by Shana Galen
She cared little for herself, but she knew he would protect his career above all else.
So what now? He didn’t like her; he didn’t even trust her. He thought she’d planned this bride swap. He certainly didn’t love her. It seemed to her that a marriage without love was the worst sort of prison, especially when one partner loved another. Valentine had called her Elizabeth. He obviously loved her sister. And Lord knew Catherine was nothing like her sister.
How fitting that Catherine should be forced into marriage with a man who would spend all his days pining for her horrible, spoiled sister. Elizabeth didn’t begin to deserve this man. Not that Catherine did. If he was really as kind as he seemed—and that was just preposterous; it had to be a ruse—then Catherine knew she could never deserve him.
If she ever got out of here, she would find a way to make her father pay for this. How could anyone treat others’ lives so carelessly? How could he trick a man into marriage and condemn his own daughter to a lifetime of misery?
And what of her sister? Catherine was under no illusion that Elizabeth loved Valentine. The girl loved no one but herself. But to have the man you were betrothed to taken away, capriciously given to another, and be made a fool of before all Society.
Did her father realize what he’d done? Did he even care?
And how could he possibly get away with this? Valentine had said her name was on the license and she’d said the vows, but what of the banns, the engagement announcement, and the betrothal ball? Surely Society would notice that one sister had been substituted for the other. Valentine was so worried about sullying his reputation, but Catherine could not but believe they were already the favorite topic of the ton.
Not that she cared one jot for the ton. She had more important concerns. Her face flamed when she thought of her behavior this morning. What had she been thinking, marching through the streets in nothing but a sheet?
She could never have imagined doing anything so reckless in all her life, but something inside her had snapped when Valentine had threatened to send her home. Terror had overridden reason, and she had indeed behaved rashly, as Valentine suggested. But what did he know of rationality? Valentine had not been pulled out of a sound sleep and sold to a leering thug for less than the cost of employing a housekeeper.
She would not go home, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she could not allow Valentine to end the marriage. If he did so, she would have no choice but to live on the street. That, or run to her uncle William’s. She wiped a trickle of wetness from her cheek. Oh, what did it matter? She’d run before, and her father always found her. He always got her back. If she left Valentine, her father would get to her. He would sell her again or worse…
Valentine, with his excessive worry about scandal and his reputation, was nothing compared to her father. Why, the earl had not even struck her after her behavior this morning. She’d been impudent and insulting, and the man had done nothing but apologize. He hadn’t laid a hand on her. Yet.
She did not want to be married. She did not want to be some man’s wife—subject to his whims and his fists and his anger. But what if her marriage had actually relieved her of that life? What if this marriage to Valentine had saved her from the whims of another man, even worse than the man she called husband?
She stared at the shadows on the ceiling and considered. She might be wrong about Valentine. After all, hadn’t she always said that the devil you knew was better than the devil you didn’t? But what if Valentine was her one escape from her father?
But even this revelation did not relieve the trapped feeling in her chest. What would Valentine do with her now that she was his? What if she had misjudged him and, given time, he was no better than her father?
One thing was clear to her. She might be his wife in name, but she would not be his wife in truth. She would not share his bed or his life. As long as she was here in London, she still had her cousins, her only friends. She could run to them for protection, if only temporarily.
Sometime later there was a knock on the bedroom door. Catherine had fashioned a sort of toga from the sheets, and now she checked that it was secure.
“Miss Fullbright?”
It was Valentine. She pulled the knot at one shoulder tighter. “What do you want?” Now, he would beat her.
“May I come in?”
He was asking permission? What kind of trickery was this? She tried to forestall him. “Do you have my clothes?”
“I’m not going to stand in the hallway and yell through the door. I’m coming in.”
She heard the sound of the lock turning, and Valentine poked his head in. He peered about the room, obviously worried she’d gone on a rampage and destroyed it, then he peered at her. Catherine crossed her arms over her chest and felt her cheeks explode with heat. Now that she saw him again, her earlier escape seemed even more childish. Had she actually thought that stomping into the street wearing nothing but this sheet would solve anything?
And then he stepped into the room, and she had the impulse to run away again. Not just because she was afraid he would hurt her. The sight of him, even now that he was fully clothed, reminded her of his nakedness this morning. She hadn’t meant to reveal anything when she’d pulled the bedclothes off him. She had not meant to see the expanse of his chest, lightly furred with dark hair. She had not meant to see his bronze arms, hard and muscular. She had not meant to see those long, lean legs or to look when he’d risen to catch a glimpse of his small, tight bottom. And she had especially not meant to see that part of him that made him unquestionably male. Had he been sleeping beside her all night with it hard and ready for battle?
She shrank back from him. Was it hard now? Was he ready to use it on her?
“I’ve come with gifts,” he said.
Catherine paused and blinked. Gifts? Had she heard him correctly? Why was he bringing her gifts?
He held out a piece of cloth to her, and when she did not take it, he shook the robe open. “I can have clothes ordered, but perhaps this will do until that’s been accomplished.”
