Married by Midnight (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 4)

by Julianne MacLean

  “Because you made it clear that you do not want a bride who wants to lure you into a real marriage. I do not wish to be that sort of woman either, so I shall keep my distance. I will not press you to share too many personal details. That will make it easier for us both to sever all ties afterward.”

  “You have this very well thought out, Anne.”

  She skated into the center of the ice and stopped there, out of breath. “Not really.”

  He followed and skated around her in a full circle. “I believe my brothers chose the perfect woman for me,” he said. “Not only are you beautiful, but you are sensible as well, and I admire that.”

  She watched him warily. “Don’t be too quick to admire me, sir, for I am far from perfect. I am marrying a man for money after all—a man I hardly know. But anything would have been better than the dismal future I faced at my uncle’s hands.”

  Garrett skated to a halt before her. “I am glad you will no longer be at his mercy.”

  She sniffed in the cold and looked across the lake at the snowy forest on the other side, then met Garrett’s eyes again. “And still, you have not told me why you want the money. I presumed you simply wished to continue living a life of leisure on the Mediterranean...but now I am not so sure, because you wouldn’t have brought it up if that were the case. I think there is something else to it.”

  He skated around her again, keeping his eyes lowered, as if thinking about something. Goodness, but he was handsome in the sunlight. Her heart raced with excitement as she watched him.

  He stopped abruptly and explained himself. “I lost my boat,” he said. “It sank and I... I lost everything.”

  “My word,” she replied. “Were you on board when it happened? Were you hurt? Was anyone with you?”

  He began to skate back and forth again. “I was alone,” he explained, “and luckily unharmed, for I was able to stay afloat on a life ring until I was picked up by another vessel a few hours later.”

  Anne watched Garrett with curiosity and sensed he was not telling her the whole truth. “Well, that is a relief,” she replied, nonetheless. “Still, it must have been very frightening.”

  “It is not something I would care to repeat. I am not even sure I will ever sail again.” He looked down at the ice and skated in a large figure eight, skating backwards on the second loop. “Even now I am imagining the dark, freezing water that is swirling around beneath this ice. I keep wondering what would happen if it cracked under us and we fell through. You would probably sink to the bottom in those heavy skirts.”

  “What a morbid thought,” Anne replied as she looked down as well and imagined it for herself. “Surely your brothers would come to our rescue?”

  “I am sure they would.” He glanced up at the lake house.

  Garrett seemed rather lost in thought and though Anne shivered in the cold, she made no suggestion that they go inside.

  “Do your brothers know about your boat?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied, “and I would appreciate your discretion in that regard, especially with Father. He might think I’ve brought on another curse, and for the first time in my life I am enjoying being in his good graces.”

  Anne rubbed her hands together inside her muff where it was toasty warm. “You were a naughty child?” she asked with a hint of humor and mischief, hoping to lighten the mood, for it had turned rather dark. “I would never have guessed it.”

  For a moment he didn’t answer, then he squinted up at the bright sky. “Not so much naughty as unwanted, but that is a story for another day. Are you cold, Anne? Shall we go and have some hot cider?”

  Wishing he had not suggested they join the others at this intriguing juncture, she nevertheless took his arm when he offered it, for she had promised to keep her distance, and it would be best to hold true to that promise instead of risking all and caring too much. Yes. That would be a dangerous mistake to make.

  “That would be lovely,” she replied as she skated off the ice with him.

  The following night after dinner, while Anne sat at the table chatting with Charlotte, Garrett found himself watching her, entranced by her dark, ethereal beauty. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever met before. She was very open and unashamed about her past transgressions, yet at the same time there was something pure and unworldly about her. He found it difficult to believe she could have earned the slightest stain on her reputation.

  But she had. And she had admitted it openly. Heaven help him, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He was forced to remind himself a number of times during dinner that it was a physical attraction best left unexplored, for he and Lady Anne were in a contractual relationship together, and the terms of their union had been laid out very clearly by the solicitors at Mason, Morrison, and Sangster.

  Garrett was to marry Anne Douglas by Christmas Eve. Then he would be free to leave England with no further responsibilities toward her. All the financial arrangements for her future annuities would be administered by the same team of solicitors—the very firm that was handling his father’s will, which stated that if all four brothers were not married by Christmas, the family’s entire unentailed fortune would be bequeathed to the London Horticultural Society.

  And it was more than a substantial fortune. The Pembroke estate was one of the wealthiest in the country. With it, the Horticultural Society would be able to cloak the entire south of England in a blanket of tulips and roses from now until the end of time.

  At the image of tulips and roses, Garrett’s attention returned to his lovely fiancée seated across the table. She raised her wine glass to her lips and regarded him over the rim for what seemed a sizzling moment. All at once he found himself uncomfortably aroused and wondered what would happen if he entered into a flirtation with her during these two weeks at Pembroke.

  She was not a virgin. Perhaps she would enjoy a brief amour. There was nothing in the contract that prevented it. They were, in fact, required to consummate the marriage. But not until the wedding night of course.

