The Madcap Marriage

by Allison Lane

  “I won’t let him take the easy way out by bleeding to death.”

  Helen was so dizzy that Rafe was holding her up instead of her holding him down. But by the time Tweed bandaged his shoulder, she’d caught her second wind.

  Hillcrest and David moved Dudley and the prisoners to the bookroom, then remained there to stand guard. Helen sent Frank downstairs to await Sir Montrose. Riley went to check with the sentries. They must remain on duty in case the bully boys were on Steven’s heels.

  “Finished,” said Tweed, rising from Alex’s side.

  “Good. Put him to bed until Sir Montrose arrives. You need sleep, too,” she added to Alice.

  Rafe shook his head as everyone filed out. “Your face is a mess.”

  She glanced in the mirror. One eye was turning purple, and a bruise marred her cheek. But it was small price to pay for victory.

  Her gaze returned to the secret passage that had nearly been so costly. “I never knew that was there, Rafe.” Tremors shook her hands, rapidly spreading to engulf her body. She clung to a bedpost as her knees weakened.

  “I know. I wish I’d thought to look for one, but this wing is too new for priest’s holes and such.”

  “I’m sure the former owner said nothing to Father. He would have mentioned it.”

  “Forget it, Helen.”

  “I can’t! You almost died because I didn’t know about this.”

  “You saved my life, Helen. That’s all that matters. Even if you should have known – which I don’t accept for a moment; this is not an ancestral property, for God’s sake – we all make mistakes. I’ve made more than my share and would never blame you for being human.” His nose twitched. “This place reeks of blood. Let’s move.”

  “Of course.” She stepped up to help him, but he was already sliding to the floor.

  “Watch out!”

  Too late. He stepped on a piece of glass and fell against the fireplace wall. Antlers gouged his hip, breaking the skin when a prong broke off.

  “Rafe!”

  Cursing, he grabbed a hawk to restore his balance. Its wing twisted, pitching him to the floor.

  “Are you all right?” She dropped to his side.

  “We’ve got to get rid of that damned wall.” He grimaced in pain.

  “You’ve made a start – though this isn’t the first piece that has snapped.” Even in candlelight, she could see a dozen repairs to the slimmer projections.

  “The bird must be the latch for the secret passage.”

  “It’s on the wrong side of the fireplace.”

  “What the devil?” He stared. A hole had opened in the tree’s canopy, revealing a niche. Inside was a canvas bag, four boxes, and a sheaf of papers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Helen was still reeling from the contents of the bedroom safe when Sir Montrose arrived. The bag contained hundreds of gold coins, more than she’d ever seen at one time – banknotes had replaced coins as war expenses and smuggling drained the country’s bullion faster than reduced exports could replenish it.

  The boxes held sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds in exquisite settings. Sir Arthur’s illness had cancelled most entertaining, so Helen had forgotten about her mother’s best jewelry.

  But it was the papers that staggered her. Even Rafe seemed shocked.

  Sir Montrose began his inquiry by examining the bodies and the slashes in Rafe’s bed. He then adjourned to the library with Helen, Rafe, Alex, and Riley.

  Rafe shared Helen’s couch, letting Sir Montrose commandeer the desk. One arm circled her shoulders, keeping her close – contact he couldn’t forgo, so the world might as well get used to it.

  “Are you certain Sir Steven was involved?” Sir Montrose demanded ponderously. “Attempted murder is a very serious charge, Thomas. Dudley, I can understand. You are not the first to complain about him. But perhaps Sir Steven was trying to stop him. He has been a valuable addition to Somerset and—”

  “You are another victim of his lies,” said Rafe, interrupting. “Before you continue, you should read Sir Arthur’s will.” He handed over the copy they had found in the niche.

  Sir Montrose’s eyes widened as he read. “But he swore—”

  “Lies,” said Helen calmly. “Steven knew before he came here that Father had left him nothing. He took advantage of Mother’s illness to incarcerate me, turn off every servant who knew the truth, then claim my inheritance for himself. But that was a temporary measure, for many outside of Somerset knew the truth. To make his theft permanent, he demanded that I wed Dudley. He had already prepared the way by forging letters to my trustees. They would not have questioned another letter requesting that they release my inheritance to my new husband.”

