by Christi Caldwell, Eva Devon, Elizabeth Essex, Anthea Lawson
“Like…legally?” Anthony stammered in disbelief at such an absurd practice. His stomach bottomed.
God’s teeth. He’d known Scots law allowed for irregular marriages, but one would think they’d at least require a priest or witnesses. His blood ran cold. There had been plenty of witnesses. If saying he was married made it true, there would be no way to deny it.
“Can I annul just by saying so?” Desperation clawed through him. “I am no longer married. Leave her out of this.”
“You can’t undo anything without involving the courts.” Pockmarks stepped closer.
Broken Tooth licked his lips. “Did you consummate?”
“No,” Anthony blurted in relief, never so happy to have behaved like a gentleman.
“Doesn’t matter.” Broken Tooth smirked. “She’s yours.”
Pockmarks flexed his fingers. “Which means them jewels she was wearing…are ours.”
No. Anthony’s heart raced in horror. He could not let his past debts involve Miss Devon, much less strip her of her possessions. This disaster was Anthony’s, and his alone.
But was it? His breath grew shallow. By marriage, anything a wife possessed became her husband’s property. And anything Anthony possessed…belonged to Maxwell Gideon.
The ruffians were right. Either he surrendered items that he had no business touching, or these blackguards had every right to drag him bodily to prison. At the very least, he needed time to undo his inadvertent marriage.
“I need three months,” he said as authoritatively as he could. They might be hired muscle for a vice den, but Anthony moved in Society. Perhaps their class difference could buy him a little time. “Her jewelry isn’t worth a fraction of what I owe. In three months, I’ll hand Gideon the entirety. In person.”
“You don’t get three months.” Broken Tooth crossed his arms over his large chest. “We’ll give you a fortnight.”
Pockmarks flicked a speck of dust from Anthony’s waistcoat. “And not a minute more.”
His breath hitched in panic. Two weeks wasn’t long enough to win back what he’d lost. His limbs shook. “I need to pay in installments. Ten percent a fortnight from now, then ten percent every week until the debt is paid in full.”
“No installments,” Pockmarks snarled. “If you don’t want gaol fever, you’ll settle your debts two weeks from today.”
“And if you don’t pay in full…” Broken Tooth’s smile was terrifying. “You’ll hand over everything you and your wife own, and still go to prison.”
“Don’t forget…” Pockmarks tipped his hat. “We’ll be watching.”
Chapter 4
Charlotte washed and dressed in haste. As surprisingly wistful as she’d felt upon realizing she’d never see Mr. Fairfax again, her life balanced on the precipice of a huge, positive change. With luck, today was the day she’d meet Laird Dìonadair, her father.
Or at least find out where he lived.
She fastened her jeweled ear bobs to her ears, then concealed the necklace in one of the pouches strapped beneath her bound breasts.
Years ago, she’d started hiding her curves to disguise her resemblance to her mother, but the tight band of linen had quickly become a convenient place to hide objects of value that she didn’t wish to be stolen. Particularly along the weather-beaten cobblestone alley where Charlotte had grown up, or on the crowded mail coach she’d taken to leave London forever.
The ear bobs, however, were a necessary risk. Her father would recognize them as the family jewels he’d gifted to Charlotte’s mother. By which he would recognize Charlotte herself, and immediately invite her to be part of his family.
He was not just a laird. Everything her mother had ever told her indicated he was a kind and honorable man who would do the right thing. It wasn’t his fault he was never told of Charlotte’s birth. Once they met, he would embrace her and exclaim over her and proclaim himself proud to have a daughter. She bounced on her toes.
She was mere days away from meeting her respectable father. From being welcomed somewhere. From being launched as a valued member of a real society. She would be someone else at last. Someone accepted without question. Perhaps even loved. The thought made her dizzy with joy. Her childhood dreams were finally close enough to touch.
Thanks to Mr. Fairfax, her gowns were perfectly ironed and already tucked neatly away in her trunk. Charlotte placed a few final toiletries on top and closed the lid with determination. The day was beautiful. She would find a maid, find a coach, and then find her father.
A sudden knock rattled the chamber door.
She frowned. The innkeeper’s knock hadn’t sounded that frantic last night, when he didn’t even know if his debts would be paid. What on earth could he want now? She opened the door.
To her surprise, the wild-eyed man in the corridor was not the innkeeper at all, but Mr. Fairfax.
“Apologies,” he said as he swung his valise into the chamber and secured the lock. “You must let me in.”
She blinked in confusion. “I was just leaving, I’m afraid. If you’ll be so kind as to help me with my trunk, you may stay in the room until noon. The account is paid.” She smiled up at him. “How was breakfast?”
“Miss Devon.” He rubbed his face with his hands, then grabbed her shoulders. “No. Not Miss Devon. Mrs. Fairfax.”
She laughed. “I think we can dispense with that fiction now. Once we both go our separate ways, there’s no reason for—”
“We’re married.” His fingers were tight, his eyes glassy with panic. “Look at me. We’re married.”
Her smile faded. “What in heaven’s name are you nattering on about?”
