‘There is no point in continuing here. Your father knows about our agreement, and Miss Randall is to marry Mr Redding. I am so grateful to you…’
‘I don’t want your gratitude,’ he interrupted her. He turned to look at her, a dark look on his face. ‘Nor do I care about Miss Randall’s nuptials.’
‘What do you want?’ she whispered.
He rose from the chair, staggering a little. Alarmed for him, she caught his arm. He shook her off and before she could think, caught her to him, his good arm pulling her tight against him. He looked down into her face, his eyes no longer indifferent, but dark with passion. ‘This is what I want.’
His lips crushed hers in a fierce kiss, surprisingly masterful for a man who was still convalescing. Not wanting to struggle for fear of doing him further injury, Rosalyn decided she had no choice but to yield to his embrace.
He didn’t let her go until a slight sound made them pull apart. He lifted his head, and they both turned towards the door.
Eversleigh stood there, eyeing them with an unreadable expression. ‘I would not interrupt you longer than necessary. I take it, however, you have no objections if your wedding takes place tomorrow.’
Rosalyn felt the colour drain from her face. She stole a glance at Michael, who had turned to stone. Then an odd smile touched his mouth. ‘But I do, sir. If you will excuse me, Rosalyn, I would like to speak to my father alone.’
‘Yes.’ In a daze, she left the room.
Michael watched her go, then turned to his father. ‘This is impossible.’
The Duke walked over to the chair. ‘I suggest you sit down before you faint. Then you may tell me why. After the embrace I just witnessed, I could be forgiven for assuming the matter has been settled.’
Michael flushed, and sat down. ‘Hardly. I told her after the damnable ball she must marry me in order to save her reputation and mine. She probably would have looked more delighted if I’d informed her she’d be facing a firing squad.’
‘Your usual address seems to have been somewhat lacking,’ Eversleigh said. ‘However, I trust you will remedy the matter after you are married.’
‘We are not going to be married.’
‘I am loathe to contradict you, but you will be. You are quite correct in attempting to save your reputation, particularly if you persist in kissing her in your bedchamber or in private rooms at balls.’
‘I promise to stay away from her. She wishes to leave for Meryton at any rate.’ He ran an agitated hand through his hair as he saw his father’s imperturbable expression. ‘It’s impossible! I won’t have her coerced. I know how persuasive you can be.’
The Duke raised thin brows. ‘I have no intention of coercing her. She will not be unwilling, I think. I am correct in assuming you love her?’
‘I love her more than anything. Too much to force her into marriage.’
‘The wedding will be small. Family and a few friends. I suggest you rest.’
Michael rose, agitated. ‘I must talk to Rosalyn. I must make certain this is what she wishes.’
His father moved to the door and paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. ‘You may speak with her tomorrow. There will be time enough to settle your concerns after you are wed.’ He closed the door firmly behind him.
Michael sank down into his chair and buried his head in his hands. She should have made her escape while he was unconscious. Once his father decided on a course of action there was no thwarting him. Michael only prayed she did not hate him too much.
Tension filled him. Not so much with worry that there would be a wedding tomorrow, but from fear there would not.
Rosalyn sat on a sofa in the library, her gaze fixed on a statue of Shakespeare. She started when she heard soft footsteps, and turned to see Lady Spence enter the room.
Lady Spence smiled down at Rosalyn, then seated herself next to her. Her eyes held sympathy. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I fear my brother can be somewhat overwhelming when he has his mind made up.’
‘He…he wishes us to be married tomorrow,’ Rosalyn whispered.
‘I know. I will admit it is rather sudden, but I do think it is for the best.’ She touched Rosalyn’s hand. ‘Michael loves you very much, you know.’
‘He…he has never said anything.’
‘Perhaps he is not certain of your feelings. He worries about forcing you into a marriage you don’t want.’ Her gaze was direct. ‘If you are certain you don’t wish to marry him, if you can say you do not love him, then I will put a halt to the wedding.’
‘No, I…I cannot say that,’ Rosalyn whispered. ‘But surely the Duke told you. We never meant to marry.’
