Scandal's Bride

by Gibson, Pamela

Gwen leaned away from the knife, a gurgling sound in her throat. “I’m going to be sick.”

  As she fell to her knees, drawing the attention of her captors, John lowered his head and barreled into Geoffrey, pinning him against the wall. Off balance, Sir Geoffrey crashed to the floor with John on top of him. He slashed wildly, and John felt the prick of the knife on his upper arm, but rage he’d never before experienced fueled him while his fist met jaw over and over until his opponent stopped moving.

  Elizabeth screamed and dropped to his side. “Are you mad? You’ve killed him.”

  Gwen, trying to catch her breath, was still on her knees. Footsteps raced up the stairs. Ranaleigh and a footman ran into the room, followed by Sadie, who went straight to Gwen. The cook and a housemaid stood nearby, heavy pans in their hands.

  John shoved Elizabeth aside. Lord Geoffrey was unconscious, but his chest rose and fell evenly. He looked over at the two men. “Tie him up. When he comes around, take him downstairs and send for the justice of the peace.” He glared at Elizabeth. “Tie her up, too.”

  “No need,” Elizabeth said. “I will not leave Geoffrey’s side.”

  “You’re bleeding, sir.” Ranaleigh unwound the cravat from John’s neck and tied it around his upper arm. Sadie held Gwen’s head as she retched.

  John addressed the groom. “Wake up the stable boy and send him for the doctor. Tell him my wife is ill.”

  Gwen interrupted him. “It is not urgent. I am fine.”

  He strode over and crouched next to her. “You’re going to bed right now, and the doctor is going to see to you.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “I say it is.”

  He helped her rise, and he and Sadie guided her to her bedchamber, seating her in a chair.

  “Clean her up and get her into bed,” John said. “When I’ve dealt with the two downstairs, I’ll come back.”

  “Very well.”

  Gwen spoke up. “See to your arm. You’re the one who needs the doctor.”

  The throb in his arm was an annoyance. His wife’s aloofness, even after her scare, hurt like hell. He ached to hold her in his arms and tell her how frightened he’d been when Sir Geoffrey held a knife to her throat. He wanted to tell her how much he’d missed her company these past few days. He wanted to tell her how foolish she’d been to put herself at risk by investigating odd sounds in the middle of the night.

  He wanted to tell her he loved her.

  The moment he’d seen her in danger he’d known she was his reason for living.

  But she didn’t want him. She was too independent, too self-sufficient, too stubborn, and all those character traits endeared her all the more.

  His valet waited for him in his room. After removing the bloodstained cravat from around the wound, Ranaleigh cleaned and bandaged the injury and helped John into a laundered shirt. His waistcoat and coat came next. The justice of the peace would not see a mere farmer. He’d see the son of an earl when he arrived.

  Elizabeth remained at Geoffrey’s side even when the lawman arrived, bringing Lord Livesley with him.

  “I am at a loss for words,” the baron said. “An apology is not what you want to hear, but I give it anyway.” His eyes were troubled and his countenance humble. When he looked at his youngest son, it was with disgust.

  “Did you know of his obsession with this land?”

  “I knew he hoped to have it restored to us and begged me to offer to buy it. But I had no knowledge of his perfidy.”

  “Fortunately, no one was injured.”

  “We meant no harm,” Elizabeth spoke up. “We merely wanted to frighten you into selling.”

  Rage clawed at him. “Burning down half of my house and locking my wife in the tower were not harmful? What else were you planning tonight? To burn down the rest of the house?”

  “No! We were going to stop up the chimney that’s shared with her ladyship’s quarters. After the last fire, we were sure she’d convince you to go back to London. We had no expectation she would prowl the house until she found us.”

  “Then what? You said you were going to make us disappear.”

  “Geoffrey said that, but he didn’t mean it,” Elizabeth said.

  She pleaded with him with her eyes, but John was ready to collapse, and his patience was at an end. “Get them out of my sight.”

  The justice of the peace agreed to the baron’s request to allow Geoffrey and Elizabeth to be confined at the Livesley’s home until the assizes. Livesley turned to John. “May I have a private word with you?”

  John sighed. He wanted to get back to Gwen, but the baron was insistent. He gestured toward his study.

  “Follow me.”

  Chapter 34

  “When did I become a wilting violet, Sadie?”

  It was late afternoon the next day, and Gwen had just awakened. The maid applied a cool cloth to her lady’s forehead. “I believe the term is shrinking violet, and you have not become one. You were brave to seek out the cause of the unusual noise last night. I would have cowered under my covers and put my hands over my ears.”

  “Brave? I’m sure you are thinking another word and are too polite to say it. Reckless comes to mind. Imprudent. John will have a few choice words for me, if in fact he is still speaking to me after the conversation we will have later today.”

  Sadie brought a warm covered brick to the bed and slid it under the covers near Gwen’s feet. The warmth through the sheet was heaven. Last night she couldn’t stop shaking. She wished for her husband’s comforting arms and warm body, but she feared he would not be joining her anytime soon.

