The Stranger She Married (Rogue Hearts Book 1)

by Donna Hatch

  Alicia rose quietly so as not to disturb her sister, who had finally gone to sleep. A beautiful wedding gown from one of the finest dressmakers in Paris lay draped over a chair surrounded by flowers—gifts that had arrived from her future husband, delivered by the newly-arrived maid, Monique, also courtesy of her betrothed.

  Monique, the lady’s maid four or five years Alicia’s junior with dark hair and eyes, came in quietly with a tray of fruit and hot chocolate. Alicia had forgotten how wonderful it had been having a maid to care for her. Monique’s arrival also brought a noticeable improvement in the quality and variety of food, thanks to the baron’s advance to her uncle.

  As Alicia tried to swallow some fruit down a very dry throat, Hannah stirred and woke. “Oh, Lissie, what am I to do without you?”

  Alicia set aside the tray and hugged her. “It isn’t as if we’ll never see each other again. I’m sure he’ll allow us to visit.” They’d taken to calling her future husband “he” rather than by any name.

  Hannah nodded soberly. “I hope so.” Tears swam in her eyes and her mouth worked.

  “Hannah, don’t weep so. I need you with me on my wedding day.”

  Rallying, Hannah heaved a shuddering sigh and got up. After they’d bathed, washed and dried their hair, and dressed, they attempted to eat breakfast downstairs. Robert and Uncle Willard were still abed. Alicia and Hannah picked at their food, alternating between strained conversation and subdued silence. The thought of this being Alicia’s last meal at home lingered between them. Even the servants seemed agitated. At least they’d been paid all their back wages, thanks to the baron’s generosity.

  “Let’s take a turn about the gardens,” Hannah suggested.

  Alicia agreed. As they donned bonnets and gloves, the butler arrived.

  “Viscount Amesbury, to see you, Miss.”

  Cole Amesbury.

  The butler’s face clouded. “Your uncle gave orders that I not admit him all the other times he’s called, but he refuses to leave until he speaks with you.”

  At that moment, Cole Amesbury pushed his way into the room, his stunningly handsome face giving no clues as to the dark soul lurking beneath the pleasing exterior. How could such a contradictory nature exist inside one man?

  “Please speak with me.” He looked determined. Almost desperate.

  She tied her bonnet under her chin and pulled on her wrap. Crisply, she said, “Very well, my lord.”

  “Walk with me? Alone?”

  She drew herself up. “I am to wed another today, my lord. Speaking with you alone will surely not please my intended.”

  “I can handle him. Walk with me. Please.” The desperation in his expression tugged at her heart.

  Hannah squeezed her hand and nodded with a shy smile. Alicia hadn’t had the heart to tell her of Cole Amesbury’s involvement in Armand’s death. No doubt, Hannah hoped this handsome Adonis would save Alicia from the masked man she felt compelled to marry.

  Alicia consented and allowed him to lead her out to the gardens.

  He reached for her hand, but stopped himself. His arm dropped. “It’s not too late. Leave with me now. We’ll go to Gretna Green and marry. I’ll match everything the baron has promised your uncle and your sister. My Aunt Livy has agreed to sponsor Hannah the next Season; her connections will ensure Hannah is invited to Almack’s and is presented to the queen.” The intensity and vulnerability in his eyes chipped at her resolve.

  She stared in amazement. “Why would you do this?”

  “Because I…” he paused. “I desire you for a wife.”

  His words rang of sincerity and Alicia blinked at the admission. “I can’t imagine why.”

  He hesitated. “I admire you. And I want to help you and your family, and—”

  “Don’t.” She held up a hand. “I would never wish to mislead you, so I will speak plainly. I will not marry you. Not now. Not ever.”

  He looked stricken. “Because of Armand.”

  She made no reply. None was necessary.

  He nodded, his face hardening. After a stiff bow, he turned. She watched his broad back and shoulders as he strode away from her. Some of the usual grace in his walk had faded. He mounted his stunning white stallion and cantered away. A white stallion. Like her dream knight. All he lacked was the armor.

  And honor.

