by Janet Kent
One might think crying off from Rogue would be far easier than doing so with Mr. Morrissey. After all, she didn’t even know his true name, nor he hers, although she intended to rectify that oversight this very night. And – pesky detail – he hadn’t yet proposed.
But he wanted her!
He truly, truly wanted her. Not for her title, for he knew nothing of it. Not for her money, for he thought her poor. Not for her looks, for she came to him as a silhouette in the darkness. No, he chose her on nothing more than the merit of her character, and what could be more seductive than that?
Her character, Alicia had to admit, which would incur an ever-increasing amount of aspersions if she married a rogue who was in all likelihood without fortune or connections to recommend him, and in doing so spurned a very nice man who had only tried to help her, if in a maladroit manner.
Alicia turned her face from the mirror, no longer caring to see her image reflected in its glass. Poor Mr. Morrissey was bound to feel quite ill-used. Oh, why couldn’t life be simpler? Her one consolation was the knowledge that he’d had no inclination to marry her without being forced by their unfortunate “discovery”. Perhaps he would be grateful, or at least quite relieved, to have her remove the unwanted shackle from ’round his leg.
Sighing, Alicia pushed herself to her feet. She picked up the candle and set out from her room, heedless of the light cast by the flame as she headed down the stairs to the library. Lips curving in a joyless smile, she almost wished she would get caught with Rogue. Hopefully kissing. Perhaps then Papa and Mr. Morrissey both would be glad to be rid of her, and at last she could marry for love.
###
Someone was watching her.
Rogue. Rogue! And she’d fallen asleep in her chair, like a ninny. Alicia’s eyes flew open, and she lurched out of her seat to greet him, lips pursed and arms out-flung.
When she saw her father’s incredulous countenance frowning back at her, she tripped on her own toes and pitched sideways. She saved herself from landing in an ignominious pile at his feet by flailing into the nearest bookcase and clutching the shelves for support.
Sad to say, Papa was not Rogue. And the unwelcome roiling in her stomach at the angry scowl etched into his face informed her that he was also Not Pleased.
With a gulp, she righted her weak limbs in order to stand up straight before him, hyperaware of her disheveled appearance and the myriad heart-shaped patches peeling from her face. The last remnants of sleep vanished from her brain, leaving her terribly, horribly, irrevocably awake.
And Rogue had not come.
“What in the name of the Devil are you up to?” Chadwick thundered.
The staff members flanking him cowered backwards, some even fleeing from the room. Alicia found herself shrinking from his incredulous glare and completely at a loss for words. She cast a desperate glance over her shoulder, hoping to discover some possible path of escape, but it was not to be. She still stood in the center of the library, with her father’s overpowering presence bearing down at her as if he quite expected a reasonable accounting for her actions.
“Er, sleepwalking?” Alicia responded, cringing when what she’d hoped was an ingenious answer trembled from her mouth in question form.
Chadwick narrowed his eyes at her for an interminable interval before stabbing a finger in her direction.
“Go to your room,” he ordered. “I don’t even want to know what you think you’re about. What’s more, I don’t believe I wish to see you at all today, daughter. I am quite at the end of my patience with you. Go.”
When she stood motionless, unable to breathe, he advanced further into the room and jabbed his accusative finger inches from the tip of her nose.
“Now!” he roared.
Alicia jumped, skittered past him and fled down the hall.
###
Ian plodded from one end of his townhouse to the other and back again, feeling like the sorriest devil alive. Applying for the special license had been a breeze. The only thing that might have made it easier would’ve been the desire to wed his intended.
When a messenger arrived with a missive bearing Chadwick’s seal, Ian harbored the foolish hope that Miss Kinsey had called off the entire thing after all. Ripping the paper in his eagerness to read the contents, he’d been disappointed to discover the terse message contained nothing of the sort.
Instead, Chadwick had written to inform him that he’d been able to procure a space in the church, and if Ian had no objection, the marriage would take place Monday morning.
