The Vengeful Bridegroom

by Kit Donner

  “Mr. Brelford, you seem quite lost in thought. I would prefer we converse to break the silence.” She reproved him with a smile.

  He scratched his beard, deciding how best to answer her request. “What had you in mind to discuss?”

  “How long do you anticipate our journey to Dumfries? I’m sure Matthew told you about our Aunt Bess? I remember she’s rather hard of hearing but quite kind. I hope the weather will be pleasant during our stay, until, of course, we’re able to return to Town and seek our annulment.” She smiled tentatively at him and hurried a glass of wine to her lips.

  “Yes, Aunt Bess,” he murmured and continued to stare at her. Truth will out soon enough. He supposed he should admire her pluck since she had been hastily wed and removed from her only known home and family. And where was the famous temper he had been warned about? The woman before him painted a picture of docility and femininity and seemed as devious as plum pudding.

  Gabriel sighed in relief when Great George burst into the room with the hot pork pies.

  “Eat up! Eat hearty! Mary says your room is quite ready,” he informed them, his smile broad and warm. He bustled out the door, whereupon silence again spoke the loudest in the room.

  Gabriel watched Madelene eat quickly and wondered if she had given any thought to her wedding night. When the time was right, they’d have their wedding night, he thought with an inner smile.

  “Mr. Brelford, I think I’ll retire. No need to accompany me, I’m sure Great George or Mary will show me the way. Have a restful sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning,” she told him, her words hedged in exhaustion. When she rose to quit the room, Gabriel also stood.

  “Mrs. Brelford, I’ll accompany you. We are, after all, sharing the same room as man and wife.”

  “Oh, but I thought. You see.” She halted in obvious perplexity. A frown marred her lovely brow. “That is, well, this is quite impossible. My brother—”

  “Your brother isn’t here. Surely you understood the vows you recited earlier today?” He cocked his head at her, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t wish for me to heave you over my shoulder and carry you up to our room?” He almost smiled at the thought of her reaction or the amusement it would bring him.

  “I should think not.” A look of indignation blew past. She sighed. “I guess I have made my bed,” she finished in resignation.

  Interesting, she didn’t finish the thought. He watched her straighten her shoulders, turn toward the door, and begin climbing the rickety wooden stairs.

  He admired her resolve. He also admired her backside, as her traveling gown clung to her hips and other places while she preceded him. Steady, he told himself.

  At the top of the landing, outside their room, Mary greeted them and curtsied before hurrying past them and down the stairs.

  His new bride hesitated before entering the bedchamber, warmed from the fire Mary had started for them. Few pieces of furniture adorned the room other than a large tester bed with a frayed blue counterpane and a table and chair in the corner of the room. Dull white curtains covered the windows.

  When Gabriel entered the room, he noticed her trunk and his carpet bag near the bed before throwing his greatcoat over the chair. He turned to look at Madelene, wondering what she was thinking and feeling. And why it should matter to him. This game he had set in motion had many moves yet to make.

  She stood with her back to him, warming herself at the fireplace.

  “Mrs. Brelford, I’m going to return to the common room to discuss our travel arrangements for the morning with Great George. I would suggest using that time to prepare for bed,” he instructed her before departing the room.

  “Mr. Brelford—” She held up a hand to stop him.

  At the door, he turned to look at her. “Yes? Is there something amiss? Do you need something?” Gabriel couldn’t wait to be rid of the moniker not his own, hoping annoyance did not show in his voice.

  “No, it’s of no consequence,” she told him, shaking her head. He walked out and closed the door. His boots thumped down the stairs.

  Madelene slowly sank down on the floor next to the fireplace, hoping the warmth might seep into her bones and spirit. She still could not believe she was actually here, in an unfamiliar village, married to a stranger. It was an impossible position. If only her father could have saved her from this mockery of a marriage. Matthew should never have placed her in this situation.

  Even knowing it was only for a short time did little to stem her resentment. She now had a husband to obey, which did not suit for a moment. Until she could discover another alternative, she’d have to endure these events thrust upon her. Somehow, she’d find the will and pray the month would pass quickly.

