A Rogue to Avoid (Matchmaking for Wallflowers Book 2)

by Bianca Blythe

  There were hardly any carriages on the streets. This wasn’t Mayfair. But then he smiled.

  An elaborate carriage came down the road, heading in the direction of the cathedral.

  He recognized the Belmonte coat of arms and grinned.

  “We have them,” he whispered.

  “She decided to travel in a nicer carriage?” Miles asked.

  “That’s her father’s carriage,” Gerard whispered. “You don’t happen to have a weapon?”

  Miles blinked and shook his head.

  Gerard waved his hands in the air. “Halt!”

  The driver of the carriage showed no signs of halting, and Gerard swore. He pulled his carriage in front of the other one, and the next few moments were characterized by excessive amounts of cacophony as the other driver shouted obscenities.

  “Are you going to explain what on earth you’re doing?” Miles asked.

  “Later!” Gerard shouted. He jumped from the perch of his seat and scampered toward the elaborate coach of the duke. He swung open the door.

  This time it wasn’t empty. And the woman inside did resemble Cordelia. But the blonde-headed woman was older, and her eyes were paler and didn’t sparkle with Cordelia’s vibrancy. She blinked at him. “Who are you?”

  Shuffling sounded and then the duke poked his face from behind the door. His face darkened. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Looking for your daughter.”

  Cordelia’s mother gasped. “Why?”

  “I am,” Gerard said, “The Marquess of Rockport, and your soon to be son-in-law.”

  Hopefully.

  Dear Lord, he hoped so much.

  The duchess widened her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice sounded incredulous. “You’re the man our daughter decided to run off with?”

  “I am, indeed.”

  “The man’s just after her money,” the duke sniffed.

  “One of those,” the duchess gave him an icy stare.

  “His brother-in-law is Lord Alfriston,” the duke continued. “You know what kind of person he turned out to be.”

  “Too well.” The duchess put her hand to her chest as if the memory might cause her to faint.

  But then she gazed at him suspiciously. “You don’t look like a complete disaster. I was expecting someone rather more . . . Scottish.”

  “I can assure you I am plenty Scottish,” Gerard growled. He placed his hands on his waist, and it was only the fact that they needed to find Cordelia that prevented him from launching into a tirade.

  “Ah, you like those clothes I put him in?” Miles slapped him on the back and poked his head into the coach. “I’m the marquess’s brother.”

  “Much younger and more immature brother,” Gerard said dryly. “You should wait by the horses.”

  “Well, at least the man is in possession of all his legs,” the duchess said. “The artist won’t need to be too creative when painting our family portrait.”

  “My leg count is unimportant. Please tell me though—where is your daughter?”

  “She’s not with you?” asked the duchess.

  “No,” Gerard said.

  “Well you did say you saw her by that ribbon shop,” the duchess mused to her husband.

  “The one she exited from the back?” Gerard said.

  “So you do know where she was?”

  “Only that.” Gerard sighed. “Is Oggleton here?”

  The duke and duchess were silent.

  Miles tapped him on the shoulder. “I think I found her.”

  Gerard swung around immediately. “Where is she?”

  “The river. Some rough-looking man was shouting that everyone should know that he had Lady Cordelia.”

  Blast.

  Gerard started running in the direction of the river.

  Bloody hell.

  He knew that river. It was the river that had killed his father. He would not, absolutely would not, permit that Cordelia also succumb to it.

  Wheels sounded behind him. “You can come with us,” the duke said, his voice reluctant.

  Gerard nodded and clambered inside the gilt-plated monstrosity. He just hoped they would get to her in time.

  “You know you’ve hired a madman?” Gerard said tersely.

  “He’s always good at coming up with money,” the duke said tersely.

  “The man takes far too much pleasure in threatening people.”

  “He has a good work ethic,” the duke said.

  “Have you forgotten that Lady Cordelia is your very own daughter?”

