The Madcap Marriage

by Allison Lane

  “True, but it could have caused more trouble than it did. As for your original question, she is one of the kindest ladies I’ve known. While she gossips as avidly as anyone, she generally avoids exaggeration and doesn’t repeat tales of questionable accuracy.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  He wasn’t sure what to make of her tone, which sounded relieved. So he changed the subject. “Did you leave your maid at Audley, or must we find a new one?”

  “Find one. Steven turned off Tessa and the upper servants several months ago, then assigned his mistress to maid me so he could keep a close eye on my activities.”

  “His mistress?” His arm tightened around her. “Appalling! You shouldn’t even meet such a person.”

  “Steven cares little for the niceties.”

  He cradled her head on his shoulder, watching Hammersmith roll past as he fought his temper into submission. Every new glimpse of her ordeal made his blood boil hotter. Steven must pay. And she was right. He couldn’t leave her behind. Nor could he postpone his query into Alquist’s death. But while he admired her spirit, he wished she would accept some limitations. She was not a man.

  Her scent teased his nose.

  Most definitely not a man. Her taste lingered on his tongue – haunting, demanding, chipping away his control. He shifted uncomfortably.

  Helen moaned.

  He turned to plunder her ripe mouth before identifying the sound as pain. Again.

  “Try to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured, cursing himself for entertaining lascivious thoughts when she was injured. She needed protection more than passion just now, though temptation urged him to stake his claim. Passion would crack her wall of distrust, banish her need to contradict his every statement, and elicit the loyalty their marriage needed if it was to prosper. Postponing pleasure had never been his way.

  But he must stay his hand if he hoped to bind her heart.

  Reminding himself that success would atone for his current frustration many times over, he smoothed her hair, gently massaging first one temple, then the other. Her skin was soft and smooth, a perfect companion to the silky fire of her hair. Removing the pins let him enjoy the hair’s texture even as it eased the pull on her cut.

  A soft sigh escaped as she relaxed into sleep, leaving him with nothing to do but think.

  This was his first opportunity to seriously evaluate his marriage. In truth, wedlock was little different from any other business venture. He may have skipped his usual prepurchase investigation, but proper attention to detail could still produce good returns – a willing bed partner, someone to enliven the hours when he wasn’t busy and produce an heir for the future, a hostess who could aid his political aspirations. He was making progress toward claiming her heart, but it would not be fully his until he dealt with Steven. The bastard kept distracting her attention. And his. Why else hadn’t he demanded to know the secrets he sensed were lurking behind her eyes?

  Thought convinced him that Steven was less venal than she claimed. Her father had vilified the man since she was a child – much as Hillcrest had vilified Lady Alquist. But Hillcrest had exaggerated and even lied to perpetuate his own feud. Lady Alquist was much different from the harpy he had described.

  Perhaps Sir Arthur had been guilty of the same distortions. Granted, Steven’s tactics were heavy-handed, and he was clearly perpetrating fraud, but turning him into a larger-than-life bogeyman could paralyze thought and lead to improvident action.

  You are no better.

  Shuddering, Rafe pulled Helen closer. He didn’t want to admit such folly, but his conscience was right. He’d fallen into the same trap by magnifying Hillcrest into the devil incarnate. The image was so fixed that he rarely listened to Hillcrest’s words, assuming that the man had nothing of interest to say – he always acted as if he knew what was best for others. It was time to move past that childish reaction and admit that Hillcrest was human. Impossible to live with, of course, but not an ogre.

  Habit pushed his sire from his mind. He would keep an open mind when dealing with other men, judging solely on facts. Only thus could he protect Helen as he’d promised. She needed him badly, for she could never protect herself. It felt good to be needed.

  She shifted, pressing a breast against his side. Her hand slid under his coat, re-igniting desire, then slithered toward his lap.

  Easy, he reminded himself. Rest would hasten her recovery. He needed her healthy so he could complete the job of binding her.

