The Bad Luck Bride

by Janna MacGregor

  Claire straightened her shoulders for courage, then raised her hand to knock on the study door. When her fist made contact with the heavy wood, it opened slightly. Crystal clear, the conversation floated in the air.

  “Pembrooke, you’re besotted. I’d even go so far as to say you’re in love with her.” Somerton’s laughter rang out with a deep rumble. “All you did tonight was scowl at Camden or me anytime we said a word, let alone when we tried to engage her in a conversation. I’m afraid the good doctor will have nothing but trouble if he ever has to attend your wife.”

  Elation calmed the sting of their earlier discord. Everything she could have hoped, everything she had wanted—a husband in love with her—was right before her. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but nothing could pry her away.

  “Don’t torture me. That’s enough.” Alex’s distinctive, arrogant drawl had turned into a snarl that resonated through the hallway.

  “All right. I thought to get your mind off the matter. Obviously, I failed.” Somerton’s tone turned somber. “You can’t challenge him. It’ll leave Alice and the rest of your family exposed to gossip.”

  “What other option is there? The boy stood in front of me and asked to marry Alice. I could tell by the look on his face, he was the father.” Alex’s voice had deepened to a low rumble. “He’d been a stable boy at the village inn, but he was constantly here at Pemhill. I’d see them together, but it was all so innocent. They would play with the barn kittens, or he’d work in the stables. I thought he was trying to find employment here. By all that’s holy, how could I have made such a mistake?”

  Somerton’s voice grew gruff. “Have you told her the truth?”

  Alex sighed loudly enough that Claire could hear it through the opening in the door. “I’m not certain I would recognize the truth, let alone confess it. After the confrontation with that boy yesterday, I haven’t been able to see a clear way out of this mess I’ve created.”

  Somerton continued in a milder tone. “Clear the air and tell her everything. That’s the only way to ensure your marriage has a chance. The rest will come later.”

  A faint thread of dread started to unravel deep inside as she struggled to understand.

  Alex continued in a tone of misery, one she’d never heard before. “How do I tell Claire I married her to avenge Alice? How do I tell her that everything I once valued in myself is a lie? Or that she was an innocent victim as I laid the trap, made the bet, and won? I won’t divorce her, even if he spreads rumors they were lovers. Legal separation is an avenue I don’t want to consider. Once I go to London and confess my sins to Lord Paul, I may never return.” Alex paused, then his voice rumbled, “Why did Alice write not to blame him?”

  Claire couldn’t catch her breath for an eternity. Her body felt hollow, as if someone had carved out the pieces, leaving an empty shell. It took every ounce of strength not to fall or stumble to the floor. She had to see Alex’s face. With a deep breath, she wiped her face, then entered the room.

  It took a moment, but Somerton was the first to notice her presence. “My lady.”

  When Alex turned, his face held a look of disbelief. A tumble of confused thoughts assailed her, but she pushed them away. Her earlier dread had woven tentacles through every part of her body.

  “Tell me.” The silence between them grew tight with tension. Icy fear flowed into her gut.

  “Claire…” Alex closed his eyes as if in prayer.

  Somerton began to walk toward the door. “I’ll retire for the evening.”

  Claire raised her hand to halt the earl’s exit. Somerton stopped abruptly and avoided her eyes. Guilt washed across his face—he knew every ghastly detail. “No. If he won’t tell me, you shall.” She turned her attention to Alex. “You married me to avenge Alice? Now you’re considering divorce or legal separation?”

  He came toward her and reached to take her by the arm, but she stepped away. The pieces fell into the puzzle as if an invisible hand guided them.

  “Claire, let’s discuss this when it’s just you and me.” His tone was terse, as if the simple demand would make her stop.

  “No. I want to hear it now.” A soft gasp of despair escaped her lips. “You must have loved Alice greatly if you married me.”

  Alex’s gray eyes showed a tormented dullness. He took a deep breath and finally answered, “Claire, don’t do this.”

