Captain Fawley's Innocent Bride

by Annie Burrows

  Two massive double doors swung open, and she wafted into a library. But she scarcely registered anything about the room, save for the fact that it housed a lot of books. For Captain Fawley was standing in one of the window embrasures, watching her approaching him, and all she wanted to do was fill her eyes with the sight of him, as she had filled her lungs with the fragrance of her wedding bouquet.

  He looked drained. But some of the tension that rode his shoulders slackened when he saw her enter the library. With a pang, she realised the way she had flounced out of the lawyers’ offices must have contributed to his worries. Hadn’t Lady Walton told her he had not been at all sure she would turn up today?

  For a second or two they just stood there, looking at each other. Deborah felt so guilty for thinking only of herself, and adding to the lines of care upon his face that only days before she had dreamed of erasing. She could not interpret the expression on his face as he examined her in his turn. If she did not know better, she would think that the initial relief that her arrival had prompted was turning into a look so cynical it was almost akin to disappointment.

  The Earl of Walton cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence that had bound them immobile.

  The ceremony got under way.

  Deborah marvelled that the words in the prayer book described so aptly, yet so poetically, exactly what marriage meant to her. She already loved Captain Fawley, and from that emotion sprang the will to honour and obey him. And, oh, how she longed to offer him comfort and become a companion in whom he would confide. They had already spoken of their plans to raise children. He had vowed she could have an input into their education beyond what most husbands would allow. She knew he did not love her yet. But she would be such a good wife to him—he was bound to grow fond of her eventually, wasn’t he?

  Though as he began to make his vows, she found herself clutching at the posy increasingly tightly. Captain Fawley sounded so angry, so bitter.

  Her foolish romantic dreams evaporated like the morning dew in the first blast of the sun’s rays. How could she have forgotten that he was in love with another woman? If it had been Susannah standing here, he would have gazed into her eyes with adoration as he spoke of worshipping her with his body. Instead, he shoved the ring on to Deborah’s finger, his jaw working as he paused before declaring he endowed her with all his worldly goods, emphasising to her, at least, that this was all that could have induced him to marry such a poor specimen of womanhood as he considered her to be.

  And suddenly she wanted to weep.

  They were man and wife. But when Captain Fawley was given the opportunity to kiss the bride, there was an awkward little pause.

  Then Lady Walton rushed up to her, gave her an impulsive hug, and said, ‘Now you are like a sister to me! Of all the women Robert could have brought into the family, I am so glad it was you!’

  ‘Yes, welcome to the family, Mrs Fawley,’ said the Earl, shaking her solemnly by the hand.

  Her mother, just as Deborah had predicted, flung her arms about her new son-in-law’s neck, almost overbalancing him in her enthusiasm, crying ‘Oh, you dear boy! You dear, dear boy!’

  It seemed that the only two people who did not wish to embrace one another were the bride and groom.

  A butler, who must have been standing in the background somewhere during the ceremony, began to pour champagne, while Lady Walton tugged Deborah over to a table on which lay a selection of delicacies.

  ‘We cannot linger,’ Captain Fawley announced to the room in general. ‘We have a long journey, and I wish to use what hours of daylight we have left to get as far from London as I can today.’

  The Earl nodded, looking serious as he replied, ‘I took the liberty of having a message sent down to the mews as soon as your bride arrived. The carriage should be ready for you by now.’ Then in a voice so low only his brother could hear, he added, ‘You don’t need me to tell you how I shall relish dealing with the aftermath of this day’s work.’

  ‘Then, if you have no objection,’ Captain Fawley said to Deborah, plucking her untouched glass of champagne from her fingers, ‘we will leave at once.’

  Deborah could think of plenty of objections. The first rose to her lips before she could prevent herself.

  ‘I did not realise we were to leave town tonight. I have not packed a bag—’

  ‘Oh, but I have!’ Lady Walton put in cheerfully. ‘Everything you will need for tonight, and a day or two, is already in the coach. Your mother and I can pack the rest of your things and have them sent on to you.’

  Once again, he had taken Lady Walton into his plans, leaving her firmly out in the cold. ‘I don’t even know where we are going!’ she protested, as Captain Fawley took her by the arm and propelled her towards the door.

  ‘Our new home,’ he grated. ‘That is all you need to know.’

  ‘Oh, how romantic!’ she heard her mother cry, as he hustled her across the hall and down the front steps.

  But she did not feel it was in the least romantic to be dragged away from her wedding breakfast, to who knew where, without even being permitted a proper leave-taking from her mother. ‘How do you know what I need to know?’ she complained, as he tugged her across the pavement to where a smart post-chaise and four awaited them.

  ‘Do not be difficult,’ he replied curtly, as a burly individual with a face like a potato leapt out of the carriage, let down the steps and held the door open for them to get in.

  To her surprise, as soon as they were settled inside, the potato-faced man got in with them.

  ‘This is Linney, my man,’ said Captain Fawley when she looked the question at him.

  She supposed she ought to feel grateful he had bothered to introduce her at all. Not that he bothered to tell Linney who she was.

