The Bad Luck Bride

by Janna MacGregor

  “I can’t … don’t ask me to share anymore.”

  “I want it all.” He closed the distance between them and pulled her close. His arms bracketed her face, and his chest angled over hers as if to shield her from the horror. “Whenever you’re ready, I want it all.”

  With no other words exchanged, he shifted and brought her back resting against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and they drifted to sleep.

  * * *

  Alex woke with his mind full from last night. As the first light of dawn broke, he felt the same contentment he had experienced at Pemhill. Careful not to wake Claire, he kissed her cheek and dressed. They were destined to be together. She’d welcomed him back into her bed and actually tried to share the horrors of losing her parents. She was starting to trust him again. She’d come home, and he swore he’d make her happy. He’d give her the strength to deal with the grief, and she’d do the same for him.

  “Where are you going?” Claire struggled to sit up in bed.

  “Good morning,” Alex answered with a kiss to her lips. He shrugged his coat over his shoulders but decided to forgo the cloak. No need scaring the household staff this early. “I’m going home to change, then I’ll return. I’ll go through the servants’ entrance. I’ve had enough climbing for one day.”

  “Don’t leave—” Claire’s voice caught as she whispered, “Stay a little longer, please. For me?”

  Her plea was like a string tethered to his focus, and it pulled him back. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to say good-bye. Please, I want…”

  “I’ll be back. I promise.” Alex sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms.

  He could tarry a moment or two, anything to keep her mind off his leaving. “I’ve got a few things on my agenda this afternoon. Estate business, and I’m to meet with my solicitors about Mr. Jordon. What are your plans?”

  As soon as the words escaped, Claire’s body stiffened. Her face changed from longing to an expression that reminded him of a cold brick wall.

  “Mr. Jordon?” Claire backed away to face him from the other side of the bed. The expression of disbelief chiseled on her face said everything. She knew the truth before he could confess it.

  He cursed softly. He should have told her last night. Somerton’s warning to tell Claire everything came back once again to haunt him. “We need to talk. Give me a chance to explain.”

  “How do you know him?”

  Her pointed words stabbed like a stiletto knife straight through his chest. Alex rubbed his neck as the dread detonated. “Before you pass judgment”—he took a deep breath and released it on a sigh—“I had you followed to see who lived in Leyton. I thought … never mind what I thought.”

  “Did you think I was having an affair with someone in Leyton?” Claire spit the accusation out as her eyes burned with the truth. “Oh my God. You thought I met Lord Paul.”

  “No.” Alex reached for her hand and squeezed. “Please, Leyton is important to you. I had to discover why you went there. I met Mr. Jordon. He and I had a wonderful conversation. He told me you send him money in gratitude.” He stumbled with the explanation.

  Her green eyes turned into a murky bog, a black pit he could not navigate.

  “I’m grateful he was by your side all those years ago, and like you, I want to take care of him. I want to take over his annuity … for you.” His explanation sounded thin and hollow even to his own ears. Bloody hell, she had the ability to twist his thoughts into a knot of anarchy. The aloofness and disapproving gleam in her eyes made it apparent his explanation wasn’t passing muster.

  Her long lashes brushed the tops of her cheeks as she smoothed the sheets. “I want to hear it from your own lips. Why were you having me followed to Leyton?” She stood and put on her robe. When she looked at him, her green eyes flashed. He couldn’t tell whether it was from tears, anger, or both.

  He felt like a thief after the tenderness they had shared last night. If he didn’t answer, they’d never move past his mistakes. “Before I met you at Lady Anthony’s ball, I hired a private investigator to discover everything about you.”

  “Before Lady Anthony’s?” Her glare burned through him, then her eyes widened. “You’re the one responsible for Mr. Thornley at Hailey’s Hope?”

  “His name is actually Macalester.”

  “No wonder Uncle Sebastian couldn’t find him. All this time I held my breath, ready for the Midnight Cryer to publish the Lady Claire exposé.” She laughed, but the brittle sound held no humor. “Your investigator asked practically everyone about my curse. You wanted to know about my curse.” Her tone of voice carried an unmistakable accusation: he had betrayed her.