  Her heart stopped and skipped beats as if playing a game of Scotch-hopper. She fought against the pain until she trusted her voice not to break. “Lady Anthony’s ball makes sense. How did I not realize this was about Lord Paul? He was the one you spoke of the other night.” A bitter laugh emerged to hide the sting piercing every inch of her body. “You wanted whoever he promised to marry. It didn’t make any difference to you. I could have been a ‘duke’s daughter, niece, or laundry maid.’” She threw his words the night of the Lady Anthony’s ball back in accusation.

  She walked around the two men and went to the side table that held the decanter of her family’s whisky. She poured two fingers of the amber liquid into the crystal glass and downed it in one gulp. The fiery spirit slid down her throat and gave her the fortitude to continue. Claire waited for what seemed like hours for Alex’s answer. She would force his hand. “Lord Somerton, what did my husband share with you?”

  The earl shook his head. “Lady Pembrooke, I apologize for intruding on a private matter between the two of you.”

  Their tandem silence transformed her earlier hurt into a fury that would have rivaled the rage of the goddess Lyssa. “Obviously, it’s not private if you know the details.” Claire twisted to face Alex. “Who else knows?” Her clipped words were brusque. “You used that damned curse to trick me into marrying you. Were Honeycutt and his sister part of your plan?”

  “No.” Alex’s voice grew in volume. “We both were caught in circumstances beyond our control.” He crossed the space between them in three strides. “I would never have allowed you to face that scandal alone.” He whispered, “Claire, you must know that about me by now. I was trying to protect you.”

  When she stepped out of his reach, Alex dropped his hands to his sides. His face clouded with an unease she’d only ever seen last night. She swallowed, and her mouth tasted vile, as if she’d eaten his confession. Everything she’d come to love and cherish at Pemhill had been stripped from her.

  “You didn’t protect me.” Her breath caught as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. She struggled to control the panic. It didn’t stop the truth from assaulting her. “You were the one that placed that ugly bet at White’s. The initials L.P. stood for Lord Pembrooke, didn’t it?”

  Alex stared at her and offered no answer.

  Could the truth be that rancid? Claire’s mind traced the sequence of events leading to their marriage. The night of Lady Hampton’s party, Alex knew she wanted to wait to marry him. The bet at White’s had forced her into a corner. She was desperate to protect her family, and Alex took full advantage.

  “My lord, you are more contemptible than the ton members that used the curse against me for their own pleasure.” She was surprised at the even tones of her voice as her body trembled over the indignity she faced tonight. “They used me as a ridiculous caricature of misbegotten luck. A joke, someone to laugh at.” She curled her lips in a sneer worthy of a lioness. “You put McCalpin’s and William’s lives at risk. For what? Me? You used me as a weapon of hate and didn’t have the honor or the courage to tell me so.” She drew herself to her full height and walked out of the room.

  Only when she shut the door behind her did her heart unravel with pain. What a fool to listen to the silly lies she had told herself. How had she not seen this? Alex immediately had stepped into her life to stop her from marrying Lord Paul. It had been a clear warning to proceed with caution, but she had allowed herself to believe in him and the promised fairy tale.

  If love was not the basis for marriage, esteem and interest in one’s spouse could hold a couple together. At least she ha
d his interest. She was his first choice for retribution.

  Claire stopped abruptly in the upstairs hallway and forced herself to remain calm. She would not allow his manipulations anymore. It would be hell, but she would face the ton and hear the latest rumors. Only then could she determine the extent of the damage to her reputation if Lord Paul spread the tale that she was his lover.

  She’d go to her family in London—they’d protect her. She was a Cavensham. She would survive this. After tonight, she was finished with the curse, the lies, and the revenge. She would live her life the way she had always wanted. If it meant she’d forgo a husband and her own family, then so be it. She’d find happiness and an avenue to fulfill her dreams another way.

