Chapter Four
“Do nothing to disgrace my name,” Alderley said. “Do you hear?”
He leaned forward. “I’ll hear you say it, girl.”
Wilkes gripped Meggie’s wrist until tears of pain stung in her eyes.
“Yes, Papa.”
Alderley’s eyes darkened at her flash of defiance. But if she were to be sold as chattel by virtue of being his daughter, then the devil take him if he expected her to address him by his title.
Wilkes released her, and she slumped back in her seat as the carriage swayed to and fro en route to the chapel.
For the past week, she’d been living in a cottage on the Alderley estate, hidden from the main house. Wilkes attended her daily. Her ‘personal footman,’ Alderley had described him. In reality, he was her gaoler, threatening her with punishment if she tried to flee—a punishment he’d carried out with relish.
Instinctively she pulled her sleeve down. The delicate lace cuffs on her bridal gown almost obscured the bruise on her wrist.
Alderley had made it plain that he’d have Mrs. Preston’s school burned to the ground if she defied him.
The carriage halted outside the chapel. Wilkes climbed out, pulling her with him, and led her to the chapel door.
“Give her to me, Wilkes,” Alderley said. “Remain by the door in case of trouble.”
He glanced at Meggie, and she lowered her gaze. What was the point in causing more trouble? It would only earn her another bruise.
Alderley took her wrist and squeezed the bones together.
“Remember what I said,” he hissed.
She nodded, and they set off down the aisle.
A lone woman sat in the front pew, dressed in a crimson gown, and matching wide-brimmed hat. It must be Meggie’s half-sister, the honorable Elizabeth. She glanced over her shoulder, a sneer on her face, then resumed her attention on the front of the chapel.
Four men stood at the end of the aisle, including the vicar, holding an open bible in his hand. Meggie recognized the man to his left as Alderley’s steward. The other two had their backs to her. As Alderley pulled her along, her feet tripping as she tried to keep up, one of them turned and looked at her.
He had an open, expressive face, framed with light blonde hair. Soft, brown eyes crinkled into a warm smile, and she could have wept with relief. Her fears had been unfounded. Friendly, welcoming, and kind—before her stood a man with whom she had a chance at happiness.
He nudged his companion, who turned and stared at her.
The second man stood half a head taller. Thick, dark hair framed angular features. Dark brows formed a slash across his face. His mouth, full and sensual, creased into a scowl. Cold blue eyes fixed on her, anger in their expression. She shivered as if all warmth had been sucked out of the air.
He looked as if he lived in perpetual shadow as if a thundercloud hung continually above him.
In short, he looked the very embodiment of the devil.
A cold slab of ice solidified in her stomach, and she caught her breath and stopped.
Alderley tightened his grip.
“Do not disgrace me, girl.”
The devil’s eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed into a frown. His jaw gave a tic as if he clenched his teeth. Meggie bit her lip to control her fear and resumed walking. He continued to stare at her, and her skin tingled as if his gaze burned. But she swallowed her concern and focused her attention on his companion. Surely, he was the groom. The devil did not seem the type of man who’d be bested in a game of cards.
Or in anything.
The angel made no move.
The vicar coughed, and the angel nodded and stepped aside, leaving her alone, standing beside the devil.
Dear god!
She had to crane her neck to see him. He had resumed his original position, body stiff, staring over the vicar’s head, as if the whole ceremony bored him.
But he was not bored. His body vibrated with anger—shoulders stiff, arms by his sides, hands fisted.
She didn’t know what was more frightening—the fury he harbored or his ability to suppress it almost to invisibility.
And in a matter of moments, she would belong to him.
Chapter Five
As the vicar droned on, Dexter glanced at his wife.
Such a miserable-looking creature! What the devil had she to complain about? She was being lifted from poverty and illegitimacy.
He was the one with cause to be miserable.
But it wasn’t her fault. She was just a pawn in Alderley’s game, to best his enemy and win back his fortune.
Curse it! Dexter had been so diligent at feigning boredom that he’d missed most of what had been said, including his bride’s name.
She was speaking now. Her voice was softer than he’d expected—unlike the throaty rasps of the women in the village he’d grown up in.
The vicar resumed his speech, and Dexter glanced at her. She seemed to have withdrawn into herself as if she were trying to disappear. Were she capable of that, Dexter’s problems would be solved, and he could return to London with Oliver and enjoy a night’s hard drinking.
She clutched the posy in front of her, knuckles white as her fingers curled round the stems. Not the expensive hothouse orchids Elizabeth had always demanded, but a simple array of wildflowers and grasses procured from a hedgerow. She lifted her hand and caressed one of the blooms, her fingertips tracing an outline of one of the petals.
An almost unnoticeable gesture, but one which conveyed tenderness. Had Dexter possessed a heart, the simple act might have touched it.
But he didn’t. Hearts were for weaklings.
She lowered her hand again, and he glimpsed a darkening bruise on her wrist, not entirely concealed by the lace of her cuff. He cleared his throat, and her body stiffened. She moved the posy to hide the mark.
The chapel fell silent, and then the vicar closed his bible with a snap.
“Are we done?” Dexter asked.
The vicar nodded.
“Thank God. Then we can leave.”
He reached for his bride’s hand, then drew back, remembering the bruise.
“Follow me,” he growled.
He retraced his steps along the aisle, not bothering to look back. Soft footsteps followed him. At least she understood her vow of obedience. And the greater the distance he put between himself and the Alderleys, the better. With luck, he need never see Elizabeth or her father again.
Alderley stepped out of his pew and blocked Dexter’s path.
“Where are you going, Hart?” he asked.
“I’m anxious to return to London.”
“You must grace us with your presence at the hall,” Alderley replied, “for the wedding breakfast. My home is at your disposal—at least, for the next hour.”
“For what purpose?”
“Honor,” Alderley said. He lowered his voice. “Did you not demand it of me as part of our arrangement? I would not have you claim that I broke my word.”
“You sound reluctant, Father-in-law,” Dexter said.
Alderley flinched at the address, and Dexter smiled inwardly at the man’s discomfort. Alderley may have foisted his by-blow on him, but he’d forever suffer the indignation of their being related by marriage.
“Say what you like of me, Hart,” Alderley said, “but let it not be said that I was ungracious in victory.”