  Not after I give him the news the doctor has confirmed.

  They’d been virtual strangers since returning from Longley Manor. She agreed with him now that it was best to keep the dowager countess confined because her staff seemed to be well-attuned to her needs. But they would never agree on John’s reason for not wanting to father children.

  “Do you wish me to close the bed hangings to shut out the light? Afternoon is upon us, and while you slept like the dead, I suggest you remain in bed the rest of the day to recover from your experience.”

  “Leave them open.” She removed the cloth from her head and gave it to Sadie. “I know I must rest. Even bright sunlight wouldn’t keep my eyes open today.”

  “What about food?”

  “Ugh. Do not mention food. I cannot bear it yet.”

  “Very well.”

  She picked up the ewer and left the room. Gwen clutched the covers closer, trying to get warm. The events of the night played over and over in her mind. They didn’t make her any warmer.

  Her mother had once warned her that her disregard for propriety, her fearlessness, and her curiosity would one day get her in deep trouble. If nearly meeting one’s maker was trouble, then Mother had been right.

  With a deep shudder, she burrowed deeper under her covers, hoping sleep would come again, sleep without dreams.

  She jumped when the door opened. John entered the room and sat down beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. “I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m quite recovered. And you?”

  “The knife pricked my arm, but after a good bleed, it stopped. The surgeon treated it with a powder Cook made in the still. I was a little weak, but after a meat pie and a glass of port, I felt hale and hearty.”

  He sat back. “If you’ve recovered, why are you in your nightgown at three in the afternoon? Are you setting a new fashion?” He seemed calm after all he’d gone through. His eyes twinkled with mirth, and his grin made him seem like an adorable schoolboy.

  “I am weary in every bone. I’m told it is perfectly natural to be overly tired, a bit under the weather, and disdainful of certain foods. Excitement, as well, is fro
wned upon. I daresay, we’ve had plenty of that.”

  “Just to make sure, I’ll have the doctor look in on you tomorrow as well. He is delivering a baby today.”

  “Are there no midwives in the village?”

  “I’m sure there are, but this delivery has complications. As we are not having children, it is something we will never have to worry about.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm.

  She nodded. Miranda had told her about a few difficult births she’d attended. She also assured her most were not.

  Withdrawing her hand, she tucked it beneath the covers. “Are Geoffrey and Elizabeth gone?”

  He hesitated. “Yes and no. They are confined, but Lord Livesley asked if I would be willing to allow them to wed and emigrate to America. The baron’s brother resides in Boston, and they can make a new beginning in a fresh place. He assured me Geoffrey would not have harmed us. He’s the type of person who makes threats when cornered but never carries them out. He’s always lived in the shadow of his brother, and boasting about getting Woodhaven back in the family was his way of feeling important. He begged me, as a second son who could have been landless if not for Grandmother, to understand and show compassion.

  “What did you say?”

  “I relented. I didn’t want to, but as long as they are gone, I care not what happens to them. The baron is going to make restitution. We’ll have funds to reroof the east wing should we decide to do so, but I told him I had thought about tearing it down.” His gaze seemed to study her reaction. “We don’t need the east wing. It has a bad history, if what Mama told us is correct. The west wing is perfectly suited to the needs of two people and a handful of servants. What do you think?”

  She’d hoped to be dressed and on equal footing when she made her announcement, but fates conspired against her, and the moment was near. “If you wish to remove the charred, unromantic ruin, do it. It is your property. But we may need the extra space someday. It should be rebuilt, perhaps in the style of the newer house. A skilled architect could make it look like it was always thus, and in addition to sleeping chambers, the interior could have a music room, a library, and perhaps a ballroom.”

  “You plan on house parties and entertainments then? I thought you were happy with your books and your garden and helping me with the estate.”

  “I am not thinking about room for friends. I am thinking about rooms for children and their activities.”

  He lowered his forehead and shook his head. “We’re not going to go over this again, are we? I thought we’d hashed this out at Longley. Agreed to disagree.”

  She sat up and moved pillows behind her back. “The fact remains. You do not want children. I do. Unless you give me leave to become pregnant by a lover, we are still at an impasse.”

  He shot up and glared. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed, “No. But we have no other options, do we?”

  Except the obvious.

  He sat back down, his eyes roaming over her. The tops of her breasts were exposed by the gown, and her hair was tumbling down her back. He looked like a man who hadn’t had a meal in a month, and she knew exactly how he felt.

  A wave of longing swept over her, so intense it rippled through every nerve ending. She longed to reach out and pull him to her, to stroke his cheek and lean over to put her mouth on his, seeking the sweetness within.

  Now was not the time.

  His eyes narrowed in consideration. “Perhaps we could adopt an orphan.”

  “John.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have something to tell you.” His expression closed, and he folded his arms in front of him. He looked as if whatever it was she was going to say would not be to his liking. It wouldn’t, but she had no choice.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you agree that an unforeseen circumstance can sometimes dictate a course of action?”