Ian, of course, had many objections. None, however, would extricate him honorably from the undesirable situation at hand, so a shockingly quick ceremony was just as good as any. Why put off the inevitable?
Crossing to the fire, Ian crumpled the paper in his palm and tossed it into the flames. No sense keeping it handy to read again and again. He was unlikely to forget his impending nuptials. When he turned from the blaze, Cobb hovered at the entrance to the room, with a welcome sight standing in the doorway behind him.
“Caspian,” Ian breathed with feeling. “You have just saved me from myself.”
Cobb bowed and left the room while Caspian sauntered in to shake hands with Ian. “Why?” he asked, with an arched eyebrow. “Were you about to hurl your body onto the burning logs?”
“The idea has its appeal,” Ian answered with a grim smile. “You may be the first to offer me your felicitations.”
Caspian settled himself in a chaise longue and met Ian’s eyes. “I heard,” he confessed. “And you may have my congratulations or my empathy, whichever you prefer. Although I admit I had matchmaking on my mind when I first introduced you, I am not sure I imagined the feat accomplished in quite so memorable a manner.”
Ian scowled at his friend. “I do not,” he said with wounded dignity, “find the situation at all amusing.”
“Just so,” answered Caspian, his grin dying on his face. “Nor were such tidings the cause for my call.”
With a frown, Ian strode across the room to sit across from him. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“There has been another theft,” Caspian replied. “As before, the trail led to London and ran cold.”
“When?”
“Wednesday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I did come to call yesterday,” Caspian answered, “but was informed that the master was out.”
Ian flashed a brittle smile. “Ah, yes. If you came in the morning, I was making my offer. If you came in the afternoon, I was conversing with a clerk at the office for the Archbishop of Canterbury. If you came in the evening, I was well into my cups and could hardly have entertained company.”
“Morning,” replied Caspian, “which is why I tried afternoon today. Although I daresay I would have been quite entertained had I caught you three sheets to the wind. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you drunk.”
Ian rubbed his temples with both hands. “Believe me,” he muttered. “I’ve got a headache that says I’ll never do so again.”
He was now locked into matrimony, and hoped he’d never see Elizabeth again so that his heart could heal and allow him to make the best of being with Alicia Kinsey. Besides, Elizabeth wouldn’t have married him anyway once she discovered that doing so would leave a young woman ruined and unmarriageable, save by fortune hunters that cared only for her wealth and not a whit for her sensibilities.
Some men might have made a mistress of Elizabeth in circumstances such as these, but Ian was cut from cloth that didn’t allow such disrespect to the institution of marriage. His mother would have been crushed if even the slightest thought toward that end had crossed his father’s mind.
“About Miss Kinsey’s mother,” Ian said suddenly.
“Yes?”
“When was the accident?”
“Mm. Two years ago this spring, just a month or so into her first season. She missed most of her second season as well, still being in half-mourning.”
<
br /> Ian blinked in surprise. “She’s never had a true Season?”
“I suppose not.”
“Great.” Add ruining-innocents-before-they-had-a-chance to his ever-growing list of transgressions.
Caspian stretched his legs in front of him. “To be honest, the betting books indicated there were many who thought the marriage was already over.”
“Divorce?” Ian said doubtfully.
“Nothing so vulgar as that,” Caspian answered with a wry expression. “The camps were evenly divided between her leaving him to go back to her family or him murdering her in fit of jealous rage.”
“Come now,” Ian scoffed. “I can’t imagine him murdering a loaf of bread.”
Caspian shrugged. “He’s a different man since her death.”
“How did he learn of it?”
“He found her. He’d been out for a walk and the carriage careened out of control right in front of him. He saw the entire thing unfold before him, but there was nothing to be done.”
“How awful. And Miss Kinsey?”
“Waving goodbye from the upstairs window, watching her Mama head into town for a meeting with the solicitor. By all accounts, the household found her in a dead faint and she didn’t speak for days.”
