The Wedding Chase

by Rebecca Kelley

  “You’ll never pull this off.” Wolfgang stood at the motion of Martindale’s weapon. “My staff know you’re here.”

  “The story will go that I followed you into town in my carriage, but got frightened by the bad road and turned back.” She bared her teeth in a parody of a grin. “We will wait and wait in vain for your return. Your crushed carriage and broken bodies will be found tomorrow.”

  Movement exploded at his side. He whirled about to watch Remus leap through the air and Zel hurl the pianoforte stool. Remus hit the butler square in the chest. Both bodies toppled to the floor, the pistol clattering harmlessly under a chair. A fraction of a second later the stool slammed into Aunt Dorothea’s left shoulder. Her gun went off. Wolfgang dove over a table and connected with a thud to his aunt’s midsection. She crumbled under him as he wrenched the pistol free.

  Footmen and maids scrambled into the room. Wolfgang stood, jerking his aunt up with him, shoving her toward the nearest footman, his voice a tight growl coming from deep in his chest. “Tie her hands and watch her.” He pointed another footman toward Martindale. “Pull the dog off him and tie him too. When they’re secured send for the local constabulary.” He looked about the room, a frisson of fear crawling up his spine. “Zel?”

  A faint moan came from beside the pianoforte. Hurling aside a footman and chair, he knelt at her side. Scarcely breathing, Wolfgang ripped the bloody cloth from her shoulder. He yanked off his cravat and swabbed at the wound. The bullet had struck her upper arm. He probed the wound with his fingers. Trying to raise up on her elbows, Zel moaned again. Remus nudged Wolfgang, whimpering softly.

  Wolfgang scooped Zel up, holding her tight against his chest. Striding through the door, he shouted over his shoulder. “Send a maid with hot water, clean cloths, and whiskey. Now! Get the doctor!”

  The stairs disappeared two at a time under his feet. He kicked open the door to his chambers and laid her on the bed. The blood-soaked fabric of her gown and shift tore easily beneath his hands. He slid off her slippers and pulled the bedclothes over her chest. She stirred as he reexamined the wound.

  “Wolfgang. I—”

  “Sshh, don’t try to talk, Gamine.” He brushed a finger over her lips. “I’ll take care of you. I think the bullet did little more than nick the skin. It will heal well.”

  Two young women brought in the supplies and set them on a table. He nodded a thanks to the departing maids and took a cloth, dipping it in the water. Holding her steady with his free hand, he gently washed the blood from her arm and shoulder.

  “You’re a brave woman.” Wolfgang rinsed the cloth and dabbed more at her pale skin, trying to ignore her grimace of pain. “But foolish. You could have been killed. You did choose a better weapon this time. A stool can do more damage than a reticule or umbrella.”

  “I save your damned life,” Zel muttered between gritted teeth, “and you call me foolish and complain about my choice of weapons?”

  “Forgive me.” He placed a light kiss on her tight lips. “And thank you, madam wife. But if you ever scare me again like that, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Zel smiled gamely, but her bottom lip trembled.

  “I’m going to pour whiskey on the wound—”

  “Whiskey? No, you are not.”

  “I’ve seen field doctors do it, and there seems to be less fever.” Wolfgang lowered the bedcovers and lifted her, placing a cloth beneath her. “This is going to hurt like hell.”

  She cried out and stiffened as the amber fluid trailed down her shoulder, arm, and breast. Watching the tears squeeze out from between her clenched lashes, he felt a swelling in his chest. He pressed a square of cotton cloth to the still bleeding injury, then raised the whiskey bottle to her lips. “Drink a little.”

  Coughing down a mouthful of whiskey, she pushed the bottle away. “It’s horrible, why does anyone drink it?”

  “It is bad, but it has a few medicinal uses, elf.” Wolfgang tried to hide the shaking of his hands as he set down the whiskey bottle. Sitting beside her on the bed, he drew her slender form carefully into his arms, keeping the compress firm against her arm. “I could use some myself, but I need a clear head.”

