The Bad Luck Bride

by Janna MacGregor

  As he walked toward her, Claire expected him to take his chair at the head of the table. When he bent and kissed her on the cheek, she held her breath, especially since Benjamin was witness to the show of affection.

  “Morning, darling,” he whispered. In a louder voice, he directed the under-footman, “I’d like coffee as well.” Benjamin gave a nod and left the room.

  Alex leaned her way, keeping their conversation intimate. “Where did a gently bred lady like you learn to enjoy a brew as foul as black coffee? The truth now, and no tall tales.”

  Claire gave him a half smile. “If I told you the reason I like coffee, you’d think I was much too hoydenish for a duke’s daughter.”

  His face broke into a boyishly affectionate grin. “Oh, now I must hear this story.”

  His smile lifted her mood instantly. She delivered a saucy one in response. “When I was a little girl, my governess would walk me to the stables and return directly to the house. Her daily mission was to flirt with my father’s secretary. She wouldn’t return for hours.”

  “What would you do?” His breath and the fresh scent of peppermint kissed her cheeks.

  “The stable master took pity. After every riding lesson, he’d escort me into his office, where there was always an abundance of fresh-baked biscuits and cakes. He taught me to dunk my biscuits in coffee.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Delicious.”

  Alex leaned even closer. “Go on.”

  “Afterward, he taught me how to care and mend the tack. By the time my governess would return, I’d be covered in filth.”

  A wry but indulgent grin tugged at his lips. “She should have been fired.”

  Claire shook her head, then widened her eyes for a dramatic effect. “Her face would turn the brightest color of purple while she called me a hoyden the entire way back to the nursery. It stands to reason I prefer coffee in the morning.”

  Alex raised one eyebrow in an indignant manner. “You are quite right. You are too much of a hoyden for a duke’s daughter.” They stared at each other and burst out laughing.

  Before Claire could say another word, he grabbed her hand and raised it to his warm lips. “But you’re perfect as a marquess’s wife.”

  His quick gray eyes flashed with an infectious humor. His words, sweet and endearing, caused unexpected warmth to heat her cheeks.

  Benjamin entered with the coffee, and the spell was broken.

  “I see you went riding. Is that part of your morning routine?”

  “Most days when I’m here. Today, a tenant had trouble with one of the granaries for the barley. I rode over to inspect it and gave him my thoughts. I have to return tomorrow. Would you join me? I’ll show you every inch of Pemhill.” He leaned closer and took her hand in his. “Years have passed since you’ve been here. It’s still beautiful. I know I’m biased, but I want you to see and experience all that it offers. I want to share everything with you.” He squeezed her hand and let it linger.

  Delighted, Claire nodded her agreement. “Thank you.”

  Breakfast started in earnest, and conversation flowed with a natural ease about topics ranging from their respective schedules to their preferences for food. Both despised kippers and kidney pie. Who would have thought kippers would be the perfect segue to the obvious topic no one wanted to address?

  “I’d like to talk about yesterday.” The unease running through her thoughts was torture. She’d rather face the rack, but now was the time to discuss her reaction to Wrenwood.

  Alex swallowed his last bite of food. He stood and turned to Benjamin. “Leave us.” He positioned his chair to face hers.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The sound of the heavy door clicking shut dampened all of Claire’s newfound confidence. It became difficult to swallow, let alone speak. She struggled to start the conversation without losing all semblance of control. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to share without sounding like a ninny.

  Taking a breath, she plowed ahead. “I want to thank you for your kindness yesterday at Wrenwood. I was beside myself with grief and … didn’t handle it well. I assure you it won’t become a regular habit.”

  There. She’d said what she needed to say. She’d listen to whatever response was forthcoming and turn the topic back to safer waters. After a few moments, she’d leave and start the day with a ride on Hermes.

  She waited, expecting a simple one-word answer or acknowledgment from Alex. Instead, he took both of her hands in his and bowed his head. He brushed his thumbs over their grasped hands.

