Willoughby 01 - Something About Her

by Jeannie Ruesch

  “Of course he wouldn’t.” Joy shot through her like a bolt of lightening. “We must hurry!”

  The little girl frowned. “I’m not going to the church. I don’t want him to marry her! He’ll come home for me.”

  Blythe sank down until she was eye level with Bethie. “We have to go to the church. Will you trust me?”

  She nodded. “I trust you, Mama. But why do we have to go?”

  “I have some very important information for your papa. Will you help me get there?”

  Bethie nodded. “I’ll tell Hobson.”

  “That’s probably best,” Blythe muttered. She wasn’t Hobson’s favorite person, for certain. But she could win him over later. After she stopped the wedding.

  ****

  “I cannot marry Abigail.” Michael was amazed at his own words. More so at the absolute truth in them.

  Keenan whooped. “Thank God!” He reached out and clapped Michael into a bear hug.

  Images of what lay ahead crashed about Michael, but it didn’t matter, because through all of it, he pictured Blythe right by his side. God willing, she would still have him.

  “You truly mean this? You want to call off the wedding?” Keenan asked.

  Michael took a deep breath. “Yes. I do not care about the repercussions.” That wasn’t entirely true, but he cared about his life with Blythe more. He loved her more.

  Laughter bubbled up inside of him. After all these years of maintaining the most proper decorum, he was about to set London on its ear in a way his parents never had. He was in love and breaking every rule he’d ever adhered to.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to get this farce of a wedding started?” his mother’s voice intruded on his delirium. He watched with a grin as she strode into the room. “People are starting to talk.”

  That only made him laugh all the harder.

  She glanced at Keenan. “He’s in the cups.”

  “No, more’s the pity, he’s quite sober.”

  She frowned. “Ravensdale, have you lost your senses?”

  The laughter subsided, but his belly still reverberated from the efforts. “No, Duchess. I have finally gained them.” He inclined his head at Keenan. “Will you please find Miss Darlington? I believe she should know before the guests do, and there is no accounting for how quickly the Duchess shall spread the news.”

  “What news?” she demanded.

  “The wedding. It’s off.”

  “What do you mean, off?”

  He took a step toward her. “I mean, I am not perpetuating any damn cycle any longer. I am my own man, and this man wants to marry the woman he loves.”

  She stared at him for a long, quiet minute. He saw something seep into her eyes he’d never seen before.

  Respect.

  “If only your father had been so brave. Or so stupid, depending on how you look at it.” She shook her head incredulously. “It would seem you perpetuate a different cycle. There will be talk.”

  “I know.” He and Blythe would weather it. Together.

  “Very well.” She studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Very well indeed.” She turned toward the door and left the room without looking back.

  He realized it was the most civil conversation he’d ever had with his mother.

  “This is highly improper! It’s terrible luck to see the bride before the wedding!” Abigail Darlington complained as she was escorted into the room by a determined Captain. She was decked in wedding finery, looking pretty and perfect other than the irritation slashed across her face. “Ravensdale, tell this miscreant he has made a mistake.”

  “No such luck for you,” Keenan said with a look of satisfaction.

  Michael threw him a warning look.

  “Duke,” Abigail said as if speaking to a two year old, “you need to get in position. I shall be walking down that aisle in minutes!”

  He took a step toward her. “Abigail, my family has done you grave disservice. Thomas treated you abominably. And my behavior likely won’t be considered much better.”

  A frown marred her pretty face. “No one could say anything against you. You’ve saved me. This is silly. We can have this conversation after we’re married.”

  A small tinge of regret for the pain she was about to endure slowed Michael’s thoughts. She was an innocent in all of this, and he would ensure she was well taken care of. He just would not marry her.

  “Abigail, I’m sorry but I cannot marry you.” It was surprisingly easy to say the words. And saying it out loud only reaffirmed his decision.

  She gaped at him. “That’s ridiculous. Of course we are getting married today.”