  He took a deep breath and shook his head. He’d not lose her again. “I don’t believe in that bloody curse, and I never have. I wanted every piece of information I could gather before we married. I discovered you had a solicitor in Leyton that received semiannual payments, then I found out you visited Leyton a few days ago to see an old butler. I thought he might provide some answers.”

  “Here’s your answer.” Claire walked to the door. Before she opened it, she addressed him in a low whisper, the unmistakable agony resonant in her alto voice, “You stole the last refuge I had from the curse. Hailey’s Hope never suffered the taint of that ugliness until you…” She cleared her throat. “Until you sent your private investigator. Can you imagine how I felt when I discovered someone was snooping around and asking about the curse at my mother’s charity?” Her voice grew stronger, and she spoke faster the angrier she got. “First, it was the manipulations to make me marry you, then the bet at White’s, now an investigator that taints everything in my life. I won’t live under suspicion, and I won’t live with the lies. I proved how I felt last night. It’s not enough for you. It’s never enough.”

  He tried to grab her hands. “Claire, listen.”

  She stepped out of his reach, and that’s when he saw her tears. “I’ve given as much of myself as I could. My trust, my support, my soul. I don’t know how to make you happy. I don’t think I ever can.”

  His panic started to rise. Alex rushed forward to hold her and make her listen. She opened the door to leave the room before he could stop her.

  “I need—” She closed her eyes as she struggled for control, and her voice echoed her weariness. “I’m tired, Alex. I’m so tired of not being enough. I’m not enough for anyone at this point.”

  “Claire, don’t leave.”

  “It’s best if I visit Lockhart for a while. I need some distance. We’ll have papers drawn up on how to proceed. After the children’s home is established, I’ll arrange to live in Scotland and manage my affairs from there. I’d planned on opening up another facility in Edinburgh anyway.” Claire turned and walked out of her bedroom. She headed toward the stairs.

  Without thought of who might be in the hallway, he rushed after her. The light from the hall lamps made her appear like a sprite about to disappear into thin air. “Claire, don’t do this.”

  She stopped in flight and returned to him. Her eyes searched his face as if to impress every feature, muscle, and line to memory. “Could you not tell how much it all meant to me?”

  Her simple question ripped his insides apart. “I’m your husband. I love you.”

  “It’s not love if you doubt me.” She grimaced and clenched her eyes shut. “God, I was such a fool to share something as private as the night I lost my parents. I allowed you to slip past my defenses. I can’t bear to live under your cloud of constant doubt.”

  He overpowered the rising need to cry out for the pain he’d inflicted upon her and their marriage. He had to convince her to see reason. “Claire, I want to help you.”

  She leaned close and raised her hand to caress his face. “There are things I’m ashamed of, as they define me as a person. But I told you as much as I could. You keep pushing for more, and I can’t give it.” She closed her eyes for a moment.

 
He leaned his face into her hand. He was desperate for her touch but feared he would scare her away if he pulled her into his arms. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’ll still love you.”

  “My secrets…” Claire’s soft voice continued, “Perhaps this is for the best. If we’re apart, the curse can’t touch you.”

  Alex risked raising his hand to return the caress. “There’s no curse. Tell me everything, and I’ll help you. I promise.” The desire—no, the need to touch her soft skin was overpowering.

  She stepped back as if frightened and shook her head. “All I ever wanted in my life was you,” she said. “You were always my dream. I just never got a complete glimpse, never saw your face, until the night at Lady Anthony’s. After last night, I wondered if I could return to Pemhill with you…” She cleared her throat. “Not now.”

  He never remembered begging in his life. Now, he’d sell his soul to the devil if he thought he’d have a chance in hell of keeping her. “I love you.”

  The words died in the hallway after the soft whisper left his mouth.

  She’d disappeared down the steps.

