by Laura Landon
She screamed again.
Joshua’s heart gave a lurch inside his chest. That voice. Her voice.
Bloody hell!
“No!”
He heard her scream again, and this time she seemed nearly on top of them.
He turned his head to the side as she broke through the crowd. She looked like an avenging angel, wisps of her fiery hair flying around her face, her eyes filled with terror, her arms reaching out as if she could prevent what was going to happen.
His heart lodged in his throat. “Stop!”
He prayed Allison would heed his warning, but knew she wouldn’t.
She ran forward until she was directly in the line of fire.
He reached out and pulled her to him just as Archbite’s finger moved on the trigger. He turned with her in his arms, to shield her from danger. A loud explosion rent the air and an instant later a burning, stinging sensation gripped his arm.
Shouts and jeers erupted. “Foul! Foul, Archbite!” The crowd was clearly appalled at Archbite’s disregard for fairness, as well as for the risk he took in firing when a lady could have been hit.
Joshua looked down at Allison huddled in his arms and seethed with anger.
She could have been shot.
She could have died.
He didn’t know with whom he was more furious, Allison for doing something so foolish. Or Archbite, for firing even though he knew she was running toward them. He took a deep breath and swung back with Allison still next to him, and aimed his pistol.
Archbite’s eyes grew wide. His face paled with a dread Joshua relished seeing. He knew the coward wanted to run, but he didn’t. He faced Joshua squarely, knowing Joshua had every right to kill him.
“Don’t, please,” her soft voice whispered against his chest. “Oh, please. I couldn’t bear it.”
She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and buried her face against him. Her body trembled in his arms.
He uttered a vile oath then lowered his pistol.
He hesitated. He contemplated the ramifications of allowing Archbite’s actions go unanswered, then he lifted his arm and aimed his pistol. Not at the ground. Not at Archbite’s chest where he wanted to bury his bullet with deadly accuracy. But at the soft, fleshy part of Archbite’s leg. And he fired.
Her grip tightened and her muffled scream echoed against his body. Her warm, wet tears soaked into his shirt.
Archbite clutched his leg then crumple to the ground.
The crowd of observers rushed forward, Fitzwater and one or two more going to where Archbite lay. The rest crowding around him.
“Are you hurt?” Chardwell was the first to reach him.
“I’m fine.” He looked down at the deep red moisture soaking through the material of his shirt, turning it nearly black.
“No doubt about it,” one voice hollered from behind him. “Archbite fouled.”
“We all saw it,” another voice added. “It was a blatant act of cowardice. Archbite will never be able to show his face in Society again.”
“If any questions arise, we’ll vouch for you.”
“Right,” another added. “I say, Montfort. You’re bleeding. Do you need a surgeon?”
The man’s words affected her. Her eyes locked with his. They were filled with concern. She scanned his body, searching for the wound. Her face paled when she saw the blood.
“It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear, but he knew it wasn’t. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his fingers.
A heavy film of perspiration covered his forehead, the burning wetness stinging his eyes. He should at least take time to stop the bleeding but all he wanted was to get as far away from here as possible.
His head swam and he fought to keep his feet from buckling beneath him. He would not go down with everyone watching.
“Someone!” a voice bellowed. “Send for the surgeon.”
“Have him look after Archbite,” Joshua said. It was a struggle to stay on his feet. “He may need him. I don’t.”
He took one step and sagged into her. She clasped her arm around him and helped him away from the crowd already embellishing the tale of what had just happened. Archbite was already being painted in a very dark light.
“Are you all right?” Chardwell gave him his arm. “Do you need help?”
“I need to get away from here.”
Sheer willpower kept him on his feet. Raw fury kept the blackness from swallowing him.
What possessed her to rush toward them like that? Which one of them did she intend to protect?
A fresh wave of anguishing pain engulfed him. The intense throbbing in his arm kept him from coming to any conclusion. The answer was one he didn’t want to know.
When they reached the carriage, Benson already had the door open. Allison stepped up first and with Chardwell’s assistance, he stepped inside next. He fell back against the seat as the carriage lurched forward.
She leaned over him to try to make him more comfortable. Their gazes met and held. She was the first to look away.
“You could have been killed,” he said through clenched teeth.
“And you as well.” She loosened his cravat from around his neck.
Chardwell removed his cravat and handed it to her, too.
“Would you have minded?”
She shot him a lethal glare. “Of course I would have minded! If you had gotten yourself killed, I would have been forced to make a show of mourning you for at least a year. By then it would have been too late to meet the stipulations of my trust. My dowry would have been lost to me.”
“As well as the man you intended to marry.”
“That may have been the only blessing.” She struggled with the material of his shirt.
“You aren’t…impressed I wanted to fight for…your honor.”
“Honor! All I asked was that you didn’t embarrass me in front of the ton. We aren’t even married and already you’ve made me the subject of a scandal. Isn’t it enough that we’ve shocked everyone with our betrothal and hastened marriage?”
“I wasn’t the one…who issued the challenge,…my lady.” His breaths came in shorter gasps. “Perhaps you could…remember that.”
