The Vengeful Bridegroom (4 page)

Gabriel pulled Madelene out onto the landing and raced inside to contain the smoke and flames, Great George not far behind him. Together, using the bed counterpane and water from the washbasin, they smothered the flames in minutes. Although the fire and smoke caused little damage, the bedchamber would be uninhabitable until the smoke had dissipated. Once reassured all embers were dashed, Gabriel opened the two small windows and followed Great George down the stairs.

He found Madelene sitting on a bench with Mary in the common room. His wife clutched a draught, unable to keep from coughing, almost doubled over from a spell. A rough woolen blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders hid her disheveled state of undress.

His mouth grim, Gabriel stood on the opposite side of the table and leaned toward Madelene. “Was marriage to me so intolerable that you wanted to kill yourself, or are you simply a fool?” He bit his words out.

Madelene blinked at him and frowned. “Is there another choice?”

Surprised, Gabriel stepped back, and his anger at her subsided, slightly. “None. Your wedding attire has effectively gone up in smoke, which I can only assume was your intention and not burning the inn to the ground.”

She didn’t answer him immediately, taking a long swallow of what he hoped was weak ale.

He continued, his voice less stern. “I’ll obviously have to watch you more closely, to avoid any further disasters.”

When confident Madelene had overcome the worst of the smoke inhalation, Gabriel sought Great George to request bath water for his wife to remove the effects of the smoke, ignoring his own untidy combination of perspiration and soot.

The innkeeper and Mary went to fetch the tub and water in the kitchen while Gabriel sat down next to Madelene, still concerned over her condition.

“Madelene, please assure me that you are suffering no ill effects that a bath and sleep won’t cure,” he requested, staring into her dazed dark blue eyes.

She nodded slowly, obviously still bewildered about what had transpired. “I’ll be fine. It all happened so quickly. I had no idea.”

Removing a fine white handkerchief from his pocket, he started to wipe the soot smudges from her forehead, then thrust the handkerchief in her hand. He must remember to show no signs of kindness in order to achieve his goal. “If you promise to stay put for a few minutes, I’ll remove our baggage from the room so you might find something to wear.”

When he soon returned to the common room carrying the red-ribboned bonnet and matching gloves saved from the fire, he overheard Mary inform Madelene her bath was ready in the kitchen, where she would not be disturbed.

Showing Madelene the remainder of her bridal costume, he said wryly, “Apparently, you were unable to destroy all evidence of your marriage garments.”

Shrugging, she replied, “Perhaps Mary would like them, for I have no further use of them.”

Mary’s sad little face broke into a smile. “Oh really, miss! That would be ever so lovely! I mean, missus,” she exclaimed and hurried over to touch her new belongings. “I’ve never had nothing this nice before. Oh to be sure, I thank you, miss, and you, too, Mr. Brelford!” Grasping her bonnet and gloves to her chest, the little maid scurried from the room with her treasures.

Madelene rose unsteadily and found her husband’s hand on her elbow. Too tired to pull away, she let him lead her to the kitchen where her bath awaited. The smell of cheap wine and old fish hung in the air. She noticed while sinking into the nearest chair that Mary had left clean towels for her.

Unfortunately, her husband showed no interest in vacating the little kitchen, which was becoming warmer and warmer as much from the bath water as his nearness. She couldn’t quite determine why she felt unnerved by her temporary spouse. Indeed, he had no interest in her as a woman, if her brother was to be believed. Then she should have no concerns over their sleeping arrangements for the night.

But she did. Truthfully, Madelene’s new husband disturbed her, whether she wanted him to or not.

Enough of this woolgathering. There was nothing for it. When she swept a long curl away from her forehead, she noticed her gray grimy hands and frowned. Without further delay, she stood, gathering her faculties about her.

When Mr. Brelford made an effort to remove her blanket, Madelene dashed a few steps away, crossing her arms over her chest in protection and holding her blanket even tighter. What could he be thinking? Did he wish to play the role of lady’s maid?

“Mr. Brelford, would you kindly leave me alone to bathe? I am accustomed to bathing without an audience,” she told him politely. She raised her eyebrows and jerked her head toward the door.

Mr. Brelford’s lips twitched before replying. “There are a lot of things you’ll need to become accustomed to in the future as my wife. However, for the present, I’ll return to our room and have Mary wait outside, if by chance you have need of her.”

Ignoring his words, she watched him leave before casting off her remaining undergarments and stepping into the wooden tub, slowly sinking into the warm water. The bath soothed her and removed most of the travel and smoke grime. She prolonged it as long as she could until the water became cold and unpleasant. Earlier feeling sleepy, Madelene felt refreshed, and her mood vastly improved.

Wet hair draped over one shoulder, she climbed out of the tub to shrug into a wool robe when she heard a loud shout. With her borrowed robe clasped tightly in her hands, two young men burst into the kitchen yelling for Great George.

Her heart pounded in dismay but she took a deep breath, determined to brave her way through the situation.

“
Gentlemen!
As you can see, Great George is not, at the present time, located in the kitchen. Now, if you’ll be on your way in the direction from whence you came.” She tilted her chin, daring an argument.

They halted in stunned silence and surprise when they saw her in a state of undress, ogling her in their dusty traveling clothes. The older-looking one in a threadbare greatcoat and long, dark unkempt hair sauntered forward. “And what do we have here? Are you one of Great George’s new maids? He must know where to find them. What are you selling tonight, my lovely?”

Mr. Brelford pulled him back by his coat collar. When had he arrived? “Gentlemen, please return to the common room for Great George, and I would appreciate it if you would stop gawking at my wife,” he told them harshly as he strode over to Madelene.