‘I had already guessed that, even before Alistair confirmed it. My dear, I know this is not what either of you had planned. But sometimes fate plays us a much different hand than we expect. We cannot control everything, even the events we set in motion ourselves. You and Michael will be married. You are meant for each other. I have thought so from the first. Sometimes it is no use trying to run from our lives; you could go on like this and both of you would be unhappy. It will be best to wed tomorrow and start your lives together.’
Further argument seemed futile. In her own quiet way, Lady Spence was as strong as her brother. No wonder Michael had resorted to a false engagement to avoid an unwanted marriage. And when Watkins announced Lady Carlyn, and Rosalyn saw her grandmother bustle in, a pleased and determined look on her face, Rosalyn knew her fate was sealed. Fighting the three of them would be impossible.
And in her heart, she had no desire to do so.
Chapter Nineteen
Annie fastened the tapes of the dove-grey silk wedding dress Rosalyn wore and then bent to arrange the skirts. Lady Spence and Caroline fluttered around her. Her hair was tied in a knot at the top of her head and fell in dark ringlets to her shoulders. Caroline wove a circlet of fragrant lily-of-the-valley through her hair. Lady Spence fastened a strand of pearls around her neck.
Lady Carlyn entered the bedchamber and bustled forward to catch Rosalyn’s hands. ‘How lovely you look! So like your mother, I vow I could cry!’ She kissed Rosalyn’s cheek, her own moist with tears.
She stepped away, pressing a small picture frame into Rosalyn’s hand. Rosalyn saw it was a miniature of her mother as a very young woman. She looked up at her grandmother with misty eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘I only hope you will be as happy as your mother was in her marriage.’
‘Grandmama?’
Lady Carlyn smiled sheepishly through her tears. ‘Well, I could see she was. Anyone could.’
Rosalyn hugged her grandmother, tears springing to her eyes.
And then Caroline was kissing her on the cheek and telling her how beautiful she was and how she looked forward to having her for a sister. Lady Julianna, Michael’s youngest sister, came in and presented her with a bouquet of fragrant pale pink roses to carry and pressed her hand. Finally, Lady Spence pronounced her ready and took her arm.
Michael stood at the front of the drawing room where the guests were assembled, waiting for his bride. Only vaguely aware of the others, his eyes were fixed on the doors. Time seemed to tick by ruthlessly and still Rosalyn did not come. Perhaps she had managed to escape after all, he thought with sick despair.
Finally the doors were flung open, and his sisters and aunt entered, followed by Lady Carlyn and James, and to his great, overwhelming relief, Rosalyn. She was beautiful; her dark hair tied in a loose knot tumbled to her shoulders, the colour of her dress enhanced the pale perfection of her skin. She drifted towards him like one in a trance, and he briefly wondered if they had drugged her.
He took her hand as she joined him in front of the priest—it was ice cold. Her gaze, as she met his own, was bewildered. He wanted to take her in his arms then and there and comfort her, but it would have to wait until after the ceremony.
For Rosalyn, the wedding passed in a dream. The only solid and real thing was Michael, standing pale and still beside her, his arm in a sling under his
morning coat. His hand was warm and firm around hers as the priest began to recite the words of the age-old ceremony. She heard Michael repeat the vows, ‘I, Michael Stephen Elliot…’ and then the priest turned to her. She must have hesitated too long for Michael squeezed her hand. He leaned toward her, ‘Rosalyn, please.’ She saw the vulnerability in his face and snapped out of her inertia to obediently repeat her vows. He slipped the ring on her finger.
And then they were pronounced man and wife. Michael bent over her and his lips were on hers, gentle and comforting.
The guests adjourned to the dining room. On such short notice, Lady Spence, with help from her nieces and Lady Carlyn, had organised an elaborate wedding breakfast. Lady Spence instructed the bridal couple to sit at the centre of one of the long sides of the heavy mahogany table.
Glancing at Michael, Rosalyn thought he appeared unnaturally pale. He had not said much to her, and appeared as shell-shocked as she felt. Had his father caught him in a moment of delirium and told him he was to marry her? The thought was too awful to contemplate.
