Whirlwind Wedding

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  He'd almost succeeded when his attention was snagged by a hired hack stopping in front of his town house. The door swung opened and Robert stepped out, his lips pressed into a grim line. He reached in and offered a hand and Elizabeth alighted. Her face appeared pale, her eyes huge.

  Austin's fingers gripped the heavy velvet draperies. Where the hell had they gone? And why the hell had they taken a hack?

  As he watched Robert again offered a hand assisting another woman down. She was small and thin, a dull brown bonnet covering her hair. When she turned Austin saw her face.

  Black bruises surrounded her eyes, and her bottom lip was swollen and cracked. Recognition hit him like a plank to the head.

  It was Molly, the serving wench, the whore, from the

  Filthy Swine. God Almighty, what the hell was going on? Did she have information about Gaspard? Why were Elizabeth and Robert with her?

  Dropping the curtain back into place, he strode from the room, ignoring Miles's questioning look. He arrived in the foyer just as the trio walked through the door. Elizabeth and Robert supported Molly on either side. The ragged woman looked about ready to drop to the floor.

  "Don't worry, Molly," Elizabeth was saying. "Just a few more steps and you'll be settled in a comfortable bed. Then we'll take a look at your injuries."

  "What the hell is going on?" Austin asked his gaze alternating among the three of them.

  Molly visibly recoiled at his harsh tone and cowered closer to Elizabeth.

  "It's all right, Molly," Elizabeth said. She looked at Robert. "Will you escort Molly to the yellow guest chamber and instruct Katie to prepare a bath? I'll join you in a few moments."

  "Of course." Easily supporting the frail woman's weight, Robert led her toward the stairs.

  Elizabeth turned her attention to Austin. "May I speak with you? Privately?"

  "I was about to make the same request," Austin said in a tight voice. Recalling he'd left Miles in his study, he led the way to the library and closed the door behind them. He watched Elizabeth cross to the center of the room, then turn to face him. Her face was completely devoid of color, and her eyes appeared like haunted circles against the stark background. The need to draw her into his arms nearly overwhelmed him, angering him at his own weakness for her.

  He approached her slowly, deliberately. He'd half expected her to retreat, but she stood in place, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes steady on his.

  When only two feet separated them, he halted. God how he missed her. Her warmth and smile. The sound of her laughter. Forget that! It's over. Gone. She doesn't want you.

  Hurt and anger pumped through him, but he schooled his features into a cold mask and simply waited for her to speak.

  Elizabeth stared at her husband's icy expression and her already cramped stomach tightened further. His glacial demeanor indicated she faced a battle with him, and it was one she was determined to win.

  Lifting her chin a notch, she said "I suppose you're wondering why Molly is here."

  He cocked a single brow. "How astute you are. Yes, I would like an explanation, not only as to why a whore is in my town house, but also how she came to be here."

  Elizabeth's temper flared. "I don't want you to call her that… word."

  "Why? That's what she is."

  "Not any longer."

  "Indeed? What is she now?"

  She had so many things to tell him, and time was short. She had to examine Molly, and then she had to prepare for a trip. There simply wasn't time for elaborate explanations. Searching for a suitable answer to his question, one popped into her mind and she seized it. "She's now a lady's maid. My lady's maid."

  If the situation had been the least bit amusing, she would have laughed at his shocked expression.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I've hired Molly to assist Katie with my, er, vast wardrobe."

  His hand shot out, fast as lightning, and gripped her upper arm. "What nonsense is this?"

  She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp, but he tightened his hold fueling her temper. "This morning I happened to touch the jacket I wore the night we went to the Filthy Swine, and I had a vision. I saw Molly being beaten and I had to stop it. I convinced Robert to take me to the docks-"

  "Robert took you to the docks!"

  "Yes." Fury flashed in his eyes and she quickly added "Please don't be angry with him. After I pleaded and explained the dire circumstances to him-that a friend was in terrible danger-he agreed to help me, but not until I'd promised to remain in the safety of the carriage. When we arrived we discovered Molly huddled in an alley, beaten and robbed."