She almost bristled at his possessiveness. Surely she could have handled the strapping young men with logical persuasion. But her husband thought she needed rescuing.

Wait. Something didn’t seem quite right. He was her husband and yet, not her husband. In the candlelight, she couldn’t see him clearly but assumed his countenance looked as harsh as his words. They both watched as the two intruders, eyes bulging from their heads at the sight of Mr. Brelford, bumped into each other trying to be the first through the door.

Her husband stood near her, ready to defend her, already acting the role of protector. But when he turned to her, she caught her breath, and she was the one stunned into silence, briefly.

What was he doing here? And where was Mr. Brelford, her husband? Why did he wear her husband’s clothes?

She shook her head. These circumstances did not bode well. The man standing before her was Gabriel Westcott. Her brother’s enemy. Hers as well.

She could only stare at the man standing before her. He had been wearing a disguise. Mr. Gabriel Westcott stood before her without his spectacles, beard, and bushy eyebrows, clad in the same well-fitting fawn shirt, pantaloons, and boots. His dark brown curly hair matched his deep brown eyes taking her mind briefly from her indignation, and she caught her breath. She had not remembered his attractiveness.

His lean jaw and determined mouth declared no quarter given. A hard man indeed, based on the intent look he now gave her. What could he possibly want with her? Why was he here and not Mr. Brelford? This nightmare seemed to have no ending.

Mary burst into the room. “Oh, miss, I beg your pardon, missus, but Great George called me away to serve customers. I didn’t mean to allow—” Mary finally noticed Mr. Westcott. “Sir, I don’t know who you are, but you take yourself right out those doors. You shouldn’t be in here! Out with you!”

Mr. Westcott held up his hand. “Mary, I am—” He cleared his throat. “I am Mr. Brelford. No, correction, I am Mr. Westcott.”

The little maid stared and stared and kept shaking her head. “You don’t mirror Mr. Brelford, and who is Mr. Westcott, I should know? Great George! Great George,” she yelled while fleeing the room.

Mr. Westcott started after her. “I have had a conversation with Great George.” But his words were lost on the maid.

Alone again, Madelene and Gabriel looked at each other.

“Madelene, I know this must be a shock to you, my appearance unexpected—”

Her mouth dropped open. He had truly rendered her speechless. How had she married Mr. Brelford, who turned into Mr. Gabriel Westcott?

Madelene thought of Matthew. He would never have colluded with his own enemy to marry off his sister.

Mr. Westcott interrupted her deliberation. “Madelene, did those culprits disturb you? They haven’t hurt you?” His tone quiet and concerned as he looked her over to assure himself she remained unharmed. He obviously missed the fire in her eyes.

Narrowing her eyes, Madelene backed away from him and held a hand out in front of her. “You
can’t
be my husband. You! You
tricked
me! How could you do this? I demand you return me to Town this moment. We will immediately obtain an annulment.” Her eyes widened. “Unless you falsified our marriage license.”

Oh, the horror and shame she would bring on the Colgate name. Was she actually married, and to Gabriel Westcott? Her fury at his deceit needed vengeance. She looked around the kitchen for something to use as a weapon, but nothing looked close enough. And any movement might reveal more than she wanted to show, grasping her robe more tightly to her chest.

“Madelene, now is not the time for this discussion.” He walked toward her as she retreated until she felt her back at the wall. “We can discuss this sensibly in our room. In private.” He held out his hand in supplication.

Her thoughts in disarray, anger heated her reply. “I want my
own
room.
Then
I want you to return me to my brother in the morning,” she commanded.

He grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the kitchen door. “And what about your brother? He’ll need to return his won blunt, and you’ll be back where you started. Surely a year with me is worth the price of saving your brother and your home,” he explained logically.

She hesitated and frowned, shaking her head. “A year? No, that was definitely
not
the plan. I remember my brother telling me it would only be for a month, no longer.” Had she really been tricked into marrying her family’s enemy? For a whole year?

Something else suddenly occurred to her. If her husband wasn’t Mr. Brelford, then Mr. Westcott could conceivably prefer women, which meant Madelene wanted to avoid their bedchamber at all costs.

“We need to discuss this upstairs. Try to pretend you’re a willing wife.” He grasped her hand and pulled her out the kitchen door and up the stairs.

The new inn arrivals hovered around their tankards, uninterested in the comings and goings of Madelene and her husband. A casual look around the main room confirmed Great George and Mary nowhere in sight. No one was near to help or hear her story. Sighing, she followed him up the stairs.

Mr. Westcott opened the door to their second bedchamber of the night. This smaller room held only a narrow bed, a few blankets, and cold air. The first room must have been the more requested of the two. No fire lit the fireplace, in all likelihood to prevent a repeat of the earlier incident.

Madelene saw her trunk safely installed next to the cold fireplace and rubbed her hands together, realizing she needed to quickly put on warmer clothes. Mid-May was much colder than usual this time of year.

Digging into her trunk, she found a soft pink night rail and matching jacket for sleeping. The garments would provide covering but not much warmth. Unfortunately, she couldn’t put her hands on her cotton nightgown without unpacking everything.

She began, “I would appreciate it, if—”

“No, I won’t leave you alone. However, I will turn my back as you undress, if you can assure me that if I light another fire, you’ll step nowhere near it,” he said with a trace of amusement in his voice. Not waiting for an answer, he knelt before the cold fireplace and placed short sticks and logs on the metal shelf, preparing to light it.

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 down 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.