The Bad Luck Bride

by Janna MacGregor

  At the last bit of information, Alex looked up from his paper. “Now, that’s something of interest. When will the books close, today or tomorrow?”

  Somerton leaned back in the chair and shot him a withering glance. His gaze slowly settled on the opened velvet box that sat on the table. “You’re sending her jewelry to ease your guilt?”

  “My grandmother wore it on her wedding day. Lady Claire will look lovely in these.” He inspected the necklace. Such a shame he couldn’t strangle his friend with the strand. “Now you’re an expert on gifts for the bride?”

  The earl’s silence caused every other sound to become louder, more amplified—the maids’ steps in the entry hall, the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the clock ticking every second.

  At last, Alex’s patience broke. “Why are you here?”

  “I want you to cease manipulating others’ lives to get what you want.” Somerton’s voice was stern, with no vestige of sympathy. “For your own sake, you have more important things to do than act as if everyone around you is part of a game for your amusement. You have a chance for a wonderful life with a spectacular woman. Don’t let life’s disappointments give you reason to spoil your current good fortune.”

  “Exactly what are you accusing me of?” Alex lowered his voice. “Be careful. Even though you’re my closest friend, I will not allow you to disparage me, Alice, or my intended. I assure you that my actions for Alice are not a game or an amusement.”

  Somerton shook his head and chuckled in a manner that lacked any real humor. He rose from the table and walked toward the door. “Don’t be absurd. I predict a bad ending. For your sake, I hope you don’t bring everyone else down with you when you fall.”

  “For someone who doesn’t plan to marry, you’re quite sure of yourself regarding matrimony.”

  Somerton didn’t acknowledge the comment. “Don’t fool yourself. You will fall.”

  How well he knew the truth of that statement. Last night he’d been in awe of Claire’s quick strong-mindedness, just as he had been in Lady Anthony’s garden. When he’d reached his residence last night, the truth had hit him square between the eyes. Any postponement was a risk. If he didn’t come up with a solution to stop her from breaking the engagement, Lord Paul’s threat that he’d win her back would come to fruition. The man would pounce upon her break with Alex and try to woo her back.

  Besides, his feelings for Claire were more than just about avenging the wrong done to Alice. He hadn’t expected to care for her so quickly. To put it bluntly, all of this—last night and this morning—was a damned nuisance.

  Alex had left Claire on terms that racked him with shame. He had stained every happy moment they shared because of doubts instilled by Lord Paul’s crude insinuations. He had counted on the Lady Claire Curse and the bet to guarantee Claire’s presence at their wedding. Otherwise, Lord Pembrooke’s Plague might become the newest fodder for the ton.

  Inside, a bitter misery darkened his soul. God, what had he done?

  With his hand on the door, Somerton said, “Pembrooke, take my advice. Consider it an early wedding present.”

  * * *

  For hours, Claire paced while she waited for news of her cousin McCalpin. Uncle Sebastian had dashed to White’s, hoping to discover when Lord Paul had initiated the awful wager.

  The sound of her uncle slamming the carriage door echoed through the entry hall when he returned home. He entered, erupting into curses as colorful as a sailor’s. Maids and underfootmen scattered downstairs to avoid his wrath. Aunt Ginny’s attempts to calm him failed as he declared heads would roll. Claire had never witnessed him angrier or more distraught.

  No one had seen or heard from McCalpin. He had disappeared without leaving word of his whereabouts.

  That night, her aunt confided that Uncle Sebastian had paid an afternoon call on Lord Paul’s father, the Duke of Southart, for any news. Southart had given assurance he’d support Uncle Sebastian in any reprobation necessary. Her uncle had personally searched the gambling hells Lord Paul frequented in hopes the effort would lead him to his son.

  Claire could not give two farthings if McCalpin thrashed Lord Paul. Her cousin outweighed the man by at least two stone. The real danger was a duel.

  There was little else to do but go forward with the wedding as planned. She prayed she was in time to stop McCalpin.