  Upon reaching her chamber, she called for Aileen. The wheels turned in her mind as she decided when they would leave. She’d take Charles, since the lad had shown great loyalty. At all costs, she’d avoid Alex and Somerton. She wouldn’t waste her time with either of them. Without hesitation, Claire locked the connecting door between their chambers.

  If he came to her tonight, she could not withstand the pain. Alex had disclosed enough in the study that she understood his wounds were deep, too deep for her to accept. She choked on a sob, and her heart broke from the weight of the truth. She could have been anyone. Alex only married her because she had been engaged to Lord Paul.

  When Aileen entered, Claire gave detailed directions for the tasks to accomplish before the morning. She would be in London by tomorrow night.

  * * *

  Somerton cleared his throat. “Pembrooke, I apologize.”

  “It’s my fault. You tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen.” Dejected, Alex stood frozen in his study. Should he go to Claire and try to explain? Why would she listen? The devastation followed by disgust on her face haunted him.

  “I’ll need a second if he challenges me. Will you—” He cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the heaviness in his chest.

  “Of course. Do you think it’ll come to that? I can’t see Lord Paul wanting to proceed with a duel. He’ll soon be his father’s heir.”

  “If I were him and I’d lost Claire to another man? There would be no question. Excuse me. I should talk to my wife.”

  “Tell her everything,” Somerton called out as Alex left.

  Somerton’s words grated on his nerves, as every last one was the truth. He should have told her everything before they married. She had a right to know what he was up to and why. For the life of him, he had no idea why he hadn’t been able to answer any of her questions.

  The doubt in her eyes had struck him speechless. He’d failed her just as he’d failed Alice. She didn’t want anything to do with him, which was the exact opposite of how he felt.

  Besides reeling from the truth of Alice’s death, he had suffered wretched jealousy this evening. His feelings for Claire were powerful and bewildering at the same time. When she left his study after last night, it took every ounce of will not to go after her and give comfort. At dinner, it took every bit of restraint not to punch Camden and tackle Somerton. They made her smile, and her eyes glowed with good humor. He wanted that power alone, not other men. He wanted those enchanting green eyes focused on him and only him.

  In that singular moment when he’d looked down the table, all of his invidious envy had been honed to a sharp point against his best friend and a young country doctor. He personally had invited the men into his home and had then treated them abominably. He was worse off than he thought.

  How could such an honorable goal result in such a horrid result? His wife was hurt and wounded because of his actions. His efforts to shield her from any harm had failed miserably. At every turn, he made mistakes when it came to caring for her. He didn’t even recognize who he was at this point anymore.

  He needed to take Claire into his arms. He needed her to understand and forgive him. He needed this guilt to be gone. All thoughts tangled, and his mind throbbed with pain.

  He raced to her chambers two steps at a time. He knocked four times without an answer. “Claire?” Only silence welcomed him. When he twisted the handle, nothing budged. For a moment, he debated whether to knock the door down. No. It would be a selfish, barbaric act that would simply frighten her. He’d find her in the morning and talk through everything. Maybe with a good night’s rest, they could both face this conversation with calmer heads.

  The thought of sleeping alone held little appeal anymore.

  * * *

  The next day, Alex entered the breakfast room. Claire was nowhere in the house. Somerton was unusually quiet.

  “Have you seen her?” Desperation leaked from his voice.

  Somerton shook his head, but the look in his eyes was clear. He pitied him.

  After he filled his plate, Alex sat down and commenced eating. He needed sustenance before he continued his search. Next, he’d visit the stable and look for Hermes. If the horse was gone, then she’d taken an early morning ride. He’d comb every square foot of Pemhill until he found her.

  Simms entered and slowly walked toward him. “My lord, this was left on the entry hall table.”

  As if handed a death sentence, Alex hesitated, then accepted a wooden box and an envelope with his name written in Claire’s distinctive hand. It was her stationery with the thistle pattern. She’d used the thistle seal for the wax, even after he’d given her the Marchioness of Pembrooke’s seal.

  With great care not to destroy the wax, Alex opened the letter.

