The Vengeful Bridegroom

by Kit Donner

  Had it only been late last spring, when she and Gabriel had first been together? It seemed longer, as if she could never remember him not being in her life. But that seemed like an odd thought. Perhaps by becoming his wife and George’s mother, she had shed her other life as daughter and sister.

  Madelene waited anxiously at the window, looking for her husband’s return. He had spent much time in Town looking after his shipping ventures and seeking a partner. A Mr. Conkhorn, an elderly lawyer who lately had come into an inheritance, decided to invest with Westcott Shipping Enterprises. Together they planned to use new routes to the West Indies.

  She remembered how excited Gabriel became as he spoke about the ships, the cargo, and the future. Indeed, he hadn’t mentioned their future, but it was all one and the same.

  Whenever he returned to Town, Madelene would spend more time in the nursery with the baby and Charlotte. Donna Bella and Carlos had decided to return to Italy, which meant Madelene had to find a new governess. Gabriel promised to look into the matter while he was in London and possibly bring back someone who might be suitable for the position.

  Two months. Two long months since she and Gabriel had been together. Since she was in mourning and with the matters of the estate to settle, and her husband’s business affairs, circumstances had schemed to keep them apart, or so it seemed.

  Tonight would be different. She promised herself and Gabriel a surprise or two, which might actually compel him to admit he loved her. Three simple words. Three easy words. But he had never said them to her.

  She took dinner in her room, still waiting for the master of the house to return. Her constant companion, Falstaff, lay nearby, his stomach, for once, satisfied—at least temporarily. Dressed in white night robe and rail, she looked and felt the picture of health.

  Lying on her chaise longue, Madelene prayed they could start again and put the past and how they got here behind them.

  Heavy footsteps thumped down the hallway and past her bedchamber. She flew to the door to peek, and there he was entering his own room. He probably wanted to remove the road dust.

  This was it.

  What was that noise?

  Gabriel, naked after washing, heard something at his window. Unperturbed at his state of undress, he approached the window, thinking maybe a wild branch knocked on the glass.

  However, to his delight, the noise was indeed his wife, looking beautiful and luminous and slightly damp, for a drizzle had begun.

  She stood on the sturdy branch outside his window, grasping a top branch for support. Blinking sweetly at him, she said, “I know this might seem a bit unladylike for courting—but could I possibly come in?”

  “No.” His answer was short and quite confounded.

  “No?”

  “I’m coming out.”

  “Oh, but it’s raining and—” She noticed. “You don’t have on a stitch of clothing.” Her eyes widened as she watched her naked husband climb out his window and back her slowly into the well-worn familiar knot of the old tree.

  Standing together with leaves to hide their embrace, Gabriel gathered Madelene in his arms and swept in for the longest kiss of his life. Of her life. He pressed her damp body close to his so that there was not even air between them that they didn’t share.

  Catching his fingers in her long, wet hair, he knew how to warm her in all the right places. Even knew how to set her on fire—first with his tongue, then continuing his onslaught down her cheek to her neck and then farther. Her night robe slipped off and drifted down to the ground before either could catch it.

  They both stopped for a moment to look where the robe had fallen and laughed. If they didn’t pick it up tonight, there would be stories bandied about in the morning.

  “Ruff, ruff.” Falstaff growled, then barked again.

  They stopped, frozen in their embrace.

  Something was wrong.

  Gabriel turned to Madelene and put his finger to his lips before he walked down the branch and looked in her window. He vanished in a thrice into her room.

  Waiting a moment to see if he would return, she heard talking, both Gabriel’s and someone else’s. The someone else sounded like a woman, and quite familiar.

  Alec.

  She was back. All this time, Madelene had thought she had returned to Italy, after her uncle was jailed for robbery, murder, and other crimes both in England and his homeland.

  Madelene climbed through the window and exclaimed, “What—”

  “Stop there,” Alec told her, pointing a gun at her.

  Gabriel stood right inside the window, also apparently stopped by the gun the young woman held.

