’d ensure what funds remained after paying off his debtors would be considered Madelene’s dowry. With that responsibility put to rest, he could relax with his new friend. “Let’s drink to our success.”

Matthew accepted the brandy Mr. Brelford offered, which he threw back before slipping out the door and down a rickety staircase to a back street, where he had instructed the hack to wait. Relaxed and on his return to Bloomsbury, he was willing to admit the earlier scene with Madelene had shaken his resolve a bit. However, his sister, as usual, would make everything turn out tolerably well.

Overly pleased with himself, Matthew failed to notice a young man, more a picture of a thief than a gentleman, climb the stairs to knock on Brelford’s door. The young man wondered how much blunt it would take to learn what Sir Matthew Colgate had planned. Mr. Westcott would pay a good wage if his news was of import.

“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.