  Rafe described Steven’s thefts from the trust, then passed copies of the trust documents to Sir Montrose. Another protracted silence ended with Sir Montrose scowling.

  “Our marriage foiled that plot,” continued Rafe. “Yet Sir Steven refused to give up. He still hoped to complete his original scheme, but that required killing me. This wasn’t his first attempt.” He nodded at Alex.

  “I might have known you were involved, Portland.” Sir Montrose glared. “You always bring trouble.”

  “No. I follow trouble. Thomas is no more responsible for inciting Sir Steven to murder than you were for your secretary’s treason.” When Sir Montrose subsided, he described the first attack, then Riley reviewed the Home Office’s findings in the death of Lord Alquist and produced the arrest orders.

  Sir Montrose paled. “He killed a lord?”

  “He will strike at anyone who thwarts him.”

  The magistrate shook his head. “Describe tonight’s business again,” he ordered. “You were asleep, Mr. Thomas.”

  Rafe reviewed the attack from the opening of the secret panel until Helen fired the fatal shot.

  “She had no choice,” Sir Montrose agreed, then turned to Alex. “You were on guard?”

  “Tweed and I had the first watch,” said Alex. “When I heard someone creeping downstairs, I woke Riley to cover my post, then took Tweed with me to investigate.”

  Helen hadn’t thought to ask how Alex had found the secret passage.

  “There was light and voices in the bookroom,” he continued. “I was about to dispatch Tweed to collect reinforcements when we heard a loud creak. Dudley laughed, then said, I told you I found a better way in. He and Sir Steven ordered the others to guard their backs. That’s when I realized they had opened a secret passage.” He cleared his throat. “We had to attack immediately. With the doors bolted upstairs, the passage was our only way into the master suite.”

  Rafe squeezed Helen’s shoulder in apology. The bolts he’d installed for protection had nearly killed them.

  “Nalley, Vince, and Charlie were in the bookroom. They had us outnumbered until Mrs. Thomas’s shot distracted Nalley long enough for me to penetrate his guard. He fell, striking his head on the andiron. I helped subdue the others, then raced upstairs. Thomas was grappling with Sir Steven when I arrived. You know the rest.”

  Sir Montrose shook his head. “So much blood. And all because Sir Steven was greedy.”

  “It was more than greed,” said Helen, snuggling closer against Rafe’s side. “If money had been his only concern, Dudley could have wed a Cit. And it was more than his feud with Father. He was driven by fear. Father had proof that Dudley was not his legal heir.”

  “But—”

  Rafe passed more papers to Sir Montrose. “Statements from the midwife, from Steven’s wife, and from a housemaid. Steven’s wife birthed only one child, a stillborn daughter. The delivery left her unable to conceive, though she remained in robust health otherwise. Steven was furious.”

  Alex gaped.

  Helen sighed. “Maude had borne him a son only two days earlier. He swapped the babes, then threatened the witnesses with death if any of them revealed the truth.”

  “Passing off a bastard is a serious offense.” Sir Montrose frowned.


  “There’s more,” continued Helen. “Maude was married at the time, so Dudley was legally her husband’s heir. Mr. Cunningham died in a mysterious accident the following day. Maude swore their son died with him, buried Steven’s girl with her husband, then joined Steven’s household as Dudley’s nurse. Steven’s wife was packed off to an asylum, where she has lived ever since.”

  “So it was Helen’s legitimacy as much as her fortune that Steven wanted,” finished Rafe.

  “But if Sir Arthur had this evidence, why did he never use it?”

  “I don’t know.” Helen met his eyes. “He collected evidence of other frauds as well, yet never disclosed one. Perhaps he was protecting the family name. Or maybe he planned something else. His reasons died with him.”

  “What evidence?” asked Alex, leaning forward.