  He tried to focus on Alquist’s death or Steven’s threats, but as the miles passed, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Helen’s form – graceful curves that fit perfectly against his body, tawny lashes fanned across creamy cheeks, satin-soft hands that had clasped wonderingly around…

  Desire built until it was all he could do to quietly hold her. Heat blazed wherever they touched as if her hair were indeed fire.

  By Maidenhead, he was out of his mind. To keep from ravishing her, he rented a hack and rode the rest of the way.

  * * * *

  Helen glanced up as Rafe spurred past the carriage window, jumped a ditch, then trotted to a pond so his horse could drink. He rode very well, which should have told her from the beginning that he had a comfortable income. A man who lived in penury would be out of practice. Nor could he afford his own horses. Caesar was nothing like this rental hack, and keeping a carriage in town was expensive. But she’d not been thinking clearly that day.

  It was a relief to have some time alone. They had argued from the moment she’d awakened, raising new questions about yesterday’s attentiveness. The strain of remaining so reasonable was taking a toll on him. Men expected to be in charge.

  Or perhaps his temper rose from regret. Rafe could handle Steven, but he seemed genuinely afraid of Dudley, cupping his cheek whenever his name arose. Was Dudley responsible for those scars?

  Rafe must be cursing their bargain by now. This marriage of convenience had already embroiled him in assault, embezzlement, and vandalism. No wonder he’d hared off on the trail of Alquist’s mythical killer. Assuaging his grief by investigating the accident was safer than facing her enemies. And it gave him time to catch his breath.

  Her, as well. Her marriage was nothing like her dreams, and Rafe’s description of Hillcrest boded ill for the future. How had growing up under the thumb of such a man affected him? It added yet another contradiction to a character that was already complex. She wanted to believe that he was unlike other men, but she could not ignore his similarities to Alex.

  Rafe’s sensuality seemed more blatant than Alex’s, and far more alluring, but that perception might arise from her own maturity. She recognized her response to the glint in his eye more easily than she had four years ago. Rafe need do no more than look at her to incite raging desire, but that was dangerous, for it clouded her mind. She must know who Rafe was and what he wanted before she dared risk her heart.

  She fingered the necklace he’d given her, wondering yet again if it was the generous gift of a willing partner or the next move in a game to line his pockets. Alex had given her many gifts, yet in the end he’d walked away, destroying her reputation and blighting her life.

  I won’t hurt you, they’d both said. Was Rafe also lying for his own ends?

  Her questions always circled back to her inheritance. Rafe must have known about it. At the very least, he should have recognized her father’s name, for it was well-known in investment circles. Brockman certainly did. And his description of Rafe’s finances raised new questions.

  Rafe had begun his struggle for financial independence while still in school, cutting his expenses to the bone so he could save enough to escape his father’s thumb. Amassing a fortune had changed nothing. He had continued to live frugally, hiding his income even from his friends. Ten years later, he still saved every shilling he could, hoarding worse than Midas himself. So she could not acquit him of being the fortune hunter society labeled him.

  And that cast doubts on his behavior. He had
treated her as an equal, letting her take the lead with Formsby and refusing to force obedience. Most men would have been deaf to any argument, but he had listened and agreed. Many would have ignored her injury, then taken her again last night. Rafe concentrated on her recovery.

  She feared that he was trying to charm her into breaking the trust. If she then died, he would be free to pursue whatever life he wanted. Her father’s greatest fear had been that she would fall prey to a man who would do just that. As his strength failed, the fear had turned to obsession, prompting daily warnings and lectures.

  Take care, Helen, he’d said on his last lucid day. Beware of fortune hunters. Never reveal your worth. Find a gentleman who loves you more than life itself. Only thus will you be safe.

  He’d also urged her to judge men on their actions, not their words. It was so easy to shade the truth by choosing words that conveyed false meanings even as they seemed honest. Alex had been a master at that. It was too early to know if Rafe was another.

  Yet her father’s warnings seemed overblown as she watched Rafe return to the road. Surely he was honorable. Merely looking at him backed up the air in her lungs. Sunlight glinted from his dark hair. Muscles rippled along his thighs. There was no denying that he was a marvelous specimen of virility. A single glance skittered sparks along her nerves, pooled heat in her womb, and made her fingers tingle with the need to touch.

