Hell’s Wedding Bells: A Devilish Debutante’s Novella

by Anders, Annabelle

  Lila wished she’d been able to do something to improve the room, but it had not been high on her list of priorities.

  Besides, she’d far preferred the coziness of Pemberth’s study. She reached a hand out for her husband, who approached from across the room.

  “In that case, we mustn’t keep them waiting, must we? Pemberth?”

  Three minutes later, Lila and Pemberth sat across from two of the nearby village’s most elite citizens—and their daughter.

  “Well, we never thought to send invitations up here before, it’s been so long since Glenn Abby has had a duchess in residence. But I told Mr. Kemp I’d wager that a dignified young woman such as yourself, Your Grace, might be finding herself in need of some socializing.” Mrs. Kemp was apparently in charge of the local charity and was heading up an assembly dance in two days’ time. “I know it’s late notice, but we aren’t overly formal all the way up here, now are we, Lavinia?”

  The younger woman had not even the decency to drag her gaze away from Pemberth when she nodded. Lila would have liked to reach across the small space between them. Drool needed wiping off of Miss Lavinia Kemp’s chin.

  Pemberth seemed oblivious to the young woman’s attention.

  But a dance! And other ladies and gentlemen with which to converse. It wasn’t that Lila did not appreciate her husband’s rather stimulating company, but it had been months since she’d been afforded such an opportunity.

  “Would you care to attend?” Pemberth turned to her. “I know—”

  “I’d love to!” She turned back to Mrs. Kemp. “And thank you so much for making the drive to invite us. Would you care for some tea?”

  9

  An Evening Out

  “Oh, my lady,” Fran gushed. “I’ve never seen you looking so beautiful.”

  Lila studied her reflection in the mirror of her very own chamber.

  Although the manor wasn’t exactly teeming with servants, Lila and Fran had managed to oversee a thorough cleaning and refurbishing of the master’s chambers and finally, Fran had been able to unpack all of her trunks.

  She’d moved Pemberth into his larger chamber, and that night they’d share it together for the first time.

  After the dance.

  Feeling far too pleased with life than a lady ought, Lila twirled around in a circle, causing the gown to swirl around her.

  She’d worn the gown before, and Fran had done her hair up with equal flair in the past. But she had to agree with her maid… she had a different look to her then before she’d married.

  In the short time she’d spent with Pemberth, she’d changed.

  If only Arianna could be here with here as well.

  Lila had made casual mention a few times to Pemberth that she wished her sister could come and visit her, but it seemed he thought she meant next summer, or even later.

  Meanwhile, Lila had no idea what new hell her father might be putting her sister through—without Lila to take the bulk of his criticism.

  She jumped when a knock sounded on the adjoining door, suddenly feeling more than a little guilty for… being happy?

  How could she be happy until her sister was safe?

  “Come in,” she beckoned.

  Seeing her husband peer in made her feel better, and yet added to her guilt.

  “I hadn’t realized you were so far along with this project.” He seemed hesitant to enter so she crossed the room to take his hand. He wore a black jacket and a ruby waistcoat embroidered with gold thread. His cravat hung untied around his neck and so Lila reached up to perform the task for him. She’d take any excuse to touch this man.

  Fran disappeared into the dressing room.

  “Of course, some of the furnishings are a little shabby, but they look rather lovely since we’ve had them painted.” She looped off the knot and then gestured toward a cozy loveseat. “This was reupholstered.”

  With a somewhat curious but dazed expression, he released her hand to explore her chamber slowly, on his own.

  “This is your sister?” He’d stopped before a small miniature she had standing on her bureau.

  “Arianna.” She nodded, that guilt returning to settle quite comfortably around her heart again. “I miss her.”

  He nodded and then moved along to the large box where she’d always kept her jewelry.

  “May I?” he asked before opening it.

  “Of course.” She had nothing of real value. Her father had raided it before Fran could pack it up. Otherwise, she’d have told Pemberth to sell them in order to purchase the stocks he needed. “They’re all fakes.”

  He opened the box and lifted a necklace and then a pendant. She found it oddly sweet that he thought her personal items interesting. Almost as though he might be coming to care—

  “Lila? What is this?” She peered around him. He was holding the vial her mother had given her just before their wedding. So much had changed since then that she’d forgotten all about the strange gesture.

  “A sleeping draught. My mother gave it to me.” Although they had grown closer over the past few weeks, she dared not reveal to him that the potion had been given with him in mind.

  His gaze flickered to her bed. “Do you find yourself missing your sleep? Have I kept you awake too often?”

  “No!” That was the last thing in the world that she wanted. “I mean, no, you have not kept me up too often. I like sleeping with you. That is, I am not missing my sleep.” By this time, she realized she must be blushing to the roots of her hair.

  He turned to face her, feet shoulders’ distance apart. “Good.” Intensity flared from those silver-blue eyes of his. “We can use this bed, or we can use the one through the doorway. We will not require both.”

  Lila felt a grin tugging at her lips. “On the same night,” she added.

  “Just so we understand one another.” That intensity of his had turned to wicked intent.

