"For the insult to your manhood and most of all for dismissing your feelings for me." She held tight to the skirt of her gown, crushing the delicate fabric in her anxious grip. "I would never hurt you on purpose, Jude. You have to know that."
"I’m fine, Chloe. I'm rather miffed by the current situation, and it's my turn to apologize to you. I left you here, unprotected from my she-devil mother and your weak willed father."
His concern touched her. This was the Jude she remembered. He was her comrade, her protector, her best friend. But would it last? "You had to find your life." She stood and slowly approached him, needing to be close to someone who understood.
"Yes, I suppose I had to do that to prove myself a man. And let's not forget, it was your unintentional dismissal that gave me my freedom."
She stopped at his side and lifted her gaze to his face, wanting to read his expression. His words were spoken softly, but they hinted at acrimony. "And now it's my turn to find my life," she said in a raspy whisper.
His gentle stare caressed her features and again he touched her cheek. The delicious warmth that flooded through his fingertips upon their contact with her flesh nearly stole her breath.
"Yes," he muttered, placing his lips to her ear. Chills cascaded across her body and she closed her eyes, savoring their intimacy. "As Fredrick's wife."
His words were like icy water on a heated pan, they sizzled and popped and steamed. She backed away from him, the shock sending her heart into a pulse pounding, dizzying spiral. "So, you too are pushing your mother's agenda. You've not rethought your earlier position at all?"
"No, what has changed that I would do that? Have you found a more logical suitor? Someone that satisfies your requirements. One that you…love?"
She stared at him, standing there, his countenance alive with the question. He seemed suddenly larger than life, a man who demanded an answer. Gone was the rakish youth. Gone was the Jude she knew and loved…Oh God, she had loved him. Why couldn't she have realized it before he had undergone such a change? Her heart ached with the revelation.
"No, the only one I loved is gone."
His eyes grew wide at her confession, as if the statement surprised him. As if he now knew she mourned the loss of who he used to be. Still, the astonishment was short lived and quickly replaced by the man the boy had become. "I’m pushing you toward someone who will catch you when you fall. He’s a good man, Chloe. The only man I know that may actually be good enough for you."
"But my heart doesn't beat for him." Did she dare tell him how much she missed him? How she wished he had come home to see to Pembridge. That he had come to see to her? But no, she didn't want him this way. This man, this creature before her was cold and cruel. Despite the fact she found herself more physically attracted to him then she'd care to admit, she no longer saw him as a match for her. Perhaps they were all right. Perhaps Fredrick was her future.
"Good night, Jude." She turned from him and on unsteady legs made her way toward the hallway. Once in the safety of the shadows, she lifted the skirt of her nightgown and rushed to her room. Burying her face in her pillow, she sobbed.
CHAPTER SIX
Fredrick seemed far too large for the carriage. His wide shoulders and long legs made his comfort an apparent impossibility. He smiled at Chloe from the far side of the enclosed compartment and shifted. "You appear somber today, Miss Pembridge. Are you ill?"
She opened her mouth to reply only to have her answer stolen by Dorothea. "She's quite well."
"If you say so, Ma’am," Chloe remarked. The carriage hit a rut and she fought to stay in her seat.
"You don’t know if you’re unwell?" Fredrick inserted, his blue eyes caressing her face with concern. Warmth touched her cheeks and she leaned to the left, trying to put as much distance between her stepmother and herself as possible.
"Of course, Baron. But of late I find that I am rather stifled and it's just easier to agree than to disagree."
He smoothed his mustache with the tip of his finger. "I see."
Dorothea emitted a low growl, her face turning red. That alone brought a small pinprick of joy. Bothering the woman was something she was determined to do until the day she wed.
She smiled and gazed upon this stranger, this man she was supposed to spend her life with and he returned the gesture. There was a smugness thinly hidden by the dark hairs of his mustache. Was it possible he knew her game?
"You know, that is what I’m forced to do from time to time too. Imagine, dear lady, not having to do that? Imagine a man willing to listen to you when you talk. A man who is more than happy to pay heed to your advice."