  It was far easier to live with Alex than bear the guilt if her cousin died over her cursed reputation.

  * * *

  With only a few hours of rest, Alex sprang from his large bed and ordered a bath and shave. Jean-Claude had anticipated his request. Everything was ready.

  Whether relieved or nervous, Alex found it difficult to define his mood. He hadn’t received word that Claire had backed out of the wedding. The magnitude of his actions did not escape him. To put it mildly, he was more than hesitant to see how she would greet him on their wedding day. He wouldn’t be shocked if she didn’t make an appearance, after the way they had parted. A sudden stab of emptiness created a hole inside that grew with each second.

  Within the hour, Alex had his entire retinue, formally dressed in full livery, outside Langham Hall, waiting to take him and his new marchioness to Pemhill. He entered the grand house, and the ubiquitous Pitts escorted him into the drawing room. Alex had welcomed the fact that Claire’s family had wanted to make all of the wedding arrangements. The whole affair was neither extravagant nor commonplace, but it had its own charm.

  Arrangements of roses, the color of the rarest Oriental rubies, and white tulips adorned every available surface within the large room. With such a collection, the duchess must have purchased every flower within the city of London yesterday.

  Earlier in the week, Alex had given Jean-Claude and Aileen free rein to plan the wedding apparel for the day. Jean-Claude insisted that a rush order be placed for a formal morning suit of blue silk with navy silk trousers. Alex smoothed his hand down the red waistcoat embroidered with silver thread. His black boots shone with a gloss achieved only by using the very best champagne.

  He turned and glanced at the people in attendance behind him. All were immediate family members or special guests. His mother and Daphne sat in the front row. The delight on their faces welcomed him and sent another stab to his heart. His behavior over the last several days would shame them both if they knew what he had done to secure his bride in marriage.

  Claire’s cousins Lord William and Lady Emma stood next to his family and conversed with Daphne. Alex noted McCalpin’s absence with unease. No doubt the man was still searching for Lord Paul. With any luck, his search would lead him to a dead end. Somehow, his plan had spiraled into a spider’s web, a sticky mess that unintentionally trapped others. If McCalpin was successful in his hunt for Lord Paul and blood was drawn, it would forever haunt Alex.

  Langham appeared by his side with a scowl. “A word before we start.”

  “Your Grace?” Perhaps the duke had discovered the truth about the wager and wanted a quart of blood before the ceremony.

  The duke cleared his throat. “My niece has not had the easiest time of things, the loss of her parents and others.” His mouth turned grim as his brow furrowed. He stood with his back to the crowd to block their view of the conversation. “Someone questioned the residents of Hailey’s Hope about Claire for an article. I’ve hired an investigator to discover who he is and what he plans to print.”

  Alex tried to swallow the lump that had charged up his throat at the duke’s words. “Any luck?”

  “None. It’s like the fellow disappeared into thin air. Your idea to leave for Pemhill is sound. It’ll keep her away from the predators for a while.”

  “She’s strong in the face of adversity, Your Grace.”

  “She has an undeniable fortitude, and she has her weaknesses too. Just like we all do.” The duke clenched his hand in a fist. “She’s carrying her mother’s Bible, and her dress is decorated with her mother’s plaid. It’s exactly what her mother wore when
she married my brother. It’s Claire’s way of remembering.” The duke’s gaze narrowed. “Do you understand?”

  Alex regarded the duke as he contemplated his answer. He had no earthly idea what the duke was trying to relay.

  “She hasn’t visited Wrenwood since her parents died. Take that into consideration when you arrive at Pemhill.” Langham looked toward his duchess and nodded before he turned back to Alex. “Privilege is one thing, but happiness is another. Claire’s precious to us. Take care of her.”

  “I promise I’ll see to her every need.” Alex forced himself to hold the duke’s gaze. “She’s under my protection now.”

  The sliver of concern in the duke’s glare turned serious. “These last two days with that damnable curse and the bet at White’s … she’s exhausted. If anything arises, send word.”

