by Emma Wildes
Ariel had been so kind to her, it was not like she would refuse her anything. Jessica politely lifted her brows and waited, folding her hands in her lap.
“Have you considered what is going to happen this evening?”
Heat sprang into Jessica’s face. She could feel the tidal wave from chest to cheeks. “You mean…”
“…between you and Alex.” The sentence was finished very delicately. Ariel’s finely arched brows lifted minutely.
Between me and Alex. Oh God.
“I haven’t had time,” Jessica said truthfully after a poignant pause. “This has all been so sudden. Just yesterday morning, I was engaged to another man.”
Slim and graceful, clad in a dress of grey silk that complemented her vivid hair, Ariel laughed ruefully. “Yes, this has been a rather tumultuous couple of weeks for you, hasn’t it? Yet I have an odd feeling this was how it was meant to be all along. Alex once broke your heart. It’s only fitting that he should be the one to repair the damage now.”
Marriage. To Alex Ramsey. Jessica still could hardly believe it. Once it had been her romantic dream, but unfortunately, the reality had a very different quality. “I somehow doubt it’s going to be like that. After all, it isn’t like he’s madly in love with me. We’re just…stuck with each other. There’s still going to be a scandal, I know that, but at least it won’t be as bad.”
Ariel gave an incredulous little laugh. “A few whispers aside, stuck with Alex? Most women would be very happy indeed to be ‘stuck’ with him. He’s incredibly handsome, undeniably charming, and in case you missed it, rather gallantly came to your rescue yesterday. He didn’t have to offer marriage, Jessica, since both of you claim he never actually compromised you.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know. That’s my very point.”
Jessica took a steadying breath, rubbing damp hands across her skirt. “Ariel…I’m sorry. Please don’t misunderstand me or think I’m churlish. It’s just that nothing seems to be working out the way I thought it would.”
“I know, my dear. Life is that way. Let’s sit together, shall we?” Her expression softening, Ariel motioned toward the bed. Once they were sitting side by side, she twined her fingers around Jessica’s hand and squeezed lightly. Those lovely emerald eyes were full of understanding. “I know I should give you all kinds of advice about what to do, things your mother should tell you, but I think we can make this simple and less embarrassing for us both. I’m sure you already understand that he’s more…worldly and experienced…that is, he’ll know what to do…oh, I am not doing well, am I?” A sigh. “All I have to say is to trust Alex and just relax.”
A small, mirthless laugh escaped Jessica’s throat. “There’s the rub. Trusting Alex is somewhat of a problem for me, Ariel.”
“He’s going to be your husband, my dear.”
“But will he be content with that?” It was hard to keep the edge of disbelief out of her voice. Between their past, and Nathaniel’s flat and recent admission of infidelity, not to mention Robert’s departure, it was difficult to draw any but the worst conclusions about the behavior of men in general.
It was that more than the coming night ahead that made her stomach roil with nervousness. It was her life ahead that yawned in frightening uncertainty.
“Alex is a fine man,” Ariel declared stoutly.
“In many ways, I actually agree with you.” Jessica sighed. “Look, the reality of this whole situation is he feels guilty about me, for a lot of reasons, including Robert, Braidwood and the scandal. Alex isn’t deliberately insensitive. I have never claimed he was, not even when I have been immensely irritated with him. It is just not a wonderful reason to be marrying someone.”
Ariel stood her ground. “For a man forced into a marriage he doesn’t want, he seems remarkably cheerful about the whole thing.”
“Yes, he has done his best to spare my feelings. But when all is said and done, he’s human and male, therefore unreliable.” Jessica smiled ruefully.
Her future sister-in-law said softly, “I think you might be pleasantly surprised.”
* * * *
Cursing steadily, Alex dodged into the doorway of a tobacco shop and pretended to examine the heel of his boot for some sort of imaginary damage. Lucky for him, his quarry took no notice but instead disappeared into a shop several doors down.
