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.
Chapter Five
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