  Although Madelene felt wound as tight as a clock, she sensed a calmness in her husband, but couldn’t understand it. What was his plan? Surely he must have a plan. Heroes always had plans.

  “Gabriel, where are the diamonds? You may have given my uncle a banbury story, but I know you still have them.”

  Madelene took a closer look at the young woman who had haunted them from the beginning. Her eyes were as sharp as ever but her hand shook slightly—from exhaustion or distress? Madelene wondered.

  With hands on his hips, Gabriel shook his head. “Give it up, Alec. I don’t have them. I’ve been informed the gems have been returned to the Countess Rocusco in Florence.”

  Alec’s eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t believe you. I didn’t steal the diamonds from my uncle in Italy only to have them returned there.” She stared at Gabriel. “We could have had the diamonds and each other. You didn’t need her.” She jerked her head at Madelene but kept the gun steady.

  Before Madelene could bristle at this affront, Gabriel stepped in front of his wife. “Alec, I told you in Italy, and I told you again when we arrived in England. There has never been anyone for me but Madelene Colgate.”

  Madelene could see that as Gabriel continued to talk, Alec’s face turned brighter, her breathing came faster. This young woman, possibly mad, could shoot them at any time.

  Holding out his hands, he told her calmly, “Alec, put the gun down and we can talk. If you return to Italy, we won’t speak to the magistrate about kidnapping charges.” He took a step closer.

  Alec took a step back. On Falstaff’s tail. The little dog yelped and tried to bite her ankle. Somehow, Alec managed to keep the gun on her target while avoiding Falstaff’s teeth. Gabriel sprang toward her, but Alec stopped him.

  Pointing the gun at Falstaff, who still growled at her feet, she ordered, “Stop, or, or, I’ll shoot the dog!”

  Madelene steamed until she boiled over. Alec could threaten her or Gabriel with a gun, but not Falstaff! Unthinking, hoping surprise would be her weapon and asset, she stepped from behind Gabriel and rushed across the room. Madelene knocked the gun to the floor, then turned and hit Alec in the chin. The blow sent the young thief tumbling in stunned submission.

  The gun lay on the floor out of reach until Gabriel walked over and picked it up.

  Another knock on the door. Almost before Gabriel had a chance to throw on his robe, Mrs. Lavishtock burst through the door. “I thought I’d find you here!”

  In surprise, Madelene looked at the housekeeper. Did she mean Falstaff?

  “Alec Taglioni, the magistrate is downstairs waiting to ask you questions.” Her voice, normally strong, sounded winded, probably from climbing the stairs.

  Alec had risen to her feet, still smarting and angry, her fists clenched with no release.

  Gabriel smiled at their housekeeper. “Mrs. Lavishtock, I’ve already told Alec she can return to Italy. We have George back and that is what is important.”

  Mrs. Lavishtock kept shaking her head. “No, Mr. Westcott, this woman is wanted for attempted murder.”

  Madelene, holding Falstaff to her chest, couldn’t help but enter the conversation. “Attempted murder? Whose?”

  The housekeeper turned to her. “Yours, I’m afraid, madam.”

  Unable to keep the astonishment out of her voice, Madelene shrieked, “
Mine?” Whatever—The poison, the push in the lake, when I almost drowned. She started toward Alec before Gabriel caught her at the waist from behind.

  He looked at Alec, who had sidled closer to the door and possible flight. “I trusted you. I brought you into this house, and you put my wife and child in danger?”

  He waved his hand at Mrs. Lavishtock. “Please take her downstairs, and here.” With the gun in his hand, he walked across the room and handed it to her. “I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty with her. As soon as I dress, I’ll join you directly.”

  Mrs. Lavishtock took the gun, a little too readily, Madelene thought, hoping the gun wouldn’t “accidentally” go off before Alec made it to the parlor where the magistrate waited, considering their housekeeper’s wrath emanating from her turban.

