Merely the Groom

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  “Of course it does,” Colin answered. “It means I’m going to profit handsomely from blackmail.”

  “Take heart, my boy,” Lord Davies encouraged. “You’re being blackmailed, you aren’t committing it.”

  “I might as well be,” Colin said. “Because I’m profiting from it just the same.”

  “Think of the advantages, not the disadvantages,” the baron advised.

  “I have,” Colin told him. “The advantage is that I’ll be wealthy enough to insure my family no longer has to suffer the consequences of my father’s misdeeds.” He looked the baron in the eye. “The disadvantage is that now, your daughter will have no recourse but to continue to suffer the consequences of hers. She made an error in judgment, Davies. And forcing her to marry a man she doesn’t love so she can hold her head up in society won’t necessarily correct that error or make for a long and happy union. It would be far better for the both of us if we were permitted to choose.”

  “She chose her first husband,” Lord Davies said. “That’s how we found ourselves in this predicament. My choice is the better one.”

  “You can’t know whether it is or not.”

  “I’ll stake my life on it.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Colin snorted. “You don’t have to live with me.” He turned and measured his steps back to the window overlooking the immaculate garden. “You’ve only to look at my sire to see that I’m not exactly cut from quality husband cloth. So tell me, Lord Davies, are you willing to stake your daughter’s life on whether you’ve made the better bargain, or shall we call the whole thing off?”

  “I know I’ve made the better bargain,” Lord Davies said. “You’ve shown more concern for Gillian in an horn’s meeting with her father than that bounder did after three days of marriage to her.” He walked over and clapped Colin on the shoulder. “Be patient, my boy, and love will come in time.”

  Colin snorted once again. Love will come in time. Would it? And if so, for whom? Gillian Davies had already demonstrated her love for someone else. And Colin had sworn not to love at all. If love decided to make an appearance, it would spell heartache for both of them. “When do you propose the wedding take place?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Lord Davies answered. “Have you a special license or should I procure one?”

  Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have one.”

  He had purchased a special license to marry when he’d begun working in the War Office. Not because Colin wanted to marry—Free Fellows avoided the parson’s mousetrap at all costs—but because Colonel Grant had suggested it. A special license enabled the bearer to marry any place and at any time, and clandestine operatives never knew when it might be handy to have one. Colin hadn’t expected to use it for years. He certainly hadn’t expected to use it on the morrow. But it appeared that his luck had run out.

  “Then we’re all set,” Lord Davies pronounced. “I’ll notify the vicar and have the household prepare a breakfast.”

  “What about your daughter?”

  “What about her?” the baron asked.

  “Do you intend to notify her before the wedding?” Colin’s pointed question gave Lord Davies pause. “Or do you intend that it should be a surprise?”

  The baron flushed bright red. “I confess to taking the coward’s way out and thinking it might be best to break the news before breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  Colin studied the man who would become his father-in-law on the morrow. “If it’s all the same to you, Lord Davies, I’d appreciate the opportunity to speak with her today.” He gave the baron an ironic smile. “If your daughter objects to the idea, I’d prefer to know it before we’re asked to plight our troth.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “So every bondsman in his own hand bears

  The power to cancel his captivity.”

  —William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

  Julius Caesar

  “Papa?” Gillian opened the door to her father’s study and stepped inside. “Saunders said you wanted to see me?”

  Lord Davies gave his daughter a welcoming smile. “Yes, Gillian, please come in and join us.”

  Gillian arched an eyebrow in silent query. She had seen two gentlemen leave the house by way of the front door as she made her way down the stairs. She hadn’t realized her father had another guest until she noticed the broad-shouldered gentleman staring out the window overlooking the west lawn.

  Colin turned to face her. “Good afternoon, Miss Davies.”

  Gillian’s breath caught in her throat. Viscount Grantham was every bit as handsome in the daylight as he was in the evening.

