Married By Midnight

by Julianne MacLean

  At last, he spoke. “You wish to say something?”

  “I do,” she replied, then began carefully. “Clearly this is an awkward situation. For that reason, I believe it will require a certain measure of cooperation on our parts. There is no point avoiding the fact that this is a sham. We both know it, but we must at least put on a good show for your father. I will do my part if you will do yours. Perhaps it would be best to discuss a strategy?”

  He glanced about the room as if he needed time to reconsider all this.

  “Do you wish to change your mind?” she asked, shocked by the direction this was heading. She had only just arrived. She hadn’t even met the duke yet.

  Garrett’s blue eyes shot to hers. “No, I do not wish that.”

  “Then could you at least try to be polite?” she suggested.

  “I didn’t think I was being impolite.”

  “You’ve barely spoken two words to me since we left the drawing room. Let me ask you again, Lord Garrett. Are you uncertain about this? If you are, tell me now, because I have no intention of dragging you to the altar. I am not that desperate.”

  Though she was desperate, for she simply could not face the idea of returning to her uncle’s house, and she’d already begun to fantasize about her new life. She’d made plans in her mind—plans that included a modest, cozy little house in Oxford...or perhaps Bath.

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “We hardly know each other, Anne, and already we are knee deep in an argument.” He began to slowly pace.

  “This is not an argument.”

  His eyebrow raised in question. He glanced over his shoulder at her, as if to say you’re still arguing.

  Anne took a deep breath and wondered how best to reply, for clearly Garrett had more than a few reservations about this situation.

  “I am certain it will work out swimmingly,” she said, working hard to sound reassuring. “If we resolve to help each other. I am not sure how much talent I possess as an actress, but I am willing to do what I must to convince your father that we are happily betrothed.”

  Garrett glanced up at an enormous portrait of a rather fierce looking aristocrat, then took a seat on an upholstered bench against the wall beneath it.

  “I apologize,” he said. “Please come and join me.”

  He leaned back against the wall. She sat down beside him, and waited for him to speak.

  “I understand what you are saying,” he began at last. “When I present you to my father, we cannot appear to be strangers. If he asks, we must know things about each other.”

  “I agree.” Ah, this was better. Now at least they were getting somewhere.

  “Tell me something personal,” he said, looking away in the other direction, as if this were torture for him. “What do you like to do? When were you born? And where did we meet?”

  Anne took a moment to consider how best to stage this production—where to place the props and block the actors. “I believe it would be best if we kept the untruths and inventions to a minimum. Let us simply tell him that your brothers introduced us.”

  “But I have been out of the country for seven years,” Garrett replied, “and Father knows it. We will have to say we met in Florence or Rome. Have you ever been to Italy?”

  “No, I’ve never been anywhere.”

  He glanced at her suspiciously, as if she had done something wrong. “Why not?”

  “Because I have been living in seclusion in Yorkshire for the past four years. I was caring for my grandmother, who passed away six months ago.”

  There were other far less noble reasons for her seclusion, however.

  Did he know about that?

  “Did your brothers tell you anything about me?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “And you didn’t bother to enquire?”

  He glanced away impatiently. “I thought they made it clear in the contract that there would be no courtship between us, and we would live separate lives.”

  “Like strangers. Yes, they made that abundantly clear to me, but I thought you might wish to know who you would be marrying. I confess I am curious about you.”

  His brow furrowed with what appeared to be fatigue. “There is nothing to know,” he replied. “I am doing this for the money, plain and simple. Once my inheritance is secured, I will leave England and return to Greece.”

  She sat back and spoke dispassionately. “I see. How wonderful that we have something in common then, for money is my motivation as well.”

  They sat in chilly, censoring silence. Good Lord. Talking to him was like wringing blood from a stone.

  “You asked me when I was born and what I like to do,” she said, forcing herself to continue, for she wanted that damned house in Oxford and was not about to let him spoil those plans by intimidating her. “I am four-and-twenty. My birthday is March 28th. I like dogs and horses. I enjoy riding. It has been my favorite pastime all my life. I also like to read. I play the piano and can sing reasonably well, and I am very independent. I crave freedom.”

  “For purposes of this charade,” he said without enthusiasm, “who are your parents, and have I met them?”

  “My father was Viscount Stanley. You haven’t met my parents because they are both dead, which is why I have been living with my uncle, Baron Penrose.”

  He contemplated that for a moment. “With whom shall we say you traveled to Florence? That same uncle?”

  “My uncle would never take me abroad,” she replied with a scoff, “but since we are telling lies, and to satisfy your father, let me say yes. It was he.”

  Another chilly silence ensued while they each pondered the fictional scenario that was finally taking form.

  He glanced down at her hand and stared at it for a moment. “I see you are wearing a ring. Is that...?”

  “Yes, it’s my engagement ring,” she replied, lifting her hand to give him a closer look at the oval-shaped ruby surrounded by diamonds. “Your brothers gave it to me when I signed the contract. They said it belonged to your grandmother.”

  He stared at it for a few second more, but made no further comment. A short while later he said, “I suspect we will have to make things up as we go along. Who knows what questions Father might ask.”

