No Man's Bride

by Shana Galen

  “A young lady who does not want to marry? Ridiculous idea, Lord Valentine.” She slanted those hazel eyes at him, and he had to cover his smile.

  “It is ridiculous, especially your method of avoiding the institution. Climbing about on verandas and throwing tirades, Miss Fullbright?”

  “You have another suggestion?”

  “No, merely a question: Why don’t you want to marry?”

  “I have a better question,” she said, finally allowing the handkerchief to drop from her mouth. She sat forward as though intensely interested in her subject now. “Why do you want to marry?”

  “A variety of reasons,” he answered, uncertain why his cravat felt as though it had shrunk. “Many reasons,” he finished weakly.

  “Name three.” She pounced, and he was back on the defensive.

  “I approve of the institution of marriage, for one,” he began. “It’s good for the moral code of the country, and—”

  She waved a hand. “That’s meaningless rhetoric. Give me a good reason. A personal reason.”

  He felt like telling her his personal reasons were none of her business, but he was trying to make a point here. It was probably his duty as a man and a member of Parliament to convince her to marry. What would England come to with hordes of unmarried women running about, all with ideas and such about why they should not marry?

  He had read Lysistrata, by God, and he wouldn’t have his country run by a gaggle of clucking, misguided women.

  “I suppose I also want to marry because I need an heir. One day I will become a marquess, and I need a son to follow after me.”

  She seemed to consider, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose children are a good reason to marry. I will miss children. What is your third reason?”

  Quint thought for a moment. What the devil was his third reason? He’d never considered why he would marry; he only knew that he must. And then it came to him.

  “For my career. The right wife can be an asset for a man like me.”

  Immediately, he knew he’d given her the wrong answer. He’d forgotten she was the romantic sort. Her face clouded, and she shook her head. She began to speak, then shut her mouth and stood. “Men. You are all the same. It disgusts me.”

  She made to leave the drawing room, but he called after her, “Then I have not caused you to reconsider?”

  “Reconsider?” She rounded on him. “Reconsider what? Reconsider joining an institution devised by men to benefit men at the detriment of women? An institution that has nothing whatsoever to do with love or esteem or even affection but relies wholly upon political stratagems formulated by men? Now you tell me, Lord Valentine, why should I marry?”

  She stood and stared at him, waiting for an answer that he seemed unable to give. Surely he should be able to think of something. The Times had called him one of the greatest orators of his time, by God.

  And yet the girl, this unkempt and uncivilized girl, had left him speechless. It was not to be borne. She stared at him a moment later, and then without the least trace of victory in her eyes, said, “That’s what I thought.”

  And she strode from the room, her ugly brown skirts swirling as though she were the queen.

  “Have you gone completely mad?” Ashley said when Catherine opened the door to the attic. She’d been banished there for a week.

  Their maidservant slept there as well, but at present Catherine was alone in the attic and the house. Elizabeth and her mother had gone to stroll in Hyde Park, as it was the fashionable hour. It would have been more fashionable to ride, but the family had neither a horse nor carriage.

  “Come in.” Catherine opened the door wider, but Ashley just stood in the doorway and stared at her.

  Ashley had changed little in the eighteen years Catherine had known her. She’d grown up to be precisely the beauty everyone had said she would. Her hair was the shade of ripe wheat, her skin so white and flawless that it shamed milk and honey, and her eyes were the most startling shade of pale sea green. She was of medium height with a perfect figure, and she had an amazing flair for fashion.

  Not that she concerned herself with matters of fashion very often. Ashley was neither vain nor conceited. She would have made a better man than woman, for she was courageous, willful, and never dissembled, even when one wanted her to.

  “That’s what you have to say for yourself?” Ashley remarked. “‘Come in’?”

  “Sit down?”

  “Have you gone absolutely daft? You are sleeping in the servants’ quarters now?”

  Catherine sighed. “As you see.”

  “Oh, never mind that.” Ashley stomped inside and bent under the low ceiling. “More importantly, Devlin told me he heard that you took a shot at a gentleman caller this morning, tried to set the house on fire, and tackled Lizzy.”