He released her and fell back against the wainscoting, his face full of misery. “Scots law. I’m talking about Scots law. If two people state aloud that they are married to the other, that act legally has the same weight as marriage in a church, after banns and before God.”
“It… What?” Her stomach dropped. “We c-can’t be married.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t trust the source either, so I awakened Leviston, who confirmed my fears. Had the stones to offer me an extra round of drinks at Boodle’s to celebrate, the rotter.”
She staggered backwards in growing horror. “No. This can’t be happening.”
He grimaced. “You have no idea.”
She clutched her chest, her lungs clawing for air as if she were drowning. Impossible. How could she be married to a total stranger?
There went her dreams of marrying someone who loved her. Who wanted her. Who could have his pick of women, but whose heart belonged solely to her. Who knew her inside and out, and was not ashamed to claim her as his own.
Now she would never know what such a relationship might be like. The fantasy wasn’t the only thing to be ripped away. She’d also been robbed of free will. Of the one facet in her life where she might have been able to decide something for herself. Gone. Now she would be the property of a stranger.
Blind with panic, she shut her eyes and tried to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
“Listen.” Mr. Fairfax pressed her hands between his.
She opened her eyes. Married. No worse farce could have befallen them.
He hesitated. “The situation is more complicated than you think.”
“More complicated than accidentally marrying a stranger?” she said bleakly. God save them both.
“Vastly.” His visage was pale. “It’s one thing to be penniless…”
She swallowed the sour taste in her throat. As her mother’s youth and beauty had dried up—and as Charlotte’s resolve not to follow in her footsteps grew—their once-comfortable home had grown old and shabby. But they had never been penniless. The townhouse was paid for, and her mother had saved enough in the Bank of England to ensure she would at least have bread and firewood for the rest of her life.
Her mother’s days of fireworks and theatre might be long gone, but Charlotte had never lacked for food and clothing.
It hadn’t been enough, of course. Not to the others. Even if her gown resembled Town gowns right down to the button, every nose turned up whenever she walked by.
If she were lucky, they wouldn’t belittle her into tears. If she were unlucky… Well. She certainly knew what it was like to have doors slammed in her face. The world was huge, but most consisted of places a whore’s bastard daughter was not allowed to go.
“It’s one thing to be penniless,” Mr. Fairfax repeated, appearing to gather strength. “But my situation is significantly worse. An improbable run of poor fortune struck me at the gaming tables, and I owe two thousand pounds I cannot begin to repay.”
Two thousand pounds? Horror filled her. He could not fulfill his debts of honor? She yanked her hands from his and took a step backwards. Their union had done the impossible and made her status even worse.
She hadn’t known it was possible for a marriage to ruin someone. Her dreams of marrying into a respectable family were gone forever.
“You can have the winnings back,” she said, her voice bleak. To her, last night’s windfall of two hundred pounds had been a staggering sum to win at the gaming tables. For him to owe ten times as much money… How many games must he have lost? “Two thousand pounds… I’m afraid I don’t have those kind of resources.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, his tone earnest. “I wouldn’t ask it of you. Nor do I want your purse or anything else of yours.”
“You should take last night’s winnings,” she said. “That two hundred pounds would have been yours if you hadn’t let me back in the game.”
“I cannot.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My debts are mine, not yours.”
“At least take your own purse,” she insisted. “I won’t be able to use it without feeling like every penny I spend is consigning you to prison.”
“Fine. But please hold on to the rest.” He took a deep breath. “The real problem is…”
She fought to keep hold of her serenity. “None of what you’ve already said is a problem?”
“The bigger problem,” he conceded with a wince, “is that, legally, what’s yours is now mine. And what’s mine can legally be seized to pay my debts. Such as your jewelry.”
She froze, then touched one of her ear bobs with trembling fingers. “No.”
His expression was serious. “We can’t let that happen.”
Her throat grew thick with fear. “What do we do?”
“I’ve bought us a fortnight. At that point, I have to pay up or go to debtors’ prison. But that’s my kettle of fish. In the meantime, we’ll extricate you from the web.”
She tucked her arms about her chest. “How?”
He took a deep breath. “However you like. Do you want a divorce? I’ll give you any grounds you choose. Accuse me of infertility, infidelity, impotence, disruptive snoring…whatever you please. I will not contest it. We can start the process today.”
She stared back at him in silence. Her head ached. She hadn’t even broken her fast, and was already not only married, but considering divorce.
Had she thought, just a few moments ago, that marriage to him would sink her status to new depths? She swallowed at the implications. Divorce would be even worse. No proper lady would divorce her husband. Why bother? Once the divorce was final, no respectable man would want her. Besides, most churches wouldn’t perform the ceremony if the bride was a divorcée.
“No.” She shook her head. “Divorce leaves me in an even worse position than marriage to someone like you.”
He flinched as her blade struck true. “Nonetheless, I had to offer. You should have some choice in the matter. As much as either of us do.”
“It’s not entirely your fault,” she admitted dully. “Playacting was my idea.”