“Good Lord,” Ian said with a shudder.
“The whole family had problems keeping wives.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some similar accident befell Chadwick’s father’s wife. She lasted long enough for Chadwick to be born, and that was the last anyone saw of her. I don’t really remember much more, except that theirs wasn’t a happy marriage from the start.”
“I can’t imagine. My parents were blissfully happy as long as they were together.” Ian sighed. “I had hoped for nothing less.”
“Not everyone is that lucky, my friend. But if anyone could turn a situation such as yours into a good marriage, I’m sure it’s you. Alicia Kinsey may be perfect for you after all. As for me,” Caspian continued with a wicked grin, “I’m having a fine time with all the imperfect women.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Enough. Now, is there anything else I can do for you regarding the missing jewels?”
“I don’t know. Not at this time, I suppose. When is the wedding?”
“Monday.”
“Monday?” Caspian repeated, incredulity lacing his voice.
Ian shrugged one shoulder. “Monday. We’ll be repairing directly to Heatherley.”
Caspian blinked then hauled himself out of the chair. “In that case, don’t worry about it. I shall take it from here.”
Rising, Ian held out a hand to his friend. “Don’t be a stranger, Caspian. Come out to Heatherley and see us.”
“I may, I may,” Caspian answered. “Until next time, then. Good luck with the wedding.”
Ian shook his head at the sound of the closing door. He needed plenty of luck for the whole marriage.
###
Spending all day by oneself in one’s room – unless one counted the brief visits by various maids as they dropped off or picked up her tray for meals – gave far too much time to think. By the time night fell, Alicia was in a temper, certain that her father was the most uncaring, unreasonable man in all of England. By the time she relinquished her supper tray and realized no other persons would be knocking on her door, Alicia’s self-righteous outrage had transformed into a state of high anxiety.
What if Rogue didn’t come again tonight?
She was still reeling from his absence last night. Why hadn’t he come? She had been so sure! Well, it hardly signified. He’d call tonight. She’d lay the whole sorry tale at his feet and hope for his continued affections.
Perhaps her wealth and aspirations to title would help smooth over his horror at this turn of events. Perhaps he wouldn’t care a jot about her money or her sudden scandal, and would run away with her right then and there, picking her up in his strong arms and disappearing into the darkness.
Alicia’s lips contorted into a grisly imitation of a smile. No doubt a reckless dash into the night was one of her few remaining avenues of escape. She simply had to convince Rogue of the attractiveness of such a rash plan.
Cracking open her door, she listened for the gratifying sound of her father’s loud snores and was not disappointed. She carried no candle tonight, having decided that a bit of discretion would not be amiss.
Holding out her arms to guide her way, Alicia glided down the steps, eased along the corridor and slipped into the library. She stalked around the room in impatient circles as she waited, terrified she’d fall asleep again if she dared to relax in a chair for even the smallest moment.
She did her best to ignore the evidence proclaimed by the moonbeams across the clock on the mantel, but after three long hours had crawled past, Alicia was forced to make a decision. Should she wait for Rogue just a little longer – what could be keeping him? – or should she return to her room, lest she still be pacing the floor when the household awoke.
Alicia bit her lip and leaned her head against a windowpane, feeling the cold glass against her forehead and wishing she’d had the foresight to make an exact meeting-time with Rogue. She stood there for perhaps another hour, but when the black skies began to lighten, she wrenched herself away from the wall, wiggled her stiff back, and forced herself to walk the lonely route back to her room.
###
The next day, Alicia ventured from her bedroom as soon as she awoke, but did her best to avoid her father. Fighting back a devilish case of the megrims, she spent most of the day reading, sewing, and plunking idly at the piano. She managed to keep out of Papa’s sight until late afternoon, when for no good reason that Alicia could fathom, Aunt Beatrix took it upon herself to shout his name as he walked past the sitting room where they’d been chatting over cups of steamy chocolate.