  The duke’s face whitened, and they were silent for the rest of the thankfully short journey. The driver halted by the spot at the tree-covered river that Miles had pointed toward. A few townspeople were gathered, and when Gerard and the duke clambered out of the carriage, it was easy to spot them.

  Oggleton was thrusting a pistol in the direction of Lady Cordelia and Miss Carmichael. “Get the marquess. Bring ‘im ‘ere!”

  “I think he’s referring to you,” the duke said.

  The onlookers shrieked, but none of them seemed able to move.

  “Talk him down,” Gerard ordered the duke. “I’m going to see if I can surprise him.”

  The duke nodded, his face pale. Gerard watched as the man pushed himself through the crowd, his gray wig and cobalt tailcoat ostentatious among the Canterbury residents. The man cleared his throat.

  “Release my daughter and—er—that other lady.” The duke’s voice bellowed, and Gerard’s shoulders eased.

  He needed to tackle Oggleton. Something to keep him from pointing that weapon at the woman Gerard loved.

  Lord.

  This had to work. Had to. Perhaps before their journey he couldn’t have imagined a world with Lady Cordelia in it, but now he couldn’t imagine a world without her.

  She was the strongest, most determined woman he’d ever met. He’d been so thoroughly mistaken about her.

  “Oggleton!” The duke gave an ungentlemanly shout. “I said release my daughter.”

  “Not until I see the marquess,” Oggleton sneered.

  “And then what will you do?” The duke said.

  “Why I’ll kill him for you,” Oggleton said enthusiastically.

  The duke’s face paled. “Please don’t do that.” He looked around at the crowd. “The man’s mad. I—I don’t know where he got that idea.”

  “Because you told him father,” Cordelia said icily.

  Pride surged through Gerard. If only Oggleton weren’t standing on the other side of the river, he might tackle him easily. The man’s reflexes were likely slow. He knew the sound of a drunk man.

  Oggleton beamed. “So you did. I’m jes bein’ a good worker!”

  Gerard gazed up. Some tree branches stretched over Oggleton, and Gerard smiled. He clambered up the tree, thankful for his strength. Some of the onlookers noticed, but they remained wide-eyed and silent.

  “You don’t need to kill him,” the duke said. “I mean—not that I told you to kill him.” He looked uneasily at the onlookers.

  “Ha! I need to do away with him,” Oggleton said. “It’s our only hope for the money.”

  “What do you mean?” the duke asked slowly.

  “Why he might figure things out if I don’t kill ‘im.”

  “Explain,” Cordelia said sternly.

  “His mother didn’t actually borrow money from you. He might figure out that she didn’t! He might figure out that that’s why he don’t have the money to repay you.” Oggleton cackled, and Gerard blinked. For a moment he halted his climb.

  “You mean to say that you forged a loan payment?” Cordelia said.

  “Sure did,” Oggleton said brightly. “He was the perfect target. Bad relationship with his mother after that scandal. Everyone knows about it. He would believe bad things about Her. And he’d be too ashamed to ask questions.”

  “I think that’s enough talk,” Oggleton added.

  “No, I think you should repeat that,” Cordelia
said. “You tricked the marquess into thinking that he had to pay my father a big loan. And you tricked the duke too?”

  “Yep!” Oggleton beamed. “And some people say I ain’t smart!” Oggleton chuckled. “Why I’m ‘jes about the smartest man I know. And I know the marquess will try and rescue you at some point. And then I’ll kill ‘im!”

  Oggleton beamed, and Gerard swallowed hard. He slithered up the branch, and leaves tore against his tailcoat and breeches. His lips twitched. Ruining Miles’s clothes would serve the man right for insisting he wear this when Gerard had brought a perfectly good kilt for the wedding.

  He frowned. The only thing he needed now was to divert Oggleton’s attention, so he wasn’t pointing a gun in the direction of the woman Gerard loved. An idea occurred to him, and he tore off his slippers that he’d agreed to wear.

