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