Catherine stared at the robe. She didn’t understand this man. She understood his words, but not the reasons behind them. Why was he being so kind? Where was the trap in this?
“This is very kind of you,” she said finally, taking the robe. She would have to wait until he left to put it on, and without stays or a shift, she would still be far from proper, but it was better than the thin sheet. She wondered how far his kindness extended. “Am I still a prisoner?”
“That depends on you.” Valentine eyed her directly, his gaze assessing. “Have you given up your rash ideas and begun to see logic?”
Catherine crossed her arms. Why did men always think they were the only sex capable of rational thought? “If you mean am I going to attempt to escape in only my sheet again, the answer is no. But I will not go home. I know you wish to be rid of me, but I would go to the Americas before I return to my family.”
“I understand.”
She raised her brows. She did not think he could possibly understand all her father was capable of, nor did she think he understood what she was telling him. She was now, for better or worse, his wife.
“Would you feel better if I said that I have written several letters, discreet inquiries to my friends, asking their advice on the situation?”
That did not make her feel better, not at all. What could other men know of her situation? Mightn’t they all simply tell Valentine to send her home? If that were to happen, she would need to prepare to escape first, so she said cautiously, “And you will share their replies when they arrive?”
She could tell by his scowl that he didn’t like that request. How like a man to use knowledge to make himself feel powerful. But to her surprise, Valentine nodded. “I will share them. For now, will you do me the honor of dining with me for dinner?”
“Do you the honor—? A few hours ago, you called me a liar and looked as though you could have cheerfully strangle
d me. Now you want to dine with me?”
He cleared his throat. “I am not happy with our circumstances. I am not happy about what you did—”
“I told you, it was my—”
He held up a hand. “Nevertheless, I am trying to be reasonable. There are several matters I wish to discuss with you—matters I think better dealt with now than later.”
Suspicion tickled her spine and spread warm fingers over her shoulders. Now what did the man have in mind? If he so much as hinted at sharing a bed—
There was a bang and a shout, and then the sound of voices outside. Catherine whirled toward the window and saw Ashley’s face and her fist pounding the pane.
“What the devil?” Valentine swore, while Catherine ran to the window and unlatched it.
“Ashley! What are you doing? Get in before you fall.” Torn between joy at seeing her cousin and fear that Ashley would fall, Catherine clasped Ashley’s hands and made to pull her inside. Ashley was heavier than she looked, and Catherine grunted, but then Valentine was beside her, lifting Ashley effortlessly inside. Catherine sighed with relief. Ashley was safe. And now Catherine had an ally.
As soon as Ashley’s feet were on the ground, Catherine tackled her, hugging her hard, but Valentine went straight back to the window. He swore under his breath. Catherine stared her cousin. “You didn’t.”
Ashley gave a sheepish smile. She wore black trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. Her glorious hair was caught under a workingman’s cap. “How could I leave them behind?”
“Hold on,” Valentine was calling out the window. “I’m coming to get you. And you”—he pointed at the ground—“do not even think about climbing up.” Then he leaned from the window so far Catherine was afraid he would tumble out. She and Ashley ran to the window on the other side of the bed and peered out.
Josephine was hanging on to the rusty trellis. She too wore men’s clothing, and with her thin figure and cropped hair, she resembled a young boy. The trellis she clutched looked stable enough, but it ended a few feet before Catherine’s second-floor window. Josie was reaching up, her fingers mere inches from Valentine’s. And then she seemed to sway, lose her balance on the trellis, and Catherine and Ashley screamed in unison. The moment they were certain their cousin would fall, Valentine clasped her hands in his and lifted her off the trellis and into the room.
Before she ran to Josie, Catherine saw that Maddie was still on the ground below. She was the only one of the three dressed in a gown, so she obviously did not intend to scale any buildings. Thank God one of her cousins had some sense. Catherine ran to Josie. Valentine had just released her, and Catherine gave her a hard hug. “You almost got yourself killed! What were you thinking?”
And then she looked at Valentine. “My cousin, Lady Madeleine, Lord Castleigh’s daughter. Would you bring her up before she decides to climb up, too?”
Valentine went to the door, and she heard him call directions to his butler.
Catherine turned back to her cousins, her heart still pounding from fear, but by now the girls were laughing. “We made it!” Josie said.
“Of course we did,” Ashley said, slapping her on the back. “Third time is the charm.”
Catherine gaped. “Are you both mad? You might have fallen and died. And what if this had been the wrong window?”
“We knew it had to be right,” Ashley said. “We’d tried two others already.”
Catherine’s legs felt weak, and she had to back up and take a seat on the bed. She could just imagine her cousins scaling the house, falling, and ending up a broken pile of bones on the lawn below. And that was just the worst-case scenario. All the girls but Maddie were wearing men’s trousers and shirts. Had they been traipsing about London in broad daylight like that? It was one thing for them to dress as boys and run about London in the middle of the night when they were eight. But now they were grown women of the ton. It didn’t help that Catherine had made her own scene this morning. Lord, the papers would be in news ecstasy after reporting on the four of them.