  She jerked her eyes away, fearful that she might form an attachment before she understood him. Marriage made him more dangerous than Alex, who had merely broken her heart and reputation when he walked away. Rafe could leave only by destroying her. Even being locked in an asylum so he could enjoy her fortune unfettered was unacceptable. She would go mad. So she must be sure of his sincerity before investing emotion in him.

  The countryside changed as they descended from the rolling pastureland of the chalk downs to a broad plain. Her practiced eye took in crops as robust as Audley’s, sheep sleek from recent shearing, frolicking lambs, fat cattle, and fruit trees already setting the year’s crop. Hampshire was a prosperous county.

  But she was more than ready to escape the jolting carriage by the time it turned through impressive gates onto a drive lined with yews. Her head pounded. She wished Rafe had remained inside with her. His shoulder cushioned her head far better than the best-padded seat.

  They finally stopped before a handsome brick manor house smaller than Audley but more welcoming. Audley’s size could intimidate.

  * * * *

  Guilt choked Rafe when the butler ushered them into Lady Alquist’s cozy sitting room. She looked haggard, her puffy eyes staring vacantly at the fire.

  He should have stayed in Hampshire after the burial. It was unconscionable that he’d let his own grief blind him to her need. But it had hurt unbearably to lose the man he’d considered both father and friend.

  Father and friend. His feet froze. Had Hillcrest killed Alquist because the man commanded the respect Hillcrest lacked?

  “Are you all right?” murmured Helen, penetrating his shock.

  “Fine.” A lie, but he needed time to consider the appalling idea. No matter how autocratic Hillcrest became, Rafe had never suspected him of violence. The most physical act he could recall had been shoving him into a chair on his last visit.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Rafael Thomas, my lady,” announced the butler.

  Lady Alquist jumped, her eyes wide with shock. When she saw that Rafe was indeed accompanied, she smiled tremulously, then rushed into his arms. “My dear Rafe. What a wonderful surprise! But married? When?”

  “You look better,” he said warmly. He’d missed her. She was the only one left who cared for him. “We wed two days ago. I believe you know her, Helen St. James of Audley Court.”

  “Helen!” Lady Alquist’s smile broadened as she hugged Helen, then stepped back to look up at her face. “My, but you’ve grown! You can’t have been more than thirteen last time I saw you. We were making plans to visit when Alquist—” Tears welled, but she blinked them away. “How did you come to wed my scapegrace nephew? I’m surprised to find you acquainted. He never leaves town.”

  “It’s a long story.” Helen was also blinking back tears.

  “We’ve plenty of time, dear.” Lady Alquist gestured to the sofa. “Come and tell your godmother all about it. I’ve missed Fanny’s letters these past months. She always had such witty things to say, especially about you. It was too bad that you were at school the last time we visited. I’d planned such a wonderful Season for you.”

  “Of course, but Papa’s illness—”

  Rafe felt as if he’d stepped off a cliff. Lady Alquist had often mentioned her goddaughter, but he’d not made the connection. Hadn’t Dear Helen wed several years earlier? He was sure there had been talk of a betrothal.

  “We were meaning to visit,” Lady Alquist repeated as Helen sat. “Alquist was most disturbed when he heard Sir Steven was at Audley.”

  “As well he should have been,” said Helen with a sigh. “How did he learn of it? He cannot have gotten my letter, since I received no reply. In truth, I’ve heard nothing since Papa died. Steven intercepted my mail.”

  “The nerve of the man! If only we’d known. But our first inkling that you might need help came from Mr. Haskell.” She glanced at Rafe. “You wouldn’t know him, dear. He mentioned meeting Sir Steven in Taunton, which surprised us very much since Steven never goes near the West Country. Mr. Haskell swore that Steven inherited Audley. Alquist immediately called on the trustees.”

  “That must have infuriated him,” said Rafe.