  She drew a deep breath. "She'd left the Filthy Swine the night we met her and taken a small room above a warehouse. The men who robbed her took everything she'd managed to save in the hopes of starting a new life." A shudder shook through her. "Dear God Austin, the reason she even had enough coins for someone to steal was because we gave them to her that night." Drawing herself up to her full height she said "I intend to help her."

  "Yes, that much is clear." His fingers tightened like a vise around her arm. The chill had melted from his eyes, replaced by white hot anger. "However, did you even once consider the danger you placed yourself in by going there?"

  "I did not go alone."

  "Do you honestly believe that meant you were safe? You could have easily been beaten and robbed yourself. Or worse."

  Under other circumstances, his anger, the heat in his gaze, might have led her to believe that he cared what happened to her.

  But of course, he wouldn't want her harmed if she carried his child.

  "Not only did you place yourself and my clearly idiotic brother in danger," he continued his voice a low growl, "but you obviously didn't consider how scandalous it is that you went to the docks and that you brought her here."

  "Scandalous? To help a beaten woman? Well, I don't care. And if it's her former occupation that concerns you, I have no intention of sharing that information with anyone. Molly certainly is not going to boast about it, and I trust Robert to keep it a secret." She raised her brows. "Do you intend to tell anyone?"

  "No." He let go of her arm and tunneled his fingers through his hair. "But servants gossip. Word is certain to get out."

  "Then I'll simply deny it. You seem to think I'm an accomplished liar, so perhaps I should be. Who would dare doubt the word of the Duchess of Bradford?"

  A humorless laugh escaped him. "Only me."

  His words hit her like a slap, and she bit her lip to contain her distressed gasp. She searched his cold eyes for a long moment, mourning the loss of the warm caring she'd once seen there.

  "I understand that you'd find this situation shocking, but dear God Austin, think of that poor woman. I haven't had the chance to fully examine her, but I'm certain she has several broken ribs, and she cannot hear from her left ear." Although she risked a scathing rejection, she reached out and touched his hand. "I know you're angry with me, but you have a kind heart. I cannot believe that you would turn away this helpless woman who has nothing."

  A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. "We can find a post for her on one of the estates. But you must understand that she cannot stay with you. If you will not think of the scandal to yourself, consider my mother's and sister's feelings."

  She nodded relieved. "All right. And if it turns out I am not with child, you won't need to worry about Molly anyway."

  The ice seeped back into his gaze. "Indeed? Why is that?"

  "Because if I'm not pregnant, I plan to return to America as soon as our annulment is finalized. Molly can accompany me. She and I will both be free to make a fresh start."

  "I see."

  The tension in the air all but strangled her. She needed to see to Molly, and she longed to escape the stifling atmosphere surrounding her, but she couldn't leave the room just yet. Clearing her throat, she said "There's something else I must tell you."

  He dragged a weary hand over his face. "Hopefully it isn't that you
revisited the gaming hell and rescued half a dozen debt-ridden drunks."

  In spite of his dark tone, a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "No, although that is an idea that has some merit."

  His eyes narrowed to slits. "No, that is an idea that has no merit whatsoever?

  Relieved that she appeared to have won the first battle with relative ease, she conceded the point. "Very well. But now I must tell you my other news. It concerns your brother."

  His eyes glittered with menace. "Indeed? Well, I certainly shall discuss with Robert this visit to the slums of London."

  "Not Robert. This news concerns William."

  He went perfectly still. "What is it?"

  "I know where we can find Gaspard."

  Chapter 21

  Austin's entire existence narrowed down to those few words spinning through his mind. / know where we can find Gaspard.

  He grabbed her shoulders. "Where is he?"

  "I'm not certain-but I discovered someone who knows."

  "How? Where?"

  "At the docks. While Robert assisted Molly into the carriage, I saw a man enter a pub. Even though I didn't touch him, I sensed very strongly that he has some connection to Gaspard."