With a glance up and down the street, he appraised the dilapidated buildings, some of them with crumbling walls, several of the signs advertising the wares available hanging crookedly from rusted hinges, the thoroughfare itself a dingy, out of the way corner not far from Whitechapel.
So what the hell was Marcus doing frequenting a nasty bit of London like this? What’s more, why had the journey involved getting out of the carriage with the Grayston crest near Bond Street and walking a few blocks before flagging down a hired hack? Alex had been hard-pressed to follow during that maneuver, only by a stroke of luck seeing a similar vehicle discharging its passengers. The gnarled little driver had gleefully accepted a handful of coins, first to follow and second to wait down the street.
Now what to do?
By all that was holy, he wasn’t trained to lurk in doorways, following people about like a footpad. He was a soldier.
As such, he told himself firmly, he needed a strategy.
Stepping out onto the street, he avoided two women, one of them carrying a wailing baby, and walked to the doorway of the shop where Marcus had gone in. A small, smeared sign announced it sold old and rare books. Ludicrous, considering there were undoubtedly few, if any, in the neighborhood who could actually read. The small front window was dark and dusty, drapes drawn, and few dilapidated volumes were propped between glass and fabric, designed to entice customers inside in a place where there would be no customers.
Alex hesitated, hand on the doorknob. If he entered the shop and Marcus was in there, how would he explain his presence? The general had very specifically stated that it was his duty to carry this off with as much secrecy as possible.
Err on the side of caution, he told himself and pulled his hand back. Even as he swung away, he was grateful for that decision and his idea that for an extra coin he could borrow the hackney driver’s grimy cap. He’d also taken off his coat, unbuttoned his shirt partway, and smeared dirt and mud over his boots and breeches. Up close they might still look expensive, but from a few feet away it would do.
Which was a good thing.
A man came briskly down the sidewalk, dressed in shabby wool trousers and a loose, ill-fitting shirt. It was unfortunate that he could not disguise as well his lordly bearing. To play down his own distinctive height and coloring, Alex hunched down dejectedly and limped, touching his cap in a subservient manner as the man stalked by, receiving in return a frosty nod.
With an inward grimace, he thought sardonically that now he knew how the privates felt in the presence of their superior officers.
In a slow shuffle up the street, he kept his head turned enough to see the man disappear into the musty bookshop.
Lord Flatterly, he thought, also on the list. As far as he could tell, half the members were military officers retired from the field with honors, the other half influential members of the House of Lords. The “Committee” was comprised of some very important men.
What these important men were up to was the question.
Hell, Alex mused darkly, it had been too easy to find this secret meeting place. Whatever the purpose of this group his brother belonged to, their subterfuge was second-rate at best. If he could discover them so quickly, so could someone else.
That was one mystery solved.
If one knew the identities of the members, of even one of the members, he could follow them and find out their meeting spot with little trouble. However, if this group was so secret that even Alex couldn’t know their purpose, how did the killer know and why would he want to murder them?
Moving up a little farther and loitering against the side of the building, he praye
d inwardly this meeting wouldn’t take very long. All eight of the remaining members had arrived independently, but hopefully the departure wouldn’t be such a long process. Alex simply didn’t have the time.
One shoulder propped against a crumbling doorjamb, he waited, stifling the impatience that seemed to flow in the very blood moving through his veins.
Damn it, he thought, hurry. After all, it was his wedding day.
* * * *
Maybe it was a mistake, but she’d sent word to Rebecca. Whatever Jessica now thought of Nathaniel Greene, his sister was her best friend in the world.
At the moment, a friend would have been welcome indeed.
The presence of neither her groom, his witness nor her attendant of choice at the chapel began to chafe on nerves already raw with the events of the past days. Hands smoothing the material of her sumptuous dress, she paced across the stone floor and tried to keep her breathing at a normal pace. The air smelled dry and a little musty, the thick walls around her closing out the outside world and all sense of reality.