“And I went along. We might share the blame for our inadvertent marriage, but my dire straits are not your debt to shoulder. There has to be…” His face lit. “How about an annulment? Much easier than a divorce, and none of the stigma. If you’re worried about the possibility of a future church marriage, I know of no cases where an annulment prevented a bride from—”
“My reputation would still be permanently ruined,” she pointed out. “We shared a bedchamber after claiming we were married. Last night, it was an innocent lark that I fully intended to deny in the future, should the question ever arise. But an annulment would make an official public record. Everyone would know I spent the night with a man as an unmarried miss. My lack of morals would be incontrovertible fact.”
“Then you’re stuck with me?” he asked quietly.
“We’re stuck with each other, I suppose.” Slowly, she calmed her pulse. There was time to think. They were in this together for a fortnight, at least. When it came time to settle his debts or go to prison, they would need to reevaluate their decisions.
He seemed like a pleasant enough person—certainly the most considerate of Charlotte’s acquaintance—but if it came down to losing both her husband and her possessions or taking a divorce and only losing what little was left of her reputation… Well.
The wisest move would be to guard her heart until they had reason to believe he would still be here one month hence. She would do her best to help him, but she could not afford to become overly attached to a man who was fated to leave her.
He lowered his gaze to her ears and grimaced. “Try not to flash your jewels. The debt collectors promised me two weeks, but I can’t swear that they’re men of their word. But don’t worry. I’ll straighten things out when we get to London.”
She removed her ear bobs and curled her trembling fist about them for safekeeping. These were her ties to her father. To someone who might love her and never leave her. She would protect them with her life.
And she was never going back to London.
Chapter 5
Charlotte’s world was now perfectly upended. The dreams she’d held on to her entire life, the plans she’d painstakingly made for her future… Her temples throbbed. She couldn’t think about her future until she had determined what she was going to do now.
Finding a northbound coach was no longer urgent, since this was clearly not a moment in which she could make a good impression on her father. Hiring a maid or a hall boy to mind the door as she slept also no longer made sense. For one, it sounded like she was going to need every penny in her purse.
For two…now she had Mr. Fairfax.
She cast a sidelong gaze at him as they descended to the ground floor of the inn. A penniless, prison-bound husband. How had it come to this?
Her stomach was in no mood for the grease of kippers, but a bit of cheese and a piece of fruit might not be a bad idea. In the worst of cases, she could save them for later.
When she and Mr. Fairfax entered the dining area, Mr. Garman the innkeeper was behind the bar, folding napkins.
He beamed warmly at Charlotte as they approached. “How did you sleep, ma’am?”
“Better than I will tonight,” she said with a pained smile. She might never sleep again.
“Oh?” Mr. Garman’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you off so soon, then? I can summon you a hack, if the lady requires.”
Charlotte glanced at Mr. Fairfax. What were their plans for the night? She couldn’t bring a husband on the run from creditors to meet her father. And she would not be returning to England. Not when she was this close. She couldn’t leave here, where the tentacles of her reputation could barely reach.
“We’ll stay another night.” She touched the lumpy pouches against her ribs. “May I bring the money to you in a little while?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. No problem at all. You and your husband can stay as long as you like.” He motioned toward the sideboard. “Would you like some eggs? They’re warm from the kitchen.”
She shook her head. “I think I need some fresh air to clear my head. If you have an apple, or a bit of cheese…”
“Absolutely. I’ll have Mrs. Garman prepare that for you. Just one moment.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
As Charlotte stood next to Mr. Fairfax while they waited for the innkeeper’s return, she was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her new husband’s presence. He was so attractive. So self-assured.
A man like that wouldn’t have to look far to find his next mistress. His thick chestnut hair tumbled above piercing green eyes. His lithe body was trim, but his muscles well-defined. Everything about him—from his perfectly tailored waistcoat to his confident swagger—was eye-catching and seductive.
And now he was married to her. She shivered.
Although they hadn’t known it at the time, the previous night had been their wedding night. What must he expect from her tonight? He had already informed her that the next time they shared a room, they’d also be sharing a bed. Legally, he now had the right to expect much, much more.
At some point he would make his expectations known. She swallowed. For all intents and purposes, tonight would be their true wedding night. Her pulse skipped. If they consummated their marriage, annulment would no longer be possible. She could not let that happen. Neither of them was in a position where removing options was a wise choice.
No matter how hard he was to resist.
“Ma’am?” The innkeeper emerged from the kitchen with a parcel wrapped in a scrap of linen. “Here you are. Anything else you need, just ask.”
If only there was anything that could be done. Charlotte almost laughed. Or cried. Sometimes she didn’t know what she felt like doing most.
“Shall I escort you on your walk?” her new husband asked quietly. “Or would you prefer to take the air alone?”
She handed him the parcel and took his elbow. “Accompany me. We may as well get to know each other.”
They stepped out of the inn and into the sunlight. Rolling green hills dipped and soared beneath a clear blue sky. A cool breeze rustled the leaves in the trees and ruffled the edge of her bonnet. Mr. Fairfax kept her hand nestled casually in the crook of his arm as if simple morning strolls like these were typical of their everyday routine.