  His grip involuntarily tightened. By God if Robert had allowed her to go into that place in pursuit of this man, his brother would suffer. "You didn't attempt to speak to him, did you?"

  "No. We left immediately." She laid her hands on his forearms. "But he's still there, Austin. I feel it. He's a large bald man wearing sailor's garb. He walked with a decided limp and sported a gold hoop earring in his right ear." She described the building's location.

  "I'll find him." He released her shoulders and her hands fell away from his arms. For a long moment they stared at each other. He swore he detected a flash in her eyes of the warm, loving Elizabeth he'd thought he'd known and he fought the flood of feelings that swamped him. Damn it, those huge golden brown orbs pierced through his guard. But then it was as if a veil lowered over her and steely determination replaced any traces of warmth.

  But that look that had flared in her eyes… hell, if he didn't know better, he'd swear she cared. Why was she helping him? Surely it wasn't because she'd promised to do so. He'd found out in the most hurtful way possible that she didn't keep her promises.

  So perhaps she did care a little bit. But not enough. Not enough to find a way for them to share a life.

  And he had to remember that.

  Stepping away from her, he said "I must go."

  "I know. Austin… be careful."

  The quiet plea in her voice formed a lump in his throat that he could not speak around. Offering her a stiff nod he quit the room.

  Elizabeth watched him go, staring at the doorway he'd just departed through. She knew he stood on the brink of finding the answers he sought.

  She prayed that he'd be safe.

  And that he might find it in his heart to someday forgive her.

  Austin entered the dilapidated dockside tavern and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. His gaze panned quickly over the half-dozen patrons, then riveted on a man sitting alone in the corner, his large shoulders hunched protectively around his glass. He was bald and Austin caught a glint of gold shining in his right earlobe. He was the only man fitting the description Elizabeth had given him.

  Austin approached the table and slid into the chair opposite the man. The sailor glared at him through narrowed mud-colored eyes. "Who the 'ell are you?"

  Instead of answering, Austin placed his fist on the table between them. Opening his hand he revealed a leather pouch. "There's fifty gold sovereigns in there. You have information I want. Give it to me, and the money is yours."

  The man's gaze flicked to the pouch. A nasty grin split his rawboned face, revealing rotting teeth. With the flick of his wrist, he slipped a lethal-looking knife from his sleeve. Leaning forward he said "Maybe I'll just take yer coins and keep me information to meself."

  "You could try," Austin replied in a deadly voice, "but I'd advise against it."

  A bark of laughter erupted from the sailor. "Would ye, now? And why's that?"

  "Because there's a pistol pointing at your gut under the table."

  He watched the sailor's gaze lower to where Austin's other hand was concealed by the table.

  Doubt flashed in the sailor's eyes, but he quickly covered it with derision. "Yer expectin' me to believe a fancy toff like yerself would shoot me in front of a roomful of people? Ye'd hang."

  "On the contrary, the magistrate would probably reward me for ridding London of the likes of you. And the silence of your so-called witnesses could easily be bought." Leaning back, Austin moved his hand from under the table long enough to afford his companion a glimpse of his pistol. "You can leave here a rich man or a dead man. The choice is yours."

  The sailor studied him for several seconds. Austin stared right back, his hand gripping the pistol, but knowing that greed would win out.

  Avarice glittered in the sailor's beady eyes. "I'd rather be rich. Richer than fifty quid'll make me."

  "If I find your information useful, I'll give you an additional fifty."

  "And if ye don't find it useful?"

  Austin allowed an icy smile to touch his lips. "Then I don't believe you'll be of any use to me. And I don't believe you'll recover from the hole I'll shoot in your gut."

  Fear flickered in the sailor's eyes, but he quickly covered it with a shrug. "Wot do ye want to know?"

  "You know a Frenchman named Gaspard. I want to know where I can find him." He purposely jangled the pouch filled with coins. "Tell me and the money is yours."

