Midnight Bride

by Marlene Suson

  Morgan said, “Apparently the old earl was determined to prevent an absentee master from letting Wingate Hall deteriorate.”

  “And George agreed to that?”

  “Not willingly. The vicar said that George was clearly furious about having to sign the agreement, but it was the only way he could get his father to buy him the commission he wanted.”

  Jerome said hoarsely, “But if Rachel were dead . .

  “Brother George would inherit everything without having to give up the army. If you are going to benefit from the death of a young and healthy woman, would it not be better for her to die while you were still across the sea?”

  Could that be why George has ignored all Rachel’s pleas to return? Jerome remembered the scathing letter he had written George for his negligence. No doubt it would afford the bastard great amusement.

  “If you do not take Rachel away from Wingate Hall now, you may never have another chance. She may be dead.”

  The thought wrenched Jerome’s heart, but he could not believe that she was in such dire danger as Morgan intimated. “I will be happy to take her away from here.”

  “But not as your wife?”

  “Hell and damnation, if you do not wed her, then I will.”

  Rage ripped through Jerome with the force of a lightning flash. His hands involuntarily clenched into fists, and he realized with profound shock that although he did not want to marry Rachel, neither could he stand the thought of another man doing so.

  Jerome eyed his brother suspiciously. Surely Morgan, the rake of the family, could not be serious about wedding her. It was simply another ploy to get his brother to do so. Well, it would not work. “It is past time I left. My coach is waiting for me.”

  “Will you leave without Rachel?”

  “Yes.”

  Morgan pressed his mouth into a tight, thin line. “You are so anxious for me to give up my career as a highwayman. Well, I will make you a bargain. Marry Rachel, and I swear to you that Gentleman Jack will immediately vanish from the face of the earth.”

  “So if I am to save you from the gallows, I must consign myself to a life of misery.”

  “You damned fool, Jerome! I recognize, as you do not, that Rachel is the perfect wife for you. She is everything you want in a wife. All I want is for you to be happy. With Rachel, you will be.”

  “Like hell I will. A beauty like her will never be satisfied with only one man. I will not spend my life wondering who has fathered my purported children.” Jerome whirled and headed toward his coach,

  Morgan called after him. “That damned Cleo ruined you! Rachel is nothing like that heartless, faithless wanton, who had a soul as black as pitch. Rachel is as beautiful within as she is without. Hell and damnation, why can you not see that?”

  Jerome kept walking. He turned into the maze to retrieve the milk pitcher. As he approached the kittens’ hiding place, they did not rush out to greet him as they had before. Probably too busy still lapping the milk. Jerome knelt down and looked beneath the box hedge.

  For a moment, he thought the kittens were napping. One was stretched out stiffly beside the bowl of milk. Then he saw that the other’s head was lying in the bowl, having tipped it on edge so that the milk had spilled out and soaked into the ground.

  The kitten’s eyes were open, its paws extended in an unnatural position. Jerome snatched up the tiny ball of fluff from the bowl, confirming his fear.

  It was dead.

  So was its companion.

  Jerome stared down at the lifeless little bodies with disbelief. Slowly the full significance of what he was seeing penetrated his shocked mind. The milk that he had given the kittens must have been poisoned.

  Milk intended for Rachel.

  Waves of horror and acute nausea swept over him.

  In a household that size, there could be one person unscrupulous, greedy, or desperate enough to be bought.

  All Jerome’s anger at Rachel was forgotten, and a hundred images of her danced through his mind: Rachel staunchly defending Gentleman Jack; Rachel lovingly cuddling the kittens to her; Rachel innocently clambering over him on the bed in her desperate effort to stop himself from further damaging his wrists; Rachel driving him mad with her guileless, thrilling passion in bed last night.

  Jerome recalled Sir Waldo Fletcher hovering over the tray

  But he was not the only one who’d had access to Rachel’s breakfast. It could have been someone in the kitchen, or any one of that covey of maids in the hall, or a passing footman, or the negligent Tithe.

