The Vengeful Bridegroom. Kit DonnerЧитать онлайн книгу.
he pleaded, “But you will do this, Mad, won’t you? I’ve already put my plan into action.”
Her eyes widened, and she straightened her back. “What are you saying?” Was there no choice? No going back?
He scratched his neck before his words rushed out. “Simple. An acquaintance of mine placed the wager at White’s that you will be married within three days.”
A coughing spell nearly overwhelmed her before she could recapture her thoughts and derision. “I see. Please do not delay in telling me the name of the man you are planning for my husband. Do I know of him? Is he aware the marriage will be a sham in order to win this wager?” She rose to pace the room again.
“Ah, yes, he is aware of the circumstances.” He rubbed his finger between his neck and his cravat. “And actually, no, you have never met him. His name is Mr. Leonard Brelford.”
She raised her eyebrows in inquiry. “The name means nothing to me. So this Mr. Brelford is agreeable to marry me in three days? Without ever having met me?” Madelene closed her eyes briefly. The evening’s events had given her quite the headache. Reseated at the window, she waited for her brother to continue.
Perhaps long ago she had dreamt of marrying for love, but that dream had been discarded not long after Madelene realized any man who would need her dowry for inducing a marriage proposal would be a man she would have no wish to marry. Thomas Winchester had taught her that particularly cruel lesson.
“Mr. Brelford has agreed. You know, Mad, there has been many a suitor who has spoken of your beauty and your wit.”
Wherever did he think he was going with this excess of flattery? “Not in some time, because as you know, my dowry no longer amounts to much to encourage any new offer for my hand. Be that as it may, go on.” She gritted her teeth.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Brelford, whom I met through a series of acquaintances, has agreed to marry you on a name-only basis.”
“I presume the only motivating factor would be money won from the bet,” she said more to herself than her brother. “How can you be sure that Mr. Brelford will keep his part of this bargain?”
Matthew hung his head. “Mr. Brelford seems to prefer—” His voice faded.
“Prefer what? A shorter bride? A bluestocking? A chit?”
“Men,” he interjected and looked away toward the cold fireplace.
An evening in mid-May did not require a fire, but Madelene felt a chill. She rubbed her arms for warmth, contemplating his answer.
“Men,” she said softly. Prefers men. It sounded quite strange. Preferred men to women? For what purpose? To gamble with, enjoy a cigar at their club? Boxing?
Matthew must have seen her confusion because he came to sit next to her and whisper in her ear.
Before he was through, Madelene jumped up as if burned from hot coals. “No, no, I will have nothing more to do with this plan of yours.” She hurried to the door, tossing over her shoulder, “Tell Mr. Brelford that I cannot marry him.”
“Madelene,” he said to her back, “if you don’t marry Mr. Brelford, we will lose this house. I’ll have to go to the Continent, and you to live with Aunt Bess.”
A moment passed or was it an hour, before he added, “You know, our father would want you to do this.”
At the door, she swallowed hard and bowed her head. His argument was persuasive for all the reasons she should continue with this farce. Living with Aunt Bess? Move all the way to Scotland? Seldom to return to Town, if ever?
This was her home. And what about her fledgling fashion designs? She needed more time to create a success behind the name of Madame Quantifours. But they needed funds now, and she couldn’t leave Matthew in this state, his tone mired in self-pity and anguish, even if he had brought this misery on himself. If he didn’t make it to the Continent, surely he would be sent to Newgate, if his debts were such as she imagined. She couldn’t let her brother dwell in prison.
But all those reasons meant nothing as much as doing that which her father would have wanted her to do.
She turned to face her brother and said, “Perhaps you could review your plan with me again. I did not catch all of the particulars.” She still had three days to plan the end of her arranged marriage.
Mr. Brelford opened the door to his rented lodgings to Matthew, who rushed in, hoping no one had seen him enter. Issuing no greeting, Matthew threw himself into a nearby worn chair, wiping sweat from his brow, relieved. No time to waste since he had a wedding ceremony to prepare. Everything was proceeding exactly how he had planned. At the earliest opportunity, he had hastened to share his news with his accomplice, although he heartily disliked Brelford’s address at Covent Garden. A couple of footpads had gained Matthew’s notice but fortunately the distance between his hack and 73 Swan Alley was quite abbreviated due to his earnest regard for his pocket and his life.
He took a deep breath and announced, “Brelford, my sister has agreed to our plan. I have sent a message to our Aunt Bess in Dumfries, where you’ll stay for the short duration of your marriage. Oh, I’ll send your share of the winnings to you as soon as everything is settled. I also made arrangements to obtain a special license.”
Engrossed in his thoughts, he ignored his friend to count on his fingers all the tasks needed to be completed. “We’ll have the ceremony at night. Remind you, no one can know until after the signatures are written in the parish registry. Better still, the following morning, we alert the Morning Post. There may be those who are betting Madelene won’t be married and will do everything in their power to prevent such a thing happening. This calls for extreme secrecy.” He began tapping on the arm of the chair in his enthusiasm. His ego convinced him that no one could put a halt to his stratagems.
He finally took notice of his friend, standing near a narrow cot with a half smile on his face. A smaller man in a cutaway coat of the latest fashion and shinier shoes than Prinnie would own, Matthew never had determined what his friend called his livelihood or where he had funds for his excellent taste in fashion, but little remaining for better rooms.
Matthew had grown accustomed to Brelford’s lack of animation and brevity of speech. Indeed, his friend possessed the equanimity Matthew could never claim. They were quite opposites.
Hands clasped together, Brelford inquired calmly, “What is it that you require of me to do?”
Matthew launched from his seat for he could hardly remain still. “Good man. You must meet my sister, Madelene, three days hence, on the eighteenth of May. We’ll head to the church from our house, hold the ceremony, then you and my sister will be off to Scotland.”
The small man blinked rapidly, a faint smile on his face. “It, it sounds simple. Afterward. Are, are, you sure we will be able to obtain an annulment with little difficulty?” His pale face shone in what little light there was left of the one candle.
Matthew shrugged. “If the marriage remains unconsummated, there are legal grounds for an annulment. No one needs to be the wiser on the actual reasons. We can’t have anyone crying foul on the wager. After the annulment, you can continue your secret life with no one the wiser.”
With hands on his hips, Matthew paused for a moment to reflect on how all the pieces were fitting into place. Truth be born, he gave little thought to his sister or Mr. Brelford. They both had agreed to his plan of their own accord, knowing what was expected of them.
I am undone by my genius. Little does my sister know our financial straits are not as bleak as I may have led her to believe.
A twinge of conscience hit him unexpectedly. He had thought his sister’s beauty and intellect would still bring offers of matrimony, but Madelene’s betrothed for a brief time, Aaron Winchester, had educated Matthew on the true nature of marriage and dowries. No sooner had Winchester courted Madelene and proposed marriage then he abruptly ended their engagement upon learning her dowry was quite paltry. His sister’s lack of matrimonial