  Alicia smothered the tiny voice whispering she’d made a terrible mistake. She sank down on a stone bench. How could she marry the man who had destroyed Armand?

  She couldn’t. She would marry a man whose face she may never see. A man who frightened her.

  Hannah joined her. “I thought he’d come to propose.” Disappointment laced her voice.

  Alicia forced a laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “He seems the gallant type who would rescue a lady from marrying someone she does not wish to wed. He rose to your defense at the races and—”

  “Hannah, marriage is a greater commitment than merely giving the cut to a rude man!” Alicia spoke more sharply than she’d intended. “Sorry, dearest.” She put her arm around Hannah. “I’m just nervous about my wedding day.”

  “I don’t blame you. The man was frightening.” Hannah pulled her shawl more closely around herself, her face thoughtful. “He did speak like a gentleman, though, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did. I’m sure I will fare better with him than some ladies do with the men they marry. Think of all those arranged marriages that happened for centuries. At least I had the opportunity to say no.”

  “But you didn’t really have a choice, did you?”

  Alicia made no reply.

  They went back to the house and began preparing for the wedding. Her new French maid, Monique, helped her change out of her clothes. Monique dressed her in new undergarments and stockings, all trimmed with delicate lace. Alicia had never seen such fine things.

  After months of caring for herself, with only Hannah to help with her stays, being waited upon seemed a strange luxury, but her hands had begun to shake so badly, having help today was necessary. Just the companionship and touch of another human was comforting.

  As Alicia sat at a dressing table, Monique dressed her hair, deftly piled it on top of her head, and pinned it in place, allowing a few tendrils to hang down against her neck. White roses nestled among the curls in a more beautiful arrangement than she had ever worn.

  After the maid had finished with her hair, she carefully lowered the wedding gown over Alicia’s head and fastened tiny pearl buttons down her back. Monique had altered it after it arrived so that the gown fit Alicia perfectly. Monique stepped back to allow Alicia to admire it in the mirror. Despite the gloom hanging over her, her solicitous maid had raised her spirits. A little.

  Alicia eyed her reflection. The dress was silk satin, set with pearls and tiny ribbon rosebuds. Matching slippers completed the ensemble. Alicia remained still while Monique arranged every fold of her dress. She had to admit, she had never looked so well.

  Hannah gazed at her in breathless adoration. “Oh, Lissie, I’ve never seen its equal.”

  “Voilá.” Monique wore a pleased smile. “Magnifique.”

  If only she felt “magnifique.” Instead, emptiness gnawed at her insides. There was nothing to do now but wait. To marry a stranger. A scarred cripple. A man who would soon have the right to demand anything of her.

  The emptiness dissolved into fear and her stomach squeezed. She interlaced her fingers in an attempt to stop her hands from shaking.

  The footman scratched at the door. “The bridegroom awaits, Miss Palmer.”

  Alicia rose on unsteady legs. “Tell his lordship I am coming.”

  Hannah hugged her, her lower lip trembling. Alicia summoned courage for Hannah’s sake.

  “All will be well,” she said, her voice choking on her tears. “Maman used to say, ‘there is good in everything if you look hard enough.’ Good will come of this, you’ll see.”

  Hannah visibly tried to brighten. Voices led them
to the study. Alicia paused at the threshold. Robert stood at the sideboard table wearing a black superfine. He glowered at her soon-to-be-husband, whose masked face allowed him perfect neutrality regarding his thoughts. Robert tossed back what appeared to be the latest of many drinks and shot another red-eyed glare at Lord Amesbury.

  “I assure you, young Mr. Palmer,” her betrothed said in measured, muffled tones, “I have no intention of mistreating her in any way. I was raised with the belief that a man should treat his wife with dignity, respect, and kindness. It is a philosophy I embrace.”

  Robert poured another drink and gulped it down.

  Uncle Willard intervened. “We don’t mean to be ungrateful. And thank you for your advance, my lord. Things have been much more comfortable.”

  The masked head inclined. “I’m happy to have been of assistance.”

  “Those were all the papers to sign, then?” Willard asked. “Everything is settled?”