  Frustration poured through her; she had to do something. When she looked down at her red walking dress, she suddenly despised it. She tore off the bodice and skirt and shoved them into the fire, wanting to burn the evidence of her wedding dress. Why couldn’t this all be a terrible dream?

  Destroying her wedding dress would do naught to the marriage itself, but she felt a little better watching the cloth catch fire.

  Until smoke began to billow out from the fireplace and suffuse their bedchamber. Clad in only a white short-sleeved shift, fine lawn tuckers, knee-high silk stockings, and shoes, and overtaken with fits of coughing, she tried to pull the garments out of the flames.

  To no avail. Smoke quickly filled the room, and realizing she couldn’t stop the conflagration, she ran toward the door and jerked it open, bumping right into her husband.

  Chapter Four

  Gabriel pulled Madelene out onto the landing and raced inside to contain the smoke and flames, Great George not far behind him. Together, using the bed counterpane and water from the washbasin, they smothered the flames in minutes. Although the fire and smoke caused little damage, the bedchamber would be uninhabitable until the smoke had dissipated. Once reassured all embers were dashed, Gabriel opened the two small windows and followed Great George down the stairs.

  He found Madelene sitting on a bench with Mary in the common room. His wife clutched a draught, unable to keep from coughing, almost doubled over from a spell. A rough woolen blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders hid her disheveled state of undress.

  His mouth grim, Gabriel stood on the opposite side of the table and leaned toward Madelene. “Was marriage to me so intolerable that you wanted to kill yourself, or are you simply a fool?” He bit his words out.

  Madelene blinked at him and frowned. “Is there another choice?”

  Surprised, Gabriel stepped back, and his anger at her subsided, slightly. “None. Your wedding attire has effectively gone up in smoke, which I can only assume was your intention and not burning the inn to the ground.”

  She didn’t answer him immediately, taking a long swallow of what he hoped was weak ale.

  He continued, his voice less stern. “I’ll obviously have to watch you more closely, to avoid any further disasters.”

  When confident Madelene had overcome the worst of the smoke inhalation, Gabriel sought Great George to request bath water for his wife to remove the effects of the smoke, ignoring his own untidy combination of perspiration and soot.

  The innkeeper and Mary went to fetch the tub and water in the kitchen while Gabriel sat down next to Madelene, still concerned over her condition.

  “Madelene, please assure me that you are suffering no ill effects that a bath and sleep won’t cure,” he requested, staring into her dazed dark blue eyes.

  She nodded slowly, obviously still bewildered about what had transpired. “I’ll be fine. It all happened so quickly. I had no idea.”

  Removing a fine white handkerchief from his pocket, he started to wipe the soot smudges from her forehead, then thrust the handkerchief in her hand. He must remember to show no signs of kindness in order to achieve his goal. “If you promise to stay put for a few minutes, I’ll remove our baggage from the room so you might find something to wear.”

  When he soon re
turned to the common room carrying the red-ribboned bonnet and matching gloves saved from the fire, he overheard Mary inform Madelene her bath was ready in the kitchen, where she would not be disturbed.

  Showing Madelene the remainder of her bridal costume, he said wryly, “Apparently, you were unable to destroy all evidence of your marriage garments.”

  Shrugging, she replied, “Perhaps Mary would like them, for I have no further use of them.”

  Mary’s sad little face broke into a smile. “Oh really, miss! That would be ever so lovely! I mean, missus,” she exclaimed and hurried over to touch her new belongings. “I’ve never had nothing this nice before. Oh to be sure, I thank you, miss, and you, too, Mr. Brelford!” Grasping her bonnet and gloves to her chest, the little maid scurried from the room with her treasures.

  Madelene rose unsteadily and found her husband’s hand on her elbow. Too tired to pull away, she let him lead her to the kitchen where her bath awaited. The smell of cheap wine and old fish hung in the air. She noticed while sinking into the nearest chair that Mary had left clean towels for her.