She opened her mouth to speak but stopped. “I can’t get this loose,” she screamed at Chardwell.
“If you will allow me.” Chardwell leaned forward and ripped the sleeve from Joshua’s shirt.
She gasped when his wound was exposed. The look of terror on her face punched him in the gut.
“It’s just a scratch,” he heard himself say, but his voice sounded weak and far away. Not like his at all. “The bullet...barely passed...through flesh.”
Her face turned even paler. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Take this cloth and press firmly against him,” Chardwell said. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
With trembling fingers, she grabbed the cloth and pressed it against his wound.
He wanted to ease her fears, to assure her everything would be all right, but just then another stab of pain knifed through him and all he could do was focus on the angel of mercy trying to care for him.
Her face was pasty white, her gaze filled with concern. And her eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to run down her cheeks. The dark circles surrounding her eyes spoke volumes. They told him of her sleepless night and hours of worry. A wave of guilt consumed him.
“Are those tears for me, my lady?”
“If they are, my lord, it proves what a fool I am. They are the last I shall ever shed over you.”
Joshua tried to smile but couldn’t. Another wave of pain spiked through him. “Do not fear,” he said when the pain subsided. “The wound is not…nearly so severe as to prove fatal. I would not…dream of being so inconsiderate as to…die before our wedding.”
Her lips pursed but her hands kept at their ministrations. “Perhaps you would consider keeping quiet and saving your breath.”
“Perhaps,” he whispered. He leaned his
head against the cushions as the carriage raced down the cobbled streets.
“I am such a fool,” he thought he heard her say, but wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. His hold on consciousness was fragile at best.
“It’s still bleeding,” she said, the worry evident in her voice. “I can’t press hard enough.”
Chardwell shifted so he was in front of Joshua. Then pressed down enough to cause him to jerk in agony. “Sorry, Montfort.”
Joshua ground his teeth and moaned. When he opened his eyes her cheeks had paled even more. “It’s all right, Allison. It’ll be fine now.”
“It’s too bad the wound was not at your neck. Then I wouldn’t have trouble tying the cloth tightly enough.”
Even though she’d said the words beneath her breath, he had no trouble hearing her.
That was the last he knew until he woke hours later.
He was alone in his bed, his arm cleaned, bandaged, and throbbing like bloody hell.
He remembered the last words she’d spoken to him and smiled.
Chapter 8
He couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this, that he was getting married. That he’d signed the damned agreement, vowing to give up everything, even Graystone Manor, if he proved unfaithful. But what choice did he have.
He climbed into Chardwell’s carriage and sank back against the seat. Nearly a week had passed since he’d fought his duel with Archbite. A week that he’d spent recuperating from the wound that was more a nuisance than anything else. A week since he’d seen his betrothed. And it wasn’t for want of trying. She was the one who refused to see him.
“I find it difficult to believe you’re actually giving up your freedom,” Chardwell said, a wide, open grin on his face.
Joshua ignored how his cravat suddenly seemed like a noose around his neck. “Your smug attitude isn’t at all appreciated. Besides, it matters very little what I’m giving up or not. I wasn’t left with much choice, one way or the other.”
“Have you seen your intended since the duel?”
“No. She refuses to see me.”
Chardwell rolled his eyes heavenward and laughed. “What a turn of events for you. Usually the ladies fall at your feet. Yet the one female in London you wish to have there, refuses to even let you through her front door.”
“She’s too damn proud for her own good.” He rubbed his shoulder. His arm was mostly healed, but it still ached. Especially when moved a great deal.
“Perhaps she did have feelings for Archbite,” Chardwell teased.
Joshua shook his head. “No. She was never serious about him. She was forced to marry and she wanted someone she thought would never give Society cause to gossip.”
“But why Archbite?”
“She thinks he is above reproach. Because of the first scandal, it’s important to her that the man she marries isn’t a womanizer, and has a reputation for being faithful.”
“No wonder she doesn’t want to marry you!”
Joshua scowled at his friend. “Those are only a few of the reasons. I’m sure if asked she could come up with a dozen more.”
Chardwell laughed, then his eyebrows arched upward. “Does this mean the fair Angelina is now in need of a protector?”
“You are welcome to her with my blessing. We parted when I became betrothed to Allison. That was one of the terms in the betrothal agreement.”
“That you give up Angelina?” Chardwell asked.
“Angelina and anyone to replace her.”
Chardwell slumped back against the seat. “I don’t believe it!”
“You don’t believe what? That I made such a bargain? Or that I intend to keep it?”
“Either. Both!”
“I had good incentive,” Joshua said, thinking of the bargain he’d made. “I’d do anything to protect Graystone, including giving up my freedom. I need Allison’s dowry to save the Ashbury holdings. It wouldn’t have taken the creditors long to figure out my country estate was the only asset worth anything. By the time they finished, I would have lost Graystone Manor.”
“Are things that desperate, then?”
“Yes. My father set out to lose everything and he did a perfect job of it. His poor investments and wild spending and gambling were intentional. He wanted to be sure there was nothing left for me to inherit.”