“Oh, stop worrying,” Josie said. “We did it for you. We had to rescue you.”
“And just in time, too,” Ashley said, her gaze falling to Catherine’s sheet. “What was he doing to you?”
Catherine flushed, but before she could answer, Josie reached into her coat and extracted a large cutlass. Valentine, who was coming back into the room, paused.
“Don’t come any closer,” Josie warned. “If you touch her, I’ll cut off your nose. And that’s just the start.”
Valentine touched a finger to his nose and then glanced at Catherine. His expression was one of amusement and disbelief. But Catie knew anger couldn’t be far away.
“You can put it away, Josie,” she said. “He hasn’t hurt me or tried to touch me.”
They heard footsteps racing down the hall, and a heartbeat later, Madeleine burst into the door. “You found her.”
Valentine stepped back and then Catherine was surrounded by her three favorite people in the world. Ashley, Madeleine, and Josephine were crowding around her, hugging her, and talking all at once. Ashley was the first to make herself heard above the din.
“If he hasn’t touched you, Catie, where are your clothes? Why are you dressed in only a sheet?”
Catherine shook her head. “I woke up this morning and my clothes were gone. I had to use Lord Valentine’s sheets to cover myself.”
The three cousins turned back to Valentine, now standing with one shoulder braced on the doorjamb. Josephine lifted her grandfather’s cutlass again. “What did you do to her clothes? Was that part of your plan? To force her into your bed and have your way with her?”
Valentine held up his hands. “I assure you I was just as surprised as Miss Fullbright to awaken thus. I have no idea where her clothes are. She seems to have been left here with nothing.”
Maddie clutched Catherine’s hand. “So then you didn’t want to marry him?” She looked at the other girls. “I told you. I knew my father was lying.”
“We all knew,” Ashley said. “But we didn’t know what to do when they said your name during the wedding, and then he”—she pointed to Valentine—“lifted the veil, and there you were. And you looked so happy that we thought maybe we had misunderstood.”
Catherine shook her head. “No, no misunderstanding. My father drugged me. He has finally had his way.”
“And sacrificed you to the wolves,” Ashley added.
“I would hardly call myself a wolf,” Valentine muttered.
“We can’t let Uncle Edmund get away with this,” Ashley said.
Catherine saw Valentine start. “Now, don’t do anything rash.”
“But we have to do something,” Josie said. “Catie is trapped in this marriage, and we’ve lost her forever.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Miss Hale. I live only three blocks from Lord Castleigh’s house,” Valentine said. “And the three of you are welcome to visit, providing you use the front door.”
“But it’s not the same,” Maddie cried, turning away from him. “You have to come with me. I know my father will make this right.”
Catherine knew her kind uncle would do all in his power—even to his own family’s detriment. But Uncle William could not help without causing scandal, and even if she were safe under his protection, her father would find a way to get to her. “I am certain Uncle William would help if I asked,” she said, “but I don’t need his help.”
“Yes, you do!” Maddie cried.
“Don’t be a fool,” Ashley said.
Catherine looked at Valentine, still standing in the doorway. She knew he was watching her, waiting for her response. Was she with him or against him? Would she accept this marriage—at least temporarily—or fight it and force them all to face the consequences?
Catherine turned resolutely back to her cousins. “Listen, girls,” she said, “Lord Valentine and I have discussed this. There’s no way out.”
Ashley’s jaw dropped. “You’re giving up? You
’re just going to accept this and marry that-that man!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Valentine.
“I’m not giving up, but I don’t see another way right now.”
“Well, I do,” Maddie said, taking her hand, and Catherine was surprised by how firm her grip was and how determined the set of her jaw. “You’re coming home with me. Daddy will take you in.”
Catherine snatched her hand back. “No, Maddie. I won’t do that to you. Any of you. It wouldn’t help anyway. You know my father would find me and then…”
“Then let’s all run away,” Josie said. “We were going to anyway.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Valentine said, coming into the room. “Don’t ruin your own chances for a good match.”
Maddie shook her head. “But we don’t want to make good matches. We don’t want to marry.”
“You’re eighteen and don’t know what you want,” Valentine broke in before Catherine held up a hand. “You, you are Lord Castleigh’s daughter.” He inclined his head at Maddie. “You will be expected to make a good match and continue the family tradition. You”—he nodded at Ashley— “Sir Gareth is a friend of mine. You’re expected to marry a baron at the least. And you”—he glared at Josephine—“put the sword away. If your father knew you were going about acting like the black sheep of the family, your grandfather, he would drink himself to oblivion.”
Ashley put her hands on her hips. “Well, you seem to know so much about everything, Lord Valentine, why don’t you think of a way to get Catie out of this? Or perhaps you wanted this all along? It seems you want to get all of us married off.”
He shook his head. “I assure you, Miss Brittany, my interest is all for my bride. Remain a spinster if you wish, but don’t put ideas in Catherine’s head.”
Now it was Catherine’s turn to glare at him. The presence of her cousins made her brave. “Put ideas into my head? What? Am I an imbecile who cannot think for herself?”