  “Claire, I don’t have any experience with what you went through when you were a little girl.” The gentle caress of his fingers against hers was like a soothing balm, encouraging her to stay and share more. “I’m fortunate my mother is still alive, but I lost my father years ago. Our relationship was close, I’d say, for a nobleman and his heir.”

  Her throat tightened with Alex’s unexpected response. The low cadence of his words thrummed through her.

  “When I discovered my father had died, a black hole opened in me that I thought would never heal. I was right. It never closed, but it changed. I’ve changed along with it and have come to accept it. It’s a part of who I am now and will forever be. Alice’s death … is a wound that still hasn’t healed. However, every day the pain lessens. I believe we owe it to our loved ones’ memories to live each day to the fullest. Who we are today is because they touched our lives.”

  Claire didn’t try to mask her grief as she squeezed Alex’s hands in return. His loss was like hers, a heartache she felt every day without her parents. He understood. Her response to her parents’ death was her own, and he accepted her. Always, she had tried to keep her sadness hidden unless it was with her aunt and uncle or the old Langham butler, Mr. Jordon.

  His gentleness was soothing, a gift she’d never forget.

  “Claire, however you choose to honor your parents’ memories is your prerogative.” He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “What I saw yesterday broke my heart. I saw a little girl still trying to gather herself and understand. As your husband, it’s my duty to comfort and protect you. Don’t thank me for that. I want to be more than a husband. Yesterday, I came to you as your friend and more. We still have to define what more means to us. But, as your friend, there was no place else I’d rather have been than with you.”

  Claire sat dumbfounded. Alex was kinder and gentler than she had expected or wanted to admit. She was lost in how to respond. Her confounded hope raised its head again, begging for recognition. Was it possible something meaningful was within their grasp, waiting to be created between them? She dared not dwell on the thought, since she’d been down this road so many times. The destination was always a disappointment.

  Yet here he was, throwing it out as a rope, tempting her to grab it. She wanted to believe it was possible. She wanted to believe he was sincere. “Alex, I don’t know what to say except thank you.”

  His warm gaze held hers before he settled his lips on hers.

  He tasted like the coffee they’d shared, strong and alluring. Without touching him anywhere except for his hands, Claire welcomed his kiss with one of her own. She savored his touch, and more important, she savored the moment. In that speck of time, she blindly decided to take the risk.

  She knew the pitfalls that lay ahead, but, without much protest from her heart, she’d fall in love with her husband.

  Chapter Nine

  After dinner, Alex and Claire retired to the library. He poured himself a finger of whisky. He’d had several perfect days finding comfort in his routine at Pemhill. Each started with sharing breakfast with Claire, a long ride visiting the estate, and afternoons working on his correspondence and estate books. Her presence brought a fresh vibrancy to the estate that diminished the sorrow and regret of the last year.

  The sight of Claire wandering the rows of books pleased him. Every passing hour, she appeared to be more comfortable with him. They’d developed an easy ebb and flow to their r
outine. He would wait as long as it took to gain her trust. It was the least he could do to ensure she felt at home—to make her feel safe.

  “Find anything that catches your interest?”

  “No, I’m curious about what you like to read.” The brilliance in her eyes made his breath catch. Without even knowing the effect she had on him, she returned to browsing the shelves.

  Alex came from behind and bent down low to place his mouth next to her earlobe. With a gentle nudge he whispered, “My lady, I’ll let you in on a secret. This room won’t tell you what you want to know. You’ll have to come to my private place in the study if you want to know the truth. That’s where I keep all my favorite tomes, including the naughty ones.”

  Her scent of bergamot and sandalwood tantalized him. He could stay here for days listening to the rhythm of her words, learning her secrets. Images of them together in bed made his heart pound. He craved her touch, but what they were building between them was too important to risk just for his pleasure.