  He stared at her, taking in every detail of her appearance from the top of her curly black hair to the tips of her pale blue slippers and everything in between. Her soft lemony fragrance surrounded him, awakening his senses and confirming his worst suspicions. He had smelled that scent before. Not last night at Lady Harralson’s, but weeks earlier in a dark room in the Blue Bottle Inn in Edinburgh. He had held the woman wearing that scent in his arms all night, and the fragrance of lemons had clung to his jacket and haunted him for days afterward. Colin reacted to it now with a powerful hunger that caught him unawares, like a hard fist in the stomach.

  “A pleasure to see you again.” Gillian blushed in spite of herself. “Likewise, Lord Grantham.”

  Lord Davies studied his daughter. “It seems you and his lordship are already acquainted.”

  Gillian wrinkled her brow. “We are,” she answered. “Lady Harralson introduced us at her party last night. Lord Grantham and I danced a minuet.”

  Lord Davies was genuinely surprised. “A minuet, eh?”

  Gillian’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her father. “Lord Grantham is a wonderful dancer.” She glanced at Colin from beneath the shadow of her lashes. “And surprisingly light on his feet for so big a man.”

  Her compliment surprised him. Colin gave her a warm smile. “I’m a man of hidden talents.”

  “You do the fair maidens of London a great disservice by keeping your talents on the dance floor hidden, my lord.” She returned his smile. “Especially during the height of the season. I’m sure you realize that we suffer from such a dearth of willing dance partners that hostesses all over town are pressed into service making introductions in a valiant effort to supply enough to meet the overwhelming demand.”

  Colin laughed. “Touché. But I beg to differ with you on one point, Miss Davies.”

  “Oh?” Her voice rose a bit. “And what point might that be?”

  “Our first meeting,” he said. “Our hostess, Lady Harralson, presented me for an introduction, but your mother, Lady Davies, introduced us.”

  “That’s right,” Gillian agreed. “Mama did introduce us.” She turned to her father. “She and Lord Grantham’s mother serve on the same ladies’ charities. Mama met Lord Grantham at his mother’s house.”

  “Satisfied?” Colin demanded of Lord Davies.

  “Entirely,” the baron replied.

  Gillian frowned. “Papa, I don’t understand. What is this about?” She looked at her father as if she suspected he and Grantham were in league.

  Colin looked at Gillian. “Your father thought I might be someone I am not.”

  The blood drained from her face, and her eyes widened in alarm. Unshed tears burned her eyes as she battled to maintain control. “You think… She looked from her father to the viscount and back again. “He came to call and... Oh, Papa, you told him, didn’t you?” Her voice broke, and Gillian colored as the hot rush of embarrassment reached her face.

  Lord Davies nodded.

  “You shouldn’t have.” Gillian wished the floor would open up and swallow her. “Lord Grantham didn’t... I only met him last night. He had nothing to do with”—she paused—“what happened to me.”

  Colin cleared his throat. “I’m afraid your father had no choice but to tell me after his investigator followed a trail that led to my door.”

  “It’s your Christian n
ame,” Gillian said. “You share the same Christian name, but Papa’s investigator made a mistake. You are not the man Papa meant to find.”

  “He’s exactly the man I wanted to find,” Lord Davies contradicted.

  Gillian’s resolve seemed to desert her, and she abruptly dropped onto the big leather ottoman in front of the massive wing chair. She wanted to apologize to the viscount, but she didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling.

  “I travel the length and breadth of England and Scotland on business,” Colin explained. “Colin Fox is a name I’ve often had occasion to use. That’s why your father’s investigator found me.”

  “Why would you travel the width and breadth of England and Scotland using another man’s name?” Gillian asked.

  “I’m a viscount,” he stated in the firm, confident tone the other higher-ranking Free Fellows often used. “It’s common practice for those in my position to travel incognito in order to avoid attracting unwanted attention from highwaymen, bandits, and ne’er-do-wells.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And as far as I know, I’m not using another man’s name,” Colin answered. “He’s using mine.”

