To Bed the Bride Page 22

  She was so shocked by his comment that she could only wordlessly stare at him.

  “I trust it shall. I hope you have a long and happy marriage, Your Ladyship.”

  He didn’t stay to hear her answer. Instead, he strode from the room, leaving the door open behind him. Bruce remained at her side.

  How could he have said such a thing? After a moment she realized why. He thought she was still going to marry Michael. She hadn’t told him any different. By not informing Logan of her decision, she’d given him the impression that not only was she disloyal, but that she was incapable of her own sense of honor.

  She could race after him and tell him what she’d decided. What would he think of her then? Would he believe that she expected a declaration of some sort from him? Or think he was obligated to her in some way? She didn’t want to leave with him thinking the worst of her, yet she didn’t know what else to do.

  If she was going to return to Scotland and live her life alone, she should begin right now.

  Logan knew he’d been a fool and he wasn’t given to being foolish. Despite what the newspapers called him, he couldn’t adequately represent his constituents if he was truly a firebrand. No, he wasn’t normally rash. However, whenever he was around Eleanor he was given to acting unlike himself, almost as if he reverted to being a boy.

  He should never have seduced her, if that was the correct word for it. It was more like a mutual seduction. Any words he’d uttered in caution had been buried beneath passion. Eleanor hadn’t been the least reluctant. Nor had he. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever being as overwhelmed by desire. He could only thank Providence that it was the servants’ day off.

  There was always one maid who rotated with the others. She remained here in case he needed something. Hopefully she hadn’t come looking for him in the past hour.

  All of his servants were Scottish and each one of them was loyal. No gossip would reach anyone about Eleanor. He couldn’t guarantee the same when she returned to the Richardses’ house. He could always ride out the storm of controversy. She, less so. Society always blamed a woman in a situation like this. His own reputation might be enhanced by a hint of scandal. For the last two years, ever since he’d become a member of Parliament, he’d been the brunt of teasing from various contemporaries for his lack of romantic entanglements. Even Disraeli had made a comment about his bachelor life.

  He shouldn’t have said what he did to Eleanor. Yet he couldn’t bear the idea of her still marrying Herridge. She’d said she had a choice, but she hadn’t indicated that she was going to end her engagement. They needed to have that conversation again or discuss her circumstances more fully. It was his business now. What he felt for her gave him the right to argue against marriage to Herridge.

  What would he do if she insisted on going through with the wedding? What if becoming a countess was more important to her than anything else? The woman he’d come to know wouldn’t care about a title, hadn’t cared about one.

  Letting her leave was a mistake. Letting her leave as she had was even worse. His words had spread a pall over an otherwise unforgettable afternoon.

  He would make a point of being here on Wednesday when she came to visit Bruce. Would she come? If she didn’t, he’d get his answer then. She regretted their afternoon of passion.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  To her surprise, Liam didn’t leave his driver’s perch to open the carriage door for her. He glanced at her, then pointed toward the carriage. She couldn’t understand what he was mouthing to her, but before she had a chance to ask, the door opened on its own.

  Michael sat there, his arms folded and his face empty of any expression.

  Eleanor hesitated, then continued descending the steps.

  The last thing she wanted was to confront Michael right now. However, it needed to be done. The sooner this difficult encounter was over, the better.

  Did he know that she wasn’t fully dressed? She fervently hoped that he couldn’t tell she wasn’t wearing stockings, or that they were tucked into her reticule. Although he couldn’t know what had transpired in the drawing room, he did know that she’d been in Logan’s home. That fact alone was enough to label her as shocking since she’d broken several rules about comportment and propriety.

  Perhaps he’d be so incensed with her that he’d break their engagement, thereby sparing her the necessity of doing so.

  There was nothing else to do but join him and she did so, entering the carriage, and settling herself opposite Michael.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a question I might ask of you, Eleanor.”

  She sat back against the seat. “Evidently you browbeat my driver to allow you into my carriage.”

  Michael gave the command to Liam and they began to move.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Eleanor. I don’t have to browbeat anyone. They all know who I am.”

  Michael had always had a high opinion of himself.

  “You’ve been a very busy woman today. First the hotel and now McKnight’s residence.”

  She stared at him. “How did you know I went to the hotel?”

  “I’ve had you followed for a considerable time.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve had me followed?”

  “You’ve been different ever since Scotland. I wanted to know why. I decided that today was as good a time as any to confront you about your behavior. Why were you with McKnight?”

  She couldn’t form an answer. He’d had her followed? Why, because she was a Scot and therefore beneath him? What a pity a mirror couldn’t bear him children. Otherwise, it would be the perfect mate, endlessly reflecting his image back to him.

  “I came to visit Bruce,” she said. “Remember? The dog you refused to let me keep? Logan gave him a home, but I missed him. I wanted to see how he was doing.”

  “One day a week? Such devotion, Eleanor, and to a dumb animal.”

  She felt more affection for Bruce than she did Michael. Although it was neither the proper time nor the place, the words must be said.