  Catherine smiled. If Ashley’s brother had heard of her actions, the plan was working. “The last part is true. Where on earth did Devlin hear the rest?”

  “I think he was at the butcher’s. The man claims the two of you were practically engaged.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, that’s just what I said.” Ashley flounced inside and flopped down on Lizzy’s new bed, careless of her riding dress or the intricate style of her blond hair. “I made Devlin take me right back over there, and then the butcher admitted you weren’t quite engaged. But what about the rest of it, and why are butchers courting you? I thought we promised to be adventurers, not wives.” She said the last as though it were a curse.

  Hoping her cousin’s tirade was over, Catherine sat next to her. “I am going to be an adventurer. Josie and I are planning an exciting adventure right now. But until we’re ready to leave, I have to keep my father from marrying me off. I thought if I caused a bit of commotion, it would put off some of the suitors my father has been bringing home. Men like that butcher.”

  Ashley sat forward. “Really? That’s actually a very good idea.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But don’t you think starting fires is taking the scheme a bit too far?”

  “I didn’t start a fire or shoot at anyone. I did tackle Lizzy, but—”

  “She deserved it,” they said in unison and then laughed.

  “Good for you,” Ashley said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “I was hoping you would ask that.” Catherine had been sitting in the attic for several hours contemplating her next plan of attack as well as praying her father would not break down the door and beat her senseless for her earlier behavior. He had gone out after the incidents of the afternoon and hadn’t yet returned. Thank God. As much as she’d like to run and hide at Maddie’s home, Catherine knew that would only make her father angrier and guarantee her own punishment was that much worse in the end.

  “I’ve been thinking, and I feel that continuing my efforts to dissuade my father’s suitors are not wise. I can’t keep acting like this,” Catherine said. “You know how my father is.”

  Ashley nodded, uncharacteristically silent. She was not the kind of girl to be afraid of anything, but she was cautious around her uncle Edmund.

  “I have to work even harder to delay Lord Valentine’s wedding to Elizabeth. I made one attempt at the Beaufort ball, but I must do more. I need more time.”

  Ashley nodded. “Yes, I see your point, but the announcement appeared in the Times. Valentine will be in a hurry to get Lizzy to the altar now. He’s a proud man.”

  “Arrogant you mean. The only reason he wants to marry Elizabeth is because he needs an heir, and he thinks it will help his career. He doesn’t care one fig for her.”

  “Nor she for him, I imagine,” Ashley said.

  “So what do we do? How do we keep them from the church?”

  “I don’t know, but I promise to think about it. I’ll talk to Madeleine and Josephine, too. Between the four of us, we’ll come up with a plan. Until then, don’t do anything rash.”

  “Me? Rash?”

  Ashley laughed. “Very
well. I won’t do anything rash. Just sit tight, Catie. We’ll halt that engagement if it’s the last thing we do.”

  Catherine sighed. Leave it to Ashley to put it in the most dramatic terms possible.

  Chapter 5

  Edmund Fullbright moved away from his daughter’s door before his niece could emerge and catch him snooping. Goddamn little hoyden. That was the influence of his wife’s family for you. Her brother’s brood was an absolute disgrace.

  Did he not have enough problems with his stubborn, ungrateful daughter without Sir Gareth’s litter putting ideas into her head?

  He swore and kicked at a loose rail on the banister as he made his way to his study. It was more of a closet, really. The house the family had occupied for the last twelve years was tiny. He had no privacy here.

  After shutting the door, Edmund went to his scratched desk and opened the bottom drawer. It was the only drawer that still opened and closed properly, and he kept a store of blue ruin and a glass inside. He removed both, poured himself a glass, and leaned back in his creaking chair to contemplate.

  What was he going to do about his two broodmares? Not for the first time, he wished he had a son. A boy would accompany him to the gaming hells, play as his partner. With a boy, he would have won at the tables. A boy would have been useful in so many ways, while these daughters of his sat at home and wasted his money, bringing nothing in themselves.

