Her Sudden Groom (Groom Series, BOOK 1)

by Rose Gordon

  “Probably,” Alex agreed quietly, slipping out the door.

  ***

  Marcus scrubbed his face with cold hands, running his fingertips over every repulsive groove and scar that marred his once handsome face. He brought his face out of his hands. Would his life have turned out this way if he’d not acted thoughtlessly and been hurt?

  He laughed bitterly. He knew the answer to that. His life would have been no different (except perhaps worse) than it was now. Louise wouldn’t have helped him with Olivia and Caroline. She’d have been too busy worrying about pleasing herself. Either way, he’d have had to go about it alone, and, as it was, he was making a horrible hash of things every step of the way.

  Not that Caroline was difficult, of course. She’d always been extremely easy to get along with. They’d become quite close since she’d come to live with them. In fact, they got along better than he ever had with Olivia. Not to say he didn’t love Olivia—he did. She was his sister, after all. And being his sister meant he’d love her unconditionally. Even if she drove him—and everyone else in England—insane. But the same was true for Caroline. He loved her just as much.

  The problem with Caroline was she was so opposite Olivia that instead of touting her connection and being unhappy when things didn’t go to her satisfaction, Caroline accepted everything good and bad with a smile. At nearly one-and-twenty she had never discovered her own value. Who could blame her, though? Olivia and his mother had taken every opportunity they could to remind Caroline of what she’d come from and what she would have been without Father’s intervention. He sighed. His father hadn’t been much better, really. He may have saved her that night, but he’d never been able to stand up to his wife and make her treat Caroline as an equal to Olivia.

  When Father died last year, Marcus vowed to do whatever it took to see that Caroline had a bright and happy future. Sadly, he hadn’t known how to go about it. But then one day about three months ago he stumbled upon that nearly unbelievable betrothal contract his father and Lord Watson signed. After his shock faded, it had occurred to him how he should go about giving Caroline, and coincidentally Alex, a “happily-ever-after” as it were. He’d seen the sloppily signed addendum on the back and sent word to Barnes to remind Lord Watson. He doubted Alex had even heard of the agreement before. If he had, Marcus was sure Alex wouldn’t have waited so long to begin his search for a wife.

  His hope had been that Alex would come around and he and Caroline would see they were well matched. Marcus congratulated himself. With only a little shove in the right direction, that was exactly what happened.

  Too bad Olivia had caught wind of the agreement. He didn’t know who had told her, but someone had, and it seemed she was planning on marrying Alex more and more as each day passed. He scowled. What was he going to do about her?

  In a way, she deserved to marry Alex. That was the agreement, after all. But the match would be disastrous. She’d drive the poor man to do himself in. He’d been tempted to do that very thing several times over the past decade due to Olivia’s atrocious personality. Perhaps he’d try to secure her another match. Or, if luck were on his side, she’d agree to go to the convent in Ireland like he’d been urging her to do for the past five years.

  No matter. He’d worry about that another day. For now, he needed to seek out Caroline and find out what he’d done. Since she’d come here all those years ago, they’d never had a row. He wasn’t even aware she’d ever been upset with him before. This was all new to him.

  Grimacing in pain as he climbed the stairs, he ran his hand along the smooth banister and tried in vain to think up what he’d say when he reached Caroline’s room.

  However, for all his thinking, he hadn’t formed a single sentence by the time he reached her door and knocked.

  Caroline called for him to come in, probably thinking he was a maid.

  He cracked the door a sliver. “Caroline, it’s Marcus. Are you decent?”

  “Yes. Come in.”

  Shoving the door open all the way, Marcus took his time crossing the threshold. He left the door open and looked around her room, snarling. Nothing about Caroline had changed. She still insisted on lighting every candle at her disposal when she was in her room at night. Not that he cared about the expense. The cost of all those beeswax candles was immaterial. But the sensation of his heart sinking to his stomach was a direct result of knowing she was still living with her past nightmares.

  “I spoke to Alex,” he said, falling into the most uncomfortable chair he’d ever rested his arse upon.

  Caroline put her book down beside her and readjusted her coverlet. “I don’t require a large wedding, Marcus.”

  “I know that.” He shifted in the chair to find a more comfortable position. He wasn’t sure if the chair was really that uncomfortable or if it was because he was a cripple. Knowing Caroline though, he’d bet the chair was truly that awful. She never asked for anything and was usually reluctant in accepting anything he’d ever offered her. “Would you like one though?” He sucked in a deep breath and hoped she’d say no. A dozen or so people he could handle for an hour. A large group, on the other hand, he wasn’t sure if he could manage. He sighed. If that’s what Caroline wanted, he’d find a way to get past his discomfort and go.

  “I don’t need a London wedding or anything of the like. I’ve already told Alex we could marry as soon as he was ready. He said he would leave tomorrow to see the archbishop about a special license.”

  “If you want a long engagement and a London wedding, you can have it,” he offered again, giving her another opportunity to have what he assumed all young girls dreamt of.

  She blinked. “That’s all right. I don’t need one.”

  Idly rubbing his throbbing leg, he sighed. “What’s wrong, Caroline? What have I done?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, not meeting his eyes.