  Graham opened the doors to the terrace, permitting a warm breeze to dance into the breakfast nook. He laid the hot repast on the sideboard before returning to the kitchen for coffee and tea. When he returned, the butler hid a smile, watching Mr. and Mrs. Westcott walk together into the nook. They were a delightfully happy couple. Fanny had told him they couldn’t be more blessed. He missed her, his silly sister.

  As brothers would be, she annoyed him when she was here, but he missed her when she was gone. Left in London. He couldn’t imagine her luck. Miss Fanny Dushorn from Ludlow running Mrs. Westcott’s mantua-maker shop, Madame Quantifours. He shook his head. She would be fine. He should stop this woolgathering and serve the coffee.

  “Mrs. Westcott? Mrs. Westcott?” Millie called before she entered the breakfast room.

  Madelene looked up, her brows raised. “What is it, Millie?”

  “What do you think of the deep blue gown for tonight’s soiree? I must make it ready for you.” The maid stood at the door waiting for her answer.

  “The blue would be just the thing. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. It is of great pleasure to have you with us now. You are a treasure to me.” Madelene smiled fondly at her lady’s maid as Millie curtsied and flew out the door.

  Mrs. Lavishtock rolled in the door with something in her hand. “Och, Mrs. Westcott, I wanted to show you this recipe for starched corn for dinner tonight.”

  Bemused, Madelene looked up at her housekeeper. “Thank you, Mrs. Lavishtock, but I am sure whatever you serve us will be perfectly prepared and perfectly presented.”

  Gabriel smiled at his wife. “Such alliteration, have you a desire to be a poet?” He gently teased her.

  “None whatsoever. What trips off my tongue even amazes me at times.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, imbued with sardonacism.

  Cocking her head to one side, she wondered, “And, your meaning, sir?”

  “Only that I find you amazing. And lovely in gray this morning. I find you lovely in anything and nothing.” The latter said sotto voce.

  “Shameless flatterer. You may woo me anytime with such lavishments.”

  “I’d like to lavish you,” he leaned toward her to whisper. “Mrs. Lavishtock.” He straightened and looked at the back of the housekeeper heading in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Och, yes, Mr. Westcott. Is there something—?”

  Gabriel dropped two leather bags on the lace cloth. “My intuition tells me that one of these bags is yours—the currant and stone mixture?”

  Mrs. Lavishtock appeared to not quite understand his meaning by her frown and puzzled look. “Oh, sir, I do believe you are mistaken. But I’ll take care of ridding it for you.”

  Gabriel looked at her closely. “Perhaps you are correct. It certainly was a brazen attempt to rescue George with the fake gems I had contained in the original bag, which someone switched.” He ignored Madelene’s gasp.

  “Yes, brazenly good luck.” She reached over to retrieve the bag and retire to the kitchen with her dignity intact.

  “I must check with Mrs. Lavishtock on the dinner seating tonight. Since the same guests will be attending, I thought it might do well to change it slightly. Perhaps place Lavender McMartin next to Mr. Bush?” Madelene explained to her husband while rising from the table.

  He caught her by the hand before she could make good her escape. “I assume this other bag is yours? You are the only one in this household with the special scented soap balls, which could never have fooled me for the real gems. Do I look so easily duped? Fortunate I am, I had bags made with false gems.”

  To answer him, she returned her gaze to his. “I was desperate and had nothing else which might do for this purpose.”

  He looked at her with those devastating brown eyes. “Amazing.”

  Their guests had departed at the ripe hour of eleven o’-clock after a lovely evening of cards and music. Even Mrs. Tottencott exclaimed the event and Madelene to be a success. Leaving Graham to extinguish the candles, Gabriel and Madelene made their way up to the first floor and down the hall to their bedchamber.

  Leaning on his shoulder, Madelene asked, “Who is Lady Shillmont?”

  He gave her a puzzled look before the realization dawned on him. His reply was full of mirth. “Why, she was Lord Shillmont’s first wife, Isadora, and a good ten years my elder. We had little in common other than we were neighbors, until she moved to Brighton to live with her sister and bequeathed her property to a distant nephew, I believe.” They stopped in the hallway, and Gabriel turned Madelene to face him, placing his hands on her shoulders.