"Is there such a man?" Chloe asked, tilting her chin. "For if he does truly exist, he's a treasure and almost certainly spoken for."
Fredrick pursed his lips. "I know of one."
"Pray tell, who could that be?" Dorothea interjected.
"Yes, indeed," Chloe agreed, loathing the heavy sway of the carriage and wishing she sat facing forward. "For he's a rarity and should be placed in a museum so women can be assured of his existence."
Fredrick placed his hand upon his chest, the white linen of his shirt a stark contrast to his long, tanned fingers. "I, ladies, am such a man."
Chloe laughed, the sound so unexpected and joyful that she suddenly stopped. There was lightness about Fredrick, and for that she was grateful. "Yes, I do believe you may be telling the truth. You listen, not only with your ears, but with your observations"
Dorothea turned her head and stared at Chloe, her mouth agape, her surprise palpable. She was flirting, there, in front of her stepmother and God, and she was enjoying it. And as much as Chloe hated to admit it, she was beginning to see the value in marrying a man of Fredrick's caliber. If he could make her laugh when she despaired, there was hope for happiness yet.
Fredrick pinned Chloe to her seat with his gaze. The fire that flickered in his eyes heated her blood and the attraction she initially felt for him flared. "I would love nothing more, Lady Chloe, then to observe every aspect of you."
She felt herself falling into his gaze, as if they were the only two in the slowing carriage. Dorothea sat all but forgotten at her side.
"You speak too boldly, sir," she mumbled and yet found she couldn't look away. The appreciation in his eyes, the raw desire for only her, and her heart thrummed in her chest.
"She’s right," Dorothea finally said, her voice severing the fevered cord that bound them together. "Sir, you are not married. You ought not speak to the lady in such a familiar manner."
Fredrick chuckled. "I beg your pardon, Lady Pembridge. And Lady Chloe, I offer you my humblest apologies and if I may say, the sooner we rectify the marriage situation, the better for me."
"I rather think her rectifying the situation would be better for all concerned," Dorothea inserted.
"Yes, it would be grand for you and Father, wouldn't it?" Chloe asked, staring into Dorothea's eyes, not liking the simmering ire she saw there. "And speaking of Father, where is he?"
The crone cocked a brow. "Seeing to that horse, remember?"
Chloe stifled a bitter laugh. He had sold Sebastian, of course she wasn't supposed to know that. No doubt the coward didn't wish to watch while his daughter sold her soul to the devil to save him.
She looked back to Fredrick and found the devil’s appreciative gaze unnerving. He appeared a wolf ready to devour her. A chill coated her skin, if only Jude would look at her that way. He had once and she'd pushed him away. Damn it, why hadn't she clung to him?
The carriage jerked to a halt and Chloe waited anxiously for the door to open. She needed to get out. She needed to breathe fresh air and walk away the nerves that had her body trembling. Judging by the way Fredrick looked upon her, he didn't simply want a marriage of convenience. He wanted all she had. That was something she wasn't ready for…was she?
She set her hand to her stomach, pressing down the obnoxious butterflies that fought for space. Was it possible that Fredrick was too much man f
or her to handle?
The door sprang open and like a rabbit from the thicket, she jumped from the carriage, nearly falling into Jude. He opened his arms and caught her, his embrace so welcoming, so safe, she longed to stay there.
"Chloe? Are you ill?" he asked, and for a moment she thought she saw the old Jude gazing down at her. But was the concern honest and true or just another ploy to draw her in so he could smack her down? She pushed away, her body immediately missing the contact.
"Yes. I'm well. It's rather close quarters in the carriage, that’s all. You remember how the jostling makes me feel poorly sometimes." She stared up into his amber eyes, wondering if they had always been so brilliantly bright and inquisitive. "Or have you forgotten?"
The minutest of smiles touched his lips. "There's little about you that I have forgotten," he said in a husky whisper.
Despite the sweetness of his words, and as tempted as she was to believe them, she wouldn't be fooled again. Sorrow at the loss of her beloved friend twisted her heart until it ached. "And little left that you admire."