  No, she thought resentfully. For he already knew all about her. So—here was yet another person her husband took into confidences he denied his own wife!

  Alone in a carriage with two silent, grim-faced men, she had never felt so isolated in all her life. It was bad enough to whisk her away from the wedding breakfast without letting her take even one sip of the celebratory champagne, but now here he was, positively glowering at her as though she was an unexpected, and very expensive, bill he had to pay.

  She was angry, and humiliated and, yes, a little afraid too.

  Fortunately, the tremor of fear went from her mind entirely when it occurred to her that he had no right to stare at her with such marked hostility when she had just done him such a tremendous favour. If she had not agreed to marry him, he would still be a pauper. Instead of which, he was setting out to claim a property that would keep him in comfort for the rest of his life!

  Narrowing her eyes, she shot him one look that she hoped told him exactly what she thought of his treatment of her, before lifting her chin and staring out of the window, determined to ignore him, and his manservant, for the rest of the journey.

  * * *

  Captain Fawley did not know which he wanted to do more—throttle her or kiss her. Naturally he could do neither with Linney present. Though the cheering thought struck him that, should he decide to murder his wife, he could rely on his man to help him dispose of the body, no questions asked.

  He had no idea how far he could trust his wife.

  He looked at her determinedly averted profile, wondering how long she could maintain this pose of affronted dignity. Not long, he would guess. Women were just not capable of keeping a still tongue in their head. They were the natural enemies of silence. Whenever they encountered it, they felt they had to fill it with chatter. It did not matter if they had nothing of import to say.

  Linney folded his arms, closed his eyes and shoved his bulky body sideways so that he was wedged into the corner. There! A practical solution to dealing with the tedium of a journey. Use it to get some rest. Women always complained that they were tired after undertaking a long journey. They wouldn’t if they just stopped talking and made a profitable use of the time!

&n
bsp; But there she was, sitting ramrod straight, forced to clutch at the strap to keep her balance when they went over a pothole instead of letting the cushions absorb the impact.

  But then, she was a foolish creature. She would not be sitting in this coach with him at all if she had an ounce of sense. She would have traded on her looks, on her family connections…good God, when she had parroted off her antecedents to his lawyers he was amazed she had entertained his proposal for a second!

  Mutton-headed, that’s what she was, to have accepted the first proposal she had received, out of some kind of panic that she might never get another.

  But that was women for you. So determined to escape the stigma of spinsterhood they would sell themselves to a hunchbacked dwarf—isn’t that what he had told Lensborough, when he had complained women only saw his title, and wealth, but never the man he really was?

  He slouched a little deeper into his seat. Those very words had come back to haunt him already today. Namely when she had sashayed into the library, looking like the cat that had got at the cream, and it had hit him like a blow to the midriff that she was as avaricious as they came.

  Why had he not seen the warnings earlier? She had not shown a flicker of interest in his proposal of marriage until he had described the extent of the property she could become mistress of. After that, she had been willing to roll over and give birth to his children.

  A shaft of heat darted from his stomach to his loins.

  He had to shift in his seat to accommodate his body’s inconvenient reaction.

  This was not the first time he had experienced such stirrings of lust in regard to Miss Deborah Gillies. That memorable occasion had been the afternoon when he had gone to her house, to offer Miss Hullworthy the one sure piece of bait that would have her clamouring to dance with him, and Deborah had tripped into the room, dreamy-eyed from sleep, with her hair flowing about her shoulders and down her back. She had looked so natural, so…yes, innocent. So out of place amongst the plotters and schemers who filled the room.

  His reaction then had surprised him, to say the least. It had been a very long time since he had felt even the faintest stirrings of desire towards a woman. So long, that he had begun to wonder if his injuries had completely unmanned him.

  That was why, when he had decided to lay claim to his inheritance, he had known Miss Gillies must be the woman he took to wife.

  He had always liked the unaffected way she had spoken to him, as though she did not care what he looked like.

  But then, he reflected sourly, she was always pleasant to everyone.

  Whereas what he had discovered he really wanted, he grimaced, was the reality of that image she had created when she had breathed her vows. That was when he had begun to get really angry with her—when she had promised to love and obey him in a voice quivering with emotion. Who had she thought she was fooling, with that sickening show of pretence? He knew she did not care a rap for him. She couldn’t. Not to have stormed out of the lawyers’ offices, at such a crucial moment, without so much as a backward glance. She had sent no word as to her intentions. He had spent the entire day almost paralysed by dread she had gone for good. He’d had to tell everyone to carry on with preparations for the ceremony as though it was all settled, when for all he knew he was about to face the ultimate humiliation of being jilted.

  And worse than that, had been the slowly dawning realisation that, if she did not show up, it would destroy him. He would never have the stomach to browbeat another female into an engagement. He would remain eternally dependent on his brother’s charity.

  A beggar, that is what he would become.

  So when she had strolled in, mingled with relief that she had shown up at all, was a good deal of resentment that he had somehow allowed this slip of a girl to gain such a hold over his life.