  “I suppose so. What are you getting at?”

  She leaned forward and stroked his cheek. “I’m enceinte, John. We’re going to have a baby.”

  ~ ~ ~

  His breath caught as the room receded, then came back into focus. He was powerless, drifting, his eyes focused on his wife’s face as she mouthed words he never expected to hear. Numbness set into his limbs, rendering them lifeless, and a lump as big as a snuffbox lodged in his throat. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t breathe. He sat with rigid intensity, trying to make sense of the words she had uttered.

  I am enceinte.

  Finally, he found his voice. “How can it be? We discussed this, Gwen. You know how I feel.”

  Her eyes hardened, and she fisted her hands next to her in the bed. “You act as if this is all my fault. ’Tis true I am happy, but I assure you I was not alone in this child’s conception.”

  “It is a shock.”

  “Is it? Even you said the French letters are not reliable, and once we did not use . . .” She stared at her hands fidgeting among the bedcovers.

  The memory of those two lustful couplings slammed into him, making his temperature rise, his cock harden, his hands twitch. Gazing at Gwen’s serious face, her lush curves, and her unbound hair made him want to repeat every nuance of those glorious nights. He wanted to touch her now, kiss away her concerns, and make love to her until she screamed her release.

  Instead he sat as if made of stone.

  It was his fault of course. He’d promised her a marriage of convenience with a onetime, controlled consummation. Instead he’d become hot and witless the minute he climbed into her bed, and ultimately lost control as soon as he mounted her.

  He studied his hands, wondering if he could lift them and remove himself from the side of her bed. Would his legs function if he stood? The numbness wiped out sound and feeling. He stared again at her moving lips.

  “What did you say?”

  “I have decided to go back to London for my confinement. In another month it will not be appropriate for me to be out in society.” A quick smile came and went on her face. “Not that I care what society thinks or does. I thought to go home to Mother, but Lydia is there, and I do not wish to endure her barbs. I am going to Miranda at Longley House. I’ve sent her a note, and I expect a reply in a day or two.”

  He twisted his cravat. “You cannot leave. This is your home.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Are you forbidding me, sir?”

  He lowered his head, studying a bruise on his hand. “Of course not. If you insist on going, I shall accompany you. We do not need to wait for a response. We are always welcome at Longley House.”

  Her silence drew his eyes to her face. Her pained expression broke his heart.

  “Please do not come with me, John. I need time alone. We are at an impasse, but even I know we must resolve our issues and move forward. We’ll talk at some point. But not yet.”

  A knot formed in his gut, and he looked away. How could she think he’d let her go?

  She reached over and touched his cheek. “I know you have much to do before winter sets in. The justice of the peace will want you to take care of formalities regarding your decision, and I would feel less fearful if you made sure Livesley follows through with his promise.”

  He’d married a stubborn woman. He would brook no nonsense about this. She was his wife, she was carrying his child, and he would do his duty and see her safely to wherever she wanted to go.

  She wants to be away from me.

  He sighed and slowly stood, making sure his legs would hold him.

  “I need time to process this, Gwen.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. After the night’s excitement, I’m exhausted and will remain abed the rest of the day.”

  John nodded and leaned down to kiss her. She turned her head away.

  He sighed. “I s
hall return to have dinner with you.”

  “No need.”

  He ambled toward the door, glancing back once again, hoping to see her smile.

  She did not.

  The carriage he’d hired to bring them from Longley was still in the yard. He would make arrangements with the driver to remain at Woodhaven for a few days more to give them time to prepare for their departure. Gwen was right. It was not a good time to leave, but he would remain with her as long as necessary.

  As long as she’ll have me.

  He still could not believe her news, not now when everything else had occurred. But he needed to be with her, to make sure she was safe, to ease the discomforts of the trip. He’d ride outside and have Sadie remain with her in the coach.

  He reached his study, picked up a quill, and penned a quick note to Trevelyan. Thank God the man had agreed to become his steward. He wanted him to monitor Geoffrey and Elizabeth’s departure. John had always found Livesley to be honest in his dealings, but he needed to be sure the errant son departed on schedule.

  His life had become more complicated. The wails of the poor souls in Bedlam still haunted his dreams and would be louder now.

  He should be feeling fear and anxiety.

  But he wasn’t.

  He poured a brandy, sat back in the chair, and contemplated why.

  Chapter 35

  Three days had passed, and Gwen was restless. At Livesley’s insistence, John—not Trevelyan—had accompanied the party to Liverpool to see Geoffrey and Elizabeth to the ship that would take them to America. He had not yet returned. He’d pleaded with her to stay abed and get plenty of rest.

  As if he cared about the babe.

  She’d been packed for days, and the traveling coach was still waiting. But yesterday, the larger more comfortable Longley carriage had arrived with a note from Miranda. “If you insist on coming, please make use of this conveyance. It is far more comfortable than anything you might hire, and I am longing to see you.”