In a few minutes she was supposed to become the wife of Lord Alexander Ramsey.
If, of course, her promised husband appeared for the ceremony.
Alex was decidedly late.
Ariel whirled into the tiny vestibule of the chapel in a furious spray of pale green silk skirts. Her hair was upswept, letting tiny copper ringlets frame her face, and her green eyes glittered with anger. She said tightly, “They aren’t here, either of them.”
Jessica swallowed. “Rebecca?”
Ariel’s expression softened a fraction. “Sorry, no. She hasn’t made an appearance either.”
Her shoulders lifted in what she hoped looked like a shrug.
She’d been hopeful.
Ariel bit out, “When I get a hold of Marcus, he will wish he’d never been born. I have a burning desire to wring his tardy neck.”
“Do you really think you’re a match for me, my dear?”
The surge of relief that rushed over Jessica and the sound of the deep, teasing voice made her realize she’d been holding her breath. The tall Duke of Grayston’s entry into the small room made it seem even smaller. He towered over his wife, an apologetic smile hovering on his well-shaped lips. “Both Alex and I were delayed, arriving back at the house simultaneously. We changed in record time.”
The duchess looked up at her husband and gave an audible sniff. “Being delayed is not permitted on your wedding day and I’m going tell Alex so the minute I lay eyes on him.”
“He’s just outside, my dear. Fire away, but please remember the poor fellow is wallowing in nerves.”
Alex as anything but lazily self-possessed was nearly impossible to imagine. Jessica smoothed her damp hands across her skirts again. He was just outside, waiting to wed her.
After a sleepless night and much introspection, that notion had begun to take on a certain fatal reality. She said in a halting request, “If he is just outside, could we have a moment together, please? I need to speak with him. Before.”
Ariel registered proper horror, her green eyes widening. “Absolutely not. It isn’t done, Jessica.”
“It’s necessary.”
Marcus seemed to understand the plea in her voice for his eyes narrowed slightly as he met her gaze and he took his wife’s arm. “It seems to me a lot of things aren’t supposed to be done that should be. I’ll send him in. Come on, my dear.”
As they exited, Jessica could still hear Ariel protesting and Marcus’s soothing replies. There was only one tiny diamond-shaped window lighting the space and she paced toward it, seeing the dying afternoon sunshine through a glitter of brilliant glass. Seconds later she heard the scrape of feet on stone.
“Jess?”
Taking a deep breath, she turned around. Alex stood just inside the doorway. He was wearing his full dress uniform, even to the sword at his side. Red jacket, white breeches molded to his muscular thighs, polished boots. His head was bare and his blond hair waved back and curled becomingly around his ears. Those eyes—so very blue—seemed to look right through her.
She somehow couldn’t find her voice.
“My God, Jess.” His stare intensified as his gaze swept up and down. “You’re so beautiful.”
It was flattering and unsettling at the same time. For a long, seemingly endless moment, they looked at each other across the space, and her breath fluttered in her throat as she recognized the leaping flame in his eyes.
Whatever else lay between them, she knew he desired her. The way he had kissed her that night in the Grayston garden had taught her that.
Desire was something.
But she needed more.
She said unevenly, “It’s Ariel’s dress…not me.”
“On the contrary. You look like a dream come true.”
A perfect opening. She asked wistfully, “Do I? What dream is that, Alex?”
“Can’t you guess?” The question was soft and his hand dropped in an obviously unconscious natural mannerism to the hilt of his sword.
Jessica slowly shook her head, her hair moving sensuously across her shoulders. She’d chosen to wear it loose and down her back, swept back with nothing but two pearl-crusted combs that had belonged to her mother—about all she had left—just above her ears.
Alex took a step into the room, still holding her gaze. “We’ve guests waiting, my dear. Not to mention the bishop, whom Marcus insisted on dragging away from his schedule to give our marriage the stamp of approval from the church. Can we finish our discussion afterwards?”