  “I’ve decided we won’t suit, Michael. I can’t marry you. I wouldn’t be the wife you want and, in turn, I would be miserable.” She could not, for the life of her, imbue her voice with any compassion or fondness. She wasn’t that much of a hypocrite.

  He didn’t say anything, but his mouth thinned. There was no expression in his blue eyes. They might have been a pond frozen over in winter. He still had his arms folded in front of him, his knuckles now white.

  She continued, “I can’t accept your decision about Hearthmere. You have no right to sell my father’s horses or to empty my home. I won’t tolerate it.”

  “You won’t tolerate it? Who are you to dictate to me? There will be no change of plans. You’ll marry me and you’ll learn to be a docile, obedient wife, even if I have to beat it into you.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, yes, Eleanor. You aren’t going to shame me in front of the world. No one rejects me, Eleanor. No one makes me a laughingstock.”

  “You can let it be known that you were the one to break the engagement,” she said. “After all, most people were surprised when you chose me in the first place. You can just say that the longer we were engaged the more you were convinced that I was the wrong choice.”

  “Not an untruth, Eleanor. However, I wouldn’t have waited this long before making my decision. All of my acquaintances know that. Besides, I’ve introduced you to them. That doesn’t lend credence to my changing my mind.”

  She’d never anticipated this reaction. She’d thought he would be angry, perhaps even enraged. But to refuse to listen to her?

  “We will be married and you will become an exemplary wife. You’ll be a paragon of virtue, an example for others. You’ll never see McKnight or that cur again. You’ll never go anywhere without me. You’ll never act contrary to my interests.”

  “You can’t force me to marry you,” she said, wondering if, somehow, he thought he could.


  “You’d be surprised at what I can do, Eleanor,” he said, his smile chilling.

  Once they were at her aunt’s house, Michael grabbed her wrist and nearly pulled her from the carriage. He kept his hand clamped on her as they mounted the steps and into the foyer.

  “Send Jeremy to me,” Michael told the majordomo as he pulled Eleanor behind him. More than once she tried to break free, but Michael’s grip was too tight on her wrist. He didn’t seem to care that he was hurting her. Nor did he slow when she stumbled. She was certain he would have let her fall and then dragged her down the corridor.

  He entered the gray parlor and nearly flung her from him. She hit the sofa, righted herself, and turned to confront him.

  She rubbed her wrist where it was red and burning.

  “What is it, Your Lordship?” Jeremy asked, entering the room.

  Michael was the only person Jeremy addressed with any level of respect. Even Hamilton, who funded all of his ventures, wasn’t treated with this much obsequiousness.

  “Watch her,” Michael said. “Do not let her leave this room. Do you understand?”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I don’t want her to leave.”

  “She won’t,” Jeremy said.

  She looked from her cousin to Michael and back again. Did they honestly believe they could keep her prisoner? What utter foolishness. Michael may not like the idea that she’d broken their engagement, but he was going to have to accept it.

  Once Michael left the room, Jeremy moved to stand with his back to the door, his arms folded.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said. “Step aside, Jeremy.”

  Her cousin didn’t budge. One corner of his mouth turned up, and she expected him to say something caustic, but he remained silent.

  “Please.”

  He still didn’t speak. Nor did he move.

  She was powerless against his stubbornness. He was several inches taller and many pounds heavier than she was. Her only chance to get out of here was to appeal to his reason or his sense of justice.

  She wasn’t entirely certain that Jeremy possessed either.

  “He can’t keep me here, Jeremy. He can’t force me to marry him.”

  “What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, frowning at her.

  “I’ve ended our engagement,” she said. “Michael isn’t taking it well.”

  “What do you mean you ended your engagement?”

  “Just that. I’m not going to marry him. He was going to sell the horses, Jeremy. He was going to gut Hearthmere. He doesn’t have the right to do that.”

  He shook his head. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

  She hardly thought it foolish to choose her own future.

  Before she could say anything, Jeremy continued. “You have to marry him. The entire family is counting on it, Eleanor. You have to.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Mother isn’t going to be happy. What’s Hamilton going to do then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His business is failing. Too much competition. He’s sunk the last of his cash into your wedding. He thinks your marriage to Herridge will bring him investors and additional capital.”

  She stared at her cousin and wondered if he was right. Had Hamilton been in financial difficulty all this time? Had it been a closely guarded secret? Was that the reason everyone in the family was ecstatic about the upcoming wedding?

  A close family association with an earl might bring about the investors Hamilton wanted. If nothing else it would give his business a certain cachet.

  The door opened. Michael entered, nodding to Jeremy. Aunt Deborah and Hamilton were next, not looking at her as they moved to the sofa.

  They were all here, unless Deborah had sent for Daphne.

  Eleanor stood in front of the fireplace, wishing that someone had thought to light a fire against the chill of the day. Hamilton certainly had the income not to have to worry about such paltry expenses.

  Unless he didn’t. Unless Jeremy was right and everything Hamilton had bragged about in the past year had been a falsehood.

  Evidently Michael had informed her aunt and Hamilton that she’d changed her mind about the engagement. She could see the effect of his announcement on their faces.

