Mail Order Marcella

by Marie Higgins

  Her head nodded quickly.

  “Very well then.”

  He released her and stepped back to the baker’s counter. He picked up the knife, turned back to the bread, and cut a chunk out of it. Using the kettle’s lid as a plate, he brought it to the table and set it down. Pointing to the bread, he said, “Eat.”

  He turned from her again and moved to the kettle heating the water. At least there was a tea kettle and cup—but only one. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry, anyway. He swiftly prepared the tea and placed the cup in front of her, noticing she had eaten half of the slice of bread already.

  Standing back, he folded his arms and scowled. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long before she confessed what her husband was up to. Wesley didn’t really blame her for falling in love with Martin’s false charm. That man knew how to make women bend to his will, but he would never be the devoted husband type. Sadly, Wesley might have to be the one to tell the duchess that she’d married the wrong man.

  It would be difficult to convince her to tell Wesley the truth. He suspected she didn’t know her husband was a murderer, but nevertheless, he’d find out about Martin’s whereabouts one way or another. It was important to know where Martin had been the different dates his father and brother were killed... and when someone shot at Wesley when he was boarding the train. If anyone would know, the wife would.

  It took several minutes, but soon she’d eaten her chunk of bread and finished her tea. Slowly, she stood and squared her shoulders.

  “I... thank you for the food,” she said, her eyes downcast as she clasped her hands against her middle.

  Wesley arched an eyebrow. She was thanking him? What game was she trying to play this time?

  She took a deep breath and brought her gaze up to meet his. “Now, would you please tell me why you have kidnapped me?”

  “No, not yet. I need some time to think, and you need some time to worry about what I’m going to do with you.” He motioned to the hall. “Shall I show you to your room now?”

  Her face paled and she nodded. He escorted her up the stairs and to the room that would serve as her bedchamber as long as he held her prisoner.

  As they walked inside, she held a grim expression, just as she’d done when they’d first entered the kitchen. Wesley realized this room wouldn’t compare to her bedchamber at her home, but at least he had provided her with a bed, a decent mattress, and a few blankets. There was one small end table to hold a lamp.

  After he adjusted the lamp and brightened the room, he pointed to the bed. “Forgive me, Duchess, for not having more accommodations for you, but this will just have to suffice.”

  She nodded and quickly wiped away a tear he hadn’t noticed before. Another wave of guilt swept over him, and he pushed back the feeling, reminding himself that he was not at fault for any of this. She was, as well as his cousin, Martin.

  Wesley left the room, closed and locked the door. He stood by the door, listening, and it didn’t take long before he heard the woman’s soft sobs. Just as before, guilt clenched his chest. Perhaps he shouldn’t torture her anymore. He wanted answers just as much as she did.

  He opened the door. She was still standing in the middle of the room and spun around. Her eyes were red and teary, and her lips were slightly swollen.

  “I’m ready to talk,” he said. “Come downstairs and I’ll tell you why I’ve kidnapped you.”

  She wiped her moist eyes and walked straight past and down the stairs. He followed closely behind her.

  She entered the room in front of the cottage and stopped nearby the fireplace. Her attention swung toward him for only a second before she shifted her gaze to the slow burning embers in the hearth.

  Irritation ran through him. Why didn’t she want to look at him? How could he carry on a conversation with her if she wouldn’t meet his eyes? It would be nearly impossible to study her reactions otherwise.

  “There are only a few answers that I need from you,” he began. “If I’m satisfied with what you tell me, I’ll return you back to your home. It’s as simple as that.”

  Finally, she brought her gaze up to him, her eyes widened. “That’s all I have to do?”

  “That’s all.”

  “Then please ask these questions so we can soon be on our way home.”

  He almost chuckled from her response. She seemed to think it would be that easy. She was definitely in for a rude awakening.

  “Fine.” He took another step toward the fireplace since she made no move to sit on the couch. “I want to know...” He paused, carefully placing his words so he made sense. “Where was your husband last month on the thirteenth day?”

  Her head tilted slightly. “My husband?”

  “Yes. Martin Hinsdale.”

  A smirk grew on her mouth, and surprisingly, her big brown eyes sparkled with humor. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Mr. Grey. Martin Hinsdale is not my husband. He’s married to my sister.”

  He waved his hand. “I’m not Mister Grey, just Grey.” Then it struck him what she’d said after that. “And don’t try lying to me, Duchess. I know Martin married Miss Bronson.”

  “Yes, he did. He married Joanna Bronson. I’m Marcella, her younger sister.”

  Studying the woman, panic grew inside him. No! He couldn’t have taken the wrong sister. She was exactly how Colt described her. Dirty blonde hair, slender, lovely, but with the tongue of a viper. Well, the lady he’d taken had most of these traits, although he still questioned the sharp tongue.

  “I don’t believe you.” He shook his head. “If you are the younger sister, then what are you doing living at the estate with your sister and her new husband?”

  The woman shrugged, holding up her hands. “I came with the marriage deal. Joanna didn’t want to leave me behind because I had no other family to stay with.”

  Wesley shook his head. “Martin would have never agreed to something like that.”