  If Jerome raised a hue and cry he would merely warn the killer he must be more careful and cunning next time.

  Jerome laid the dead kitten on the ground beside its sibling. Ironically, Rachel’s concern for them had saved her own life. But whoever wanted her dead would try again.

  And perhaps succeed. Then it could be Rachel lying dead, her beautiful limbs frozen as the kittens’ were now. Jerome broke out in a cold sweat. He could not leave her at Wingate Hall to be murdered.

  He straightened, his jaw unconsciously hardening in determination. Scarcely knowing what he was doing, he marched like an automaton into Wingate Hall and up the stairs to Rachel’s room.

  Chapter 18

  Rachel, still in her silk dressing sacque, spun around as the door to her bedchamber crashed open.

  Jerome stalked in, his face as hard and grim and determined as she had ever seen it.

  “What are you doing here?” she sputtered. “I told you not to come back.”

  He did not answer her, did not say a word.

  Instead he marched over to her clothes press and rummaged through the garments in it. His face was pale, his eyes had an odd, stunned expression, and his movements were choppy, lacking his usual grace. He looked like a man who had just received devastating news and was in shock.

  He pulled out a forest green cloak and shoved it at her. “Put it on. You are coming with me.”

  Did he still think she would become his mistress? Well, he was wrong. She refused to take the garment from him. “I will go nowhere with you. I will never, never be your convenient!”

  “Fine,” he snapped, grabbing her arm in a far from gentle grip. “But you are still coming with me.”

  She gaped at him as he threw the cloak around her He had a wild, desperate look about him that frightened her. Had he taken leave of his senses? “I will not leave Wingate Hall with any man but my husband.”

  His jaw jutted in grim, stubborn determination. “If that is what it takes, then I will marry you.”

  Rachel was so flabbergasted that she let him fasten the cloak on her without resistance. This was the very same man who had told her only hours ago that nothing would induce him to marry her.

  Now he was saying he would. And looking as happy about it as a condemned man contemplating the hanging tree. “But you do not want to marry me.”

  “No,” he agreed, “but I am going to do it. No doubt I will regret it all the rest of my days.”

  Hardly the sort of romantic proposal designed to fill its recipient with joy and eager acquiescence. It filled Rachel with fury. How could he barge in like this and not ask, but tell her that he was going to marry her? It was even more insulting than Lord Felix’s offer had been!

  “Well, I am not going to marry you!” she cried, revolted to the depths of her romantic soul. “I know that I would regret it all the rest of my days!”

  “I wish to hell you had realized that before you abducted me last night,” he ground out. “You were far too eager to marry me then.”

  But then she had thought that she was giving him the nudge he needed to realize that he cared about her, to appreciate that they belonged together. But now she was convinced that, marriage or not, he would always hate her for what she had done. The thought of marrying a man who felt that way filled her with despair, and she would not do it.

  Suddenly Jerome swept her off her feet and into his arms. He carried her toward the door.

  “What a
re you doing?” she demanded in alarm.

  “Taking you with me.”

  “Put me down!” she hissed. She tried to struggle out of his arms as he carried her along the hall past gaping servants and down the wide staircase, but he was far too strong for her. He held her locked against his chest with arms that were like bands of steel.

  At the bottom of the steps, Kerlan tried to step in front of him. “Your Grace! You cannot...” His voice trailed off as Jerome brushed past him toward the entrance.

  “Kerlan, please inform Mr. and Mrs. Wingate that their niece is doing me the honour of becoming my wife.”

  Rachel squealed in outrage. “I told you that I would not marry you.”

  “I heard you,” he said, carrying her through the front door.

  Maxi dashed out of the house after them. Apparently under the misapprehension that this was a delightful new game, the little terrier barked at Jerome’s heels as he carried Rachel down the stairs toward his waiting coach.

