The Wedding Chase: In His Lordship's BedPrisoner of the TowerWord of a Gentleman

by Kasey Michaels

  He stood across the room conversing with his companions, the lot resplendent in their evening clothes, all handsome as sin and almost surely guilty of committing a few.

  “A lofty thought, but it is too bold a move, even for you,” Phyllis declared with a sharp shake of her head.

  “I admit I had rather not resort to such a drastic measure, but I have little choice. The moment Uncle James gives up the ghost, I shall become Trenton’s ward. That could happen any day now and I must act before it does.”

  That sounded uncaring of her, Clarissa realized, and regretted being so forthright about it. But it was not as if she knew her uncle well. He had spent most of his adult life in seclusion. She had only met the man twice, and briefly then. She was, however, extremely grateful to him for not exercising his power over her these last ten years since she had been orphaned and legally, if not actually, under his supervision.

  If so inclined, he could have arranged her life however he wanted before she was old enough to protest, but he had not. Instead he had left her there at school. She felt almost certain Uncle James had completely forgotten she existed. Thank goodness.

  Unfortunately, the Hopewell Female Academy, where she had remained after finishing her studies and accepted a teaching position, had closed down this past month due to lack of funds. Now here she was with no employment, no home, and with the man currently holding her wardship likely to die at any moment.

  She would not see a farthing of the inheritance her parents had left her unless she married someone who would claim and manage it for her. Her cousin Trenton had made it very clear who that someone was to be.

  “I understand your rush.” Phyllis sighed. “But should you marry him?” She inclined her head toward the man in question. “You know Harry says Richfield’s become nothing short of a madman with no thought of caution. He thrives upon danger. They say he’ll do anything on a dare and attempt any feat to win a bet. If you must do this thing, at least choose an adult.”

  Clarissa smiled, brushing the edge of her lace-trimmed fan against her chin as she surveyed the room. She felt much calmer now. Apparently, Trenton had left the party. “Ah, but that is the beauty of it, Phyllis. Richfield will be more concerned with seeking excitement than with managing investments, wouldn’t you think? Tending the wife’s business affairs would be deadly dull for a fellow like him.”

  Phyllis looked doubtful. “Harry has worlds of admiration for the man’s courage, very nearly idolizes the fellow. However, he did caution me roundly about him several times. You will have noticed Harry’s not invited him to our house until this evening. Though he has always liked Richfield enormously, I suspect Harry argued with Mother over that invitation.”

  Clarissa shrugged. “I wish we had argued with her over the issuance of Trenton’s.”

  “I did, but she said it was only proper to ask him. You made me vow not to tell anyone what he was up to.”

  “Hmm. No harm done.” But there almost had been tonight. If anyone had seen them on the terrace… She shook off the thought and picked up the issue of Richfield’s welcome or lack of it. “I can see Harry’s point, Phyllis. Richfield would never do as a suitor for you. However, he is precisely what I require.”

  Phyllis shrugged. “I fail to see how you would be any better served with Richfield running through your inheritance than if Trenton acquired the power to do so.”

  “At least Hugh Richfield will be my choice. If my fortune is to buy me a husband, then I shall do the shopping, thank you very much.”

  “If you believe he can be purchased like a hunter at Tattersalls, how on earth can you ever trust him? I doubt he has much, if any, income since he left the army. Rumor has it his elder brother squandered the family wealth.”

  Clarissa nodded. “Common knowledge. So Richfield should leap at the opportunity to gain a wealthy wife. So long as I hold my own purse strings, I can accept his motive for marrying me. No other man I know might allow me to conduct my own affairs, but he will.” She could not take her eyes off the man.

  “Wild and foolish he may be,” she admitted to Phyllis, “but he is a gentleman for all that. I overheard him say once that his word is his bond, that honor is everything, the only commodity that matters for a man. Before we marry, I shall extract his promise that what is mine shall remain mine, save for the amount I shall settle on him for his loss of bachelorhood. He will keep his word.”