  Her expression quickly turned to one of sadness. He liked it better when there was a hint of a smile on her face instead of the frown and misty eyes.

  “That would probably explain why a few weeks ago he had told me I needed to find a husband because he didn’t want me living with him. And today, he said if I wasn’t married by Monday, he was going to find me one of his friends to take me off his hands.” Her throat jumped in what appeared to be a hard swallow. “When you found me in the group of trees, I had been crying, correct?”

  “Uh... yes. I think so.”

  “Martin had just given me the final insult of how much he loathes my presence.”

  “Impossible.” Frustrated, Wesley ran his fingers through his hair and paced the floor. He wouldn’t accept this possibility. If he had stolen the wrong sister, then he wouldn’t get any answers at all, and he wouldn’t believe he’d gone through all of this the wrong way.

  He stopped his pacing and looked at her again. “Why are you lying to me? You are the woman my friend described to me. You are Martin’s wife.”

  “I do resemble Joanna quite a bit, but if it’s Joanna you’re after, she’s been in her room for the past five days. She’s been extremely ill and hasn’t moved from her bed.”

  “Five days, you say?” His hopes dropped even lower. He’d only been spying on the estate, trying to figure out a way to kidnap the woman for the last three days. Perhaps this is the reason he’d only seen the duchess.

  “Yes. Five days exactly.”

  Groaning, he scrubbed his hands over his face. If only he had waited for Colt to join him, but no, Wesley was too impatient and needed to kidnap the woman immediately. He certainly had a mess on his hands now. For once in his life, he didn’t know how to fix this mistake.

  FIVE

  Marcella wrung her hands as she watched Grey closely. Her captor was on the edge of admitting defeat, she could feel it. Apparently, he’d meant to kidnap Joanna. That could be why he’d referred to Marcella as Duchess. Well, now that the truth was out, would he return her back to the estate? She didn’t d
are hope, but she needed to encourage him to do so, nonetheless. If anything, her sister needed her, especially since Joanna was so ill.

  “Mr. Grey... I mean, Grey? What is it you need my sister for? To ask her questions as well?”

  He dropped his hands as his stare stuck to her. “Yes. I need answers from your sister, unless, of course, you know them.”

  Her mind went back to the question he’d asked her about March thirteenth. Could she possibly remember where Martin had been on that day? Probably not, but she was willing to try. “Do you want me to try and recall Martin’s whereabouts on March thirteenth?”

  Slowly, he nodded. His eyes grew wide and stayed on her. It was uncomfortable to have the close scrutiny of such a handsome man, but if helping him was the only way he would take her back home, she’d do it.

  She turned her head and stared into the fireplace again. She could think better without looking into his mesmerizing green eyes.

  “Martin would have probably been gone a week around March thirteenth, and then he would have been gone five days or so just about a week ago,” he said.

  A memory nudged her mind and she recalled Martin leaving on a business trip around that time. And last week...

  Inhaling quickly, she swung her head to Grey. “Martin had told Joanna that he was on a business trip last month, which would have been around that time.”

  “And what about last week?”

  She nodded. “He was gone for four days, if I recall, but Joanna didn’t mention why he was gone.”

  A whoosh of air escaped Grey’s mouth and a smile stretched across his face. “Splendid.”

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  “No, but it’s a good start.”

  She wondered why this man was so interested in her brother-in-law. It was obvious that her captor didn’t like Martin very much, either. Another thing she couldn’t understand was whether or not she should fear Mr. Grey. Obviously, his issue was with Martin and not her. “May I ask what crime Martin has committed against you?”

  He was silent for a few awkward moments, and although he said nothing, his expression spoke volumes. Malice pierced his narrowed gaze, and his handsome face was marred with lines of anger.

  “What if I told you,” he began slowly, “that I believe Martin to be involved with the deaths of two men, and he was the reason a third man was shot, as well.”

  She gasped loudly. “Martin murdered someone?”

  “Two men for sure and injured a third with intent to kill.”

  “Surely, you jest.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not jesting. I’d stake my life on it, in fact. All I need is proof now.”

  “Oh, my...” She placed her hand against her bosom, feeling the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat.

  Her mind moved back in time to right after Joanna had married Martin. Although Marcella didn’t want to converse with the man, there were many times she heard him barking at the servants for doing something wrong. One particular time he had a visitor and as she sat in the small library, she could hear him and this other man arguing loudly. Parts of the threat he’d thrown at the visitor, made her blush because of his vulgar language. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the other man. There were also a few times she’d overheard her sister and Martin arguing. Apparently, he was most disagreeable with several people.

  Worry whirled through her mind of all the possible things he could do to her as well as Joanna, but then her mind switched and took a different path. Hope bubbled inside of her. If her brother-in-law was hanged for his crimes, he wouldn’t be able to force her to marry someone she didn’t love.

  “What do you think will happen to Martin if he is caught?” she asked softly.

  “I’m quite certain he’ll be hanged.”

  Dare she believe? Dare she hope he was the man Grey thought him to be so that her brother-in-law wouldn’t be able to control her life any longer? But therein lay the problem. Could she trust her captor enough that he would obtain his goal and get Martin out of her life?