  “I could be mistaken,” Gillian admitted, “but I was given to understand your family name is McElreath.”

  “It is.”

  Gillian sighed. “As we seemed to be at sixes and sevens over whose name belongs to whom, perhaps it’s best if you explain yourself.”

  “All right.” Colin admired her forthright approach. “The man you knew as Colin Fox and I are sharing more than a Christian name. We appear to be sharing an identity.”

  “You can’t be...” Gillian began. “Colin Fox is an agent with His Majesty’s government.” She glanced up at Viscount Grantham’s face and faltered. “Isn’t he?”

  The look in her big, blue eyes was devastating. The hurt she had suffered and the doubt she felt shimmered in their depths.

  “It’s possible.” Colin looked at Lord Davies and dared him to contradict him. “Or all of this may be a big misunderstanding, but since he married you using a name I also use—” He broke off as Gillian blanched.

  “I’m married to both of you?” she guessed.

  “No,” Colin said softly.

  Gillian breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You’re not legally married to either of us.”

  Gillian buried her face in her hands. “I was afraid of that,” she murmured.

  Colin would have sworn she was innocent of the deception, but her answer begged the question. “You knew the man with whom you eloped was using a false name?”

  Gillian shook her head. “I had no idea. I believed he was who he said he was.” She uncovered her eyes, but she kept one hand over her mouth almost as if she meant to keep her admission inside. “I believed everything he told me.”

  “When did you stop believing?” Colin’s voice was little more than a gruff whisper.

  Gillian looked down at her hands. At the third finger of her left hand where a ring should have been. “When she told me I wasn’t the only one.”

  “Who told you?” Colin asked.

  “The innkeeper’s wife.”

  “The innkeeper at the inn in Gretna Green?” Lord Davies asked.

  Gillian didn’t answer, and Colin had a vivid memory of a woman’s face at the window of the Blue Bottle Inn. And Colin had an equally vivid memory of the spite in the words of the innkeeper’s wife when she had spoken of the lady upstairs.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Lord Davies asked.

  “I didn’t want to cause a bigger scandal than I already had,” she said sadly. “You were trying so hard to keep everyone in the ton from learning I’d eloped. I didn’t want to make it worse by telling you that I was foolish enough to elope with a man who had already married two other women.” She met her father’s penetrating gaze. “I thought that if I did as you asked, Papa, and played along, you would forget about finding him, and the gossip would fade away. I thought I might get a second chance to make things right.” Tears rolled down Gillian’s face, but she was oblivious to them.

  “You are getting a second chance.” Colin leaned down and tilted her face up, lifting her chin with the tip of his index finger so he could look into her extraordinary blue eyes. “If you want one. For, you see, Miss Davies, I didn’t come to call upon you, I came to ask you to marry me.”

  “You want to marry me?” Gillian wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

  “I do,” Colin answered.

  “Why?” she asked bluntly, reeling from shock.

  “What difference does it make?” Lord Davies interrupted. “The viscount wants to marry you. Smile prettily and accept the man’s proposal.”

  “I can’t just smile prettily and accept the man’s proposal, Papa. No matter how much I would like to.” She looked at Colin. “Papa confided my predicament to you, but was he completely forthcoming? Did he explain that I’m no longer a…?” She blushed and tried again. “You understand that I’m ruined and could be carrying another man’s child?”

  Colin was gallantry personified as he looked Gillian in the eye. “Society’s definition of ruined and my definition of ruined differ widely. Once we’re wed, any child you carry will be ours. Yours and mine.” Colin surprised himself with his honest declaration. “And while we’re confessing, you might as well know that if you decide to wed me, some in the ton will delight in accusing me of fortune hunting.”

  “Is it true?” she asked.