  “I will do my best to be convincing and will share what I tell him.”

  “As will I,” he replied. “When did your parents die? How old were you?”

  She regarded him without flinching. “My mother died when I was nine years old, and my father passed away four years ago. I was twenty. That’s when I went to live with my uncle. And all that is the truth—not invention.”

  He paused. “I am sorry about your parents.”

  She was surprised by his kind words. “Thank you.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Now you know the most relevant details about me. What should I know about you? For purposes of the charade, of course.”

  He shrugged, as if there were nothing to tell, before painting a few broad strokes to satisfy her. “I spent the past seven years living in Italy and Greece,” he said. “Sailing my boat around the Mediterranean. I also write poetry.”

  “Have you had anything published?”

  “No.”

  When he offered no further information, she said, “I thought writers were supposed to be articulate, yet you seem to be a master of one word answers.”

  “I apologize, Lady Anne,” he replied, looking her square in the eye. “I don’t enjoy talking about myself.”

  She stared at him for a long moment and frowned at his reticence. What in the world had caused it? He was a strikingly handsome nobleman who lived a life of leisure, sailing around the Mediterranean. Shouldn’t he be full of reckless charm and good-natured appeal?

  “I wonder why I fell in love with you, then,” she said. “For the purposes of the charade, of course.”

  He gave her a dark look. “Because I am the son of a duke with a large financial settlement forthcoming to me. Is that not enough for a viscount’s daughter?”


  A throat cleared in the doorway just then, and they both turned.

  Lord Hawthorne approached. “I apologize for the interruption,” he said. “Father has surprised us all by joining us in the drawing room. He seems in good spirits. He wishes to see you, Garrett, and to meet your Lady Anne.”

  They both stood up while Anne wrestled with a sudden rush of anxiety, for other than a few sweeping superficial details, she still knew very little about Lord Garrett. She did not feel ready to meet the duke.

  “Shall we?” Lord Garrett coolly offered his arm.

  She had no choice but to accompany him. As they walked together she sensed a similar anxiety in him, for he was about to reunite with a father he hadn’t seen in seven years. A father who—according to family—was well on his way to madness.

  Chapter Four

  “My son. Good heavens, look how you have grown.”

  Garrett was taken aback by the significant aging of his father since they parted seven years ago. The duke was shockingly thin. His hair was pure white and gone wild about his face—and those were just the physical differences.

  The duke had been a harsh parent all his life and had never shown any love to Garrett, but now he approached with arms outstretched.

  Garrett was intensely aware of Lady Anne stepping aside to give them room to embrace. The shock of his father’s warm welcome was enough to make Garrett wonder if he had fallen down the rabbit hole.

  “My dear, dear boy.” The duke wept as he squeezed Garrett tightly. “I feared I would never see you again, but you have come home to us at last.” As he recovered his composure and wiped his eyes, he stepped back to hold Garrett at arm’s length. He grinned mischievously. “And with a lovely fiancée, I am told?” He nudged Garrett in the ribs. “Where have you been hiding this little one, eh? She looks like an angel. Introduce me if you will, before I dash off to marry her myself!”

  The rest of the family laughed at the duke’s teasing tone, but there was an obvious discomfort in the room, as if they all feared he might take hold of Lady Anne and actually do it.

  Still shaken by his father’s affable behavior, Garrett turned to his betrothed. “Father, allow me to present Lady Anne Douglas.”

  She fell into a proper curtsy. The duke took hold of her hand and helped her rise. “My word,” he said, “but you are an absolute angel. How lucky my sons have been to marry such lovely creatures. Garrett is the last now, but certainly not the least, for he is the one who will break the curse. It’s all up to you now, my boy. Isn’t that right?”

  Another hush fell over the room, and Garrett felt a stirring of unease at his father’s high expectations. Was there a veiled threat in it?

  You’re useless. You’ll never be anything but a bloody bastard. Get out of my sight, boy. I can’t even look at you.

  Garrett pushed the memory down and focused on the point of all this, and why he had come home. The money. He would say and do what he must to secure it.

  “Indeed,” Garrett replied. “On Christmas Day, everything will be put to rights. You’ll see.”

  Yes. To rights—for I will be well on my way back to Greece by then with a substantial piece of your vast fortune in my possession. And you will never have to see me again. Just as you always wanted.

  The duke turned to Lady Anne and offered his arm. “Why don’t you come with me, my dear? We shall sit by the fire and sip claret, and you can tell me all about your home in Yorkshire.”

  “I would be delighted, Your Grace.” With a charming smile, Anne accompanied the duke to the chairs in front of the fire while Garrett watched her with a hint of concern, for surely she must feel as if she had fallen down a rabbit hole as well?

  She gave no evidence of that, however, as she began to converse with his father. She smiled dazzlingly and laughed at all the things the duke said.

  At one point the duke reached forward and kissed her hand. It appeared she had captured his heart completely in the first few minutes of their acquaintance.

  If he even had a heart... Garrett sincerely doubted it.

  “Well? What do you think of her?”