  Alex stood rooted to the spot. The only sound he could hear were her words over and over in his head: All I ever wanted was you. When Langham put his arm around his shoulder, Alex became aware of his grief.

  “Pembrooke, go home. You’ve done enough damage here to last a lifetime.” The duke led him down the stairs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire tried to ignore her maid’s shocked expression, but the blasted woman looked like a baby blackbird trying to catch the last bit of worm from a morning meal. Aileen’s mouth gaped open as Claire fired off instructions on what to have moved from Wrenwood to her Lockhart estate outside of Edinburgh.

  Her mind furiously ran through the plans for the next day, next week, and next month. She had to escape Alex and her own agony, the sooner the better.

  “I want to hire however many people necessary to make this move in the most expeditious manner possible. I’ll ask my uncle for help in transporting the portraits from Wrenwood to Lockhart. When do you think my clothes will be packed? We should ask Mrs. Malone to send my books from Pemhill.” Claire looked over her shoulder. “Aileen, are you listening to me?” She hardly ever felt exasperated with Aileen’s actions. But it was best not to challenge her fortitude today.

  “Yes, my lady. It’s just we haven’t been to Lockhart in five years. Forgive me, I’m trying to understand everything.”

  Aunt Ginny swept into Claire’s room like a ray of sunshine. An appropriate comparison, since both entered at will without knocking. “Darling, I heard you’re leaving.”

  “Good morning. You’ve heard correctly. I thought to stay for Emma, but my circumstances have changed. I’m meeting with Uncle Sebastian this afternoon to determine how best to proceed with the marriage.”

  “Aileen, would you see about some tea or coffee for Lady Pembrooke?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Aileen answered.

  A hint of remorse clouded Claire’s thoughts, but nothing would persuade her to stay. She could speed up her plans if she left Aileen in London. In the morning, she’d start her trip and leave the arrangements and packing to Aileen—a brilliant solution. She’d even hire her own outriders. Any argument against her traveling by herself would be moot.

  “Aunt Ginny, I’m going to open a children’s home close to Lockhart. Perhaps I’ll call it Hailey’s Gift. You and Uncle Sebastian must come for the grand opening.” She flung open a wooden chest and scowled. How had she collected so many stockings? “Is there anyone on your staff that could travel as my maid? Aileen will stay here. Once she arrives in Edinburgh, I’ll send the Langham servant back.”

  “Tell me you don’t love him, and I’ll leave right now,” her aunt said flatly.

  She stopped packing and squeezed a pair of pink clocked stockings in her hand.

  “I saw your face the last time he was at Langham Hall.” Her aunt softened her voice. “Sweetheart, you love him.”

  Claire would not let her aunt ruin her newfound peace. She laced her voice with an emotion that closely resembled a discussion of the weekly cleaning schedule. “Yes, well, sometimes that doesn’t matter. I have no future with him.”

  “That sums it up prettily.” Her aunt’s lips tilted with the shadow of a smile. “Have you told Alex how you feel?”

  “I’ve tried. He’s his own law.”

  “You can’t expect a successful marriage if you don’t work through your problems.” Aunt Ginny exhaled rather loudly for such a small woman. “It defies logic. Neither of you can mend this break if you’re in Scotland.”

  Claire threw the stockings onto the middle of the bed. “There’s nothing to discuss. He used me and had me investigated because he thought I had a lover. I’m moving forward with my life. End of story.” She sorted through her gloves. Anything to keep her occupied and distracted from her aunt’s pointed questions.

  “You belong to one another now.”

  “Please, I must finish this.” She picked up a pair of ivory silk stockings and threw those next to the pink ones. She reached for another and then stopped; her hands fluttered to her sides. “He wants things from me … things I can’t give him.”

  “What things?” her aunt whispered.

  Her thoughts coiled, ready to burst in admission, but she bit her cheek. “He wants personal things, my parents, the accident…”

  “Perhaps he’s the right one you can finally share this with?” Aunt Ginny squeezed her shoulders. “Sweetheart, learn to give one another what you both want and need. You can do this. Pembrooke sounds sincere—”

  Claire pulled away. “Not now.”