  “Well,” Colin gave her a lopsided grin, “I’ll be the first to admit that a fortune would come in handy, for I’ve nothing to offer you but my name and title.” Colin wiped his palms down the sides of his buff-colored trousers.

  “And a ruined society miss is ripe for the picking,” she replied bitterly.

  “Unfortunately,” he said. “But that was never my intent in coining to meet with your father.”

  “Until Papa, no doubt, offered you a very large dowry.”

  “Which I did not seek,” Colin told her, his Scottish burr thickening with every word. “But would be a very great fool to refuse.”

  Her blue eyes flashed fire. “And you’re no fool, are you, Lord Grantham?”

  “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it, Miss Davies?” he answered in kind.

  “Be reasonable, Gillian. That’s the way these things are done. You know it as well as I, and there’s no reason the man shouldn’t get something in return,” Lord Davies intervened. “Especially when he’s risking his reputation and his good name in order to save yours.”

  “To save my good name, Papa? Or yours?” she demanded.

  “What difference does it make?” Lord Davies asked. “You’re my daughter. They’re one and the same.”

  “It makes a great difference to me, Papa. I should like to know if the man you selected for me to marry wants your fortune more than he wants me.”

  “If you had asked that question of the man you selected to marry, you wouldn’t be in this position now, Gillian.”

  “Papa!”

  “It’s true,” her father declared.

  “I thought he loved me,” Gillian murmured. “I thought he wanted to marry me.”

  “He lied,” her father pointed out. “He told you he loved you and married you after he married two other equally unfortunate young women. Lord Grantham, to his credit and to his detriment, told you the truth. He didn’t come to me seeking a fortune or a bride. He came to discuss my investigator’s findings and explain the situation.” Lord Davies looked at his daughter. “I chose to hold him responsible and to force his hand into accepting a marriage he did not want.”

  “But Papa, he’s innocent...” Gillian protested.

  “So were you, Miss Davies,” Colin answered gently, “when someone used my assumed name in order to prey upon you. I don’t believe that was a coincidence, and I intend to see that the wrong he did you in my name is corrected.”

  “At what cost to your personal life?”

  Colin grinned.
“I have no personal life.”

  “At all?” She was curious in spite of herself. “No young lady pining for you?”

  “If there is a young lady pining for me, I am not aware of it,” he said. “I have a mother and father and younger siblings. I even have a few friends, but I have no romantic entanglements.” He shrugged. “I can’t afford them.”

  “Then how can you afford a wife?” she asked.

  “I can’t,” he said, simply. “My wife will have to afford me.”

  Gillian was thoughtful. “What will you ask in exchange?”

  “Courtesy,” Colin answered. “And discretion. For my family and my friends.”

  Gillian arched an eyebrow. “That goes without saying. What do you expect for yourself?”

  “Nothing. For myself, I expect nothing beyond what you are willing to give.”

  “Not even courtesy and discretion?”

  “If you feel I’ve earned your courtesy and discretion, you’ll grant it. Otherwise, I shall have to live without those things. I hope that as my viscountess, you’ll extend me the courtesy and discretion the tide warrants so long as we are in public. But I shan’t expect you to do the same in private if that’s not your inclination.”

  “Can I expect the same from you?” Gillian asked. “Forgive me for being wary, Lord Grantham, if you seem to be the answer to a prayer. You say all the right things, and I want to believe you, but my judgment is suspect when it comes to selecting husbands.”

  “My judgment is not,” he replied. “I’ll be a husband of whom you can be proud, Miss Davies. I won’t disappoint you or give you cause to regret your decision.” Colin narrowed his gaze at the baron.

  Gillian smiled at him, a genuine, beautiful smile that gave Colin a tantalizing glimpse of the woman she had been before she’d met the impostor Colin Fox. “Since I’ve need of a husband,” she said. “I would prefer one who appreciates what I bring into the marriage.”

  Colin gave her a sweeping bow, the sort of bow cavaliers had once bestowed on ladies of the court. “At your service, my lady.”