  The duke’s valet, coachman, and groom stood as stiff and still as if they had suddenly been turned to stone, staring in amazement at the scene unfolding before them.

  “What are you doing?” Rachel sputtered.

  The door to his coach stood open, and Jerome thrust her inside, none too gently. “This time, I am abducting you.”

  He told the coachman, “We are going to Parnlee, John.”

  “But, Your Grace,” the startled coachman began, “we were going to Royal—”

  “To Parnlee at once!” Jerome reiterated in a tone no servant would dare challenge. The coachman scrambled on to his box as the duke told his valet, still standing beside the coach, “Be so kind as to ride with John.”

  Peters climbed on the perch beside the coachman while Maxi danced around below the coach door, barking furiously.

  With a muttered curse, Jerome jumped out, grabbed the excited terrier, and set him down on the floor of the coach. Then he got in again, slamming the door after him. As he settled on the seat beside Rachel, he gave the signal to start.

  The coachman’s whip cracked, and the carriage leaped forward at unsettling speed. Maxi, suddenly uncertain about this grand new game, began to whine.

  Jerome reached down, hauled the terrier onto his lap and began placating him with his skilful fingers. It did not take long. Maxi soon collapsed into a complacent silver ball.

  Rachel glared mutinously at this man who had broken her heart by assuring her that she was not good enough to be his wife, only his mistress. And now he had the gall to tell her that he was going to marry her as though he were doing her some great favour. Well, he could keep his great favour.

  With steel in her voice, she said, “I will never, never, never marry you.”

  Jerome ran his hand irately through his own thick blond hair. “Women,” he snapped in exasperation. “Damn you all, if you are not the most perverse creatures. Have you forgotten that last night you abducted me to force me to marry you? Now that I say I will, you do not want it. Well, that’s too damn bad. You no longer have any choice in the matter.”

  “Yes, I do,” she contradicted hotly. “You cannot force the vows from my lips!”

  “Why are you being so damned stubborn? It sure as hell isn’t because you find me repulsive. Last night proved that.”

  Rachel could feel herself blushing crimson at the memory of her abandon in his arms,

  His penetrating blue eyes beneath the thick, golden lashes apparently read her thoughts for he suddenly looked amused, and the grim lines of his face relaxed.

  Mortified that her thoughts were so transparent,

  Rachel swivelled her head away from him and stared out the window at the barren, treeless moor that was flashing past. Her mind was swirling with confusion and uncertainty If only he would offer her some sign of affection. His earlier rejection of her still burned in her memory like a hot brand.

  What had caused him to change his mind so abruptly about marrying her? Whatever it was, his hard face assured her that it had nothing to do with undying love on his part. And she could not bear to be shackled to a man who did not want her. Both her pride and her heart rebelled against that.

  After a few minutes, Jerome remarked casually, “It is extremely boring landscape to be studying so closely.”

  He was right. She turned back toward him. His fingers were still gently soothing Maxi, who was a picture of sublime contentment on his lap. She remembered all too well what it had been like to enjoy the magical attention of those long, graceful hands. An insidious desire to have them pleasure her again undermined her resistance. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To Parnlee, a hunting box of mine near York.”

  Why there, she wondered, instead of Royal Elms if he meant what he said about marrying her. Was he too ashamed of her to take her to his country seat? Swallowing her hurt, she warned, “My uncle will come after us.” But she knew that was an empty threat.

  “All your Uncle Alfred cares about is that I marry you, and I have agreed to do so.”

  “I told you that I would not—”

  “I know you did,” he interrupted, “and you are wasting your breath—not to mention becoming a shrew on the subject. So, pray, let us try another one.”

  Rachel sighed. “How long do you intend to stay at Parnlee?”

  “For however long it takes me to bring you to your senses and get you to marry me.”

  “That would be taking leave of my senses!” she shot back. She would rather be a spinster the rest of her life than marry a man who could not even take the trouble to ask her. “I will never marry you.”