  He didn’t believe her for a second. Tired of sitting in that awful, about-to-be-firewood chair, he stood up and walked to her open wardrobe. It may be rude to dig through other people’s things, especially when they were in the room, but it had been a long time since he’d been confused for a gentleman.

  Irritation turned to fury as he picked through her clothes. All but four of her gowns were dyed black from her year of mourning for his father. He quickly discovered the four dresses that had escaped the transformation were faded and had been mended several times. Which only meant they were in bad shape, indeed, if he were able to detect their flaws. He sighed. She had nothing. Nothing nice, nothing suitable for a wedding. Practically nothing at all.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you needed new gowns?” he demanded, not unkindly. “I would have commissioned new ones the day after our mourning period was over if I’d known you were in such dire need.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t need anything, Marcus.”

  He snorted. “Yes, you do.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re to be married soon, and you have nothing wear to your wedding. And while Alex might enjoy that particular costume, the rest of us will not be so thrilled to see it.”

  Her lips turned up into a smile and a small burble of laughter escaped them.

  He smiled back at her and leaned against the side of her atrociously half-filled wardrobe. “Caroline, anything I have is at your disposal. I know I’m not the easiest person to approach at times. I just hoped you would have come to me if you needed something.”

  She looked down and studied the fringe on her counterpane. He’d never been the cause of her quietly staring intently at an inanimate object before, but he’d seen her do it enough times after Olivia had upset her to know she was truly upset.

  “Caroline, I’m a man. I’m not good at emotional things. Please, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it. I obviously did something, but I don’t know what. Just tell me what it was.” His fists clenched while he silently waited for her response.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, letting go of the fringe betwe
en her fingers and flashing him the falsest smile he’d ever seen.

  “All right, I’ll leave, then. Oh, before I go—” he paused at the doorway— “I think I’m going to deny Alex his request for your hand. As your guardian I still have that privilege until your twenty-first birthday, which is in what, six months?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Why?” she asked, her voice cracked by a sob, causing his chest to ache and a pang of guilt to shoot through him.

  He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “As you say, you don’t need anything. Why should I allow you to marry Alex? At one-and-twenty, you can make that decision for yourself and marry him inside Astley’s during a trick where a man stands on a horse and shoots out the flames on a five candle candelabra balanced on a lady’s head, if you wish. But until then, I shan’t give my permission.”

  She turned her head away from his view, but not before he caught sight of the tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. “I understand.”

  “Now, Caroline, I will take all that back, and let you marry him whenever you wish if you will just please tell me what’s going on.” He really didn’t like playing female games, and oh, how he’d played them for years. First with Louise, then with Olivia, and now Caroline.

  “It’s hard to explain,” she said at last.

  “Try.”

  “It’s just that I always thought you liked me. You never once brought my past up and flung it in my face like Olivia and your mother.” She used the tip of her index finger to wipe the edges of her eyes where unshed tears had pooled, just waiting to fall. “But then the other day, you said you wouldn’t allow a match between Olivia and Alex, but you would allow me to marry him.” Her voice cracked and she stopped to swallow convulsively.

  Twirling her fingers into the gold fringe on her counterpane again, she continued, “Olivia has always made clear to me that she is the daughter of an earl, therefore, she is entitled to marry a gentleman of equal or higher rank. My mother may have been the daughter of an earl, but that ceased to matter when she married a commoner.” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Olivia has time and again informed me Alex is not good enough for her, due to his lack of rank. I know he’ll be a baron one day, but to her that seems to mean nothing. Until just a few days ago, that is. But then you practically told me the same thing the other day. She’s too good to marry him, but I’m not.”

  Marcus blinked at her. He remembered having a conversation with her after Alex had returned her from “stargazing” about how he’d not allow a marriage between Olivia and Alex, but would allow Caroline to marry him. However, his acceptance of the match had nothing to do with rank, or lack thereof.

  “Do you not wish to marry Alex?” He’d honestly thought they’d be a good match. But if she didn’t care for him that way, he wouldn’t force her.

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “Does his rank bother you?” He had to ask. He had to know the truth. He’d never thought Caroline was so shallow as to care about titles and rank, but her earlier statement gave him pause.

  She shook her head. “I don’t care that he’s a mere mister who is heir to a barony. But once again you’ve missed my point.” She sighed. “Just forget I said anything.”

  “No. I want to know.” He glanced around the room to find a suitable piece of furniture to sit on. Standing for extended periods was difficult, and he might be here a while. Only spotting that awful chair he’d vacated earlier, he resigned himself to standing.

  “There’s a chest at the end of the bed,” Caroline murmured, pointing to where a fluffy quilt was resting. “Just pick up that coverlet and put it on the bed. I assure you, that cushioned chest is far better to sit on than that chair.”

  “A rock would be preferable to that chair,” he muttered, picking up the coverlet and taking a seat on the cushioned chest.

  “Better?”

  “Yes. Now, tell me the error of my ways,” he said with a quick grin.