  The sailor tossed back a gulp of whiskey, then wiped his mouth with the back of a meaty hand. "Bertrand Gaspard?"

  Austin fought to remain calm. Bertrand Gaspard. He finally knew the full name of the man he sought. "Where is he?"

  The sailor shrugged. " 'E was 'ere in London for awhile, but then 'e rushed 'ome. To France."

  "Where does he live?"

  "Some village near Calais."

  Austin leaned forward. "Which village?"

  The sailor eyed him cautiously. "Can't recall the exact name. Sounds like a bloke's name."

  Austin thought for a moment. "Marck?"

  Recognition widened the sailor's eyes. "That's it."

  "Why was he in London?"

  "Said 'e 'ad some business. Was lookin' fer someone. Didn't say who. Bragged some 'bout comin' into some big money."

  His gaze narrowed on Austin's. "That's all I know. I kept up me end of the bargain. Now give me the blunt."

  Austin placed two pouches on the scarred table and slipped his pistol into his pocket. The sailor opened the pouches to verify the contents and Austin seized the man's distraction to slip out the door.

  Keeping to the shadows, Austin walked quickly through the labyrinth of alleyways to his waiting hack. Grim elation pumped through his veins.

  Bertrand Gaspard.

  His knew his enemy's name. And where he lived. He knew where to find the answers he sought. And he hoped to God those answers included William. I'm coming for you, you bastard.

  When Austin entered his town house, he found Elizabeth pacing the foyer. She halted the instant she saw him, her gaze running down the length of him as if to assure herself he was still in one piece.

  Handing his hat to Carters, he said quietly, "I'm fine."

  An audible sigh of relief escaped her. Her gaze darted to Carters, then returned to him. "Can we speak privately?"

  He hesitated. God knew he didn't want to be alone with her, but he certainly couldn't discuss his meeting with the sailor here in the foyer. Inclining his head to indicate she should follow him, he walked down the corridor to his private study. Once inside, he closed the door, enveloping them in silence.

  She stood in the center of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes steady on his, and a flood of memories washed over him. Elizabeth smiling at him. Elizabeth opening her arms to him. Lifting her
face for his kiss. Lying beneath him, trembling with need. Asleep in his arms.

  He tried to bludgeon the unwanted images back, but they assaulted him, attacking him with relentless accuracy. His gaze strayed to the carpet beneath her feet. They'd made love exactly where she now stood, the night he'd taught her the waltz and shown her where he'd hung the sketch she'd drawn of him.

  He forced himself to look at that now empty space on the paneled wall opposite his desk. He'd removed the drawing because he couldn't bear to see it, to relive the memories it evoked every time he entered his study.

  Returning his attention to her, he saw that her gaze was fixed upon the blank space where her sketch had hung. He fancied he saw hurt flash in her eyes, but he forced himself to harden his heart to it. She'd made her choice. And she had not chosen him.

  "You wished to speak with me privately?" he asked.

  She pulled her gaze from the paneled wall and faced him with a cool expression that ignited his temper.

  "What happened at the docks?" she asked.

  He cocked a brow. "You don't know?"

  She blanched at his sarcastic question, then shook her head. "I feel that you found the answers you sought, but that is all."

  Hoping a drink would ease the tension knotting his shoulders, he crossed to the decanters. After a hefty swallow of brandy, he related the information the sailor had given him.

  She listened intently, her brow furrowed with concentration. When he finished she said "I assume you're planning to go to France."

  "Yes. In fact, if you'll excuse me, I must instruct Kingsbury to pack my things."

  "You're leaving soon?"

  "Within the hour. The journey to Dover will take nearly five hours. I'll sail for Calais with the morning tide." He stood unable to tear his gaze away from her, knowing he could not leave without saying what needed to be said.

  "Elizabeth." He coughed to clear his tight throat. "I owe you my thanks for your assistance in finding Gaspard. I shall always be grateful. Thank you."