  “My love, Princess Charlotte would have had an easier time trying to catch my eye. No, my heart would have no other, not after a certain young woman faced me with a pistol on a dueling field.”

  Madelene’s jaw dropped. “I might have killed my future husband! I am so very terribly sorry. Could I dare hope you have forgiven me?”

  His hands slid down her back to bring her closer for his kiss. “Yes, as soon as you said, ‘I do.’” She stretched her arms around his neck and leaned in for his kiss. One kiss couldn’t last long enough, which meant another and another.

  “Wife, I do believe we should continue this conversation where others cannot overhear, especially when we stop talking.”

  Gabriel removed his clothes and slipped into bed with his welcoming wife already waiting for him. He began his homage to her body by kissing her shoulder, her waist, her hip.

  “We must talk.”

  He looked at his wife in astonishment. Surely whatever she had to say could wait. No, her expression showed sincere stubbornness.

  “I don’t know how to begin,” she began and rapidly began to lose his attention as his hand found one full breast for fondling. “Gabriel, I love you.” Now she had his attention, momentarily, until he found her nipple with his mouth.

  She punched him in the shoulder, ever so gently. “Did I not make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly, my dear, but I already knew that.” He did stop to gaze into her shimmering eyes. Was she about to cry?

  “How could you know? It was my surprise.” Her bottom lip quivered.

  I must have said something wrong.

  Perhaps he should try again. “You’re right, my dear. I was not absolutely certain, but I hoped. A man can hope his wife will love him, can he not?” Was that as sincere as it needed to be?

  She smiled indulgently at him. “I have another surprise as well.”

  Through with the conversation, he placed her hand on his hardened member. “As do I.” He leered at her.

  She sat up, unabashedly, her naked glory on display. “Yes, that is a nice surprise, but I have a different kind. I’m, we’re going to give George a brother or a sister.”

  Stunned, Gabriel sat up next to her. He thought about the family they had made together and how it was going to continue to grow. To show his infinite love, for that is what he called it, he leaned over to kiss her gently. It was not one of passion but rather a forever-kind of kiss, a promise they would keep to each other.

  Epilogue

  3 November 1812

  Three Months Later

  London, England

  Madel
ene frittered with her white lace gloves while Fanny and Millie perfected her slight train. Fanny had designed Madelene’s wedding dress, only needing a slightly bigger waistline to accommodate her belly, not quite showing.

  Today was Gabriel and Madelene’s wedding day. Indeed, second wedding day, she thought, but the one that meant so much more. It was Gabriel’s gift to her, one of many he had lavished on her over the past few months, content with their lives, the coming babe, watching George struggle to stand, and Falstaff looking a little more blubberly. She smiled, thinking they both ate for two, but between the two of them, the little dog had no good reason.

  All the wishes and dreams couldn’t bring her father or brother to her side, but she would always savor their memory. She whispered, “Father, I am happy. I found a man who wanted me for his wife and not for the dowry I could bring him.”

  And Matthew. Unintentionally, he had had a direct hand in finding her a husband, to love for all time.

  She closed her eyes to remember many nights ago, when they walked to the lake, now chilled with cool air. Gabriel had reached over and pulled her cloak closer under her chin, to warm her where he couldn’t.

  “This will always be a special place for me.”

  She smiled at him. “Yes, for me as well.” Something seemed wrong. He didn’t look happy, and he sounded very serious.

  “Madelene. I want you to marry me. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” His warm hands held hers tightly.

  “Of course, but I cannot believe you have forgotten we are already married,” she gently chided him.

  “I want you to marry me again. We’ll do it the proper way this time, and I will leave you in no doubt as to the love I have for you. It is beyond knowing. It is beyond feeling. It is beyond forever.” His voice sounded gruff.

  Teary-eyed, Madelene replied, “Yes, I’ll marry you, for I know the same love.”

  If one had asked him, Gabriel could not have thought of one single more thing he could want in this life. With Madelene, he had everything.