“No, we can’t.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “I cannot marry you until you promise me something.”
His nostrils flared slightly and his gaze sharpened. “What?”
“That you will be faithful to me once our vows are spoken.”
The muscles in his face tightened but that was his only visible reaction. “Don’t insult me. That’s what wedding vows are, Jess.”
“A promise of fidelity?” Her laugh was light and brittle, born of nervousness. “Please, Alex, we both know how much most gentlemen honor that particular vow.”
“I will.”
The conviction in his voice and the look in those incredible eyes made her heart twist sharply in her chest. Her breathing suddenly seemed to go awry.
He meant it. At least at that very important moment in her life, she was sure she heard conviction in his voice.
He held out his hand. “Now, enough. Come with me, little Jess.”
She went.
* * * *
Jack Rivers handed him the ring and somehow Alex managed to fumble it onto Jessica’s slim finger and to stammer out the appropriate words.
They were wed. His whole world had changed.
Someone spoke, the words echoing dimly in the vaulted sanctuary, as if the man saying them stood far, far away instead of a mere foot or so. For a long heartbeat, all Alex could do was look at the upturned face of the woman standing at the altar with him. If a man was supposed to think his bride the most beautiful woman on earth, then he certainly adhered to tradition. A vision in white satin and pearls, her lustrous hair gleaming gold and sable in the candlelight, Jessica stood looking back at him with luminous silver eyes. Everything about her, the soft, soft curve of her lips, the graceful arch of cheekbone and throat, the womanly swell of her hips and breasts under the concealing material of the rich gown, all of it drew him, but nothing so much as the vulnerability that shone in her gaze.
She had just spoken the words before God and man and given herself, body and soul, to him.
It awed him in a way he’d never imagined.
From a far distant place came the sound of someone clearing his throat. “My lord?”
Jessica’s tongue stole out and moistened her lips. Her hands trembled in his grasp.
Next to him, Jack nudged his side with a discreet dig of an elbow.
“You may kiss your bride.”
The loudly spoken declaration broke through his distra
ction, bringing the realization that while he’d been gaping at his new wife, everyone had been waiting for him to seal their vows in the most pleasant possible way.
He lowered his head very slowly and he saw Jessica’s eyes widen before he claimed her lips in a deliberately long and sensuous kiss. When he broke away finally, he could hear someone, no doubt his brother, chuckling from one of the pews. Jack, too, was laughing.
Alex glanced over at the bishop and grinned. “I intended to all along, sir, as you can see.”
That gentleman looked slightly scandalized. “Er…indeed.
Congratulations to both of you.”
“Thank you.” Turning and tucking Jessica’s hand into the crook of his arm, he escorted her down the steps. The next few minutes were a whirl of handshakes and joyful embraces. Both Marcus and Jack seemed to take great delight in being able to kiss the bride. It was hard to resist a sudden possessive urge to haul Jessica back to his side, but instead Alex turned to a woman who murmured congratulations and offered her hand.
“Your servant, madame.” He politely bent over her cool fingers and then straightened. “I believe I can now understand how my friend Jack came to surrender to the enemy. Had I been the one captured, I also would have been captivated.”
Petite and very blond, Eloise Rivers regarded him under a fringe of fair lashes. She was exquisitely shaped, from the perfect oval of her face to the luscious curves of her voluptuous body. A small smile curved her pink mouth and she said with a soft but distinct accent, “My husband told me you were very gallant, Colonel.”
“Did he?” Alex lifted a brow. “Let’s hope he stopped there.”
The fair lashes fluttered. “Not so. He told me of some of the ‘adventures’ you and he have shared, both as wild young men and later fighting my countrymen.”
“The edited version, I hope.”
Mrs. Rivers gave a delightful laugh and playfully tapped his arm. “Let’s hope not. Those stories were bad enough, mon Colonel. Surely it is a good thing you are both wed and can now be managed properly.”