  Phyllis scoffed. “You have not even seen him since you were fifteen. And what was he then? Not quite twenty? He’s a man now, no longer some callow youth full of lofty ideals. How can you know he will stand by a promise even if he gives it?”

  “I do know,” Clarissa assured her, sounding a great deal more confident than she felt. She tamped down the frisson of doubt that chilled her. “Now how shall I get him alone to do this deed? It must be tonight or else I shall lose my courage.” Or her only chance, if Trenton had his way. “You will help?”

  Phyllis groaned softly. “If you insist, I suppose I have no choice. Come along.”

  “No,” Clarissa said, pulling back, shy of approaching him directly when the others were around to hear. “I shall wait here. You tell him I need to speak with him in private.”

  The gathering Phyllis’s parents were hosting at Dickson House tonight was relatively small. Only twenty guests and family attended the impromptu celebration of Harry’s coming safely home after the victory at Waterloo.

  So many were lost. Thousands dead. She wondered whether anyone had celebrated Hugh Richfield’s miraculous return. He did not seem to mind if they had not. That casual elegance he had exhibited even as a boy had not changed. Nor had his indolent grin. If anything, the years had enhanced both.

  Clarissa knew, on the other hand, that she was much different now. A great deal more confident than she had used to be. She musn’t allow her shyness to return after working so hard to overcome it.

  She waited impatiently as her friend went forward to set the plan in motion. Phyllis paused briefly to speak to other guests, then excused herself and continued on to where Hugh Richfield stood with his friends.

  John Bernard drifted away from the group, obviously trailing after Lady Hermoine, the Menchard heiress who was also a good friend to Phyllis. Hugh leaned forward and muttered some aside to Cole Fletcher who promptly laughed aloud. Harry Dickson turned aside, comically rolling his eyes in mock horror.

  Phyllis’s brother Harry was a good fellow by anyone’s standards, though not the sort Clarissa wanted to wed. He was too responsible, too in-charge. Besides, he only saw her as another sister.

  And Cole Fletcher was no candidate, either. He had suffered an obvious tendre for Phyllis when they were much younger and apparently still did. That left only Richfield if she was to choose a man she knew anything at all about. Not that she knew much of him, either, but she had decided what she did know would have to suffice.

  The plain truth remained that she had met very few men in her life. There had been no coming out in society for her. No balls, no royal introductions, no courting. No social life at all save for what Phyllis had provided with her kind invitations over the years.

  How merry the lads looked tonight, not a care in the world, it seemed. Soldiers fresh from their victory over the French at Waterloo, happy to be alive, brimming with the knowledge that they were being noticed by every female in attendance and admired by every man.

  Clarissa envied their carefree state. She wondered briefly if Hugh Richfield would be willing to give that up to marry a solemn old maid of twenty-two for any price. Well, she would soon know.

  Phyllis reached the men just then, smiling sweetly as Hugh, then Cole, bowed over her hand with exaggerated courtesy. Harry leaned forward with some sally that set them laughing again. Phyllis giggled and tapped her brother on the shoulder lightly with her fan.

  They were a pretty pair, through and through, the Dickson offspring, fair as May with bright dispositions to match. One could not help but love them. All their friends w
ere much the same except for Richfield and herself. Oh, he was golden, too, that one, but there was also an element of mystery to him that set him apart.

  Perhaps that was what drew her to him, that difference. But her own dark looks—brown eyes and hair the color of coal, skin that tended to darken in the sun—made her the true anomaly when she was seen among them. She had never fit in.

  Clarissa did admit she’d developed an infatuation for Hugh Richfield she was not certain she had shaken off even now. That was one reason she had chosen him to wed, but certainly not the most crucial one. She knew better than to choose with her heart.

  No, she had deliberately selected Hugh for his honor, but more so for his devil-may-care ways and total disregard for impressing those around him. Given his current reputation, he would not be overly fond of responsibility and therefore would not wrest it from her.