  “All but the wedding, Mr. Palmer.” A hint of humor laced the baron’s voice.

  Uncle Willard noticed Alicia and Hannah then. “Ah! Well, you turned out all right after all, eh?”

  Robert looked up and offered a sickly smile, his eyes bloodshot and tortured. “I have never seen a more beautiful bride.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, his breath so strong with drink that Alicia’s eyes watered.

  Poor Robert, who would take care of him now? At least they could afford to have a full staff of servants again. She hoped one of them would look after her cousin, who seemed bent on drinking himself to death.

  The baron limped to her, leaning on his cane. Alicia stood unflinching before him. “Stunning, my dear. The gown suits you well. May it be the first of many.”

  He was dressed in the same manner as before, with a large billowing cloak, loose mask, and kidskin gloves.

  He took her hand and pressed it to his mouth, protected by his mask. “Any man would be pleased to have a beauty such as you by his side.”

  Alicia could not look at that featureless black head. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered, unable to find her voice.

  He tucked her hand into his arm and led them outside. The shiny waiting coach was embellished with carvings and a family crest. Four matched black horses stood as if at attention, and an immaculately liveried footman waited at the door.

  They all climbed in and seated themselves wordlessly on red velvet cushions that matched the curtains at the windows. She had never ridden in a more luxurious coach in her life. It traveled smoothly over the rain-rutted road and through the cobblestone streets of town.

  Outside the church, they stopped. The baron helped her out and led her to the stairs of the church. At the bottom step, she paused, her heart pounding like a wild bird flinging against the bars of its cage.

  Who was this man? What if he proved to be a man like Mr. Braxton, who had tried to force his advances upon her? She would have to allow it. As her husband, he would have the right. Seized by panic, she cast about for avenues of escape, all thoughts of cooperation fleeing.

  “This way.” The baron placed his hand under her elbow. She stumbled along next to him, up the steps to the front door strung with flower garlands.

  Alicia glanced over her shoulder toward her only hope for freedom but the baron, coachman, and footman all remained nearby, preventing an escape. Alicia gulped.

  Inside, the vicar and his wife greeted them. “Lord Amesbury,” they said in turn, their voices hushed.

  Alicia started. Could she ever speak to, or even think of, her husband without images of Cole coming to mind?

  The vicar’s wife turned to her. “I’ll show you where you may touch up first, Miss Palmer.”

  “A moment.” The baron held out his hand, palm up, to Alicia and waited.

  Alicia reluctantly placed her hand in his gloved hand. The others drew back to a respectful distance. Hannah looked pale with fear.

  “Alicia.” He spoke in a gruff, gravelly voice muffled by the mask. “You still have a choice in this. It’s not too late. Do you wish to go through with this marriage? I know another who—”

  “I agree to this marriage.” Her voice sounded thin in her own ears. She prayed that he would have gentler hands than the last man who had touched her.

  The cowled head nodded and he stepped back. The vicar’s wife led Alicia, Hannah, and Monique down a corridor until they reached a small dressing room. Monique and Hannah fussed over her, touching up her hair and smoothing her wedding gown.

  They made a small procession as they went into the chapel. Two witnesses stood nearby to legalize the hasty wedding. Dully, Alicia mused that the baron must have important connections to secure a special license so quickly. A few guests arrived, but Alicia suddenly had difficulty seeing.

  She heard little of the ceremony over the pounding of her heart. As she battled tears from forming, she barely found enough voice to repeat her vows. The black monstrosity at her side slipped a wedding band on her icy, shaking fingers. They were pronounced man and wife.

  A condemnation akin to death.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she found it ironic that, although she had rejected Cole Amesbury, she would take the same surname when she married his kin.

  The vicar blessed them and read several verses and they had communion. Then it was over. They signed the papers, her hand trembling so badly she could barely hold the pen.

  The wedding breakfast took place at noon on the church lawn in the shade of a grove of trees, and though the meal looked wonderful, Alicia could not swallow anything. There were toasts, but the guests were subdued, as if unsure how to act around the masked groom. Elizabeth smiled, trying to appear supportive and encouraging, but only managed to look as though she were about to burst into tears. Robert drank grimly. Then the baron rose, thanked their guests in his soft, slightly gravelly voice and bid them farewell.