  The time for that was over. Until now he’d had no use for his daughters. He’d watched and waited and doted on Elizabeth, knowing she would be the one to repay his efforts. His younger was the prettier of the two, and now she had scored herself a future marquess. Valentine would pay nicely for the privilege of wedding and bedding little Elizabeth. But weren’t there men in England willing to pay even more? After all, Elizabeth had just come out. This was her first real Season, and Valentine was her first acceptable suitor. Not for the first time, Edmund feared he had been too quick in his acceptance of Valentine’s proposal. He should have waited for a duke or even a foreign prince.

  And now with Lizzy engaged, what to do about Catherine? Edmund did not think he could have sold the girl had he offered her for a pound and an eel pie.

  He poured another glass of gin. Not only was it unprofitable, it wasn’t right to marry Elizabeth before Catherine. The elder should marry first, or the family looked desperate. Edmund had been the younger son of an earl, and though Edmund cared for little else the man he’d called father had taught him, some rules and social rituals stuck with him. He needed to marry Catherine before he could allow Elizabeth to wed. And he needed to marry the girl soon. Already Valentine was chomping at the bit, asking when he could call the banns, pressing for a wedding date.

  Valentine would be a good son-in-law. Edmund smiled and took another swallow of gin. Then he frowned when he saw the glass was empty. He filled it a third time, taking note that the bottle was almost dry. Stupid cow. His wife had been stealing his liquor again. Later he’d show the strumpet what happened when she stole what was his.

  But now for Valentine. Edmund had looked into Quint Childers. The man was wealthy—not a Croesus by any means—but he would do. Still, Edmund hated to waste his one good daughter on a marquess. He knew with Elizabeth’s pretty face and tight little figure he could score a duke at least. When she’d been a child, he’d promised her a prince, and he still thought the plan entirely feasible. But the little chit was happy with Valentine, couldn’t stop cooing over how handsome he was and how well-mannered. Stupid cow. He had other plans for her.

  But what to do with Valentine then? One did not just toss away a good future marquess. Edmund took another sip of gin and another, and then through the haze an idea came as clear as the song of an angel. The idea was so good, he sat up straight and rigid, and said, “Oh!” And then he dissolved into fits of laughter.

  He laughed and laughed. He laughed so long and so hard that after a while his wife knocked on the door and asked if he was well. He cuffed her, sent her away, and then he laughed some more.

  Yes, he would have his marquess and both daughters married too. Pulling on his coat, he stumbled through his house and then out the door. He’d tell his little Valentine to call the banns now—this Sunday. Edmund Fullbright was ready for his daughter to wed.

  All he needed to do was make one little stop at the chemist, and everything would go as planned.

  Chapter 6

  Catherine checked her appearance in the mirror one last time before she followed her cousins down to Lord Castleigh’s ballroom. Tonight was her last chance to warn Valentine away from Elizabeth.

  It had been over two weeks since the earl had come to the house, and in that time she had not seen him. She had heard plenty of him from Elizabeth and her mother. The banns had been called, and the wedding preparations were under way. In fact, the family was so busy, Catherine was virtually left alone.

  She was actually left alone when her father, mother, and sister had traveled to Valentine’s ancestral estate in Derbyshire to meet the Marquess and Marchioness of Ravenscroft. Catherine had been given leave to stay with Maddie, and she’d been able to ride every day.

  It had been a wonderful respite, but then the family had returned. Her father seemed to have given up marrying her off, and that was the most worrisome turn of events.

  Her father never gave up that easily. He had to have an ulterior plan.

  Pinching her cheeks to add color, she glided down the staircase in her new white silk gown. It wasn’t actually hers. She wore one of Maddie’s dresses from last Season. The two cousins had cut and pinned and sewed for days to alter it for Catherine’s proportions. Now Catherine felt almost like she belonged here. She had rarely worn silk before, and the fabric was light and airy against her skin.