  He sucked in a deep breath of air, summoned all his athletic prowess from his Harrow days, and flung the slippers into the water, just behind Oggleton.

  Splash.

  “What?” Oggleton turned his head, and Gerard jumped from the tree, landing on top of Oggleton with a big thud.

  Oggleton yelped, and Gerard grinned when he kicked the pistol away. Cordelia scampered toward him and picked it up.

  Gerard ached all over, but he’d never been so happy in his life.

  It was going to be fine.

  There had been no loan, he’d captured the man trying to kill him, and best of all, he had Cordelia.

  The onlookers rushed forward and helped tie Oggleton up. They were rather more courageous, now that the man was unarmed.

  He offered Cordelia his hand. “Come my darling.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  They were married.

  Happiness spread through Cordelia. She gazed at her husband. She loved him. Even if the man had had the indecency to show up at Canterbury Cathedral in a muddied outfit and absolutely no slippers or boots on his feet at all.

  She hadn’t needed to feign delight at marrying him when all his siblings were observing them.

  “That was absolutely wonderful,” Miss Carmichael mused.

  The Duke of Alfriston laughed. “Perhaps living in England will suit you after all.”

  Miss Carmichael’s face crinkled.

  “Have you not realized yet that your sister dreams of the Caribbean?”

  The duke’s face darkened, and his tone grew more serious. “I am trying to forget that.”

  The duchess sighed. “Well. I have managed to convince the duke to accompany me on an excavation in Italy. You must join us.” She leaned closer to her sister-in-law. “You’ll find that the Mediterranean is very intriguing.”

  Cordelia smiled. The duchess was nothing like the other ladies of the ton, but she managed to make everyone around her so happy. Cordelia hoped that she could do the same.

  The duchess looked at Cordelia. “And I hope that you will join us as well.”

  “Me?” Cordelia whispered, but the duchess simply nodded. “Yes. Both of you. If you like.”

  “That’s—that’s so kind,” Cordelia stammered.

  “You are part of our family now,” the duchess said solemnly. “And we look forward to getting to know you better.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Gerard said. “Wouldn’t it, dear?”

  Footsteps sounded behind her, but she simply smiled at her new family. “Most assuredly.”

  A delicate cough sounded behind her, and she recognized her mother’s attempt at discretion. She swung around, cognizant that everything had changed between them. She smiled at her mother, but the smile was strained as if she were beaming at a stranger.

  Her mother offered her a similarly tight smile. She turned to Gerard. “Welcome to our family.”

  Her father was silent, and his frown seemed to stretch further in the direction of the ground.

  “You know I would have favored you marry a duke,” her mother whispered to her, “But there aren’t that many of them! The marquess is perfectly respectable. Now, the main thing is to cover up this wedding. No one must learn it happened.”

  “Are you saying the archbishop is not respectable?”

  “Eloping is not respectable. Anyway we need to plan a proper wedding for you. We don’t want word to get out that you married so hastily. People might think you are with child! How will you ever gain entry to Almack’s?” Her mother smiled at Gerard. “Surely you can understand the importance. You might be Scottish, but surely you’ve at least read about the requirements of polite society.”

  Her husband stiffened, but Cordelia took his hand. “Perhaps Almack’s is not that important.”

  Her mother drew in some air sharply. “How can you say that? I saw how miserable you were when you sat on the outskirts of the ball this year. I cannot imagine how you would feel were you not even to be allowed entry into the finest assembly rooms of the ton.”

  “The only thing that is important to me is Gerard, and I won’t be governed by the fickle demands of the ton anymore.” She didn’t flinch.

  Her parents were occupied with doing that.

  She was tired of working hard to get the approval of a set number of hostesses, and she was tired of the misery when she felt as if she’d only attracted negative attention.

  Worrying about the ton was not a worthwhile occupation. She’d suspected the veracity of that even a few weeks ago, but now, after spending time exploring the countryside with Gerard, after meeting actual English and Scots, she was certain.