  Wolfgang sucked in a breath, burying his face in her hair. “When I saw you lying on the floor, your shoulder and chest drenched in blood, I was so afraid.” He ran his lips over her eyes, tasting the salty liquid still clinging to her lashes. “So afraid of losing you. I’ve been afraid from the start of losing you.” He stroked her hair. “I wanted your love but barely believed it was real, let alone something that would last. I never knew what it meant to have a family’s love. Only my sister.” His grip on Zel tightened. “My sister was an angel, much too sweet for me.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for her death.” Zel’s voice resonated soft and low in his ear.

  “I know, I was a child.” Wolfgang pulled away slightly, kissing the tip of her nose, looking into the mossy depths of her eyes. “I was a child.” He sighed, stretching in surprise at the sudden lightness of his shoulders.

  “You told me you loved me the night Robin’s guilt seemed inevitable. I knew in a contest with him, I’d never win.” He leaned back into the pillows, keeping her secure in his arms. “I pulled away first, in part to protect you, but also to protect me from the pain that would come when you left me for him.”

  “Wolfgang, I do love you.” She nuzzled her head against his chest. “There is and was no contest. Robin is my brother, not my child. And I am your wife.”

  “You are my wife, Gamine.” He swallowed. “I want everything you have to give me.”

  Zel’s head jerked up. “Everything?” Her eyes met his, laughter there under the tears.

  “You minx. I’m trying to be serious.”

  “Then just tell me you love me.”

  “It started the night you blackened my eye.” He laughed at her puzzled look. “I just couldn’t resist trying to dig out the passionate woman from beneath that mountain of self-control.”

  She smiled and burrowed in closer. “Had I known the effect of that blow, I would have blackened your other eye and broken your nose and saved us all this doubt and misery. But I’m still waiting.”

  Wolfgang gently freed himself, pushing her back onto the pillows, studying her arm. “It’s still bleeding, but not as much. I’ll wrap it until the doctor comes.” He daubed away the blood and began to wind the cloth around her arm, soundlessly mouthing the words she waited to hear. “I love you.”

  Zel winced. “Gently. You’re hurting me.”

  “Then I won’t say it again.” Wolfgang grinned down at her.

  “You had better say it again, in fact daily.” Her eyes followed his hands as he finished wrapping her arm. “My life seemed so under control, before I met you. But I had bound myself up so tightly with fear I was ready to explode.

  “I didn’t leave you last night. I came home to decide how to change you to make our marriage work.” Zel settled deeper into the pillows. “But I discovered my choices were already made. You’re part of my life. I want you with all the surprises and uncertainties.” She smiled a little crookedly. “And speaking of surprises, my note said I was on my way to Moreton-in-Marsh.”

  Wolfgang stared at her. “I was so upset when I discovered you’d gone, I couldn’t have read that letter to save my life. But I was sure you would have headed for Cliffehaven.”

  “Wolfgang, your problem may have saved your life.” She drew him down beside her. “If you had read my letter you would have gone to Moreton-in-Marsh and Remus and I wouldn’t have been there when your aunt followed.”

  “Then you don’t care so much that you’re saddled with an idiot?”

  “If you call yourself that again, you may see a little violence in this marriage after all, when I wring your neck.” She reached for his neck with her uninjured arm. “What can I do to convince you of all the brilliance contained within that thick skull of yours?”

  Wolfgang pulled her fingers to his lips. “We�
�ll make a pact. Every day after I tell you how much I love you, you tell me that you fell in love with me because of my keen mind. Give it about ten years or so and I might even believe you.”

  “You’d better believe me much sooner than ten years, you stubborn man, for I do love your mind as well as all your other parts.”

  “Praise the devil for those parts.” He stretched out beside her. “If it hadn’t been for the demands of some of those parts, our stubborn minds would have kept us apart.” He tugged gently at a long sable curl resting above her breast. “Were we such fools? Fighting against the inevitable? I yield to the decisions of the body and the heart. After all, don’t they say that when a wolf finds his mate he is mated for life?”

  POSTLUDE

  A closing piece of music

  Freddie nearly smiled as Zel entered Cliffehaven’s spacious music room, surprise evident on her face. She looked over the assorted guests, eyes lighting accusingly on Wolf. “I thought we were to have an intimate evening at home.”

  Wolf grinned at her, totally unrepentant. “I must have gotten it reversed. I meant an evening at home with our intimates.”