  He gently bit her ear. “We’ll be lost for days. I’ll show you things you never in your wildest dreams could imagine.” He placed both arms on the bookcase to frame her within his embrace. He kissed her neck and followed with a nip of his teeth. “Would you read with me sometime?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She turned in his arms and wrapped herself around him.

  He wanted to shout in celebration. This was the first time in days she’d wanted to kiss him. He lowered his mouth, desperate to taste her. “We’ll lock the world out and concentrate on us.”

  The thud against the closed doors vibrated with a force equal to a battering ram. Masculine groans accompanied the noise.

  “Stay here.” He had no idea what was happening, but he didn’t want Claire anywhere near the commotion.

  He crossed the room and opened the door. The groomsman, Charles, and a relatively new under-footman named Lloyd rolled on the floor. Blood and sweat dripped across Lloyd’s face. Charles pulled his fist back for another swing. The crushing blow landed on the under-footman’s left eye.

  “You fucking bastard!” Charles grabbed Lloyd by the shirt and started to shake him senseless. “If you ever say she’s cursed again, I’ll kill—”

  “Enough.” Alex hauled the groomsman away by his collar and separated the two men.

  Mrs. Malone and Simms stood dazed as Jean-Claude and Aileen rushed toward them. Charles stared at Lloyd as he wiped the blood from his cut lip.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Alex narrowed his gaze to Charles, who appeared to be the winner of the fight.

  “Just a little disagreement, my lord.” The grin on Charles’s face didn’t reach his eyes. “I believe we’ve come to an understanding, haven’t we, Lloyd?”

  Lloyd’s chest heaved as he tried to capture his breath.

  Alex released Charles, as the two men had clearly lost their desire to continue the fight. “I’ll see you both in my study.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Charles said.

  Lloyd nodded.

  The two servants kept their distance from each other as Simms escorted them to Alex’s study.

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  Alex’s attention snapped to the library door. Claire stood with her hands clasped, her normally pink cheeks pale. The flash of her green eyes was the only hint of her distress.

  Aileen rushed to her side, her shock dissipating. “My lady—”

  Claire held her hand up. Aileen stopped immediately.

  “My lord?” His wife’s voice was calm and cool. “Why were they fighting?”

  Alex exhaled. Just as he had settled down to a nice evening with his wife, that damnable curse and all its trappings ravaged her again. “I’m not certain, my lady.”

  “I believe I’ll retire. Aileen, please assist Mrs. Malone with attending to any injuries.” Claire nodded briskly and straightened her shoulders. Without another word, she headed toward the stairs to the family quarters as if the recent events were an everyday occurrence.

  With a gentle tug on her arm, Alex caught her before she reached the steps. “Sweetheart, it’s probably just some rivalry between the two men.”

  “I’m sure you’re correct.” She continued up the steps without another word.

  He turned on his heels for the study. For upsetting his wife, he would personally thrash them both.

  He swept through the door, and Simms immediately closed it. With a deep breath, Alex rested his fists on the blotting pad of his desk. “Charles, tell me your side of the story.”

  The groomsman swallowed. “I heard him make some nasty comments about … about the marchioness. I didn’t take too kindly to them, and when I told him to stop, he didn’t.”

  “Lloyd,” Alex commanded.

  “You should know he’s awfully fond of your wife, my lord.” The under-footman glared at Charles. “Perhaps too fond. I mentioned the marchioness has a witching ball in her room, and the lout took offense.”

  Alex lifted an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

  Lloyd nodded, but Charles didn’t move.

  “Mrs. Malone and Aileen will see you in the kitchen.” Simms escorted the under-footman out of the room. Alex turned to Charles. “You, stay here.”

  Charles bowed his head. “If you’re going to dismiss—”

  “I’m not going to dismiss anyone.” Alex took the chair behind his desk and nodded for Charles to sit as well. “Are there rumors amongst the staff about the curse?”