  He raised his own wine glass to his lips and met her enchanting gaze many times throughout the evening. All the while, he had to fight to keep thoughts of bedding her at bay, for he could not possibly deserve such pleasures.

  He was here to do what he must to make amends for the accident—of which he had not told the entire truth—not to plunge himself into another temporary, and no doubt dangerous affair. Besides, he wasn’t sure Anne would be agreeable to such a self-indulgent plan, and he certainly didn’t want to disrespect her after all she had been through. He did his best to purge the idea from his mind.

  Chapter 6

  Garrett was reading the Times and sipping coffee alone in the breakfast room a few days later when his mother entered and stopped just inside the door.

  “Good morning,” he said as he folded the paper and set it aside on the white tablecloth. He noticed how lovely his mother looked in a sky-blue morning dress with white trimmings. She had celebrated her fiftieth birthday earlier that year but was still as vibrant and attractive as she had been in her youth.

  “I am sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I thought you might like to meet Dr. Thomas. He has been treating your father since the spring. Perhaps you have some questions you would like to ask?”

  Garrett did in fact have a number questions regarding his father’s state of mind, for the duke was suddenly a proud and doting parent. Was it simply memory loss? Did he even remember that Garrett was illegitimate?

  Garrett finished his coffee and stood. “As a matter of fact, I do have questions. Is the doctor here now?”

  “Yes, I asked him to wait in the library.”

  Garrett followed his mother out of the breakfast room and walked with her along the east wing corridor and down the red-carpeted stairs. The double doors to the library were closed, but his mother pulled them open and led the way in.

 
“Garrett, this is Dr. Thomas. He has been coming all the way from London twice a week since the spring to tend to the duke. Dr. Thomas, this is my son, Lord Garrett.”

  The doctor—a handsome older gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles—bowed to him. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I understand you have been abroad and only recently returned?”

  “Yes, that’s quite right,” Garrett replied, taking note of the fact that his mother was quietly backing out of the room and pulling the double doors closed behind her. “I have been living in Greece for a number of years.”

  “But you have come home to marry your beloved. I had the honor of meeting Lady Anne a few minutes ago when I arrived. She is stunning. Congratulations to you both.”

  Garrett nodded at the compliment and invited the doctor to sit down in one of two wing-backed chairs that faced each other in front of the unlit fire.

  “You have been seeing my father since the spring?” Garrett said.

  “Yes. When your brother, Lord Hawthorne, returned from America and learned of your father’s condition and the odd circumstances of his will, he hoped a diagnosis of some mental incapacity might render the will null and void, but sadly he had been deemed perfectly sane at the time the will was drawn up, so there was no hope of negating it. Though I believe the lawyers are still looking into it.

  “From what the duchess tells me,” the doctor continued, “I understand you and your three brothers have done what you must to secure the fortune either way. You are the last one to marry and the requirements of the will shall be satisfied. Once that is settled, it will become more a simple matter of proper medical care...ensuring your father is comfortable and safe in the final years of his life.”

  Garrett crossed one leg over the other. “What is the life expectancy in such cases?”

  Dr. Thomas gave him a reassuring look. “It is difficult to say. The good news is that your father is extremely healthy in every other way. His heart is strong, and he is incredibly resilient. I don’t see any reason to be concerned that his days are numbered.”

  “I see. That is good news.” Garrett glanced toward the bright windows and tapped a finger on the armrest.

  “There is something else you wish to ask me?” Dr. Thomas said. “Please, Lord Garrett, rest assured that anything we discuss today will be kept in the strictest confidence. If there is something you wish to know about your father’s mental capacities, do not hesitate to ask.”

  Garrett met the doctor’s gaze and understood why his mother had retained his services. There was something very capable and trustworthy about this man.

  “Can an illness such as this cause the patient to forget the past, or is it possible my father has changed in his old age and become more...?” Garrett wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it. “Could he become kinder or more generous and forgiving? Because he is not the same man he was when I left here. I will be honest with you, Dr. Thomas. He always treated me with disdain and sometimes cruelty. Now he acts as if I am his beloved prodigal son. I don’t understand and I do not know what to believe. Does he even remember who I am?”

  Dr. Thomas stared at Garrett for a long moment, then sat forward. “I am sorry to hear that he was not the sort of father you deserved, but I will be frank with you. I do believe that a man can change at any stage in his life. Wisdom and experience will often motivate such a transformation. As far as your father’s memory goes—he does forget things, his short-term memory is especially faulty, but he does know that you are his son. He has asked about you often over the past few months and has wanted you to come home. At the same time, he is delusional about this curse and the ghosts he sees at night. My advice is that you make the most of these final years and try to find a way to forgive him for his mistakes in the past. Enjoy the man he is now. If he wants to treat you like his beloved son, then let him. And after he is gone remember these times together. It might give you some peace of mind later on.”

  Peace. It was something Garrett could not even begin to fathom, for his head was swimming in regret for his own actions in Greece, not so much those of his father’s years ago.