  “Only we haven’t time now, if we’re to arrive at the assembly in time. How long did you say it would take us to get to the village? I’m so excited! I told you when I last mingled with society of any sort, have I not?” And then she found herself babbling. She was nervous.

  Pemberth tugged her up against him and bent so that his lips nearly touched hers. “Everyone is going to love you. Even if you weren’t so easy to love, they would have to.” And then his lips dropped the softest of kisses upon hers. “Remember, Lila. You are a duchess.”

  She tilted her head back to gaze up at him. “And you are a duke.” And then, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, she added, “My duke.”

  * * *

  Vincent had not attended a village assembly since before he’d reached his majority, and he’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that he’d enjoyed himself. Not because of the lukewarm watered-down lemonade, nor the rock-like biscuits, nor the slightly out of tune music.

  But because of the woman on his arm.

  She’d been a vision and he hadn’t been the only one to think thusly. Gentlemen and ladies alike, upon being presented to her, approached her warily—but only for an instant. She’d enquired sweetly about their families, their homes, and had them eating out of her hand in no time at all.

  Much later that night, Lila burrowed deeper into his body as he cradled her from behind. They’d chosen to utilize his chamber, after all. But despite a rigorous bout of lovemaking, her muscles tensed beside him.

  “You enjoyed yourself this evening?” he whispered in her ear.

  She nodded. “I did, but I cannot help but feel guilty that I have spent a most delightful evening, making friends, enjoying new challenges, and my sister is yet trapped at my father’s home.”

  She’d mentioned her concerns a few times before. “Surely, your father will find her a husband as well? And then she can be free of him?”

  Instead of soothing her, his words did the opposite. She twisted around and he could see her frowning in the moonlight from the window. She was none too happy with his response.

/>   “As he did for me? Did my father vet you at all? He’d have just as well that I marry your brother! He knew nothing of you, only that you were a duke and that marrying you would make his daughter into a duchess.”

  “Are you not happy with the result?” Vincent didn’t like the sting he felt at her words.

  “That has nothing to do with it! I got lucky! There is no guarantee my father won’t marry my sister off to some depraved lord, or worse!”

  “What can be worse than a depraved lord?” He chuckled. She really was becoming overly dramatic about all of this.

  Scowling even deeper now, she pushed herself to a sitting position. “You do not know my father as I do! You haven’t had to live with the rumors of what he’s done. He’s tried to kill people. I’m not certain he’s never succeeded.”

  “Lila.” He pushed himself up on one elbow. This discussion was getting out of hand all too quickly. “Lie down. I doubt your father has killed anyone.”

  She resisted him when he tried to drag her down beside him, instead drawing back even farther. “You met him. Tell me you are convinced he would not hurt my sister.”

  Vincent rubbed his chin, remembering the way the man had torn the shawl from her shoulders and ruthlessly removed the pins from her hair. Vincent had been more concerned with his own problems at the time and only wanted to be on the road back home. But now that he remembered, the esteemed Earl of Quimbly had had something of a depraved look in his eyes.

  “I will see what I can do.”

  But she was not to be calmed down. She sat on the bed facing him, her arms hugging her knees to her chest. “Pemberth.” She shifted her gaze away guiltily. “I’m not certain your brother’s debt to my father was not paid. I found a notation made by him that he’d paid it off in full. This estate is not destitute, as you believe. Keenan made some excellent investments. You did not have to marry me. My father took advantage of your brother’s death by forcing—“

  “Quimbly showed me the signed contract.” What was she saying? “Why have you not told me this before?” He’d trusted her with all of the estate books. He’d trusted she’d share anything of particular interest with him.

  She easily could have done this earlier, before the Kemps arrived.

  She turned pleading eyes toward him. “I wanted to verify the investment income before mentioning anything. We need to meet with your brother’s London solicitors. There are accounts…”

  “And you thought I couldn’t handle the disappointment if you were wrong? You think so little of me? Is that why you are only telling me this now?”

  She squeezed her eyes tight. “I did not want you to be angry with me for something my father did. The debt had already been paid, Pemberth! Don’t you see? You may have married me under false pretenses.”

  Vincent let out a sigh. He wanted to be angry with her for keeping something of such import from him. He’d thought…

  “I think my father had something to do with your brother’s death.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lila.” The only person he could blame for his brother’s death was buried six feet underground. Vincent got out of bed, pulling on his breeches. “Leave it be!”

  “But my father was not home at the time of your brother’s death. He was gone on business. Is it possible that he came here? Is it—”

  “Leave it, Lila!” Vincent had not, nor would he ever, discuss the nature or circumstance of Keenan’s death with anyone. And not because of his own reputation. His brother had been his hero. The fact that Keenan had taken his own life would stain his legacy forever. Vincent wanted no one to know, not even his wife. He pulled on a shirt and then shoved his feet into his boots.

  “Where are you going? Please, Vincent. Talk to me.” The sight of her on her knees, begging him, ought to have been enough to soothe the torment she’d caused. But all he could see in that moment was his brother’s face, eyes staring at nothing, on that dreadful day. All he could think was that his brother had willingly abandoned him.