  “I am sorry, but we’re not. Captain Keenan is going to address the guests.” He nodded to his friend, who jumped to the task with a cheerful step.

  Her eyes grew large with shock. “You are jesting.” She whipped around to where Keenan was halfway out the door. “Captain, stop!”

  Keenan glanced back but Michael waved him on.

  “No, don’t go. This is all a terrible mistake,” Abigail told him. “There is going to be a wedding today.”

  “Abigail, I don’t love you,” Michael said gently.

  To his surprise, she laughed. “Of course you don’t. What does that matter? Marriage isn’t about love. It’s about wealth and power.” She offered him a reassuring look. “This is a good match, Ravensdale. You made the right choice.”

  “It wasn’t a choice, Abigail. It was forced upon me by my family’s mistakes. I’m not going to live my life by those rules any longer. I am sorry, but we are not getting married. I will still ensure that you and your child are well taken care of. You’ll have everything you need. It’s the least I can do since Thomas is the reason you are in this position. But marriage is out of the question.”

  She stared incredulously. “You are serious.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  She shook her head. “Everyone believes you ruined me. It will ruin your name if you cancel this wedding now. You can’t do this. It will ruin both of us.” She glanced back at Keenan, who stood in the doorway waiting for direction. “Talk some sense into him, Captain Keenan. Tell him he’s being a fool.”

  “I gave him my opinion already, Miss Darlington. Fortunately, he listened.” Keenan looked at Michael. “Shall I proceed?”

  Michael nodded. “Thank you.”

  “NO!” Abigail cried. She raced over to the door and grabbed Keenan’s arms to try and yank him back inside. “You cannot do this!”

  Keenan tried to delicately pull himself away. “Miss Darlington, let go.” He worked at unwrapping her hands from his arms. “Let go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Bugger that!” Abigail lashed out. “You hog-grubber, you convinced him to do this.” She reached back and walloped him across the face. “You are nothing but a wretched, baseborn Navy rat.”

  Keenan looked over her head at Michael as he held her in a tight grip, to keep her from pummeling him. “I have never hit a lady…er, woman, Michael.”

  Michael heard the warning and strode over to pull Abigail from his arms. She flailed about, trying to hit anything in sight. The words that escaped her mouth were worse than he’d expect to hear from a dock worker.

  “Abigail, be still!” He clamped her arms to her sides and stared into her face. “Calm down. Think about the child.”

  Rage emanated from her. “The child? The one I shall say is yours if you don’t marry me?” She struggled to get free.

  Noises from the hallway caught Michael’s attention, and though he was thoroughly disgusted by Abigail’s outburst, he thought to spare her the added humiliation of letting everyone see her thusly.

  “Keep whomever that is out,” he said. “I need to deal with my former betrothed.”

  At his words, she beat her hands against his chest.

  Keenan closed the door and then a second later, opened it again. “Michael, I think—”

  “I need to see him!” a feminine voice called. Suddenly
, Blythe pushed past Keenan and came into the room. She halted when she saw him standing with Abigail in his arms. Abigail turned into him, her fists flattening against his chest in caresses.

  He immediately let go. “Blythe.”

  A moment of uncertainty crossed her face, but she took a few steps forward. “Michael, there are some things you need to know. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

  He took a step toward her. “I have to tell you—”

  Abigail shoved herself in front of him. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” she demanded of Blythe. “You got to him, somehow, and got him to call it off.” She laughed, though it sounded faintly unhinged. “Well, you can bloody well have each other. I’ll ruin the lot of you. The minute I walk out of here, I will—”

  “What does she mean?” Blythe looked from her to Michael. Hope dawned in her eyes.

  A smile spread across his face. “The wedding is off.”

  Blythe caught her breath. “But…how?”

  “Ahhh!” Abigail screamed and took a lunging leap at Blythe.

  Blythe gasped in pain as Abigail’s hands thrust into her hair and yanked. She twisted and turned to free herself.