She gave him no opportunity to reply and lifting her deep orange skirt, she turned toward the narrow path. Brambles and thorny weeds blocked her way and yet she picked through them until she reached the clearing where Maggie furiously worked to set up the small feast.
"You look a little peaked," Maggie said breathlessly as she smoothed a blanket upon the ground.
"I'm all right," Chloe grumbled, trying to knock loose bits of debris from the hem of her skirt. "I must look a fright, for everyone keeps asking me if I'm ill. But I’m not unwell, unless you consider heartsick as an illness."
"I'm sorry," Maggie said and sticking out her lower lip, blew a curl from her forehead. "I don't know what to say ta help ya. Ya do know though, that I think you're lovely."
"I thank you for that," Chloe replied and knelt down to help secure the blanket to the moist grass. "Where's your sister? I fully expected to see May here."
Maggie rolled her eyes. "May was needed at the house. For the life of me I don't know why. Most everyone is here and I could've used the help."
"That is curious," Chloe admitted. "Do you suppose that Lady Pembridge would frown on my helping you with the preparations?"
Maggie's eyes grew wide. "Your dear mum, God rest her soul, wouldn't a minded. But that harpy of a mistress you got now, well, she'd give me a good lashin' if ya did!"
Chloe sighed and straightened, more resentful than ever. Why couldn't she help her friend? Dash it all, why couldn't she have tea with her friend? She couldn't even call the woman a friend to anyone for fear of repercussions, not only to herself but to dear Maggie as well. Every aspect of her life ended with her running into a cage door. She was nothing but a captured bird, first her father's pet and soon to be Fredrick's. Her stomach roiled and she longed to run until her lungs burned and her legs gave out.
"You ought ta go and enjoy the day," Maggie said, her sweet voice pulling her from the miserable hole in which she'd tumbled. "The good Lord has blessed us with clear skies and a cool breeze."
Chloe raised her chin and looked up. The sky was indeed the most glorious shade of blue. Gentle winds kissed her cheek and pulled at the ribbons of her bonnet. Trees all around the clearing teemed with the chatter of happy birds…birds free to live and die the way God intended. Melancholy swept away the moment of peace and she bit back her sorrow. She may be a caged bird, but she was a proud one, and despite what she knew she had to do, she'd try to make the best of it, just as her mother always had.
"You there, girl!" Dorothea called and Maggie groaned.
"The lady has known me nigh ta five years and she still calls me girl."
"Take heart, Maggie, she only knows my name because it suits her purposes. You couldn't very well sell a brood mare by calling her horse, now could you?"
Chloe slid her gaze up the small incline to see her stepmother bustling toward them. She was on a mission to be sure. "I’m off for a walk, then."
"If I could, I'd join ya," Maggie said, her smile a knowing one and dipping her knee she called to Dorothea. "I'm coming, my lady. I live to serve." To everyone else the comment sounded like the words of a dutiful servant. But Chloe knew better and she grinned. Maggie, her Maggie, would come with her when she left. That would be part of the arrangement.
Putting distance between herself and her fellow picnickers, Chloe allowed the invisible noose that threatened to steal her breath to loosen. What harm could there be in relaxing, just a little?
Soft grass moistened her boots as she entered the forest. The pungent scent of loam touched her senses and memories of long walks with Mother saturated her mind.
How often they traversed the land, carrying paper, pen and ink with them to sketch anything and everything that caught their attention. Mother knew so much about birds and butterflies, plants and trees. A smile touched her lips. Mother, even though she was gone, her influences still touched her, still warmed her, and still filled her with hope.
"I’d like to accompany you." It was Fredrick's voice and her heart sank, for she wanted only to be alone to reminisce. Still, duty and manners had her turning to face him.
He moved stealthily toward her, his coat tails nearly flying out behind him. Reaching her, he removed his hat and bowed. She in turn, dipped her knee and when he offered his arm, she hesitantly slid her hand around his elbow.
"Why did you leave like that?" he asked as they followed the wide path into the woods. "Are you upset?"
How should she answer him? Truth, she decided was best. "A little," she admitted and glancing up, she noted his frown.