  Both of them looked shocked. Or perhaps the word was horrified. Deborah’s eyes were wide in her pale face. Hamilton’s hands were shaking and he, too, looked almost waxen.

  “Michael and I will not suit,” Eleanor said, hoping they would understand her decision. “He doesn’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry him.”

  Michael waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss her words. Neither Deborah nor Hamilton paid any attention to what she was saying. It was as if she was invisible, but it had always been that way, hadn’t it?

  The only person who’d ever seen her was Logan. With him she could be herself without criticism or censure.

  “I’ve no wish to be seen as a laughingstock,” Michael said. “This wedding will take place as planned.”

  He turned to Hamilton. “Until the wedding, Eleanor will need to be closely watched. She must be brought to accept this marriage. Is that understood?”

  “Of course, Your Lordship,” Hamilton said, nodding. “It will be as you wish.”

  She glanced at Michael. “What makes you think that I’ll change my mind, especially after all the things you’ve said to me?”

  Aunt Deborah stood and approached her. “You silly girl. How can you be so foolish?”

  “I can’t marry him, Aunt Deborah. He’ll destroy Hearthmere.”

  The slap was hard, stinging, and unexpected. Her aunt had never struck her before. She placed her hand against her cheek and stared at the older woman.

  “You’ll do as you’re told. We’re not in Scotland anymore, Eleanor. You don’t get to dictate to others.”

  She never had. She never would. Yet her aunt was beyond any kind of convincing. She grabbed Eleanor’s upper arm with talon-like fingers and nodded to Hamilton.

  He left the drawing room only to return in moments with the majordomo and two footmen.

  Eleanor might’ve been able to pull away from her aunt’s grip, but she was powerless when both footmen each grabbed an arm and dragged her up the stairs. Instead of her own room, she was taken to one of the guest chambers. It wasn’t until they closed the door behind her that she realized why. This door was equipped with a lock.

  She was well and truly a prisoner. In nine weeks she’d be released, but only for another jail: either Michael’s townhouse in London or his country estate.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Logan waited all Wednesday afternoon, but Eleanor never came. He stood at the window, watching every carriage coming into the square. None of them were hers. None of them pulled up in front of his steps. The door didn’t open; she didn’t emerge.

  At his feet Bruce whined. He glanced down at the dog and said, “I know. I’m waiting, too.”

  Mrs. Campbell was worried and didn’t hesitate to let him know.

  “She’s never missed a day. She cares for the wee one as if he’s her own bairn. She wouldn’t miss a Wednesday without sending word.”

  He only nodded, not trusting his voice. Bruce spoke for him with one solitary bark, as if agreeing with the housekeeper.

  It was obvious to him that Eleanor regretted what had happened between them. That’s why she wasn’t here. Yet her affection for Bruce wasn’t feigned or false. Would she give up seeing the dog out of pique? She also knew that Mrs. Campbell prepared for her visit. Would she simply stop coming without some kind of notice?

  That didn’t sound like Eleanor.

  He made some excuse to Mrs. Campbell, but he didn’t feel comfortable about the situation. Perhaps he should send word to her, ask her point blank if she was returning. Or should he go even further and appear on her doorstep?

  His appearance at the Richardses’ home wouldn’t be welcomed. Nor did he wa
nt to make the situation worse for Eleanor. Instead, he pushed his concern to the back of his mind.

  He made it through the next week, keeping himself occupied with new legislation and assisting Disraeli. The next Wednesday he worked from home deliberately.

  When Eleanor didn’t appear, Mrs. Campbell came to him.

  “You know I’m not the sort to see omens and signs. It’s a feeling I’ve got, though, and you need to hear. I think something’s wrong. She’s a dear girl and she wouldn’t be doing this to Bruce unless she had no choice.”

  He nodded. He had the same feeling. “Even if we’re right, I’m not sure what we can do about it.”

  “Then I think we need to figure out something,” she said.

  “Aye.” He smiled at his housekeeper. “That we should.”

  Eleanor walked to the window. In the past two weeks this room had become her prison. The view overlooked part of the roof and beyond to the small lawn in the back of the house. From here she could see the path that she’d taken to Queen’s Park. She could almost see the girl she’d been months earlier with Bruce at her side, eagerly escaping through the gate, waiting for Logan, her heart beating fast in excitement and eagerness.

  He’d loved her and she’d gloried in it. Perhaps she should feel some regret. Society had labeled it sinful to love without restraint, to feel that much for a man. If she had the chance she’d do it again and never feel a pinch of shame.

  The memory of that afternoon was the only thing keeping her sane.

  She’d tried screaming the first day, only for Deborah to bring a footman in to bind her wrists and jam a gag in her mouth. A day of that was enough for her to agree not to make a sound if the gag was removed. She doubted anyone could hear her anyway. This room was on the end of the block of townhouses with no nearby structures.

  For two weeks she hadn’t been allowed any books or periodicals. She had been given her nightgowns, but no other change of clothing. No fire was allowed. No hot water was brought to her. The surroundings might be luxurious, but she was treated like a prisoner in all other ways.