  “Abigail, stop this!” Michael grabbed her arms to hold her back.

  Abigail kicked Blythe’s feet out from under her, and Blythe tumbled to the ground with an “Oompfh.”

  Michael let go of Abigail and rushed to Blythe, Keenan on his heels.

  Blythe pushed an errant lock of hair from her face as she pushed herself to a sitting position. “I am fine, Michael. Furious, but fine.” She looked about the room. “Where did she go?”

  Michael glanced about. “Damn.”

  “I’ll find her.” Keenan hurried toward the door.

  Michael looked down at Blythe, reminded of that first day. He would forever be grateful for the day she’d come into his life.

  “You could extend a hand, if you were any kind of gentleman.” Blythe offered an intimate smile, a far cry from the glare she’d given him the first time she’d said those words.

  Michael bent down and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, but this is so much more entertaining.” He held tightly. “To think I almost gave you up.”

  Blythe hugged back just as tightly. “To think I almost let you.”

  “What are you doing here?” He pulled them both to their feet.

  “I saw Abigail the night of the Heseltines’ party, in the garden with a man.” She looked adorably serious with tufts of hair falling about her face and uncertainty in her eyes. “I told Adam, because I wanted to be sure. I didn’t want to tell you anything without having more information.”

  She paused. “We had her followed.”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. “Followed?”

  “She was seen in very compromising positions with four other men, just in the last three days.” She reached up and patted her head, grimacing as she touched the sore parts. “Now I really want to give her a black eye.”

  Michael raised his brows. “Pardon?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered with a shake of her head. “I went to your house to tell you this morning and found her instead. She locked me in the closet.”

  Fury crossed Michael’s face.

  “She didn’t hurt me,” Blythe assured him. “Anyway, Bethie found me. She let me out.”

  A smile quirked at his lips. “Bethie.”

  “We rushed here to tell you…” Blythe trailed off and looked around her. “Where did that girl go now?” She pushed a long strand of hair behind her ear. “I still don’t know how you knew all of this, how you knew to call the wedding off.”

  He cocked his head and frowned.

  “You did say the wedding was off, didn’t you?” She needed to hear it for herself. About a hundred times.

  He studied her with an inscrutable expression. “I am not actually certain.”

  “What—-” Blythe started, but the door flew open again and Bethie rushed inside.

  “Papa!” She jumped into his arms. “You didn’t marry the darling, did you?”

  Michael lifted her off the ground and hugged her tight. “No. And, my little hellion, for once I thank you for hiding from me.” He set her down and bent to look her in the eyes. “But don’t do it again.”

  She grinned and looked up at Blythe. “I saved Mama from the closet.”

  Blythe couldn’t resist the laugh the bubbled up. “Yes, you did, sweetheart.” Her gaze slid back to Michael. What had he meant, he was uncertain? She couldn’t discuss it in front of Bethie, but oh, how she wanted to know.

  “Err, Ravensdale?” Keenan interrupted from the doorway.

  “Later.”

  “I think you had better come now.”

  A scream tore into the silence.

  With a startled glance at Keenan, Blythe followed Michael and Bethie out the door and toward the screeching. Michael grabbed her hand and they went into the chapel where guests lined the pews, chattering in excited levels. Abigail stood at the end of the aisle, screaming at her parents.

  “I will not—” she stopped mid-screech when she saw Michael. “Darling! I have been telling everyone there was an issue, but the wedding is on as planned.”

  Michael blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t want to have this conversation here.”

  “Yes, let us have it after the ceremony, or better yet not at all.” Abigail’s eyes were bright with rage as her gaze slid to where Michael and Blythe’s hands were joined. She snapped her head up. “Kindly step away from my husband.”

  Fury burst inside Blythe. “Kindly stop calling him that.”

  Michael let go of her hand and stepped in between them, as if he sensed the very precarious ledge at which Blythe stood. She’d never had an urge to hit someone in her life, but this woman brought out the desire in spades.