  WESLEY STUDIED THE lovely woman still standing near the hearth. Who was she really—the married sister or the younger sister? He scratched his chin. The duchess would be approximately twenty-nine or thirty. The woman he gazed upon looked much younger than that.

  Although this woman was very stunning, she wasn’t the flashy beauty he’d heard about from Colt. Wesley’s friend talked about Martin’s wife as if she were a woman most men went out of their way to give trinkets to just to hear one kind word from her. As Wesley studied the woman he kidnapped, she didn’t quite measure up to Colt’s description. However, this sister was indeed lovely, but naturally so.

  Now, in her hesitation, there was a certain gleam in her eyes as if excitement built inside her. A few things confused him. Would the true duchess really show as much excitement in her gaze to want her husband hanged? Probably not. But this woman appeared as if she did, and that she couldn’t wait for him to be out of her life.

  “Tell me,” Wesley said in a rush before she could get another word out, “if you are indeed the younger sister, why have you not married?”

  Her face flamed a brilliant red, and again, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I... I haven’t married because...” She paused, seeming unwilling to reveal her reasons. Finally, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted her eyes to his. “Grey, I’m what men like yourself consider to be a wallflower. I’m shy and I have difficulty conversing with men. My sister has always been the center of attention, not I.” She cleared her throat. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t marry at all, but unfortunately, my brother-in-law thinks I need assistance in this matter.”

  Wesley cocked his head. This was the second time she’d mentioned her brother-in-law in this respect with irritation coating her voice. Was Martin truly trying to marry off the younger sister?

  “Is there anything else you wish to know so I can convince you that I’m not my sister?” she asked timidly.

  He tapped his finger on his chin. Should he believe her? A part of him felt he shouldn’t, yet he knew the woman Colt told him about wouldn’t have acted the way she was acting. “So you are Miss Marcella Bronson?”

  She exhaled a loud sigh. “I am, yes.”

  “Miss Bronson, do you think you know your brother-in-law well enough to help me?”

  One of her slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I can try, but whatever you do, promise me you will not kidnap my sister and bother her about this matter. As I’d mentioned before, she is very ill, and I don’t want you making it worse on her. If you don’t believe me, then return me to the estate and I’ll try to sneak you inside to her bedchamber and you can see for yourself.”

  Brave woman. She’d really risk having her brother-in-law catch her? It was too soon to let Martin know that he hadn’t succeeded on killing him.

  “Perhaps later,” he said with a nod. He moved to the couch and sat, crossing one leg over the other. “Miss Bronson, what can you tell me about Martin that you find distasteful?”

  Her attention moved to the other end of the couch. Uncertainty flitted across her eyes as she switched her focus from Wesley to the other side. He motioned with his hand for her to sit. She fidgeted a few moments more before moving to the end and perching on the edge of the cushion.

  She folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze darted around the room, but only landed on him a few times before continuing to wander.

  “To be honest, I don’t know Martin Hinsdale that well at all,” she began. “He courted my sister a month before asking for her hand in marriage. During that courtship, I’d only met him three times when he came to our house for supper. Like all men, he only had eyes for Joanna, and so I wasn’t able to engage him in conversation for any length of time.” She chuckled lightly. “Then again, I wouldn’t have done it, anyway, since I have a hard time talking to men.”

  “What about after your sister married him and he moved into your home?”

  “The one thing I noti
ced during those first few weeks was that he rarely stayed home. I found it odd that he didn’t want to spend more time with my sister, especially since they were barely wed.”

  “Did he have an excuse for being away so much?” Wesley narrowed his gaze on her, really studying her reactions and the way she answered his questions. So far, she appeared sincere in trying to help him.

  “All Joanna said was that he had to get his affairs in order because of his newly appointed status. Joanna assured me their life would get back to normal soon.”

  Wesley rolled his eyes. He would bet that some of Martin’s affairs had to do with women and his gambling debts instead of business. “I’m certain that Martin was creating ways to gain more money, and planning on killing those three men.”

  “I honestly can’t believe he would do that, but then, he does have a fierce temper.”

  Just looking into her eyes, he could tell that she was frightened of his cousin. Wesley gingerly touched her sleeved arm. “Has he struck you in any way?”

  A gentle smile touched her mouth. “No, only with his harsh words.”

  He rather enjoyed seeing her smile, and he wondered what she would look like with a full, genuine smile across her face. It would certainly light her eyes, making them more beautiful. Then he remembered he was her captor. Because he’d made the mistake of stealing the wrong sister—and then threatening her when she held a knife to him—he needed to figure out a way to make her feel that he was no threat any longer. In fact, from this point forward, he would think of her as someone who could assist him in his plight for justice. He would have to charm her. That was the only way to soften her heart so that she could assist him.

  Surprisingly, he looked forward to the challenge.

  SIX

  “I’m sorry you have to be the brunt of Martin’s anger,” Wesley told her sincerely.

  Her stare wandered away again as she scratched her cheek. Slowly, sadness etched in her expression, and her gut twisted. Anger shot through him, knowing his cousin had indeed, treated this woman unkindly. Immediately, Wesley felt the need to give his cousin a good shaking and reprimand Martin for his rude treatment.