  “More than you’ll ever need.” Rafe handed him the remaining papers. “Proof of fraud, theft, forgery, and a host of other crimes. Dates, places, accomplices, victims. Sir Arthur documented everything. He must have had someone watching Steven’s every move.” Until a year earlier. The reports ceased four months before Arthur’s death.

  Alex and Riley bent over the pages.

  Sir Montrose pulled himself together. “The next assizes is not for three months. But since many of these crimes took place elsewhere, this matter would be better dealt with in London.”

  Alex glanced up. “An excellent decision. My men can escort the prisoners there tomorrow.”

  Sir Montrose relaxed. “In the meantime, I must interview them for my report.”

  “I will join you,” said Riley. “The others need sleep.”

  “Thank you.” Helen grabbed Rafe and led him upstairs before he could protest.

  * * * *

  By the time they reached the master suite, Rafe was sagging.

  “Lie down,” said Helen, steering him toward her bed. “Your face is white as a sheet.”

  “Mostly shock over your father’s papers.” But he complied.

  “I wish he’d told me about them.” She paced before the fireplace. “If I’d known what a scoundrel Steven was, I would have been more alert. I can’t believe Father didn’t trust me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that since we found them. It wasn’t a matter of trust, Helen. He didn’t want to further tarnish your name by revealing Steven’s crimes. You had enough problems because of Portland.”

  “But—” She shook her head. “Why collect the information then?”

  “Insurance. You said Steven demanded money.”

  “Several times.”

  “Arthur probably kept him under control by threatening to release his evidence if Steven bothered his family. He may have bought an estate far from London to keep Steven at a distance – Lady Alquist said Steven never visited the West Country. And I’m sure your mother knew about these. The papers were close at hand in case she needed them after he was gone.”

  “Of course.” She leaned weakly against the fireplace – a simple marble surround without a stag or hawk in sight. “He reminded her on one of this lucid days near the end. Keep Steven away, he told her as I was entering the room. I paid little heed, since he was always warning us against his brother. But he must have been alluding to the evidence and charging her with the responsibility to use it.”

  “Exactly. She could continue the intimidation. Once Steven gave up or died, she could have destroyed the evidence to protect the family name in the future.”

  “But she collapsed at his deathbed. The few times she tried to speak, we were unable to understand a word. Steven must have realized that I knew nothing when I let him inside. So he put his own plans in motion, then searched the house for the evidence. Even if he couldn’t find it, the marriage plot would keep me and Audley under his control.”

  “True, but I doubt you understand his full purpose even now,” said Rafe slowly.

  “What?”

  “He could have forged your will nine months ago, then arranged an accident. But he wanted more than your inheritance. He needed to punish you for daring to stand between him and the fortune he needed, and he questioned Dudley’s breeding – after all, Cunningham had accepted the boy. What better way to take care of both problems than to get a son on Dudley’s wife himself.”

  “My God!” She staggered toward the bed.

  Rafe pulled her down beside him. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. He’ll never hurt you again.”

  “Or you.” A sob clogged her throat. “I was so s-scared, Rafe. I thought I’d killed you.” She gestured toward the connecting door. “I saw a flash and fired. When you screamed, I was sure I’d shot you. All I could see was shadows. It was irresponsible to fire under those conditions.” She burst into tears.

  “It’s all right, Helen.” He stroked her back while she cried against his good shoulder. Her breakdown was one last proof that she didn’t love Portland – as if he needed one after she’d ignored the man passed out at his feet.

  His head rested against hers. “I will never consider that irresponsible, sweetheart. You did the best you could in a situation that would have sent most ladies into a swoon. It’s time to accept that you are not perfect – nor is anyone else.”

  “Am I that bad?”

  “Not usually, but you accept blame for too many things that are not your fault.”

  “Perhaps. I suppose it started when Father handed Audley into my care. A female must be twice as able as a man to garner respect. I couldn’t afford even the tiniest mishap.”