  The gown had been Madeleine’s contribution to the plan. Josephine and Ashley had helped Catherine with the rest, and now she saw them smiling at her as she descended the stairs. At the bottom, Josephine clasped her hands, and said, “Perfect! You look treacherously beautiful. Lizzy will bite her tongue all night!”

  Catherine nodded and took a deep breath. The ball was not terribly crowded yet, but the guest list was extensive. She would have to act quickly, before too many people arrived, or she would be shaking too badly to implement the plan. Her hands were already clammy, and her heart was beating faster than usual. Oh, why couldn’t she just hide?

  Despite Josephine’s encouraging words, Catherine did not feel beautiful. She felt like everyone was looking at her. How was she ever going to attract Valentine’s attention? What if he ignored her and made her look a fool?

  More guests were arriving, and Catherine knew she should join the receiving line. Ashley gave her a last reassuring squeeze. “You know what you have to do?”

  Catherine nodded. “I must make Elizabeth show Valentine her true colors.”

  Ashley nodded. “Right. Then he’ll call off the wedding, and you can remain a founding member of our club.”

  Josie and Maddie patted Catherine’s hands. “Keep your chin up. Think confidence!”

  Catherine nodded and forced her feet toward the entry hall, where her father, mother, sister, and Lord and Lady Castleigh stood greeting their guests. They made room for her to join them, and her father leaned over, and hissed, “Now you choose to look presentable? What are you up to?”

  Catherine just smiled and bowed to a baron and his wife.

  Next Elizabeth leaned over. “You look like a fool, you know. Trying to outshine me?”

  Catherine smiled at her. “Well, no one will be looking at me.” She greeted Sir Gareth and her aunt Imogen, Ashley’s parents, and accepted their compliments.

  “No one ever looks at you, except when you act like a fool. Is it not time for you to begin gulping for air and shaking?” Elizabeth hissed.

  Catherine turned back to the line in time to see that Lord Valentine had finally arrived.

  Thank God he’s here was her first thought. Oh, Lord he’s handsome was her second.
Catherine never noticed men except to avoid them. Some were taller or fatter or louder than others, but these were characteristics of the species, not points that held her interest.

  Valentine held her interest. It was difficult to look at him and not be absorbed. His face, with its high smooth cheekbones and the contrasts between the hard planes of his chin and forehead and the softness of mouth and lips, intrigued her. And then there was his hair, which she had called too long, but which she now decided was perfect. The straight, brown edges scraped his collar and flowed back from his forehead like a bird’s wing.

  Like his, her hair was dark, a black her sister compared to mud. But Valentine’s hair was the brown of topaz, the golden brown of rich, aged whiskey, the brown of virgin earth when it’s freshly plowed and gleaming in the early-morning dew.

  Catherine blinked. Lord, she couldn’t keep staring at him this way, thinking of him in these terms. If she weren’t careful, she’d start believing herself in love with him. Even though she didn’t intend Lizzy to marry him until after she and Josie had escaped, she knew the wedding would happen eventually. What would not happen— what was not possible or even within the realm of possibility—was that she herself would ever have him. A man like Valentine would never look at a woman like her.

  And then he was before her, executing a formal bow. Catherine forced her legs to bend into a curtsey. She opened her mouth and said something, which she hoped was a polite greeting, but Valentine gave no indication he had heard. He stopped in front of her and stared. He stood so long, his gaze so hot and intense, Catherine began to tremble from nerves. Her cousins’ plan was not going to work. He obviously thought she looked hideous. Finally, he barked, “What are you wearing?”

  Catherine glanced down at Maddie’s gown, then back into Valentine’s lovely eyes. “A-a gown?”

  “Put a shawl over it. It’s practically indecent.” And then he moved on. Catherine watched as he bowed to Elizabeth. While Lizzy’s gown was just as low-cut as her own, Catherine noted that Valentine had no criticism for her. He smiled at Lizzy, his own face turning beautiful when he did. He drew Elizabeth close, into his warmth, and watching them, Catherine felt a painful stab through her heart.