  My lord Marquess,

  I have decided it is best for all if I go to London. I will stay with my family before making long-term plans. I have given instructions to Mrs. Malone as to how to address my leave.

  If you have need of me, please communicate directly with the Duke of Langham’s secretary.

  I truly hope you find peace and comfort in your actions.

  Claire Pembrooke

  Alex reread the letter three times to understand what had transpired in six short hours. He opened the box and discovered the witching ball smashed to pieces.

  “What does it say?” Somerset was brave enough to ask. Simms bowed his head and left the two men to their privacy.

  “She’s gone to London,” Alex replied with barely contained restraint. All he wanted to do was howl his rage at the havoc he had caused.

  Somerton stared at the box. “What is that?”

  “It represents a gift she once gave me.” The pieces symbolized her trust that he stupidly had taken for granted.

  “Pembrooke, I am sorry.” Somerton added in a lower, huskier tone, “You should follow her.”

  “I wanted to get my affairs in order before I made that trip. I thought I’d have time to make amends to her.”

  “I’ll accompany you.” Somerton’s voice carried a hint of sympathy coated with guilt.

  The words died in the room, and the only sound was the scrape of Somerton’s chair on the floor as he stood to leave.

  Alex could not move for at least five minutes as he contemplated the impact of the letter. His inability to confess his actions and tell Claire his true feelings had caused her to leave him.

  What had he done?

  * * *

  By late afternoon, Claire’s naïve dreams of a meaningful marriage had been scattered like flotsam from a wrecked ship. On the road to London, she cursed out loud for believing she had a place in Alex’s life and a home at Pemhill. Alex’s silence about his actions still caused her breath to hitch in protest. Indeed, his acting abilities were extraordinary, as she’d personally evidenced at Lady Hampton’s party and in his bed. Every masterful performance had been designed and executed perfectly.

  At Langham Hall, Claire fell into the sofa in the blue salon. The familiar comfort was absent. The memory of Alex’s proposal in the chair next to her shaded her every thought.

  Aunt Ginny and Uncle Sebastian rushed in together. Her aunt drew her close and kissed both cheeks. “I couldn’t believe it when Pitts said you were here. Let me look at yo
u, darling.”

  Less demonstrative but as heartfelt as his wife’s greeting, her uncle kissed her on one cheek. “Sweetheart, what’s amiss?”

  When it came to family, they could ferret out trouble a mile away. Claire took a deep breath in hopes she would not crumble until she revealed everything. Running back to London was too humbling an experience in and of itself, let alone having to offer a reasonable explanation as to why she’d left her husband of two weeks.

  “Please sit down, both of you. I’ve left him. I’ve left Alex.” She repeated herself more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. “Please, do not stop me, or I will never get through this.” Her throat clenched, but she continued, “Last night Lord Somerton arrived for a short visit. Alex and I had an argument the day before that we hadn’t resolved.” She paused to stop the threat of tears. “As I went to say good night, I heard him confess that the reason he married me was to avenge a wrong done to his family.”

  Aunt Ginny’s eyes widened before she patted Claire’s hand. “Oh, sweetheart, go on.”

  “I asked him to explain his actions. He refused to tell me anything. I got my answer by putting two and two together. The whole marriage was designed as revenge against Lord Paul.”

  Uncle Sebastian set his jaw while his eyes flashed. Her aunt pressed her hand to her heart.

  In a stoic fashion, Claire forced herself to continue. “I’d like to stay for the time being with you. I’ve brought Aileen and a groomsman.” Somehow she managed to get through her recitation without her voice breaking.

  Her uncle’s blue eyes softened. “Don’t ever ask to stay here. Both your aunt and I consider you our daughter. You are always welcome. This is your home.” With a gentle hand, he took her chin and lifted her face. The warmth of his fingers invited her to relax into his touch. A slight turn to the left and right allowed him a proper examination. “Claire, I will see that everything is well. Did he harm you? Hit you? Make you do anything you didn’t want—”