His gaze slid across her face, concern flickering in his eyes. "With me? I know I am too forward at times, but I find that to be the case only with you. But you're so lovely and so sweet. I could smell your perfume, see the sorrow in your eyes and I wanted nothing but to make you smile."
His confession touched her, but it was his obvious admiration that warmed her soul. It felt strange and glorious to be adored by him. "And you did. You made me blush."
"I know, and may I add, you're quite charming when you turn pink."
"You're doing it again," she scolded, the heat inching uncomfortably into her cheeks.
"Yes, I am." He stopped walking and held tight to her hand. "I would adore making you blush for the rest of my life." He shifted, maneuvering his body until he blocked her way. "I know it's rather soon for you to say yes to my proposal. I’m usually a thinking man. But I find I cannot think of anything but you."
His confession had her nerves tingling. It was too fast, but she realized it was going to happen sooner or later. Glancing over his shoulder, she could just see Jude at the mouth of the path. The man she loved only feet away, the glorious sunlight shimmering in his hair. The image of him shattered forever, for, a beautiful blonde creature clung to his arm. The fiancée had arrived and her heart broke. Shocked, she leaned into Fredrick to keep from stumbling backward.
"I agree to the engagement," she mumbled and he swept her into a snug embrace. His touch was warm, but almost too much, too strong, too confining.
He kissed the top of her head and she clung to him, hoping to find comfort.
"You have made me a happy man, Chloe. We will have a wonderful life, you’ll see."
He spun her around as if she was a rag doll and she let him, praying his happiness contained a contagion. It was wonderful that he was joyful. If the bride couldn't be pleased, at least the groom should be. Of course, there would be no shortage of celebration. Both Father and Dorothea would be ecstatic. She bit back the bile that tickled her throat. How she loathed doing anything that would please that vile woman.
As he set her down, uncertainty poked at her and she knew now the bitterness of a marriage entered without love. Still, with her acceptance, she'd saved her family from untold humiliation. Had rescued Pembridge House and kept Father from debtor's prison. Like many women before her, she'd walk down the aisle and martyr herself in her marital bed.
<
br /> Fredrick leaned forward and gently placed his hands on both sides of her face. "Everything is going to be as it should be. And when we are old and gray with our grandchildren playing about us, you will wonder why you were ever hesitant to be my wife. Please don't be sad."
"I'm not sad." And she wasn't, for she hoped she'd soon wake from her dream and instead of Fredrick holding her, Jude would be.
He chuckled and placed as soft kiss on her forehead. "I know better, but I intend to make certain that your sorrow is short lived."
She gazed upon this kind man's countenance and smiled, for in the depths of his eyes she recognized his tender determination. "I believe you will try and that is more than I can expect from this arrangement. I thank you Baron, for your generosity."
"Darling," he whispered, his breath warm on her skin. "This is no longer an arrangement for me. You have touched my heart and before long we will be the couple that everyone envies. There will be love between us."
"I hope you’re right." But judging by the chill in her heart, she doubted it.
Taking her hand, he led her toward the clearing and to where Jude and his lady strolled toward them. So deeply involved in his conversation with the golden goddess, Jude didn't look at her until they were nearly upon them.
"Fredrick, Chloe, may I present to you Miss Belle Lockwood." Jude's gaze slid to Chloe as his stunning fiancée offered Fredrick her gloved hand. Every aspect of the woman screamed wealth and refinement. Everything from the top of her beautiful straw bonnet with soft pink silk ribbons to the tips of her tiny leather shoes, spoke of interest in the latest fashion. For who, but the most fashionable of ladies, wore pale pink silk to a picnic in the middle of the wood? Only one who didn't care if the hems were soiled and ruined, that was a certainty.
Chloe raised her chin to meet Jude's stare but despite her attempts at strength, her lower lip trembled with disappointment. In fact, an unpleasant chill raced across her skin, her head uncomfortably light. Damnation. He was truly happy. She could see it. Feel it coming off him as strongly as she could smell the sweet scent of gardenia that wafted from his living doll. She held on to a sapling for support and watched in misery as the newcomer beguiled her fiancé.
An Unwilling Baroness Page 5