  But Zel was already off, receiving birthday hugs and kisses from her friends, her aunt, and Wolf’s grandmother. Freddie stood near the pianoforte, keeping back from the crush.

  Rafael held Zel overly long until Wolf frowned at his friend and pried him loose. Snatching one last kiss, Raf smiled at the couple. “Bonne Anniversaire.” The man would be trying to spark the tempers of his friends when the three of them were seventy.

  Freddie stepped forward, taking her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “We’re not intruding, are we?”

  “Of course not.” Her lips curved softly. “I would only, just once, like to venture a guess on what my husband has planned, and be right.”

  Wolf took her arm, still careful of the wound, which nearly a month after the shooting, must be healed. “Gifts and champagne before dinner. My gift first.” He led her to a draped object on a table beside the pianoforte. “Pull the cloth.”

  Zel dramatically swirled off the square of fabric, revealing a large bust of a man as rough looking as Freddie himself.

  Wolf swept his arm over the statue. “Behold, my rival, Herr Beethoven. Carved in the finest Italian marble, he shall reside in my music room, where I can keep a sharp eye on him and my wife.”

  His wife laughed, taking her husband by the shoulders, kissing him on the mouth, long and deep. Freddie looked away.

  “I say, how disgusting. A married couple kissing in public.” Freddie smiled at the half-serious grimace that accompanied Raf’s comments.

  “You remaining bachelors are just frightened, Ridgemont. It always happens when one of your number happily succumbs.” Lady Darlington took Zel’s elbow, guiding her to a settee. “Come sit with me, I have a gift for you too, maybe not as spectacular as the maestro, but something I want you to have.”

  “You can’t challenge me and run away, Lady D.” Raf pulled up a chair next to them. “I’m not afraid of marriage. In fact I’ll probably leg-shackle myself within the next year or two.” His mouth curled into that smile women forever swooned over. “I’m looking for a sweet, young thing, fresh out of the schoolroom. One I can mold into the perfect duchess.”

  Zel’s little friend, Mrs. Carland, took the bait. “Ridgemont, your ideas on women belong in the Dark Ages.” Taking the chair near Raf, she turned to the innocent Freddie, nailing him with a superior look. “Ransley, I assume your philosophy must be prehistoric.”

  “Mrs. Carland.” Freddie lowered his eyes to her, matching her stare. “I assure you, I hold women in the highest regard. But I’d certainly never be fool enough to marry one again.”

  Wolf chuckled. “I said the same thing myself.” He plopped down at Zel’s feet as Lady Darlington pinned an heirloom sapphire brooch to Zel’s bodice. “Changed my tune, but then I got the best of the lot.”

  “As did I.” Zel stroked Wolf’s hair, twining her fingers in the narrow silver streak.

  “I don’t believe my stomach can bear more of this.” Raf withdrew his enameled snuff box from his waistcoat. “Nasty habit, I know, but easier on the digestion than love.” He took a pinch, wiping the excess off his fingers with a handkerchief. “Speaking of nasty things, where is your dear Aunt Dorothea?”

  Wolf sighed. “I suppose someone had to bring her up. Aunt Dorothea and her faithful butler, Martindale, are even now sailing for Australia. She was still demanding everyone call her the earl of Northcliffe as she boarded.” He took Zel’s hand and rubbed it along his jaw. “Maybe I should have put her in an asylum, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Somehow Botany Bay, tough as it’s reputed to be, seemed kinder.”

  “Martindale will care for her,” Zel continued. “Pettibone hasn’t surfaced, but Wolfgang’s certain he has no stake in finishing the job. Cousin Adam appears adrift. He had no part in it, never suspected her, as close as they were. I think he may eventually join her in Australia.”

  “Where is young Fleetwood, and does he know the whole of it?” Freddie tried to keep his inquiry innocuous.

  “No need for discretion, Freddie. Everyone knows Robin was the major suspect at one time.” Wolf rose slowly and walked to the window. “Robin was furious when he found out, took off for Moreton-in-Marsh to get away from me. Zel’s father followed.” The smile he directed at Zel and her aunt seemed a bit tentative. “I’m happy my wife and Diana are still speaking to me.”

