The Vengeful Bridegroom. Kit DonnerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Covent Garden. Surprise on his side, Matthew had plucked the dagger from the youth’s belt before the boy knew what had happened. On his return home, he congratulated himself the theft had not resulted in violence.
It had been just as the count instructed him on where to locate the youth and how to steal the dagger, with a promise of a handsome purse for returning it to its rightful owner, the count. Matthew had hidden the dagger in Madelene’s trunk because many sought the valuable object, and he feared he himself would be the victim of thieves. He was to have returned the dagger to the count on the morning after next.
Now disaster loomed everywhere he turned. No Madelene, no won wager. No dagger. It didn’t bear thinking about. He went to change his clothes for the club. Perhaps a look at the betting book and a bottle would help with this unfortunate change in circumstances.
Flames from street lamps wavered in the onset of darkness as the trio descended from their carriage and walked up the steps of the south front entrance to the Roman stone portico of St. George’s Bloomsbury. The Corinthian pillars under a coffered ceiling, part of Hawksmoor’s designs, accented the stepped tower with George the First’s Roman-clad figure atop.
Madelene tried to stem her shaking hands by clasping them together. The stranger, who would soon be her husband, walked beside her with his hand on the center of her back, his expectation that he clearly expected her to flee.
In the carriage, she thought to rail at Mr. Brelford for his appalling behavior in carrying her off in such a manner, but he completely ignored her by talking quietly with his cousin.
With little to do, she had moved closer to the inside wall of the carriage to subtly sneak a peek at her betrothed. Could this man really prefer the company of men? Madelene found this difficult to believe, although she had never met someone of that ilk before. And why this should be the first thought to have occurred to her, she couldn’t exactly say.
Madelene breathed a sigh of relief she would not know his touch because of his predilections. She could feel his heat emanating from her side, and she kept telling herself it would do no good to find this man the least bit attractive.
Out of the corner of her eye, noting his acceptable looks, she had hoped he would be somewhat more handsome than what her brother had described. He certainly was not unattractive.
Interestingly enough, the man before her bore little resemblance to Matthew’s description. Her brother hadn’t mentioned any bushy eyebrows or unruly brown hair or the spectacles and bushy mustache, which helped to hide his features.
He looked to have a strong chin and dark eyes, the color difficult to ascertain. Indeed, he appeared fit and healthy in his weathered broad-shouldered black coat and faded breeches. Her betrothed would benefit from a more stylish hair design and fashionable clothes. Little wonder at this marriage to gain an easier living, or perhaps he possessed unsettled debts such like her brother.
She supposed he could have been a laborer. The way he had carried her from the parlor to the carriage with little effort spoke of his strength and fortitude. But his manners implied an entirely different situation.
Not that his looks or beastly manners mattered a whit to her. He would be her husband for one month only, and in name only. After all, it wasn’t as if she would need to spend all of her time in his presence. Indeed, they need not spend any time together. She was looking forward to visiting Aunt Bess, whom she hadn’t seen since her father’s funeral.
Through the doors, the vicar in formal robes greeted them in the dark silent alcove. Gold friezes shimmered in the candlelight, creating a soft, hallowed warmth around the small group. Father John guided them to the east apse on the right side of the church, mainly used for baptisms and a few hurried marriage ceremonies, their steps echoing on the wood floor.
Madelene shivered, in part due to the church’s dampness, but more from her impending marriage of doom. She could hear the shackles clank closed ever so softly. What would it take to be free of him, of this marriage? Only her brother imprisoned. It seemed she was the one to be imprisoned behind wedding vows.
She swiftly glanced at the man who held her arm and escorted her to their place before the altar. He certainly seemed determined to wed her. His face lit by candlelight was a complete mask. How little she knew about her husband-to-be. He must be desperate since he, too, was marrying an unwilling stranger.
Odd, her brother would benefit from this marriage as well as the man standing next to her. But Madelene? She would claim her reward within a month to return home to London and Matthew, free of his creditors.
She looked forward to the day she could continue her work on her designs for ladies of the ton. Even Matthew had no idea. Her secret shared with only Madame Quantifours herself, the establishment on Bond Street.
Madelene kept looking back to the large wooden doors, hoping and praying her brother would come dashing through and call a halt to this, this travesty, this mockery. Where could he be? He had to know she needed him at this moment.
When the vicar began the marriage rites, Madelene’s heart pounded uncontrollably, almost to the point of feeling faint. Swooning, maybe that would work. But one look at the sternness of Mr. Brelford’s visage made her think twice about creating any delay.
“I will.” Her voice registered barely above a whisper in answer to “…keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” Could this truly be happening?
It was done. There was no turning back.
She waited with bated breath at the end of the ceremony, when he turned to her, his new bride. His shadowed brown gaze held hers briefly. She tried to read emotion in his face, a hint of kindness or understanding.
Nothing.
With a hand under her elbow, he hurried her to the table with the parish registry and showed her where to place her signature.
Resigned, she signed Madelene Colgate before Miss Montazy called her over to congratulate her and welcome her to the family. In a daze, Madelene hardly noticed the walk back to the entrance and down to the carriage.
Settled into the carriage with its dark ruby squabs, the newly married couple began their journey north to Dumfries to see her aunt. Unbeknownst to Madelene, her new husband had an entirely different direction in mind.
Chapter Three
“What is this? You don’t have the dagger, Colgate? You were to deliver it to my associate in Canterbury by tomorrow morning.” The Count Giovanni Taglioni sat in his gilded chair behind his large rosewood desk as if he were judge and jury in the Old Bailey, his swarthy features forbidding with black eyes and a minute mustache. By the look on the count’s unforgiving features, Matthew knew he had to offer a plausible excuse for the unfinished matter of the dagger.
The count’s dark eyes narrowed on him, awaiting an answer that no doubt would displease him, very much. The air simmered with the smell of opium, although Taglioni appeared quite lucid. Perhaps his imbibing only waited for this business to be transacted. Various dark candles placed on white pillars around the deep blue parlor did little to welcome visitors, while the light at the count’s desk proved especially unilluminating. Attired all in black, Taglioni was known not to suffer fools lightly.
Could it only have been three weeks ago when Matthew had stood before the count in this dark chamber in the large glittering town house in Mayfair? How the count had even found him to request his assistance still puzzled Matthew. Their meeting had taken place at the late hour of midnight, as the count directed in the note he sent to Matthew, asking him to come to 5702 Trumbull Place and to be vigilant of anyone watching his movements.
“Please do not worry, my lord. The dagger is very safe. I simply need a few more days to collect it, and then I will deliver it as planned.” Perspiration beaded Matthew’s forehead, which he attempted to mop with his handkerchief.
The count viewed Matthew with half-masted eyes. “I will be generous and give you more time. You have exactly a fortnight to return the dagger, as originally planned. I’m assured you won’t disappoint