  While all she seemed to have on her mind was playing the part of blushing bride to the hilt.

  Which brought him back to the question—why did she feel she had to pretend anything? Why did she have to wound him by giving him a glimpse of what it might have been like to find a woman who…?

  Breathing hard, he turned to glare at her stubbornly averted profile.

  Oh, yes, she had dropped the act the minute there was nobody to see it!

  But what made him angriest of all was the fact that though he knew she cared nothing for him, somehow, by some strange process of alchemy, she had the power to stoke him to this seething pitch of arousal merely by sitting there with her shoulder turned to him and her nose in the air.

  Did she expect him to attempt to cajole her out of this mood?

  If he started down that road, he would soon be reduced to the state of supplicant, begging for her favours.

  Well, she was about to learn he would never beg her for anything!

  ‘There is no sense in maintaining this ridiculous stand off,’ he growled.

  ‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she replied stiffly, darting a glance in Linney’s direction.

  ‘Do you object to having Linney with us?’ He scowled. ‘You had better not. Linney is my right-hand man, I go nowhere without him—’ he began, then checked himself, looking down at his empty jacket sleeve. ‘Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, he is my left arm. I cannot do without him. I need him to help me into and out of the coach. And when we stop for the night, he will cut up my food, undress me, wash me and put me to bed. He is an integral part of my day-to-day routine. And will become an integral part of yours. Get used to it!’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Deborah said, abashed. She had not considered her husband’s disability. He seemed so much more of a man than any other she had ever encountered, that she had completely forgotten how awkward certain aspects of his life must be.

  ‘In fact, while we are discussing my daily routine, I had best inform you that under no circumstances will I permit you to have your own bedchamber.’

  He’d had to accept that she had only married him for his money. Now she must accept the conditions under which she would earn it. The time for play-acting was over. There were a few grim realities it was about time Deborah faced.

  ‘We will sleep together, in the same bed, right from the start. Once Linney unstraps my false leg, and I lay my crutch aside on the nightstand, I will have difficulty leaving it, unaided. You must surely see how impractical it would be, should I feel the urge, and you were sleeping in some distant chamber? Would you not feel humiliated if I were to ring a bell and summon you, then send you packing when I had done with you, as though you were a whore? Or perhaps you imagine Linney will help me into your bed, wait until the deed is done, then assist me back to my own?’

  From the dull flush that was creeping across Linney’s cheeks, Deborah could tell he had heard every word.

  ‘May we not speak of this in private?’ she begged, shocked that he could discuss such an indelicate matter in front of his servant. Why was he in such a foul mood? She could understand he was hurt that he’d had to settle for marrying a woman it was becoming more and more obvious he felt little for, but he was embarrassing his serving man into the bargain. Linney did not deserve that, even if Captain Fawley thought she did.

  ‘You are embarrassing your man.’

  Captain Fawley turned to look at Linney, who was keeping his eyes resolutely shut, maintaining the pretence of being asleep.

  He shrugged.

  ‘So long as you understand that we will have this conversation. And that there will be no point in you ever trying to defy me.’ He was not going to suffer any more days like today, spent aching and uncertain, dependent on her whim for his peace of mind. He leaned forward, murmuring in her ear, ‘If you refuse to accede to my wishes, I will have no compunction about sending Linney to fetch you from your virginal chamber, when I have need of a woman, and carrying you to me, if needs be, kicking and screaming. And don’t think he will not obey such a command. For he will.’

  Deborah flinched from the harshness of his words. She had no idea why he would
think she would object to sharing a bed. That was what married people did. Her mother and father had always done so.

  No, what shocked her was the idea that he would compel his servant to manhandle her if she did not submit to his every dictate. That did not sound at all like the image of what she thought a husband should be to his wife.

  Perplexed, and repulsed by the vision of marriage his words were beginning to conjure up, she shrank as deeply into the cushions as she could, averting her eyes so that he should not see the hurt tears that were gathering there.

  Chapter Six

  Deborah felt quite perplexed when the landlady of the coaching inn where they were to break their journey led her into a chamber quite separate from her husband’s.

  ‘I think there has been some mistake,’ she said, recalling his insistence she must share a room with him.

  ‘No mistake,’ she heard his harsh voice ring out from a shadowy alcove, which turned out to be a connecting door to another room. ‘Walton sent a man ahead to book us a suite. That will be all, thank you,’ he informed the landlady, who bobbed him a deferential curtsy and left.

  She must have looked as perplexed as she felt, for he explained, ‘Unless you expect Linney to help you get undressed and into bed, as well?’

  She gasped, appalled at the very idea.

  ‘No, I thought not,’ said her husband. ‘A girl who works in this establishment will come to see to your needs. I will ring for you when I am ready for you, then you will come to me.’

  Having delivered his edict, he turned and stomped from the room.

  Deborah had always thought of herself as an even-tempered person, but right at that moment, she experienced an almost overwhelming urge to smash something. Or stamp her feet and scream.

  Being far too much a lady to yield to either temptation, she settled for flinging herself into a chair and scowling at the door her irascible husband had just gone through.