Chadwick’s imposing frame filled the doorway. “Yes?”
She glanced from him to her aunt and back again, hoping Beatrix wouldn’t say anything inflammatory. Alicia doubted she’d be back in her father’s good graces for quite some time and had no desire to test his patience any further.
“Alicia tells me you and Louis plan to ship me off to Bedlam,” Beatrix announced, somehow injecting a note of censure into her querulous voice.
Oh Lord.
Alicia tried to disappear into her chair, but soon realized it had the misfortune of being placed in such a manner as to face her father directly. Desperate, she brought her chocolate in front of her face to block her view of her father, hoping he wouldn’t notice his daughter hiding behind a porcelain cup.
“Is that right,” he replied finally, his strained voice indicating his annoyance at the interruption.
“I told her you’d never send me anywhere,” Beatrix continued, as if unaware of the danger lurking in Chadwick’s tone.
“Oh?” he answered, anger lowering his voice to a near-growl.
Alicia’s hand shook, and she was forced to take several quick sips of scalding chocolate before the fragrant liquid slopped all over her hands and dress. Having drunk the chocolate to a more appropriate level, given her current nervous tremor, Alicia popped the cup back in front of her face and squeezed her eyelids shut tight.
“Then let me tell you this,” Chadwick said in a cold, steady tone. “I am through with both of you. Neither has been anything but a disappointment. If I shan’t send you to Bedlam, Beatrix, by God I will not hesitate to ship you off with Alicia the very moment she speaks her vows. You have been my burdens for long enough. I have enough problems to deal with and I shall welcome a respite from your nonsensical attitudes and careless behavior. Alicia!”
Her eyes flew open. She lowered her cup just low enough to peer over the rim at his reddened face. “Yes, Papa?”
“Lest you have any doubt: I am speaking to both of you. Beatrix may be owed some leniency for her foibles due to her advanced age, but you cannot excuse every reckless transgression caused by keeping your head in the clouds to the fact of being young.
You have made your bed, Alicia. Tonight is the last night you’ll spend at Chadwick House while I’m alive, and tomorrow morning at the church I’ll be giving you away for good.”
Finding this chilling speech quite unanswerable, Alicia swallowed convulsively and tried to replace her cup in its saucer, rattling them together with her trembling hands.
Chadwick stepped out of the doorway and strode from the room without waiting for a reply.
###
Marriage. Tomorrow. Unbelievable.
Ian couldn’t suppress a quick shiver at the thought. He reached in his fob pocket and pulled out his watch. Half past midnight. He ought to get some rest. Morning would spring on him in no time, assaulting him with the end of his bachelorhood, perhaps a small wedding breakfast, and a long ride to Heatherley with a new bride in the coach-seat next to him.
He should be thinking about his wife-to-be. That’s what a sane man would be doing. Instead, his recalcitrant mind continued to dwell on thoughts of Elizabeth. Not of marrying her, as he’d hoped – his sense of honor was too strong to consider breaking a promise given to Miss Kinsey.
But to be fair, he’d hinted at making a similar promise to Elizabeth. Of his own free will. The least he could do was say good-bye. He couldn’t explain the situation – letting her know he was marrying her relative could only cause additional pain. But he could have the common decency to let her know he would not be pressing his suit. The last thing he wanted was for her to be waiting for him, with her little bare toes and her velvet-patch cheeks.
No, to leave a maiden so callously uninformed of his plans – or lack thereof – would be characteristic of the worst bounder. He would have to see her again. It was a question of honor! His haunted dreams had nothing to do with his decision, nor his sleepless nights where he lay awake, remembering each soft caress… Completely irrelevant. Never entered his mind.
He would have to call on her one last time. He must! Not for his sake. Oh, no. But for hers. He’d be the veriest cad to not tell her, face to face, that he would not be able to see her again. To touch her face one last time… If only he were marrying Elizabeth!