Secret Brides [3] Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

by Valerie Bowman

  A sharp yell sounded from the front of the house. Kate turned to see a smaller group of the mob that had broken apart. The men ran to the side yard, yelling, hissing, throwing things. “There they go!” they yelled, trying to catch the attention of the larger group, but the chaos was such that only a handful of the others heard. James tugged the reins and guided the horse in the opposite direction. They bolted out of the side yard, down the back alley and past the mews. Several of the mob members chased them on foot, but they were soon lost behind them as James and Kate galloped through the cold light-gray morning streets. They took two sharp turns and eventually came to a stop in the back of another fine town house. James swung down quickly and pulled Kate with him, holding her in his strong, warm embrace. He quickly ushered her inside.

  The next hour was a blur. They had arrived at the Marquis of Colton’s town house. Arrangements were made to borrow a coach to travel to James’s country estate.

  Kate sat huddled in a corner on a chair, a bigger blanket wrapped around her. Lily busily treated the cut on Kate’s foot, wrapped a bandage around it, and provided her with a pair of shoes and some stockings. Then she packed Kate a bag, ensuring she had enough warm clothing for the trip, and soothed her with a cup of hot tea.

  “How did they find you?” Lord Colton asked James.

  James’s face was a mask of stone. “I suspect someone must have seen us return from the farm yesterday.”

  Colton nodded grimly.

  Lily’s eyes were filled with tears. “I’m just glad the two of you and all the servants and Themis got out safely, but oh, James, your beautiful house.”

  James didn’t answer. Kate fought the tears that filled the backs of her eyes. James’s hair was mussed, his face darkened with soot, his eyes were red-rimmed. He’d never looked more of a mess. He’d never looked more handsome. She could only imagine the state of his perfect house at present. Oh God, what had she done? Just her mere existence had placed him and his possessions in danger.

  She closed her eyes. She couldn’t think about any of that now. She was safe. James was safe. That’s all that mattered at present.

  Kate finished her tea, and Lily helped her clean up with a warm cloth. Within minutes, Colton’s coach was prepared, and James and Kate were ushered inside with a bundle full of clothing and food to last them for their trip to Hamphill Park.

  The coach door slammed shut, and Lord Colton called to the coachman to be under way. The coach took off at a fast clip, and Kate was jolted back against the velvet cushions. No, this was no dream. She was on her way to James’s country house. They’d been chased out of town by an angry mob.

  * * *

  They rode in silence for the first hour, both too shocked and tired to say much. Kate leaned against the pillow Lily had given her and tried to sleep. But all she could think about was James’s beautiful house, his beautiful life, and how it had been destroyed because of her. The mob knew she’d been staying with him, and his reputation would suffer. If they dug around enough, they might even discover he owned the printing press.

  “Your house,” she finally murmured, her voice cracking.

  “Pardon?” came his reply.

  “Your beautiful, perfect, orderly house, destroyed.” Tears clogged her throat. “Oh, James. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s just a house, Kate.”

  “But you love your house.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Get some rest.”

  She lifted her head from the pillow and met his gaze. “How can I not worry about it? Your life, it’s in chaos now, because of me.”

  James pinned her with a penetrating stare. “Kate, my decision to take you in was just that, my decision. I knew the dangers and the possible consequences.”

  Kate rubbed her eyes with her balled fists. “But you couldn’t have thought this would really happen. The pamphlet cannot be worth it to you.”

  He rested his head against the back of the velvet squabs. “Let me worry about that.”

  She pressed her head to the pillow and forced herself to close her eyes. “I cannot help but think your life would be so much simpler if I had never come into it.”

  His voice was steady, calm, clear. “I’m beginning to think simple isn’t as wonderful as I’d once believed.”

  CHAPTER 21

  James’s country estate was even more splendid than his town house had been. Nestled in a quiet valley in Oxfordshire, the manor was surrounded by trees, ponds, and miles and miles of fertile ground. It was an enormous home on hundreds of acres, encompassing beautiful gardens, trees, a lake, and a park. And the entire thing was every bit as orderly and perfect as the town house had been. More so, if that were possible.

  The interior of the house was absolutely grand, resplendent with priceless antiques, fine fabrics, thick new carpets, and brass finishings. The grand hall displayed an impressive array of portraits of the Medford ancestors. The library contained an enormous assortment of leather-bound tomes all well ordered inside gleaming mahogany shelves. The salons were outfitted in lovely matched wallpapers, luxurious curtains, and the finest furniture. The corridors were all spotless marble, and the foyer itself took Kate’s breath away with its wide, sweeping staircase and dazzling chandelier.

  Upon Kate’s arrival, a nice maid ushered her into a suite of rooms that was no exception to the finery. Her bedchamber was absolutely spectacular, decorated in violet with soft curtains and a comfortable bedspread embroidered with tiny flowers. She soon learned that every morning, a small vase of the little flowers appeared on her bedside table.

  It didn’t take her long to find her favorite room in the house, the music room, where she discovered, to her delight, a grand pianoforte. And with a house as big as this one, she could play as much as she liked in the middle of the night, and she doubted anyone would hear her.