  “Thank you, Doctor. You have been very helpful—a voice of reason in all this madness.”

  Dr. Thomas regarded him with understanding, and something about the man struck a chord in Garrett—something strangely familiar. He inclined his head. “Pardon me for asking, but have we met before?”

  The doctor stared at him for another thoughtful moment, then a smile reached his eyes. “As a matter of fact, we have. You would have been too young to remember, but I treated you when you were a small child.”

  “What was wrong with me?”

  The doctor’s brow creased, as if he were struggling to describe the illness. “It was nothing out of the ordinary. Just a fever, but your mother feared it might be serious. She was very concerned.”

  “How old was I?”

  “You were four.” Dr. Thomas looked down at the fire.

  “I see. Well.” Garrett stood up. “Thank you again, Doctor.”

  Dr. Thomas stood up as well. “I am happy to be of service. If there is anything else I can do for you, do not hesitate to contact me at any time.” He handed Garrett his card. “I promise complete discretion.”

  Garrett looked down at the card and was thankful to have it. He admired this doctor and trusted him. Perhaps he would be helpful in other ways, for Garrett often felt he had no one to talk to or confide in—especially since the accident. He was still surprised he had confessed it to Lady Anne. Perhaps because she, like the doctor, was an outsider.

  As Garrett walked out of the library, he contemplated why it was easier to confess things to strangers. He supposed one could say what one wanted to say, and then never have to confront the issue again—for that person would be gone from one’s life.

  Would that hold true for Lady Anne? Would he really never see her again after they spoke their wedding vows? Something inside him already regretted that and wished it did not have to be so—but still, he did not want a wife. That was not why he had come home.

  The duke and duchess placed their glasses on the silver tray and said their good nights. After they left the drawing room, conversations were quiet. With the help of a bottle it soon picked up again.

  “I do not know what to believe,” Anne said with laughter as she held out her glass for more of the finest brandy she’d ever tasted. “Charlotte assures me that the palace is haunted, and the ghosts are a wild bunch of rogues, but you men say otherwise.”

  Charlotte, who was seated beside Anne on the sofa, also raised her glass to allow Blake to pour more from the sparkling crystal decanter. “Our ghosts are most definitely a terrible band of scoundrels. I have not set foot in the catacombs for years. Why...I still have nightmares about those wretched howls, and the dark enclosed spaces that seemed to go on forever with no way out. Many times, I thought I’d met my maker down there.”

  Anne decided to play along. She regarded the men with horrified umbrage but spoke sympathetically to Charlotte. “How dare they presume you were imagining it? I think there is something to these legends. Is it not true that a monk was murdered here?”

  Garrett sat down beside her and casually lounged back on the sofa. “Be careful, darling, you are dredging up the shocking details of our family’s dark history. We have wicked beginnings, and in fact, ghosts are not at all out of the question. Perhaps we are all better off not knowing the truth.”

  Darling? The teasing in his voice sent flames of excitement shooting into her veins. She could not help but turn her body in his direction. He was sitting very close and she could feel the thrilling challenge in his blue eyes.

  She spoke flirtatiously. “You should know better than anyone that I am not the sort of woman who hides from the truth, no matter how shocking or scandalous. Therefore, I challenge you to prove whether or not there are ghosts, otherwise I will likely
believe it was just you and your wicked brothers taunting your poor sister all those years ago.”

  She became aware, suddenly, of the others in the room who were staring at them in silence. Anne looked up at them.

  Rebecca smiled. “Count me in. I wish to join you in the challenge.” She turned to face Devon. “Darling, you have never once taken me into the underground. Your father has gone to bed. Now is the perfect time.”

  Devon tipped his brandy back and swallowed the contents in one gulp. “Very well, then. If you ladies are brave enough to venture into the deepest guts of this house, how could we not oblige your curiosities?” He turned to Blake and Garrett. “What do you both say? Should we shield them from the otherworldly forces by remaining here in the drawing room, or escort them into the fray and act as their protectors?”

  “I say we escort them into the fray,” Blake replied, “though I doubt any of them will require our protection. They all seem rather confident.”

  Charlotte stood up. “My sisters-in-law and soon-to-be sister-in-law do not yet understand what they will be facing when we venture below ground. I think perhaps we should bring that decanter of wine.”

  Devon immediately picked it up by the neck. “I have it. What else shall we take with us? Think carefully now, in case we do not return for a time.”

  “What exactly constitutes a time?” Anne asked playfully as she stood up. “Should I bring a change of clothes?”

  Garrett moved to pick up a small candelabra. “I do not believe that will be necessary, for you shall have very capable protectors at your side. We shall all emerge unscathed. I am almost certain of it.”

  “Almost certain?” Anne chuckled as she followed him out of the drawing room. “Perhaps this is too great a risk and we should all behave like sensible adults and go straight to bed.”

  “And let them continue to think I never really heard those ghostly howls all those years ago?” Charlotte argued. “No, I think not. I require witnesses to prove I was not a silly little girl with an overactive imagination. Anne, you believe me, don’t you?”