  Alex steeled himself against any show of emotion as guilt colored his enjoyment of the day. His actions to force Claire into this marriage had had the unintended consequence of harming her.

  Somerton decided to stand beside him at that moment. With a nod to the duke, he said, “Your Grace.”

  His friend’s anger was still apparent, but the commitment to stand by his side meant more than words could express.

  Langham straightened his jacket, then tugged his lace cuffs. “Gentlemen, I must see to the bride.” He turned and left the room.

  “I need your assistance.” Alex kept his voice low.

  Somerton bowed his head as if trying to hear the words. “I’ve been trying to help, but you’re too damned pigheaded to realize that.”

  Alex ignored the slur. “After the register is signed, go to White’s and announce the marriage. See if there’s any word on McCalpin’s whereabouts. Send word to Simms. He’s on his way to Pemhill and will know what to do.”

  “On one condition.” Somerton leveled a glare designed to peel Alex alive. “You tell her everything when you reach Pemhill.”

  Alex nodded once. With his friend’s help, there was a chance word would reach McCalpin and disaster circumvented. It was almost over, and relief started to swell inside his chest. In moments, Claire would be his wife.

  Alex had not attended many weddings and couldn’t recall the details of those he had graced with his presence. The majority were nothing more than trumped-up excuses to get foxed and stupid. However, he’d never forget this day.

  For a moment he forgot to breathe when he caught the first glimpse of Claire, her alabaster skin glowing. Langham escorted her. She wore a silver-and-ivory gown adorned with real red roses on the hem and neckline. She was a vision, the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Reverence swiftly replaced his earlier unease and threatened to burst through as his eyes watered. He bent his head to gain control. When he looked up, he concentrated on Claire’s dress. She wore her mother’s plaid tied around her waist, the navy and red colors bold against the ivory and silver. She carried no bouquet but held a Bible in her hands.

  On her neck, she wore his gift of pearls, which heightened the delicate creamy color of her skin. He had counted on the gesture to soften her feelings for the day, but more important, to soften her feelings for him.

  As Claire came nearer, Alex studied her carefully. She kept her head bowed until her uncle gave her hand to him. Only then did Claire raise her eyes and kiss her uncle. She murmured, “I love you. I’m the person I am today because of you.”

  When she turned to him, he knew, down to the marrow of every last bone, an undeniable sense of happiness. With the first glimpse of her face, remorse banished his sense of awe. The full effect of the last two days had taken its toll. Fatigue had settled into blue circles under the hollows of her eyes. Her body swayed slightly, as if exhaustion and weariness would soon overtake her. Reserved, she placed her gloved hand in his and faced the Bishop of Elan, a distant cousin of her aunt who had agreed to perform the ceremony.

  Alex squeezed her hand as the Lord Bishop began. He waited for Claire to return the gesture, with little success. The chill from her demeanor could frost the entire kingdom.

  When it came time to say his vows, he recited his with a strong, deep timbre and watched her profile. She tensed, and her cheeks flushed. Claire didn’t bestow a single glance in his direction through the entire ceremony. When she said her vows, the whispered words flowed in a rigid cadence, as if she were trying to hold in her outrage.

  When directed, he slipped a plain gold band on her finger. The end of the ceremony came with the announcement they were man and wife. Alex turned and waited for their first kiss as a married couple.

  “Claire, we need to kiss.” With his whisper, Claire turned and allowed his lips to touch hers. Only he knew her response was, at best, tepid.

  As the cheers rang out, Claire addressed him without a hint of a smile. “I want to be gone within the hour.”

  * * *

  Alex congratulated himself. They had married. He and his bride greeted their well-wishers, and with remarkable little effort, he shoved Lord Paul and revenge out of his thoughts. He focused on Claire and their trip to Pemhill.