“Why? What possessed him to do something so malicious?”
“Hatred, mostly. He blames me for Philip’s death.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Not in his mind. Philip’s dead and I’m alive. The wrong son fell and broke his neck.”
The two friends sat in companionable silence while the carriage rolled through the busy London streets.
“I met up with Fitzwater last night at my club,” Chardwell said.
Joshua lifted his brows.
“Fitzwater said it will take a while for Archbite to heal, but when he does, he’ll be ready to challenge you again.” Chardwell laughed. “Idle boasting, I’d say.”
Joshua remembered how close Allison had come to getting shot and fought a new surge of anger. “I welcome another chance to fight him,” he said, “and this time my betrothed will not find out about it.”
“You’d better hope she doesn’t. By then she’d be your marchioness and I doubt she’d take kindly to Archbite making her a widow so soon after she has married.”
“Or perhaps she would. Perhaps she’d welcome a way to rid herself of me.”
Chardwell shook his head. “I don’t think so. If she wanted to be rid of you, friend, she wouldn’t have thrown herself in front of you to save you from getting hurt. Do you know what I think? I think she is already half in love with you.”
Joshua dropped his head back and laughed. “Love? Really, Chardwell. You and I both know there’s no such thing. There’s friendship and there’s mutual attraction, both physical and emotional. There’s lust, there’s companionship, and there’s sex. But nowhere in the vast array of human emotions is there any such thing as love. At least none that lasts any longer than it takes for the sheets to cool after you climb out of them.
“What my betrothed was trying to do was prevent a scandal from reaching the ear of the ton.”
“It’s that important to her?”
“She has three older sisters. One is married to the Earl of Fortiner. One to Viscount Hanbury. And one to the Marquess of Banbain.”
Chardwell’s laughter echoed in the closed carriage. “Bloody hell, Montfort. No wonder salvaging her reputation is so important to her. You could parade a string of mistresses through Westminster Abby and not cause half the stir each of your illustrious future brothers-in-law cause nearly every day. Just last week Banbain was bold enough to bring his mistress to the opera.”
“That is hardly the most shocking thing anyone has ever done,” Joshua argued.
“Perhaps. But Banbain’s wife was at the opera that night too, with her sister, the Countess of Fortiner. Their box was next to where Banbain sat with his mistress. My sister was there. She said not one in attendance watched the performance. They had their eyes focused on the two boxes, waiting for them to notice each other.”
“What a fool,” Joshua said. “Did Lady Banbain discover her husband and his mistress?”
“Salon gossip relates that they passed each other in the hallway afterward and Lady Banbain walked past her husband and his paramour as if she didn’t see them.”
“Bloody hell,” Joshua whispered.
“It’s no wonder your intended doesn’t want to be the target of any more rumors. For years it’s been a mystery how each of her sisters has been able to walk through Society pretending nothing is amiss in their marriages.”
Joshua felt a hand clench around his heart.
Chardwell reached for his hat and gloves. “Does your father know you are marrying?”
“No. I saw no need to tell him.”
“You don’t think he’d want to know you’ve found a way to save Ashland Park and the o
ther country estates?”
“He’ll find out soon enough.” Joshua looked out the window. They were almost there. “Besides, he’s left London and even his mistress doesn’t know where he’s gone. I think he couldn’t face the end. Or perhaps he just couldn’t face me.” He shrugged his shoulders as if his words didn’t cut him to the quick.
When the carriage stopped in front of Hartley’s townhouse, he gathered his hat and gloves then dismounted. The front door opened before he could reach for the knocker.
“If you will follow me,” a dignified butler issued, leading the way to a bright sunny room on the other side of the house. “You are expected.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t turned away at the door.
Two double doors stood open at the far end of a hall and he walked into the room. He accustomed his gaze to his surroundings.
Hartley stood with his elbow propped casually against the mantle of the fireplace. His three brothers-in-law surrounded him.
Joshua took the relaxed look on their faces as a good sign. Huge bouquets of flowers had been placed at various spots throughout the room, giving it an air of elegance and serenity. The perfect decor for a wedding. Joshua first breathed a sigh of relief, then he smiled.
At least she hadn’t draped the windows in black.
Chapter 9
He was here.
Her sister Phoebe saw him from the upstairs bedroom window and let out a squeal of delight. Mary and Tess ran across the room to catch a glimpse of him as he and his friend, Lord Chardwell, made their way to the house. Allison’s stomach did a nervous flip.
“Oh, Allie. He’s even more handsome than I remember,” her sister Tess exclaimed. “I do believe you have captured the best looking husband of us all.”
She said the words as if choosing a husband was a game. The one who married the most handsome husband scored the most points.
Her three sisters had arrived a little over an hour ago in a whirlwind of excitement and jubilation. They couldn’t believe their baby sister had finally decided to take the wonderful step from lonely spinsterhood to wedded bliss. And to the renowned Marquess of Montfort! Each one espoused the sanctity of matrimony as if their own experiences brought nothing but happiness and fulfillment. As if each one was happy and content in her marriage.