  She groaned. “Marcus, I like Alex, I really do. I’d probably wish to marry him if he were a chimney sweep. His lack of ‘sufficient’ rank is not the problem. It was—” she bit her lip and balled her hands up— “well, you said you wouldn’t allow a match between them, but you would let me marry him because I was different. And though you’ve never so much as alluded to my past before, you did then and it hurt. It hurt that you wouldn’t allow your sister to marry him because of his lower rank, but I was good enough because I was not born with the same rank and privilege.”

  “So the problem isn’t Alex’s rank, but because I’m allowing you to marry him, and said I wouldn’t let Olivia—”

  “Yes, beca—”

  His hand shot up. “Let me finish. Because of that, you think I was implying Olivia was too good for Alex, but you were more suitable due to your past?”

  Caroline nodded glumly.

  He ran his hand up and down his face, contemplating how to word his defense. “Caroline, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You misunderstood me the other day. Alex and I were very close friends for most of our boyhood, and though you are my cousin and Olivia my sister, I still feel a sense of loyalty to him. When I made that mindless statement, it was more on his behalf than anything.” He shifted on the seat, becoming more comfortable about what he was saying. “Olivia would make him miserable. The two have nothing in common. You, on the other hand, have a lot in common with him. That’s why I’d allow a match between the two of you. Not because I think you’re of a lower station.”

  “You don’t think less of me because my father was—”

  “Enough,” he said abruptly. “I don’t give a hang about any of that. I never liked to hear Mother or Olivia speak of it, and there is no reason for you to, either. The past is the past. Let it go, Caroline. Look to the future. Alex will make you an excellent husband. You’ll be happy with him.”

  “You’ll agree to a quick wedding, then?” she asked, hopeful.

  “Yes. If that’s what you wish.”

  “It is. There’s no use in waiting. His father’s very ill,” she said sadly. A second later a cheeky grin took her face. “And anyway, it’s not like either of us have a lot of friends to invite.”

  A harsh bark of laughter escaped Marcus. “You were planning to invite Patrick, weren’t you?”

  Caroline’s eyes went wide and Marcus bit back a smile. Patrick Ramsey, Viscount Drakely was nearly as much of a recluse as he was. That was part of the reason they’d gotten along so well all this time.

  “He has three little girls, remember? They’d probably love to go to see a wedding,” Marcus explained carefully, not sure why he so strongly wanted Patrick to be at her wedding.

  “Of course. But I don’t think Drake would.”

  She had him there. Patrick, or Drake as he was more commonly known, would not love to go to a wedding. “That may be, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Chapter 16

  The wedding was a small, somewhat hectic affair. Due to Father’s illness, the wedding had to be held at Watson Estate, which put Brooke into a frenzy. Andrew didn’t want her traveling so close to the end of her confinement. But Brooke had a mind of her own, and after a compromise that involved four hours in a carriage going at an extremely slow pace, the two with their baby arrived at Watson Estate with fifteen minutes to spare before the wedding.

  And that was just the beginning.

  Paul and Liberty rolled up a few minutes later. As soon as the carriage door swung open, Paul went about his task of trying to scrape up a change of clothes, saying his wife would kill him if he even suggested to perform the wedding wearing the clothes he had on. Apparently their little boy wasn’t much of a traveler yet.

  The duke and duchess arrived just as Paul’s coachman cleared the drive. Benjamin carried his wife inside and deposited her on one of the settees in the drawing room. Standing outside, Alex could hear them exchanging words. Not bitter arguing, of course, just bantering in the way
they normally did. When their words stopped, Alex peeked in the window in time to see Madison kick off her slippers and prop her feet up on the end of the settee with her arms were crossed. Benjamin soon emerged from the side of the house, muttering something about as crazy as she made him, he’d always love that blasted female.

  Benjamin then went out and started giving directives to the coachman who had driven the second coach to their caravan. Alex didn’t even want to know what that was about. He was still waiting for Caroline and Marcus to arrive, becoming more nervous as the minutes stretched on.

  He checked his pocket watch. There were less than ten minutes before the ceremony was to start, and his bride was nowhere to be found.

  He didn’t want his guests to guess at his unease, so he went for a walk to calm his nerves. What if she didn’t come? His heartbeat picked up pace. Had she changed her mind? After he’d procured the special license, he’d written to his family and made a trip to see her to secure the details. She wasn’t available though. Marcus told him she was out and agreed on the wedding time in her stead.

  He kicked a stray stone. “Damn,” he muttered in agitation, kicking another stone. “I should have waited. I should have talked to her.” He raked his hair with his fingers and sat on a rock. If she’d changed her mind at least he’d have known and could have avoided the embarrassment and unease of being jilted at the altar.

  He swallowed hard and stood up. Turning to walk back down the path, he nearly collided with Marcus.

  His unease immediately intensified to horrification when his eyes met Marcus’. “She’s not coming, is she?” he asked unevenly.

  Marcus shook his head. “She’s coming. She’s just…um…been detained.”

  “Where is she?” Alex asked tightly, pushing past Marcus. He started back down the path and froze. Marcus’ traveling coach was parked nearly at the servants’ door of his house. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but just then, a female clad in a horribly tattered nightrail slipped out of the carriage and ran the ten feet from the door of the coach to the open door in the back of his house.