  She didn’t want to end up like the darlings of the ton. Cold and heartless and smug when people didn’t appear in beautiful gowns, even though all that stood behind the most perfect gowns were the bank accounts of their husbands.

  “You’re our only daughter,” her mother continued.

  “Only child,” her father corrected, and she saw a flicker of sadness pass over her mother’s face.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She missed Rupert as well.

  “Come. We’ll just tell everyone to keep this all secret. And then we can give you a proper wedding with actual flowers and guests in London.” Her mother laughed. “After all, I would rather not have two children dead to the family.”

  Cordelia tilted her head. Her mother’s phrasing was unusual.

  She frowned. “Did the navy ever find out how Rupert died?”

  She’d always believed her parents had desired to spare her the details, but now, something made her wonder.

  Her mother squirmed. “Rupert is not important. We are discussing your life and your poor choices.”

  “He was your son. My brother.”

  Her mother gritted her teeth. “Who left us.”

  “That was not his fault.”

  “It was.”

  Cordelia blinked. “Because he went to war? Because he didn’t survive?”

  “Because he never came back!” Her mother’s face purpled. “He chose to leave us.”

  “But many men never came back. If his ship was attacked—that can’t be his fault.” She softened her voice. She couldn’t imagine the pain that her parents must have gone through.

  “You were always so close to him.” Her mother frowned. “I shouldn’t be shocked that you are displaying his poor morals.”

  “You shouldn’t speak of him like that!” Cordelia put her hands on her hips. “He can’t defend himself!”

  Something flickered in her mother’s face. Some expression that Cordelia couldn’t define. Something like—guilt?

  “He’s still alive,” Cordelia said flatly.

  “That is no concern to you,” her mother said.

  “He’s my brother.” Cordelia narrowed the distance between her mother and herself. “You need to tell me.”

  “He’s dead to this family,” her mother said. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Mother.” Cordelia firmed her voice.

  Finally, her mother shrugged. “Fine. He’s alive—I believe. Who knows now? But it doesn’t matter, because he chooses not to return
to us. He prefers being a captain, sailing around in the Caribbean and those beastly former colonies.”

  “But you never told me?” Shock spread through Cordelia. She wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not. She was happy, she reminded herself. Rupert was alive.

  “You believed he was dead. So did we until a year ago. But it doesn’t make any difference. He doesn’t want to return.” Her mother smiled. “Now that’s unimportant. What’s important is to keep this makeshift wedding secret. You should be grateful your father is such an important man. I’m sure he can find some art of some spiritual subject for the chapterhouse that will inspire the monks to be silent. Perhaps some pretty depiction of the Virgin.” She laughed. “And the wonderful thing is that the monks practice being silent so often. And so isolated too. We are very fortunate.”

  Cordelia put her hands on her waist. “You will also be in possession of far more time to yourselves. I for one will not have anything more to do with you.”

  “But Cordelia!” Her mother gasped. She glanced at her husband. “Do something!”

  Her father sighed. “Let us not be succumb to drama, Lady Cordelia.”

  She jutted out her chin. “I overheard you father. I know.”

  “Do enlighten me.”

  “In the library. I overheard you speaking with Oggleton.” She firmed her jaw. Normally she limited her conversation to him to remarks on the weather and quality of Cook’s food. There wasn’t anything normal about her anymore.

  She waited for him to answer. She waited for his eyes to flicker with fear. She waited for him to make an excuse to take her mother and leave.

  Instead he simply smiled. “My dear daughter. The past is the past. Please do not think that we don’t recognize the vast advantages of your marriage. Everything is different now. In fact, I couldn’t have planned it better.”

  “Oh?”

  “Marrying you off was causing your dear mother such stress.” Her father smiled tightly.

  The breeze was still pleasant and warm, the sky was still blue, the people around them still smiled as they sold their produce and flowers, gathered from the outskirts of the town, yet Cordelia’s heart rattled against her ribs like a prisoner trying to free himself from prison bars.