  She took her meals in her bedchamber at first. She knew she was being a terrible coward, hiding from James, but he couldn’t want to see her and be reminded of what she’d done to his life. She didn’t encounter James until they’d been there two days. He came around a corner just as she was about to enter the library. She nearly knocked into him.

  “Pardon me,” she said in a rushed tone, her cheeks heating as soon as she’d realized exactly whom she’d nearly toppled over.

  “No, it was my fault,” James replied. He bowed to her.

  Kate wrung her hands and watched him. Why was it so awkward between them now?

  James cleared his throat. “I trust you’ve been … well. Is your foot healing?”

  She nodded quickly. “Perfectly. Thank you. How have you been?” Ugh. An asinine question. She pinched the inside of her arm for asking it.

  “Busy,” he replied noncommittally.

  “Doing what?” She was obviously committed to the asinine today.

  His stance relaxed a bit. “Making the arrangements for the town house to be rebuilt, for one thing.”

  She wanted to sink through the floor. Of course that’s what he’d been doing. “Did you hear anything? About the damage, I mean?” She twisted her hands together nervously.

  “Yes. I received a letter … from Locke. Apparently the mob dispersed soon after we left. The night watchmen called out the guard to help them control the crowd and the fire was put out as quickly as possible.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “I suppose that’s … good.” Good. What a horribly inadequate word.

  His voice grew sober. “Kate. I don’t want you to worry. I’ve been writing letters to my friends in Parliament and elsewhere.”

  She swallowed. There could only be one reason for him to write such letters. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been holding my breath,” she admitted. “I’ve been so afraid the lord chancellor will insist I return to the Tower.”

  “I’ve been granted permission to allow you to stay in the country … with me. In fact, I was coming to look for you just now, to tell you as much.”

  Kate expelled her breath in a rush. She could
n’t help it. She closed her eyes briefly too. “I’m so relieved.”

  He gave her an encouraging smile. He turned to leave and Kate’s hand shot out of its own accord and grabbed at his sleeve, stopping him.

  He faced her again, his look inquiring. “Yes?”

  She snatched her hand away. “It’s just that … James … I…” She glanced down at her slippers, unable to push the words past the lump in her throat.

  “What is it, Kate?”

  “Do you want me to go … back to the Tower, I mean?” She had no idea how she’d managed the nerve to ask that question but she had to.

  James smiled at her. “You’ve still got a pamphlet to write, do you not?”

  She nodded jerkily and he continued down the hall.

  Kate leaned one hand against the wall after he’d gone. That wasn’t exactly the answer she’d been expecting … or hoping for. True, she’d been worried that the lord chancellor would demand she return to the Tower, but she’d been equally worried that James would want to rid himself of her. The money from the pamphlet couldn’t possibly make up for the destruction of his home. Yes, he’d told her that had been his choice, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty about it.

  If he did want to send her back to the Tower, he hadn’t said so. But he was too much of a gentleman to say it. “You’ve still got a pamphlet to finish,” he’d said. Oh God. She did. No doubt he wanted nothing more than for her to finish writing as quickly as possible and leave.

  Kate let her hand drop from the wall and squared her shoulders. She would do that for him. Finish her work. She might have placed him in danger and destroyed his home, but she would not linger and cause more trouble. No, she would complete the pamphlet as quickly as possible and extricate herself from James’s life. She owed him that much. She didn’t want to think about how sad she would be, returning to the Tower, alone, unhappy. But she was already taking advantage of James’s kindness, and she refused to do so any longer. She just needed to finish her pamphlet and do her story justice.

  * * *

  On her fourth day in the country, Kate stopped outside the door to James’s study, her palms sweaty, her stomach in knots. The country butler had just informed her of Mr. Abernathy’s arrival. Apparently, he and Lord Medford requested her presence in the study. She’d raised her hand to knock but clenched her fist and let it drop to her side again. Fear gripped her. There was no telling what Abernathy would say. By now, perhaps he was convinced that she had murdered George. Perhaps he would even tell James that. Perhaps they were calling her in to accuse her. James would tell her he was sending her back to the Tower posthaste. Living in constant fear had become normal for her. But now, each day brought its own new set of worries. She’d dreamed the last two nights about fire and mobs, being burned at the stake. She’d woken in a sweat, heart pounding, James’s name on her lips. James would save her. Wouldn’t he? He had the last time.

  She closed her eyes briefly and squared her shoulders. She must face whatever the barrister said with courage. Courage. Courage. Courage. She’d repeated the words to herself so many times over the last few weeks they had begun to lose all meaning. She swallowed the lump in her throat and rapped her knuckles against the door.

  “Come in,” James called.

  She pushed open the door and walked inside, shutting the heavy oak portal behind her. A quick scan of both men’s faces told her little. Their countenances were blank. They rose to greet her, however, and Abernathy held out the chair next to his in front of James’s desk.

  “Your grace,” he said, bowing.

  She nodded. “Mr. Abernathy.” She tried to get the words “Good to see you” past her dry lips but they wouldn’t move.