  “Very. I’ve never seen him so incensed. His description of Mr. Formsby was—” She shook herself vigorously. “He was sure that Helen’s letters were written under duress. Arthur had touted her acumen often enough to convince Alquist that she was astute.”

  “Thank you,” said Helen. “Steven didn’t bother with duress. The letters are forgeries.”

  “Well I never—” Lady Alquist sputtered to a halt as a footman slid a tea tray onto the table at her elbow. “We knew that Steven had to be scheming – your parents feared he would try something underhanded. Very insistent about it, you know. And who’s to blame them?”

  She poured wine for Rafe, then lifted the teapot. “I’ll never forget the day Arthur refused Steven a loan – fifteen years ago it must have been. Fanny and I were in the next room, you see, and Steven’s threats penetrated the wall. Not at all what a gentleman would say, especially to another gentleman. Please forgive us for not checking sooner, my dear. We were at a house party in Yorkshire when your father died. By the time your letter reached us, it was too late to attend the burial. We should have come to Audley anyway, but it seemed an awful imposition with Fanny so ill. She would have been distressed had I seen her in that condition. And your household hardly needed another disruption.”

  “I understand. As would she.” Helen sipped, grateful for the fortifying nature of tea. “She lingered for eight months, unable to move or speak and barely able to swallow. I prayed often that her understanding was as slight as it seemed, for it must have been awful to be imprisoned by a body that no longer functioned.”

  “So very true. I am thankful that Alquist went so quickly. It was a shock, of course, but at least he didn’t spend years in pain like poor Arthur.” She shook her head, seeming to chastise herself for raising melancholy subjects over tea. “What brings you back so soon, Rafe? I doubt you traveled all this way merely to introduce your wife – how did that come about?”

  Rafe grinned. “Quite by accident. We ran into each other and decided we would suit.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Absolutely. Fate presented me with the perfect bride at the very moment I was contemplating marriage. There seemed no reason to wait.”

  Helen shook her head. “He’s leaving out a few details. I was fleeing Steven at the time – trying to reach you, actually. I’d not heard of Lord Alquist’s death, for Steven kept the newspapers to himself. It was a shock.
My condolences, my lady.”

  “Thank you, child.”

  “When Rafe learned that I had no place to go, he offered for me.”

  Lady Alquist raised a brow.

  “She’s leaving out a few details as well,” said Rafe, sighing. Trying to explain that day was impossible. No matter what they said, they sounded like lunatics. “Steven was forcing her to wed Dudley. She had just leaped through a church window when we met. Marriage seemed the best way to prevent a recurrence.”

  “Dudley!” Lady Alquist slammed her cup onto the tea tray so hard it broke. “It is worse than Alquist feared. Steven is evil. And that son of his is worse. I haven’t forgotten that he tried to blind you, dear,” she said to Rafe.

  Helen gasped.

  “He tried the same thing on their butler two years later. Broke the fellow’s nose, if you can believe it, then turned on Steven when he intervened. It was a nasty scandal – but you won’t remember, for poor Catherine had just died. He’d been—”

  The dressing bell sounded.

  “Heavens. Is it dinner already? I do run on at times,” declared Lady Alquist. “And you’ve yet to tell me why you are here.”

  “That tale can wait until morning,” said Rafe, enjoying the fire that indignation raised in her eyes. Alquist’s death had turned them quite flat.

  Helen smiled approval, weakening his knees.

  Chapter Seven

  May 23

  When Helen arrived for breakfast, Lady Alquist was already eating. Sun drenched the east lawn and poured through the windows, warming the yellow and cream walls. A gay ceramic rooster perched on the mantel, its colors echoing the carpet, cushions, and brightly painted plates.

  Lady Alquist’s eyes twinkled. “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

  Helen blushed.

  Lady Alquist beamed.

  Helen took her seat, searching for the words that would reveal her qualms without insulting Rafe. Lady Alquist doted on him, but she was Helen’s only source of information. “I hope you can help me, my lady. Our marriage was so sudden that I know little of Rafe. He seems so contradictory. Can I believe everything he says? Some of it sounds incredible.”