‘You are not eating, Rosalyn,’ said Michael.
She glanced at his plate, which was as untouched as hers. She could not remember how the food came to be in front of her. ‘Neither are you.’
He grimaced. ‘I find I have little appetite. It is difficult to eat when one is the centre of so much attention. We should have eloped and avoided the fuss.’
She laughed shakily. ‘I don’t think your father would have liked that. Or my grandmother either.’
‘You are quite right. And in my condition I don’t think I could have managed to escape out of the window, unfortunately. It would not be very romantic to have your bridegroom faint on you.’
‘Very unromantic and very inconvenient.’
He leaned towards her. ‘Would you have come with me, Rosalyn?’ he asked softly.
She caught her breath, sudden shyness overtaking her, and looked down at her hands.
‘May I propose a toast to the bride and groom?’ Rosalyn started as Charles’s voice boomed out over the chattering of the guests. He grinned at them, lifting his champagne glass.
Several more speeches followed, expressing wishes for future happiness and congratulations, and then Caroline and Lady Spence were at Rosalyn’s side. Caroline took her hand and whispered they would escort her upstairs. She rose from the table, and Michael stood up.
Lady Spence frowned at him. ‘You had best repair to your chamber. You look as if you are about to collapse. That will hardly do.’
‘I have no intention of collapsing.’ But Rosalyn did not like the white look about his mouth. ‘I would like to speak with my wife in private, if you please.’
‘You may later. After you rest,’ Lady Spence replied firmly.
‘Do not worry. We are not about to spirit her away,’ Caroline told him patting his arm. ‘She also needs to rest.’
‘Of course.’ He fixed Rosalyn with an anxious gaze—almost, she thought in surprise, as if he thought she would vanish.
She gave him a small, reassuring smile, then turned to go with Caroline.
‘Is there anything more you need, my lady? I hope the room is satisfactory’ the housekeeper said, giving Rosalyn an anxious glance. Rosalyn started from her daze, realising she had said nothing since entering the bedchamber.
‘Thank you, it is lovely.’ Some time during the afternoon, her belongings had been moved from the guest chamber she had occupied to the room adjoining the sitting room next to Michael’s chamber. It was a beautiful room, decorated in shades of rose, cream and gold. After the housekeeper departed, she sank down on the four-poster bed hung with rose and cream hangings. Strange to think this was now her home, her room.
Lady Spence knocked and entered. She came to sit next to Rosalyn, touching her hand. ‘You must be exhausted. I shall send your abigail to draw your bath and help you into your nightclothes.’ She smiled gently at Rosalyn. ‘We thought it would be best if you and Michael had some time alone without the others. Particularly since Michael will not be able to travel for a few more days. I know everything has been very confusing for both of you and there has been little time to recover yourselves. Eversleigh and Julianna shall stay with me. If you need anything, you have only to send a servant around.’
‘But Michael…he is still not very well,’ Rosalyn stammered, panicked. How could she stay here with him alone? She had thought at least his family would be here until they could sort through this mess.
‘He will be fine. Just make certain he doesn’t overexert himself and keep him in bed as much as possible. I am certain you’ll have no trouble managing him.’ She arose from the bed and kissed Rosalyn’s cheek. Eversleigh and Julianna entered, and bade her goodbye, and then she was quite alone.
Annie came in to undress Rosalyn and draw her bath. After that she helped Rosalyn into an ivory nightdress and dressing gown.
‘How very pretty,’ said Annie, touching the fine lawn material. She noticed her mistress’s expression. ‘Lady Carlyn gave me the package. She said it was for you to wear tonight.’
‘I see.’ Oh, dear. Why had her grandmother given her such an intimate gift? No, she knew why.
The room felt deserted after Annie left. The ticking of the clock emphasised the awful quiet. She stared out the window and wondered what she should do next. Never had she felt more alone in her life.
She had not seen Michael since the wedding. Did he not wish to see her? Or perhaps he had fallen ill again. As much as she wished she could avoid him, she could not. She must talk to him.