  He cocked an amused eyebrow. “Then we will have a very long stay at Parnlee.”

  But he did not sound the least bit worried. Handsome, arrogant man that he was, he was certain that once he got her there, he could charm her into anything he wanted.

  That infuriated Rachel into saying, “I do not care what you do to me—lock me in a dungeon, grind me on a rack—”

  “Oh,” he interjected with an unprincipled, engaging grin that had an alarming effect on her heart, “I do not intend anything so unpleasant for you.” He perused her, his eyes suddenly warm and brilliantly blue.

  Rachel was certain that he was thinking about the amazing responses that he had coaxed from her the previous night with his expert lovemaking, and she felt herself blush again.

  Maxi had fallen asleep in the duke’s lap. Jerome, taking care not to awaken him, deposited him gently on the seat opposite them.

  The coach rounded a curve rapidly, throwing Rachel against Jerome. He put his arm around her and held her against his hard body. A thrill rippled through her. She breathed deeply of his spicy scent and was ambushed by a longing to have him kiss her as he had last night. He did not do so, but after the road straightened again, he continued to hold her to him. There was something so comforting about the sheltering warmth of his body that she could not bring herself to pull away. They rode that way in silence for several minutes.

  Finally, Jerome asked, “What was the lodge you took me to last night? It was far too substantial to be a tenant’s home.”

  “My father’s father built it. Grandpapa had the lodge constructed to house his current convenient during those rare times when he was in Yorkshire.”

  “Did your father ever use it?”

  “No! Papa had no need for it! He said that God had blessed him by giving him the only woman he ever wanted as his wife. He had the lodge boarded up.,’

  Jerome’s expression was suddenly cynical. “Was your mother as faithful to him as he was to her?”

  “Of course she was!” Rachel cried, indignant that he could suggest Mama would have been anything else. “She adored Papa. They were very happy together.”

  “Then your father was truly a lucky man,” Jerome said with obvious sincerity

  “They loved each other so much.” Rachel’s tone was wistful. “After Mama died, Papa was never quite the same. It was as though the light went out of his life
.”

  “How old were you then?”

  “Thirteen.” It was still painful for Rachel to remember her mother’s death, and she sought to change the subject. “After what you said to me earlier, I do not understand why you would decide to marry me now.”

  Jerome still had his arm around her, and she held her breath, waiting for his answer. She hoped that it was because he had come to the belated realization that he cared about her after all.

  He sighed. “I am not certain I understand myself.” Rachel was so stung that she jerked away from him and scooted across the seat to the far corner. She eyed him balefully, and her pride prompted her to cry, “Obviously, you cannot think of a good reason why you should marry me. And I can think of none at all why I should agree to do so.”

  “Oh, I can think of several excellent reasons why you should, my dear.”

  It set Rachel’s teeth on edge when he called her “my dear.” Whenever he did, his sarcastic tone contained none of the affection the phrase implied.

  He said, “One, you are ruined, and you will be a social pariah, without any hope of ever having a husband or family unless you marry me. Two, God knows what devious scheme your Aunt Sophia may devise for your future if you remain at Wingate Hall. Three, you will be my duchess with all the social status that situation carries with it.”

  “I have no interest in marrying a man for social status.” Nor in marrying one who did not want her, not even when she loved him as much as she did Jerome.

  “Then you should have married Tony Denton,”

  But she did not love Tony. Instead of telling Jerome that, however, she said, “Aunt Sophia would never have permitted it. Besides I think he would make a terrible husband.”

  “You think I will make a better one?”

  She was certain that Jerome would, if only he could come to love her; but, if he could not, there would be no happiness for either of them.

  “Answer me,” he ordered.

  Rachel turned her head away to hide from him the hot tears that stung her eyes.

  “Look at me.”

  When she did not comply, he muttered a curse and moved across the seat to her. Determined fingers seized her chin and turned her face toward him. A handkerchief appeared in his other hand, and he gently wiped away her tears.