  Abigail smirked at her. “He doesn’t want you any more than Thomas wanted you. Thomas married you for your fortune. He never loved you. You just happened to be there at the right time, in the right place. Your money was the first step to getting everyone else’s. It was part of our plan. He used you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Michael whipped around to face her.

  Abigail sucked in a breath as if realizing what she’d said. “I only meant that…I mean, it sounded as if Thomas didn’t…” Her hand fell to her belly and she pressed in with a hard fist.

  Blythe frowned at the unnatural movement. She’d had ample opportunities lately to observe a pregnant woman, and they protected, not pounded their growing stomachs.

  She narrowed her eyes as the truth hit her. She’d cast aside the idea that Abigail might not be expecting. She had not believed anyone truly capable of faking a pregnancy.

  “Abigail, I demand an explanation.” Michael stood stiff, tension rolling off his shoulders. “What do you know about Thomas?”

  “Only that he left me pregnant,” Abigail snapped in reply.

  Gasps of shock sounded about the room.

  Abigail put a hand to her mouth and her eyes widened, as she realized what she’d said.

  Blythe swallowed a smile. She had seen enough of this tart to know what happened when she got angry. She’d get the truth for Michael, one way or another.

  Blythe stepped to the left of him so she stood closer to Abigail. “Yes, Thomas left you, didn’t he? He might have married me for my money, but at least he married me.”

  Arrogance smeared across the tart’s face. “He loved me.”

  Blythe took a step closer. “Are you so certain of that?”

  “Blythe, what are you doing?” Michael asked softly, a warning in his voice.

  “If he hadn’t died, we would be together.” Abigail patted her belly with a harsh hand. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

  “If he hadn’t died, he’d have gone back to his other wife,” Blythe whispered just loud enough for Abigail to hear.

  “You are lying.”

  “He married her after me. The woman he did love, the woman
expecting his child in reality.”

  “You lying witch!” Abigail’s face had turned splotchy and red with anger.

  Michael clamped on to Abigail’s arms as she reached out to try and claw Blythe’s face.

  The chatter of the guests swelled.

  “That’s enough. This does not need to be aired in front of all and sundry,” Michael said.

  The “all and sundry” around them voiced their abject disappointment.

  “I don’t care who knows,” Abigail said. “Thomas and I were going to leave this Godforsaken city for good and travel anywhere we wanted. We were going to America, to start our own empire.” She looked at Blythe, hatred distorting her features. “He loved me. Me!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, is the chit pregnant or not?” Michael’s mother pushed through them and strode up to Abigail. With an indelicate hand, she pressed against Abigail’s stomach.

  “Don’t touch me!” Abigail cried and jumped back.

  The dowager duchess made an inelegant snort and looked at Michael. ‘You’ve been duped, Ravensdale. There is no baby.”

  Abigail gasped. “That…that isn’t true!”

  “Oh, give over, you little liar. A woman knows.” She poked at Abigail’s belly, as their audience gasped in delight at the scandal. “It is merely padding. It is the oldest trick in the book on how to marry above oneself.” She turned a pensive eye toward Michael. “And I don’t care to see my son fall prey to it.”

  “I lost the baby in the first week, and you were stupid enough to keep believing me,” Abigail spat at Michael, “and even stupider to offer marriage for it. You deserved what you got.”

  “Abigail, shut your mouth.” Abigail’s father moved next to her and grabbed hold of her arm. He pushed her down the aisle. As they passed Blythe, Abigail wrenched herself free and lurched.

  Blythe returned with a slap across Abigail’s face. “That was for locking me in the closet.”

  Before his daughter could respond, Lord Darlington scooped an arm around her and half carried her down the aisle and out of the chapel.

  Blythe flexed her fingers to relieve the stinging in her palm. Nervous flutters jumped in her stomach as she looked down. She had never hit a person in her life, and certainly not in a way that guaranteed scandal for years to come. Michael had worked so hard to fight the reputation his parents had built, and here she was adding to it.