  Elizabeth hugged her and wished her well, clearly trying to be positive for her sake. “You’re a titled lady now, you know. I’ll write to you every week, Baroness.”

  Alicia nodded and hugged her. Elizabeth’s mother, Mrs. Hancock, drew her into an embrace, whispering words of encouragement and affection. Then Hannah was there, weeping and clinging so desperately that Elizabeth had to take her into her arms. Alicia’s new husband led her away.

  The coach that had brought her here waited in front of a second, smaller one. The baron handed Monique into the smaller coach before escorting Alicia to the larger coach and then climbed in after her. He sat with his right leg extended, as if bending it caused him pain. Alicia glanced at the man in the seat across from her, but quickly looked away. The weight of his steady gaze settled heavily on her. She kept her eyes fixed outside the window, afraid to look at the hulking form in front of her.

  After a moment, he spoke. “We’re going to Northumbria. My home lies northeast of Hadrian’s Wall. Have you ever been there?”

  She shook her head, unable to find her voice. She hadn’t even thought to ask of their destination. She found it difficult to think at all.

  “I hope you like it. It’s a bit isolated, I’m afraid, but it’s beautiful country with rivers and a lake. The gardens are expansive. A number of renowned artists have painted them.”

  “It sounds lovely.” Her voice sounded dull.

  “Have you any desire to travel?”

  She drew a breath and forced herself to look at him. He was her husband. He deserved her courtesy. “I’d like to go to France someday. My mother was French.”

  “I’ve spent time there. It’s worth seeing. If you wish to go there, we shall.”

  She attempted a smile. “You’re very kind, my lord.”

  The carriage went over a bump and Alicia shifted in her seat. The silence grew uncomfortable.

  “Tell me about your family, Alicia.”

  “What do you wish to know, my lord?”

  “Whatever you wish to tell me.”

  She glanced at the masked face, but its featureless appearance unnerved h
er too greatly and she looked back out the window. “It is my understanding that most men wish for a silent, obedient wife.”

  “We are going to spend the rest of our lives together. Perhaps we should learn a little of each other?” There was a chuckle in his voice.

  She gulped. The rest of our lives rang with an ominous tone. She dropped her eyes and tried to think of something to say.

  He came to her rescue. “What was your mother like?”

  She paused.

  “I saw the portrait in your home the day we met in person,” he prompted. “You bear a strong resemblance. Were you close?”

  “Yes, we were very close.”

  He waited.

  She took a breath but continued looking out of the window. “Maman had a gentle quality about her that made everyone love her. Papá would do anything for her. We all would. I even learned to play the pianoforte because it pleased her, although I have no talent for it. Later I learned to enjoy it. She was also an excellent horsewoman.”

  They left town and headed down the highway, where trees met overhead in a great canopy.

  “My parents are both gone,” he said, “but I have two elder sisters. Perhaps you will meet them some day.”

  Somehow, the thought of the inhuman shape across from her having sisters seemed too absurd to be true. A headache pounded between her eyes.

  The coach turned off the highway and followed a smaller road. They fell silent as the coach rode smoothly over the rutted road. Visions of living with a monster swam before her eyes and she called upon all her courage to prevent herself from opening the door and throwing herself out of the moving carriage.

  Before nightfall, they stopped in front of a quaint inn. Her husband slowly and cautiously exited the carriage. Once outside, he held a gloved hand out to her. She barely touched it as she climbed down. Once on her feet, she swayed in dizziness. He tried to put a steadying arm around her, but she shrank from him.

  The innkeeper ushered them inside to a snug parlor where a meal with tempting smells waited for them. After only a few bites, a knot in her stomach made eating anything further impossible. She glanced at the stranger across the table from her. He sat silently, not touching any food. Though tempted to ask him his reason, she remained silent. Perhaps he did not eat in front of her because of the mask. Perhaps he was anxious for the wedding night.