  “Robin needs time to sulk. And Father will be back begging for money.” Zel went to him, placing her arm about his waist. “It’s all behind us now.”

  “Not quite.” Rafael tucked his snuff box back into his pocket. “What did you do about that betting book wager?”

  Lady Darlington tapped Raf’s shoe with her ebony cane, but her eyes followed her grandson. “Who was it?”

  “Wilmington John Wilborn Hawthorne, Lord Newton.” Wolf draped his arm over Zel’s shoulders. “As long as I’ve known the man, I had no idea our initials were identical.”

  “Newton has thrust himself forward as your rival since we were all schoolboys.” Raf stuffed his handkerchief in the pocket beside the snuff box.

  “Hawthorne,” Zel’s aunt mumbled. “A veritable thorn in the side.”

  Lady Darlington laughed politely.

  Zel smiled indulgently at her aunt and turned to Wolf. “We should have known it was him. Whenever anything bad happened, he was there.”

  “I’ve taken care of him.” Wolf pulled Zel closer.

  “Wolfgang!” Lady Darlington and Zel’s voices rose in tandem. Lady Darlington stared at her grandson. “What did you do?”

  Freddie suppressed a cough as Wolf played his innocent routine to the hilt, complete with boyish grin. “You two, yes, Zel and Grandmama, are overly suspicious. I did nothing but threaten to reveal a little secret should he ever bother Zel again.”

  Zel twisted beneath his arm. “What secret?”

  “A secret’s not a secret if everyone knows it.” Wolf lightly brushed her hair with his lips. “It’s Newton’s secret, not mine. You know you share mine.”

  She smiled up at him, then snuggled into his side.

  Freddie felt the corners of his mouth creaking upward, he was getting as maudlin as the rest. This love stuff must be dangerous, even contagious. No, Hélène had inoculated him against love as surely as that new vaccine protected him from smallpox. He watched as Wolf’s huge gray cat, Hecate, sauntered into the room, beelining for the newest item. She jumped onto the table, sniffing suspiciously at the marble bust.

  Zel’s wolfhound stood in the doorway, surveying the room. He stretched taller than his already generous height when he spotted the cat. Freddie watched helplessly as the dog’s muscles bunched and he sprang across the room, aimed straight at Beethoven and the feline. Hecate eyed the hound and at the last possible moment hopped lightly to the floor. The dog crashed, sending statue and table flying.

  “Mary Magdelene’s blo
omers!” Freddie’s chin must have dropped to his chest as he watched Zel, cursing vigorously, dash after the offending pets.

  “By all the saints of hell, you are a bad dog, Remus!” She grasped the hound by the scruff of his neck, guiding his unresisting form to a waiting footman.

  “Hecate! You devil’s familiar!” She hissed, diving for the cat, catching the furry mass squarely around the chest. “Out! You damned troublemaker.” She dropped the cat into the hall, shut the door behind her and dusted off her hands.

  Freddie glanced around the room. With the exception of one, the inhabitants stood in stunned silence. The exception was the virago’s husband.

  Wolf’s lips twitched and his shoulders shook as he dissolved into laughter.

  Zel strode to the fallen Beethoven. Lifting the heavy statue, she angrily displayed the chipped nose. “Those beasts destroyed it. Beethoven is ruined.”

  Rafael laughed, a harsh bark. “Wolf, you need to control your pets and your wife. At least get her to mind her language.” He raised a pale eyebrow. “The chit’s bound to embarrass you before the ton.”

  “Embarrass me?” Wolf’s grin spread the width of his face. “Don’t be a pompous ass. And the proper term is ‘woman,’ not ‘chit.’ ”

  Wolf took the statue from Zel’s arms, righting the table and placing the bust on top. “He looks good with a little less nose.” He nuzzled Zel’s loosened hair. “And mind your own business, Ridgemont. I like my animals and my woman a bit on the wild side.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Johann Sebastian Bach, as indicated in The Wedding Chase, was all but unknown in Europe during the Regency period. During his lifetime (1685–1750) he was acclaimed as a musician but few of his compositions were performed. Felix Mendelssohn discovered St. Matthew Passion through his great aunt and conducted an enthusiastically received performance in Berlin during March of 1829. Bach’s works then began to be published and played throughout Europe.