  Unfortunately, her husband showed no interest in vacating the little kitchen, which was becoming warmer and warmer as much from the bath water as his nearness. She couldn’t quite determine why she felt unnerved by her temporary spouse. Indeed, he had no interest in her as a woman, if her brother was to be believed. Then she should have no concerns over their sleeping arrangements for the night.

  But she did. Truthfully, Madelene’s new husband disturbed her, whether she wanted him to or not.

  Enough of this woolgathering. There was nothing for it. When she swept a long curl away from her forehead, she noticed her gray grimy hands and frowned. Without further delay, she stood, gathering her faculties about her.

  When Mr. Brelford made an effort to remove her blanket, Madelene dashed a few steps away, crossing her arms over her chest in protection and holding her blanket even tighter. What could he be thinking? Did he wish to play the role of lady’s maid?

  “Mr. Brelford, would you kindly leave me alone to bathe? I am accustomed to bathing without an audience,” she told him politely. She raised her eyebrows and jerked her head toward the door.

  Mr. Brelford’s lips twitched before replying. “There are a lot of things you’ll need to become accustomed to in the future as my wife. However, for the present, I’ll return to our room and have Mary wait outside, if by chance you have need of her.”

  Ignoring his words, she watched him leave before casting off her remaining undergarments and stepping into the wooden tub, slowly sinking into the warm water. The bath soothed her and removed most of the travel and smoke grime. She prolonged it as long as she could until the water became cold and unpleasant. Earlier feeling sleepy, Madelene felt refreshed, and her mood vastly improved.

  Wet hair draped over one shoulder, she climbed out of the tub to shrug into a wool robe when she heard a loud shout. With her borrowed robe clasped tightly in her hands, two young men burst into the kitchen yelling for Great George.

  Her heart pounded in dismay but she took a deep breath, determined to brave her way through the situation.

  “Gentlemen! As you can see, Great George is not, at the present time, located in the kitchen. Now, if you’ll be on your way in the direction from whence you came.” She tilted her chin, daring an argument.

  They halted in stunned silence and surprise when they saw her in a state of undress, ogling her in their dusty traveling clothes. The older-looking one in a threadbare greatcoat and long, dark unkempt hair sauntered forward. “And what do we have here? Are you one of Great George’s new maids? He must know where to find them. What are you selling tonight, my lovely?”

  Mr. Brelford pulled him back by his coat collar. When had he arrived? “Gentlemen, please return to the common room for Great George, and I would appreciate it if you would stop gawking at my wife,” he told them harshly as he strode over to Madelene.

  She almost bristled at his possessiveness. Surely she could have handled the strapping young men with logical persuasion. But her husband thought she needed rescuing.

  Wait. Something didn’t seem quite right. He was her husband and yet, not her husband. In the candlelight, she couldn’t see him clearly but assumed his countenance looked as harsh as his words. They both watched as the two intruders, eyes bulging from their heads at the sight of Mr. Brelford, bumped into each other trying to be the first through the door.

  Her husband stood near her, ready to defend her, already acting the role of protector. But when he turned to her, she caught her breath, and she was the one stunned into silence, briefly.

  What was he doing here? And where was Mr. Brelford, her husband? Why did he wear her husband’s clothes?

  She shook her head. These circumstances did not bode well. The man standing before her was Gabriel Westcott. Her brother’s enemy. Hers as well.

  Chapter Five

  She could only stare at the man standing before her. He had been wearing a disguise. Mr. Gabriel Westcott stood before her without his spectacles, beard, and bushy eyebrows, clad in the same well-fitting fawn shirt, pantaloons, and boots. His dark brown curly hair matched his deep brown eyes taking her mind briefly from her indignation, and she caught her breath. She had not remembered his attractiveness.

  His lean jaw and determined mouth declared no quarter given. A hard man indeed, based on the intent look he now gave her. What could he possibly want with her? Why was he here and not Mr. Brelford? This nightmare seemed to have no ending.