She looked down at the soft folds of her nightclothes and wished she was wearing something more practical, such as a high-necked cotton dress. If she went to his bedchamber dressed like this, he might think she wanted to seduce him. How humiliating! She had no idea what their relationship was to be.
Rosalyn searched through the wardrobe and finally found a large paisley shawl and threw it over her gown. She opened the connecting door and nearly collided with Michael. She gasped.
Michael caught her with his good arm. ‘It is only me. My dear girl, whatever is wrong?’
‘I am sorry. I did not expect to see you there.’ She backed away from him and pulled the shawl more firmly about her shoulders, then folded her arms across her chest. He closed the door behind him and stood with his back to it.
‘Were you by any chance coming to see me?’ he asked. He wore a dressing gown in a rich shade of burgundy. The light from the candles gleamed off his dark hair. He was partially in the shadows, and she could not see the expression on his face.
She felt her knees tremble but tried to keep her voice calm. ‘I must talk to you. It could wait until tomorrow, however. I am certain you must be quite tired. I know I am.’
He advanced towards her, and she backed away. He caught her hand. ‘Come and sit down. I think we should talk now and not put this off any longer.’ He pulled her down beside him on the side of her bed. She clutched the shawl with nervous fingers.
‘There is no need to look so frightened, Rosalyn,’ he said with gentle amusement in his voice. ‘Tell me what’s troubling you.’
‘Michael, I am not certain how this happened. We were not supposed to be married,’ she said faintly.
‘Isn’t it obvious? My father decided we were to be married and we were. I only hope he did not cow you into this.’
‘Oh, no,’ she replied on a slight laugh. ‘Not your father, your aunt. She seemed to consider the matter settled, and I could see no way of arguing with her.’
He brushed the hair back from her face with gentle fingers. ‘We hadn’t a chance between the two of them. They can be thwarted, but one usually needs a little time to plan a strategy. In this case, time was short—and I did not wish to thwart them.’
He caressed her hand, making slow circles around her thumb with a finger. It was very distracting. She pulled her mind back to the subject at hand. ‘But you didn’t wish to be married. You wanted this bargain so you coul
d avoid it.’
‘Yes, caught in my own trap.’ He moved closer to her. ‘But I think I shall like my trap very much as long as I am trapped with you.’ He reached up and slowly slipped the shawl off her shoulders. ‘Must you wear this? If you are cold there are other ways to keep you warm.’
Actually, she was not cold at all—she felt hot and vulnerable. He slowly caressed her cheek, sending little sparks of fire down her spine. ‘Will it really be such a terrible fate to have me for a husband, Rosalyn? I take my vows very seriously. I fully intend to love, honour, and cherish you, to remain faithful to you for the rest of my life.’
‘You wished to marry me?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, more than anything, for a very long time. Perhaps even from the first.’
‘Michael, I…’
He bent and gently kissed her lips. ‘I know you have doubts about marriage. I vow I will not leave you if that is what you fear. I plan to live a long, long time. And I will not desert you in any other way. You will not be alone and left to your own devices. You are my wife and a part of me, as I wish to be a part of you.’
Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Oh, Michael,’ she whispered.
His hand slid the robe off her shoulders. ‘I love you. Do you suppose you could learn to love me more than a little, Rosalyn?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Somehow, she found herself eased against the pillows and Michael stretched out fully beside her. His dressing gown had fallen from his shoulders revealing a dark mat of hair curling on his bare chest. She glanced down and blushed to see he was wearing nothing at all under his robe. Her stomach tightened as he pulled her to him and kissed her with fierce, hungry passion.
Her eyes closed and she moved her hands shyly down his chest, then over his arm. Her lids snapped open when she came in contact with the dressing on his arm. He was not wearing his sling. She had nearly forgotten how weak he still was. ‘Michael, I…what are you doing?’
He raised up on his good arm so he could look at her. His lips curved in a slow smile that made her weak all over. ‘Seducing you, my sweet. We are married, you know. I must perform certain duties as your husband to ensure your happiness. I thought I should start tonight.’ He looked more deeply into her face. ‘What is it? Am I going too fast for you? I promise I will be gentle. I won’t hurt you.’
A Bargain With Fate Page 22