  She dropped into her seat, scanning James’s face. Handsome as usual, but without a hint of what they were to discuss.

  “Very well, Abernathy,” James began in a businesslike voice. “Now that Kate is here, tell us how the investigation is going.”

  Abernathy cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “The case is progressing, my lord.”

  Progressing? That was vague. Kate concentrated on breathing regularly.

  James leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “What exactly have you learned?”

  Abernathy pulled something from his coat pocket. “The runner is investigating everyone, including Lady Bettina and his grace’s valet. Here is his card.” He tossed a small piece of paper on the desktop.

  Kate sat up straight, her gaze shooting to James’s. “Runner?”

  Abernathy nodded. “Yes, Mr. Horton, the Bow Street runner Lord Medford has hired to investigate your case.”

  Kate braced her hand on the arm of her chair. The room felt as if it were twirling. “You hired a runner?”

  James nodded once and returned his stern gaze to Abernathy.

  Abernathy spoke in a measured tone. “Mr. Horton has spoken to the servants multiple times and gone to Lady Bettina’s town house twice. He’s indicated he has some interesting news to share when next we meet. I have an appointment scheduled with him in London on Friday.”

  Kate’s breathing was coming in fast pants now. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest. Interesting news? What did that mean? Friday was far too long to wait.

  “Has there been any information about the grand jury?” she managed to choke out, twisting her skirts in her hands.

  Abernathy regarded her down his long nose over the rims of his ever-present spectacles. “It’s to be convened after the holidays, your grace. Right after the new year, after Twelfth Night.”

  James nodded. “So we have only until then to gather the rest of the evidence and complete the investigation?”

  “Yes, my lord, but Mr. Horton has agreed to work day and night, even over Christmastide if he must. With the amount of money you’ve given him, he—”

  James cleared his throat and gave Mr. Abernathy another stern glare. Abernathy snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat too. “Yes, well, quite right, all of that is neither here nor there.”

  Kate glanced back and forth suspiciously between the two men. James was spending a fortune on her defense? Oh God. The thought made her elated and completely anxious at the same time. She’d had no idea he’d hired a Bow Street runner to investigate. And apparently he hadn’t wanted her to know. He hadn’t mentioned it to her. Perhaps he did believe in her after all. She bit her lip. But what if Mr. Horton didn’t find anything? Or what if after his investigation was complete, he came to the conclusion that she was guilty? She shook her head. “I don’t understand. What exactly does Mr. Horton hope to discover?”

  Mr. Abernathy turned to face her. “Why, the identity of your husband’s murderer, of course.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Themis had been retrieved from the neighbors’ house in London, placed inside a coach, and sent to the country. She was now lying curled up on the floor at Kate’s feet while Kate made her own little comfy spot in the estate library that had become her new workspace. She stared at the scribbled-on pieces of parchment that lay strewn all over her lap and the sofa.

  She’d made a vow, a vow to finish the pamphlet as quickly as possible, and today she was feeling quite proud of herself for she’d made headway. She’d decided to write from the heart. Be honest. Write the truth. And the truth was that while she’d felt hurt, rejected, and scared, while she’d been angry with her husband and unhappy in her marriage, never, never in all of her imaginings had she ever thought about killing him. That was the truth, and she meant to tell it, and the devil take the consequences.

  There was a sharp knock just before the door opened, and Kate glanced up to see James stroll in. Her heart melted. He took her breath away, so clean-shaven and straight-backed. His close-cropped dark hair perfectly in place and an always pleasant look upon his face.

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked, and Kate had the urge to toss her quill and parchment aside and shout, “Absolutely not.”

  “I can come back later,” he conti
nued.

  “No, don’t leave!” The words escaped her lips with a bit more emphasis than she’d intended. How unfortunate. She pinched her arm.

  He moved forward into the room. Themis lifted her head and wagged her tail. James called the dog over to pet her. “You’re writing?” he asked Kate.

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “James, I—”

  He put up a hand. “No need to—”

  She pushed the quill and paper aside. “There is a need. Please let me say what I must say.”

  “Very well.” Still standing, he propped a booted foot on the stool in front of her.

  Kate screwed up the courage that had been flagging ever since the fire. “I’m sorry, James. So sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. I’ve turned your whole life upside down and—”

  “We’ve been over this. There is no need to apologize.”

  “I must,” she said, glancing down at her hands. “I was the one who insisted you take me in. I should have just agreed to write the pamphlet in the Tower, not put you in danger. You offered me money and a venue to tell my story. That should have been enough.”

  “Kate, I cannot blame you for wanting to be free.”

  “I didn’t need to insist upon going to the farm. That was foolish of me. Someone saw us returning. I heard you tell Lord Colton. I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done, hurting you.”

  “Kate, if anyone is at fault here, it’s me. I should have been more aware that afternoon when we returned from the country. It’s my fault you were seen. I agreed to your terms, knowing the danger. The pamphlet is something I wanted, something I asked for. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

  She hung her head. “Yes, but how much money will the pamphlet have to make you to pay for the cost of your ruined town house?”

  “You let me worry about that. I just want to keep you safe.”