  “I can ease that for you, if you’ll let me,” he said cautiously. “Not that I want to take over. My own interest lies in standing for Commons and—”

  Her fingers covered his mouth. “I would appreciate your help, Rafe. You were right that tenants can’t reveal everything to a female, but I was too terrified of fortune hunters to listen.”

  “Never a fortune hunter, Helen. Your inheritance intimidated me, for it made our marriage seem too much like Mother’s.” He again stroked her back. “But it was not Mother’s money that stood between my parents. It was how she chose to use it. You would never consider it a weapon.”

  “No. I see nothing noble in fighting.”

  “Nor I.” He shifted so he could see her face, wincing as pain sliced down his arm. “While I enjoy a good debate, I am sick to death of the warfare my parents enjoyed. I will never subject you to that.”

  She nodded. “We were both influenced by our parents. Papa taught me to doubt men’s words, for he was convinced that every suitor wanted only my fortune – an assessment easy to believe in light of Mama’s lectures about the handicaps I must overcome to be acceptable in town.”

  “What?”

  “I’m too tall, too outspoken, with bad coloring—”

  “Nonsense. While some men may prefer insipid misses like Alice, I have always loved striking Originals – as do many others.”

  “Thank you.” She snuggled closer. “At any rate, I learned to evaluate everything through his distrust.”

  “I understand.” His voice caught as she again bumped his bandage.

  She tried to pull away. “Let me up, Rafe. I’m knocking your shoulder.”

  “Stay. I need you in my arms. It’s the only way I can face the world.”

  “Then why did you demand an annulment?”

  Curses paraded through Rafe’s head – harsher than he’d ever uttered in his life. He’d made a hash of too many things lately. “Watching Portland kiss you made me realize that I could not live with a wife who preferred another.”

  “I don’t—”

  He stopped her protest with a kiss. “I know that now, but I was still laboring under false assumptions yesterday.”

  “Which should have ended when I slapped him,” she snapped, shaking her head.

  “You did?”

  “Of course. I don’t enjoy being mauled – except by you.”

  “I wish I’d seen it.” He pulled her closer, then answered her raised brow. “I couldn’t bear to w
atch.”

  “Why?”

  Her husky voice cracked his last barrier. Only honesty would do if he expected honesty in return. “Because I love you.”

  “And I love you, Rafe – which is why I know I never loved Alex. It’s such a different feeling.”

  “Very.” He nuzzled her neck while his fingers untied her gown. “You’re overdressed, my love.”

  “Are you sure? Your shoulder—”

  “—doesn’t matter.” He flexed his hips to prove it, stroking her thigh with his eager shaft.

  “I see.” A seductive smile lifted her mouth. “Then you are also overdressed. If you stand up, I can take care of that problem. After all, we wouldn’t want you pulling that shoulder.”

  “True.” He slid to the floor, taking Helen with him.

  “Any healer would remind you that exertion is bad,” she purred, pushing his hands aside so she could unbutton his waistcoat. “You mustn’t do anything energetic.”

  Air whooshed from his lungs as she slowly removed his clothes, exploring his flesh with fingers and lips. Shaking with love, he returned the favor, easing her out of her gown and stays. Her petticoats drifted to the floor, revealing a body flushed and ready. He kept his touch light, teasing her to greater heights than before. And himself as well.

  When dizziness overwhelmed him, he returned to bed to join her in an explosive celebration of life that left them breathless, boneless, and bursting with joy.

  But his body pulsed with more energy than even a shattering climax could dissipate. As her hand drifted from his back to his thigh, he hardened within her.

  “Mmm,” she sighed as he slowly flexed. “Is it always like this?”

  “Only with someone you love.” He nuzzled her neck, brushing a palm across her breast. Her scent tickled his nose, banishing the ache from his shoulder. “You make me feel like the lustiest of the ancient gods. Strong. Invincible. Utterly insatiable.”

  He kept his thrusts languid, coaxing her into renewed readiness. Holding back stoked his own flames hotter. Passion sizzled, prodding every hair on his body to attention – as if lightning were about to strike. Each quiver rippling her satin skin drove his heartbeat faster.