  Hugh was extremely handsome, even more so than when he was nineteen and the object of her every fantasy, so she must be on her guard. Simply looking at him made her want to sigh as she used to do when she was a girl and smitten with him. She wished she were close enough to see those amber eyes of his as she recalled the way they had always sparkled with humor.

  As if he were attuned to her very thoughts, he turned and looked her straight in the eye from across the room. Her heart pounded like an urgent fist against a door.

  Phyllis had been whispering to him, no doubt on Clarissa’s behalf. His expression, the slight tilt of his head, indicated interest. Or at least curiosity.

  She pasted on a smile though her face felt stiff with trepidation. Clarissa was about to attempt something no woman of quality should even think of doing. What would he think of her then?

  With an infinitesimal nod in her direction and a pointed look toward the door leading out of the ballroom, he abruptly deserted Phyllis, Harry and Cole. Clarissa waited a few seconds, then followed him.

  When she reached the foyer, she looked both ways to see whether he was leaving the house or had gone up the stairs. She saw him immediately, waiting at the far end of the hallway, well beyond the staircase, half inside the doorway to the library. The moment she spied him, he disappeared from view as if challenging her to join him.

  Glancing around her, carefully ensuring that she was not observed, she sidled down to the dimly lit end of the corridor and slipped into the room where he waited.

  The library, being somewhat out of the way, generally remained closed when the Dicksons entertained. Good. They should not be interrupted.

  She sucked in a deep breath, smoothed the fabric of her new blue gown and raked her teeth over her lips to heighten their color.

  How she dreaded change of any sort, but now she must face it squarely. School had been safe, familiar and had offered the stability she had lacked before she’d been orphaned. She would sorely miss that comfortable cocoon. There was no choice now but to play the butterfly whether she looked the part or not.

  Well, this was it. She was here, to meet in secret with the man she had selected. It was a sight more preferable than being alone with the man who had selected her, Clarissa reminded herself.

  Her palms felt damp inside her half-gloves and her heart beat so frantically, she feared she might swoon. But she had no time for fear or for swooning.

  He was waiting.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “MISS FORTESQUE,” Hugh greeted her softly as she entered. He raked her up and down with a bold gaze before settling it on her face. “My, how you have grown.”

  “Mr. Richfield,” she replied. “So have you.” She felt uncertain how to proceed now that they were alone. Even in the low light she could see on closer inspection that his eyes gleamed a shade too bright, his smile appeared too fixed. Did he resent her summoning him this way instead of approaching him directly?

  “Our Miss Dickson said you wished me to attend you on some matter of greatest importance,” he remarked, his expression unchanged. “Phyllis was so secretive, I confess I am highly intrigued.”

  She stood well away from him, some six feet or so, trying not to twist her hands together and duck her head. How best to do this? she wondered with a heavy sigh. “May I ask you a few questions?”

  “If you like.” He shrugged. His stance remained contraposto, like some Greek god aware he was being admired by a mere mortal and thoroughly amused by the idea.

  “Is honor important to you? Have your views upon it changed since we knew one another?”

  His answering laugh was more of a small, surprised cough. “I shouldn’t think it has. Honor is quite necessary in my opinion. Perhaps the most important—”

  “Yes, yes, so it is,” she interrupted, satisfied she was right, impatient to be done with this so they could get down to business. “Now would you please answer me this? What goals have you, Mr. Richfield? What ambitions?”

  He looked very curious now and perhaps a bit disbelieving she would ask him such personal things. “I’m not certain I have any at the moment. Are you perhaps trying to reform me, Miss Fortesque?” Then he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Has Harry put you up to this? He has, hasn’t he?”

  “Not at all. I understand that you have mustered out, sold your commission, or whatever it is one does when one leaves the army?”