  Charles’s face reddened. “A few. I try to nip any such talk as quickly as possible. Lloyd refuses to leave it be.”

  Alex held up his hand. “From now on, you’re assigned to help the marchioness. If I’m not available to escort her, then I want you to attend her. Every time she rides, goes to the village, travels to London, or takes a stroll in the garden, you’ll be with her. No exceptions. I’ll not have that curse nonsense upset her, understand?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Have your face attended to.”

  The door shut. Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. This evening’s drama had unraveled all the progress he’d made with Claire. All he wanted to do was pound his fist through the wall. It could wait until later, as his attention was needed elsewhere.

  He needed to convince his wife there was no curse.

  * * *

  Claire pulled her favorite dressing gown, a dark gold brocade with black ruffles framing the neckline, tight about her waist. A sharp rap on the connecting door was the only warning before Alex stood before her with book in hand.

  Abruptly, he sat in his usual chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Claire, we need to discuss … some things.”

  With all her practice of suffering through the ton’s taunts, it was relatively simple to master a serene expression. Remarkable, as she wanted to throw the witching ball and all it represented from the highest parapet in England. For good measure, she’d like to stomp her feet and scream at how unfair it was that the damn curse had followed her to Pemhill.

  However, she stood and waited with an outward tranquility that defied the turmoil swirling inside of her. She released the breath she’d been holding and blinked her eyes to clear her wayward thoughts.

  “The scuffle between the two men broke out because…” By the last word, his discomfort with the conversation was apparent to both of them.

  “We both know what happened.”

  He rose from the chair and paced the length of the room. Her husband was as agitated as she was over the fight, perhaps even more so.

  “My lord, you can’t stop this. I’ve lived with it for years. Trust me. If there was a solution, I’d have found it by now.” Her ability to say “curse” had surrendered without a whimper. Such a hateful-sounding word. With a quick turn, she fell into the chair at her dressing table and opened a jar of lotion. “Did you let them go?”

  “Is that your wish?” His voice was deceptively composed. “Claire, whatever you want.”

  “No. I’ve not had occasion
to converse with the under-footman. However, Charles is very kind to me. He followed me to Wrenwood.” She raised one brow. “Just between you and me, he wouldn’t make a very good spy.”

  The faint sound of Alex’s chuckle filled the room. “Perhaps not, but he’s very loyal to you. All will be well.”

  “Please, don’t make such promises.” Her body quaked inside, but remarkably she kept a calm outward appearance.

  He strode to the dressing table and took her hand in his. “Come and sit by the fire with me. You’re too far away.”

  Once seated, he brought her hand to his lips for a gentle caress. “It’s tradition the Marquess of Pembrooke celebrates his marriage and shares his good fortune by introducing his marchioness to the tenants.”

  “After this evening, you think that wise?” she quipped. “I’d hate to scare off any of our tenants.”

  “Be serious, you minx.” He still held her hand.

  She squeezed his hand in answer. “Go on.”

  “We’ll deliver baskets of food as we introduce ourselves as married.” He continued, “Let’s spend the day tomorrow in the village and pick up what we need. Mrs. Malone will have the details on the twenty-five families who live on the estate.”

  “That’s a charming tradition. I’d enjoy that very much. When shall we deliver the baskets?”

  “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon or the next day.” He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “I want to show you off to everyone.”

  The brush of his lips against her skin lit a fire that rushed through her. It was getting harder and harder to ignore this need for him. Perhaps tonight she would ask him to stay.

  “I’ll leave you for the evening.” He stood over her. “Will you be able to sleep?”

  “Of course.” She hid her disappointment that he wanted to leave.

  He searched her face. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something.

  “Good night,” he whispered.

  After the door shut, she collapsed in the chair. Of all the nights, this should have been the one where she asked him to stay. Over and over, he’d demonstrated his kindness. What more was she waiting for? The curse was never going away, as evidenced by tonight’s events.