  Garrett turned to his brother Devon who handed him a glass of sherry. “You chose well,” he said. “Father seems to like her, and she is a beauty, to be sure.” Garrett raised the glass to his lips and took a drink. “Makes me wonder, though.”

  “Wonder what, exactly?”

  Garrett frowned as he continued to watch her in the dancing firelight. She was not just another pretty young lady. There was something particularly enticing about her—a beguiling charisma that made it difficult not to stare.

  “What the devil is wrong with her?” he replied. “One would think a woman like that would have been snatched up on the first night of her first season.”

  “Perhaps you should ask her about that,” Devon replied as he set his glass down on a table. “You will have plenty of opportunity tomorrow. We’ve organized a sleigh ride and an afternoon of skating at the lake.”

  Garrett continued to watch Lady Anne converse easily with their father. “So there is a reason, then,” he replied. “A blemish on her character. I shouldn’t be surprised, for she and I are both selling our souls to the devil this Christmas. Does Father know?”

  “No, and we intend to tell him nothing. All that matters is that you sign the marriage certificate by midnight Christmas Eve, then Father will rest easily in his old age and our family’s fortune will be secured.”

  Lady Anne turned her enormous dark-lashed green eyes toward Garrett just then, and smiled. Her open gaze and astonishing beauty caused a spark of excitement in his core, which caught him off guard and caused him some discomfort—for he had certainly not come home to enjoy himself.

  * * *

  The snow was covered in a thin sheen of sparkling ice the following day when all the members of the family exited the front door of the palace. Four horse-drawn sleighs had been brought up from the stables and were lined up in a row, waiting to carry them to the lake house for ice skating and hot apple cider.

  Anne gathered her heavy wool cloak and scarf tightly about her neck and pressed her hands deeply into her fur muff. The temperature was well below freezing. She could see her breath like tiny puffs of smoke on the air, but there was not the slightest breath of wind.

  One of the horses tossed his head and stomped his heavy hoof on the frozen ground, impatient to get under way as Anne and the other young ladies—Rebecca, Chelsea, and Charlotte—approached.

  “Each sleigh carries four people,” Charlotte explained, “but you and Garrett shall have this one all to yourselves. Father insisted.”

  Anne glanced across at the duke, who was stepping into the first sleigh. As he sat down, the duchess laid a fur blanket over his lap. He clasped her hand and kissed her on the cheek.

  Anne was touched by the affection she saw in his eyes, and the blush that colored the duchess’s cheek.

  Garrett was the last family member to arrive. Dressed in a fur-trimmed greatcoat and elegant top hat, he came skidding across the icy drive with his hands outstretched as if on a wheel, to balance and guide him.

  Charlotte laughed at him. “You’re going to end up on your backside if you’re not careful!”

  He skidded to a halt and slammed into the side of the sleigh. “That’s slippery,” he said to his sister, as if Anne were not even there.

  She felt rather out of place among all these siblings. She had an older brother, but he and his wife had abandoned her after the scandal and they had not spoken since.

  “When was the last time you donned a pair of ice skates?” Charlotte asked Garrett. “I doubt it’s a common pastime on those sweltering Greek islands you are so fond of.”

  “It’s been too long,” he replied. “I hope I remember how to stop without careening like a cannonball into the bank.”

  Charlotte touched his arm. “You will be perfectly fine, and what about you, Lady Anne? Are you a seasoned skater?”

  Anne sniffed in
the cold. “Yes, I enjoy skating very much. This has been a good winter for it. Everything is frozen solid.”

  Charlotte glanced uneasily at the duke. “Yes, which hasn’t helped Father’s anxieties at all. But now that you two are finally here, I believe he will rest easier. Let us have a good time today. We are all in need of some laughter. Up you go now,” she said to Anne. “Garrett will help you. I am off to ride with Rebecca and Chelsea in the next sleigh. Devon and Blake will bring up the rear.”

  She hurried to join her sisters-in-law, while Anne’s eyes met Garrett’s blue-eyed gaze in the chilly midday sunshine.

  He held out his gloved hand. “Allow me to assist you.”

  Anne hesitated. How very attractive he was. Hence, she was not surprised when a shiver of physical awareness moved through her as she slid her fingers across his palm.

  Without any effort at all, he handed her up. There was a fur blanket on the red leather seat. She waited for him to sit beside her. After he adjusted the flannel-wrapped bricks she covered both their laps with the blanket.

  “It’s a fine day,” Garrett said, looking up at the clear blue sky. The sleigh lurched forward and the bells jingled on the harness. They began in a convoy, moving across the fields toward the forest, which was blanketed in pure white snow and ice that weighed heavily upon the evergreen branches.

  Garrett’s profile was relaxed as he looked over the fields and back at the palace.

  “Pardon me for saying so,” Anne mentioned, “but you seem in much better spirits this morning.”

  “How so?” he asked, finally meeting her gaze.

  “Last night you did not seem happy to be here, or to meet me. I believed you would decide to stay behind this afternoon, but here you are.”

  “Yes, well, here I am, forced to endure the fresh winter air and cheerful sunshine.” There was a touch of friendliness in his eyes this morning, and she was pleased he was making some effort at conversation.