  “Indeed, I have embraced civilian life, such as it is,” he admitted. With one hand propped on the back of an armchair, he gestured idly with the other. “So there you have it, your questions answered, impertinent as they were. You may tell our esteemed Dickson that I am doomed to an aimless existence with honor as my only redeeming quality. Does that end your interrogation?”

  He looked perfectly at ease, that all-knowing smile unwavering, which for some reason angered her no end. Her presence obviously had no effect on him whatsoever, while she stood here suffering a high state of agitation. The childish urge to shock him out of that comfortable pose of his simply overtook her.

  “No. No further questions. However…” She screwed up her courage, raised her chin a notch and met his assessing gaze with one every bit as bold. “Since you are without employment and probably in need of funds, I have decided to marry you.”

  That did the trick. He straightened immediately, his casual stance stiffened, the smile turned upside down. He blinked hard, as if she were an apparition he thought might attack. Apparently she had rendered him quite speechless for once in his life. Amazing feat.

  Clarissa suppressed a nervous giggle while a feeling of power shot through her, boosting her confidence. She pressed on before it could flag. “For the sum of ten thousand pounds, you must agree to elope and then ask no more of me than the amount I have mentioned. For the remainder of your life,” she added for good measure so there would be no misunderstanding. “I will have your solemn word on that before the ceremony. Have we a bargain, sir?”

  He stared at her as if she had lost her reason. Perhaps she had, Clarissa thought. In any event, he was not jumping for joy at her proposal. She raised a hand to rake an errant curl behind her ear, realized the mannerism would betray her lack of composure and ceased immediately.

  “Well?” Locking her trembling hands together in front of her, she waited.

  The silence mounted for what seemed an eternity. Then he cleared his throat, blinked and looked away. “May I ask why, Clarissa? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  “That is none of your concern,” she snapped, uneasy because he had not immediately leaped at her offer. He should have leaped.

  He studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowed with speculation. “If you are…in an interesting way, then it definitely would be my concern. Are you?”

  Her mouth dropped open and her own eyes flew wide. “How dare you suggest such a thing!” She stepped closer and lowered her voice to a vehement whisper. “I am certainly not with child, if that is what you imply!” She wished she dared slap him.

  “It is a legitimate query in light of your proposition,” he argued, though by the immediate relaxing of his shoulders, he seemed vastly r
elieved. Small wonder.

  Clarissa was not certain she wished to marry him now if he thought so little of her as to believe she would attempt to foist another man’s offspring on him. “In light of your insult, I should rescind my offer immediately.”

  “But you are not inclined to do that, are you?” he guessed correctly. He cleared his throat again. “Well, do you mean to elope immediately? Tonight?” he asked, his voice husky, though it had regained its former note of dry humor.

  He was making sport of her now, she knew. Still she did not task him for it. Time was of the essence. Tonight was a bit sooner than she had thought to do this, but there was little point in delaying the deed and every reason in the world not to put it off.

  “Yes. Tonight. Why not?”

  “The license for one thing,” he informed her. “Unless you are prepared to wait three weeks, we would need a special license in lieu of the regular one. And that we cannot get until midmorning at the earliest.”

  “No, I prefer not to wait.” She cast about for another alternative. Word would spread like a house afire if they applied for a license of either sort. Trenton would find out. He would do something to stop her. “Scotland then. We shall go there and we shan’t need one. Isn’t that so?”

  “Gretna Green? Is that what you have in mind?” he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

  “Is there a closer destination where it would be legal?”

  He issued a short laugh, more of a scoff, really. “Legal? Well, I suppose it is legal enough there. I hear all a pair must do is declare themselves, before several witnesses of course, and the marriage is taken as fact. Many have done it, though I know no one personally who has dared. For the most part, I believe it is to avoid the Marriage Law here in England. But as luck would have it, Clarissa, we are not Scots and would have to return here to live.” He paused. “Confess. This is some jest Harry put you up to, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely not. We could reside in Scotland. Though I have not traveled greatly across the border, I am familiar with the city of Edinburgh. I went there once as a child.”