  Mary burst into the room. “Oh, miss, I beg your pardon, missus, but Great George called me away to serve customers. I didn’t mean to allow—” Mary finally noticed Mr. Westcott. “Sir, I don’t know who you are, but you take yourself right out those doors. You shouldn’t be in here! Out with you!”

  Mr. Westcott held up his hand. “Mary, I am—” He cleared his throat. “I am Mr. Brelford. No, correction, I am Mr. Westcott.”

  The little maid stared and stared and kept shaking her head. “You don’t mirror Mr. Brelford, and who is Mr. Westcott, I should know? Great George! Great George,” she yelled while fleeing the room.

  Mr. Westcott started after her. “I have had a conversation with Great George.” But his words were lost on the maid.

  Alone again, Madelene and Gabriel looked at each other.

  “Madelene, I know this must be a shock to you, my appearance unexpected—”

  Her mouth dropped open. He had truly rendered her speechless. How had she married Mr. Brelford, who turned into Mr. Gabriel Westcott?

  Madelene thought of Matthew. He would never have colluded with his own enemy to marry off his sister.

  Mr. Westcott interrupted her deliberation. “Madelene, did those culprits disturb you? They haven’t hurt you?” His tone quiet and concerned as he looked her over to assure himself she remained unharmed. He obviously missed the fire in her eyes.

  Narrowing her eyes, Madelene backed away from him and held a hand out in front of her. “You can’t be my husband. You! You tricked me! How could you do this? I demand you return me to Town this moment. We will immediately obtain an annulment.” Her eyes widened. “Unless you falsified our marriage license.”

  Oh, the horror and shame she would bring on the Colgate name. Was she actually married, and to Gabriel Westcott? Her fury at his deceit needed vengeance. She looked around the kitchen for something to use as a weapon, but nothing looked close enough. And any movement might reveal more than she wanted to show, grasping her robe more tightly to her chest.

  “Madelene, now is not the time for this discussion.” He walked toward her as she retreated until she felt her back at the wall. “We can discuss this sensibly in our room. In private.” He held out his hand in supplication.

  Her thoughts in disarray, anger heated her reply. “I want my own room. Then I want you to return me to my brother in the morning,” she commanded.

  He grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the kitchen door. “And wha
t about your brother? He’ll need to return his won blunt, and you’ll be back where you started. Surely a year with me is worth the price of saving your brother and your home,” he explained logically.

  She hesitated and frowned, shaking her head. “A year? No, that was definitely not the plan. I remember my brother telling me it would only be for a month, no longer.” Had she really been tricked into marrying her family’s enemy? For a whole year?

  Something else suddenly occurred to her. If her husband wasn’t Mr. Brelford, then Mr. Westcott could conceivably prefer women, which meant Madelene wanted to avoid their bedchamber at all costs.

  “We need to discuss this upstairs. Try to pretend you’re a willing wife.” He grasped her hand and pulled her out the kitchen door and up the stairs.

  The new inn arrivals hovered around their tankards, uninterested in the comings and goings of Madelene and her husband. A casual look around the main room confirmed Great George and Mary nowhere in sight. No one was near to help or hear her story. Sighing, she followed him up the stairs.

  Mr. Westcott opened the door to their second bedchamber of the night. This smaller room held only a narrow bed, a few blankets, and cold air. The first room must have been the more requested of the two. No fire lit the fireplace, in all likelihood to prevent a repeat of the earlier incident.

  Madelene saw her trunk safely installed next to the cold fireplace and rubbed her hands together, realizing she needed to quickly put on warmer clothes. Mid-May was much colder than usual this time of year.

  Digging into her trunk, she found a soft pink night rail and matching jacket for sleeping. The garments would provide covering but not much warmth. Unfortunately, she couldn’t put her hands on her cotton nightgown without unpacking everything.

  She began, “I would appreciate it, if—”

  “No, I won’t leave you alone. However, I will turn my back as you undress, if you can assure me that if I light another fire, you’ll step nowhere near it,” he said with a trace of amusement in his voice. Not waiting for an answer, he knelt before the cold fireplace and placed short sticks and logs on the metal shelf, preparing to light it.