  He turned away. How had this happened? One moment he was imagining a future with her, loving her, and the next, he was questioning everything. None of this made sense. He ran one hand through his hair.

  “Were you only using me as well, Lila? To get away from him?” Of course, she had been! She’d admitted as much.

  “At first––”

  “Am I handy only until you get your sister away from him as well?” And then it dawned on him. “Is that why you have been so happy to please me in bed?”

  She drew back, almost as though he had slapped her. And he felt guilty but quashed it immediately. He’d been duped for his own stupidity. And then she’d kept vital financial information from him. She’d not even hinted about it—about any of it—until he’d resisted bringing her sister to Glenn Abbey.

  The damn crux of it was he would have brought the girl here quickly enough if Lila had only batted her lashes a few times at him. He’d been utterly besotted with her.

  What kind of a fool was he?

  If only he hadn’t been so such an idiot. If only he would have read the documents rather than shove them into a drawer. He jammed his hand into his jacket.

  “Please don’t go.” He could see by the moonlight sparkling from her eyes that tears were threatening to fall. “Can we discuss this? Please?”

  “Get some sleep, Lila. Take some of that draught your mother gave you.”

  And then he strode out, feeling as much loss as abject fury. He’d been used by her father. His brother had told him nothing of any investments. And then his brother betrayed him in the worst possible way.

  And now she had used him. Stinging burned his eyes. Less than an hour ago, she’d been lying beneath him, straining for him to fill her more deeply.

  He stormed down the stairs, skipping every other one and when he found himself in the foyer entrance, he knew there was only one person to answer for any of this.

  And he was a hard day’s ride away, damnit.

  Vincent scribbled out a note in the salver and made his way to the stables. He’d have to awaken Calvin and Drake. But he’d have his answer, by God.

  Whether he liked it or not.

  10

  Midnight journey

  With a clear sky and a full moon, Vincent and two of his most dependable employees rode through the night, stopping only to change out their horses. By the time the sun rose to the center of the sky, he surmised he’d arrive at Bryony Manor within an hour.

  He’d been rash to leave while in a temper. The thought plagued him now.

  When she’d speculated that her father had something to do with Keenan’s death, however, she’d stirred a suspicion he’d dared not contemplate before.

  His brother was not the sort of man to kill himself over financial ruin. Their father had fought against seemingly insurmountable adversity to keep the dukedom strong, as had their grandfather before them. More than once, Keenan had shown the same strength of the men who’d preceded him as Duke of Pemberth.

  Quimbly knew something and, by God, Vincent was going to find out what it was.

  And after that…

  Vincent would return to his wife, her sister in tow, so long as he wasn’t required to kidnap the girl, and he’d make known to Lila his feelings regarding their marriage once and for all.

  Because after sitting in the saddle for hours on end, he’d turned the circumstances over in his mind quite thoroughly.

  She’d had reason to fear her father before their marriage, and he’d been an ass not to acknowledge this the night before. She merely feared for her sister. Of course, she’d seek protection for her as well!

  To hell with the fact that she hadn’t told him right away; they weren’t in dun territory after all. She’d been going through papers for days now, and she’d only wanted to be certain before getting his hopes up.

  He owed her one hell of an apology.

  He loved her. It frustrated him that he hadn’t said it before, that h
e only realized it when he could do nothing about it.

  He shouldn’t have left. At least not in anger.

  A dark cloud drifted over the sun, sending a chill through him at the same time Bryony Manor appeared in the distance.

  She’d said she thought her father could have had something to do with Keenan’s death. Was it possible Quimbly had been at Glenn Abby?

  Vincent rolled his shoulders. He would not have known. He’d spent most of his time in the fields. He should have been paying attention. The thought that he’d inherit the title had never entered his mind. Ever.

  Only after turning onto the short road leading to the front manor steps, did he become aware of a flurry of frantic activity. One of the manservants had mounted a horse and was riding toward them.

  “Ho, there!” Vincent held up a hand. He vaguely remembered this particular servant from his prior visit. On that occasion, the man, who’d been ever-present in Quimbly’s shadow, had seemed inordinately loyal to his employer.

  The servant pulled hard on his horse, having recognized Vincent immediately. “He won’t take her back so you’re wasting your time. I’m to fetch the physician. The master is ill!” As quick as that, the man spurred his horse and raced off the property.

  Vincent met Calvin’s gaze and then the two of them urged their horses toward the manor, arriving at the entrance in a matter of seconds. A young girl had stepped outside and for a moment, Vincent had to blink his eyes, almost certain she was his wife.

  “Lady Arianna?”

  The girl nodded, eyeing him suspiciously.

  Vincent landed on the ground and handed off his mount. “I am Pemberth.”

  “Where is my sister?” She lifted her chin in a remarkably familiar gesture.

  “She has sent for you.” But if Quimbly was ill, Vincent might be running out of time. “Take me to your father.” He would have some answers while he was here.

  Lila’s sister studied him for a moment, as though measuring his character.

  “And then have your maid pack your things. My wife desires her sister’s company at her new home.”