  After they signed the marriage register, Claire darted upstairs to change. Within ten minutes, she appeared in a riding habit. The jacket was a coarse ivory material in the military style currently at the height of fashion. Frog tabs from the same tartan plaid she had worn at the wedding lined the jacket front, while the dress flowed with an endless drape of cloth to allow for modesty when riding. Unless she was preparing for a hunt with obstacles and jumps, it was a peculiar choice to wear on one’s wedding day. Alex had never considered his knowledge of fashion reliable, as he left that chore to his valet, but even he knew she would have been more comfortable in a traveling gown and coat.

  He made his way outside of Langham Hall. When he breathed in the cool morning air, exuberance replaced his misgivings. It was time to take Claire home. He’d already sent the majority of his baggage and extras to Pemhill with Simms, who had traveled ahead with a couple of others from his London staff. Only Jean-Claude remained behind to assist him. Thinking Claire would have only Aileen, he was not prepared for the spectacle before him.

  Claire had her own carriage, which contained her maid, as well as a curricle and two vocal, massive horses restless to start the journey. The groomsmen assigned to tend the beasts had a hard time controlling the animals.

  After saying his farewells to both families, Alex waited for Claire at the Pembrooke carriage. She kissed Daphne and took his mother in her embrace. Pure pleasure illuminated his mother’s face as Claire addressed her. She then moved to her own family. First, she hugged and kissed her aunt. Then Langham clasped both of her cheeks in his hands and kissed her forehead. Claire said something that made him laugh. On tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. Finally, she reached Alex’s side.

  “Are you ready, Lady Pembrooke?” He smiled to relieve the tension between them.

  Claire walked past his outstretched hand and climbed into the carriage without a glance, her back straight. Alex lifted his eyebrows. He felt his lips twitch, but he suppressed the grin. Whether she liked it or not, he’d have her undivided attention for the next nine hours as they made their way home.

  As the coach and horses ambled through town, Claire would periodically lean to the side before she’d jerk awake. She appeared to startle herself each time. With a straight posture, she’d swallow, then rearrange her riding habit. Her eyes would drift closed again, and the pattern would repeat itself.

  Alex sat across from her until he could take no more. He’d not see her suffer. With one quick move, he sat beside her. She never uttered a word. He doubted she had the capacity for speech at this point. She leaned against him, and he cradled her in his arms. As her lean immediately turned into a slump, Alex rested one leg parallel against the seat and used the other as an anchor on the floor. With a gentle nudge, he moved into a position where her bottom was nestled between his legs and her back rested against his chest.

  “That’s better now, don’t
you think?” He sat braced against the side of the carriage and held his new wife in his arms. “Claire?”

  She mumbled something and succumbed to the gentle swaying of the carriage.

  Every couple of miles, Alex looked to see how she fared. She was perfectly still in his lap, warm and soft. He continued to hold her as the carriage rumbled toward his countryseat. He corrected himself—their countryseat. When he pressed his lips to the top of her head, her bergamot scent rose to meet him.

  She didn’t move for several hours. Looking out the carriage window, he took note that they made excellent time, considering the entourage that followed.

  With Claire in his arms, contentment set up residence in his thoughts. She’d make an excellent marchioness with her decorum and lineage. Outside of her opposition to him and his worries about her past, he had made a good match. Others, namely Somerton, might think the success of his marriage highly doubtful, but the closer they traveled to Pemhill, the stronger his confidence grew. Whatever misgivings Claire brought with her, his efforts over the next several days would wrest away her concerns. He owed it to her to make up for his abysmal behavior. He relaxed and closed his eyes for the last leg of the journey.

  The coachman’s call to slow the team of six woke Alex. Claire continued her deep slumber but had shifted position. Her hand rested against his heart. They’d arrived at the last coaching inn to change horses.

  The cramp in his leg demanded a stretch, but he ignored it. He would not disturb his wife just to take a short walk around the inn’s courtyard. Within an hour or little more, they’d be home.

  A brisk knock sounded on the carriage door.

  “Enter,” he said. A quick glance reassured him that the noise had not disturbed Claire.

  Aileen opened the door. “My lord, Lady Pembrooke asked I attend her when we arrived at the final stop.” She looked at her mistress, and an affectionate smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Has she slept the entire way?”