  “I’ll find out what’s happened between the two of you. I’d rather hear it from your lips, but I’m not above going to him for answers.”

  “Enjoy your visit,” Claire called out. The pile of stockings resembled the shape of a small mountain on her bed.

  * * *

  “My lord, the Duchess of Langham is in your study.” Simms handed Alex the calling card.

  “Thank you.” Alex walked down the hall with the faint hope that this was the final confrontation over Claire. First it was Somerton, then Langham, and now the duchess. It would make a perfect ending to a perfectly lousy morning.

  When Alex saw her, he suspected the visit was more than a set down. She looked worried. Taking her hand, Alex greeted her without emotion. “Your Grace, welcome.”

  The duchess launched into the purpose of her visit without a by-your-leave for arriving at a time when most of London was still abed. “You must know why I’m here, my lord.” Her blue eyes bored into his. “Why is Claire moving to Lockhart? Why is she acting as if this move is nothing more than a ride in the park?”

  It would be more comfortable to face a trampling by a team of wild horses than a confrontation with another Cavensham. He’d already had his heart tattered to shreds by Claire. “Your Grace, I am at a loss.”

  With the full force of an Atlantic gale wind, the duchess blew apart, her apparent hold on patience exhausted. “If you want to save this marriage, you had better tell me everything. I’ll handle the duke and the settlement and annulment nonsense, but I need ammunition to stop Claire. If you can’t or won’t tell me, then this is what you both deserve for your respective stubbornness.”

  Alex froze in stunned silence. She looked like a goddess of war, ready for battle. She never moved as she waited for his response.

  “Won’t you please sit down?” He had never expected Claire’s aunt would be an ally of his. Shocked was putting it mildly. Yet he still possessed the wherewithal not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  After the duchess settled in the chair in front of his desk, Alex followed suit and sat at his desk. “This will not be brief. May I offer you tea?”

  The duchess’s expression softened. As if this were an ordinary social call, she offered him a sweet smile and said, “No, thank you. However, I’m quite certain something stro
nger than tea would be more refreshing when we’re finished.”

  After he concluded telling her the whole sordid tale, the duchess looked at the floor for a moment. “Do you know about Claire’s experience with her parents’ death and Wrenwood?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her inability to tolerate thunderstorms, her reaction to Wrenwood?”

  “Not enough.” Alex leaned back. “She won’t share everything that happened that night.”

  “Sebastian and I don’t understand the extent of her trauma either.” She took a deep breath before her face became shadowed with grief. The duchess rose from her chair, then started to pace back and forth. It seemed the only way she could tell the story.

  “The drivers, outriders, and groomsmen made it safely to land and tried for hours to find the family and the carriage, even sending for others to help. The day ended without any sign they survived. The next morning, with little hope left, they saw Claire struggle through the deep mud to reach them. The carriage had capsized and the rushing water swept it down the river. The duke brought her to shore about a half a mile downstream, then went back to free his wife.” Her speech faltered, then she turned to him. “She had waited for them both through torrential storms all night. Sebastian speculated that a wheel caught Margaret’s heavy dress, and she was unable to free herself. Michael must have stayed down in the water to free her, but…”

  Alex shifted in his seat to hide his discomfort over the horror. My God, his Claire alone on the riverbank as she waited for her parents.

  “The search resumed and the next day, their bodies were found.” The duchess’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “The storms that lashed Wrenwood during the week were relentless. No one could leave or enter the estate as the creeks and rivers flooded their banks.”

  “I remember that season.” Alex waited for the duchess to continue.

  The grief on her face turned into pain. The story could only become worse. Tears came to her eyes. “My darling girl never cried and stayed in the drawing room where her parents lay in repose. They didn’t resemble…” She cleared her throat. “Claire screamed and was inconsolable when the staff tried to cover the bodies. Mr. Jordon was by her side day and night. He couldn’t get her to move. Meanwhile, the thunder and lightning never stopped.”