Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 03] (28 page)

“She is Sadie Westmoreland,” Mrs. Blake announced. “An orphan, taken in to be paid companion when my dear Sophie died from influenza.”

“That’s not all,” Tessa said quickly. She prodded the woman’s story with a whisper in her ear.

Mrs. Blake reddened righteously. “Yes, that’s right! She robbed me! Call the watch! I demand justice! She stole two hundred pounds from me!”

Tessa’s voice rang out again, her tone one of razor-sharp scorn. “So that she could come to London and
pretend
to be a lady!”

Sophie lifted her chin, but the curse of the red-haired smote her down. Her fair skin burned like a scarlet beacon, betraying her humiliation and shame.

The titters began from the area of the church where
Lilah was, but she could hardly be blamed for the fact that the laughter spread like a contagion, until the entire room rocked with laughter, either openly or guiltily, but laughing just the same.

Except for Graham.

Graham had gone as white as paper, with only his green eyes shining fury and humiliation at her.

Sadie—for she could own her name now, even in her own mind—watched the love she’d found writhe and die on the floor between them. She’d killed it herself, by filling it with lies.

She was Cinderella with a vengeance—Cinderella who lied, cheated and stole to get to the ball—only to have her own misdeeds shatter her dreams at the stroke of midnight.

She turned from her prince then, for she couldn’t bear to see what she’d lost—or rather, destroyed. Instead, she lifted her chin and gazed down the aisle at the woman she’d learned to despise.

“Mrs. Blake has mistaken one little detail,” she said clearly. “I was
never
paid.”

Behind Graham, the cleric cleared his throat. “Your Grace . . . the ceremony is unfinished. What do you wish me to do?”

At first thought, all Graham felt was blinding relief. He wasn’t married to this creature at all! It wasn’t too late to find a rich wife and save Edencourt and put this whole horrendous day down to muddled thinking, poor decisions made in the devastating grief of losing his entire family. No one would blame him for a thing.

Except that he’d spent last night with Sophie in his bed. He’d lain with her and taken her virginity—she hadn’t lied about that, he knew!—and that left her ruined.

He could almost hear his father’s voice in his mind. “To hell with her then! It’s not as though she’s a lady! She’s just a friendless, nameless girl who tricked you into it. Toss her into the street and think no more of it!”

True enough, as it stood.

Being broke and wed to a thief would destroy him. And Edencourt. He could beggar his house and sell off all his buttons, but that would only feed his folk for one
winter. He needed to restore the estate entirely or it would always be a money drain!

Yet, being ruined and unwed would destroy
her
. Sadie.

When he’d taken her into his arms, he’d been making a vow of sorts, hadn’t he? In his own mind, he’d committed to wed her in that moment.

In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer.

Lifting his gaze, he stared at the stranger before him who wore Sophie’s beautiful face. She gazed back at him, her finely carved features pale as death.

She must have seen his decision in his expression, for she held up a hand to stop him.

Of course, that was only because she didn’t know what the decision was.

“Continue,” he barked at the cleric.

Astonishingly, instead of subsiding now that her cause was won, Sadie Westmoreland only protested further.

“Graham, no! You mustn’t! I can’t help you anymore!”

He ignored her. She tugged her hand, prying at his grip with her free one, trying to liberate herself. “Graham, do not do this! I haven’t a farthing to my name! You need to find someone else, someone rich who can help you save Edencourt!”

Her words meant nothing to him. It was as if she spoke another language altogether. The language of lies, perhaps. It didn’t matter. It was all lies, every word ever spoken on this earth. Nothing was true.

He took her by the arm and turned them both to fully face the priest. “Continue!”

When she protested further, he silenced her swiftly. “Everything is going to be
perfectly fine
.”

A tiny sound escaped her, like the gasp after a death blow. Then she went still and silent. Graham kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to believe in the tears that flowed unceasingly down the exquisite planes of her face.

He remained there, grimly mouthing his vows, until it was over. The cleric blinked at him hesitantly. “Is there a ring, Your Grace?”

His mother’s ring. Graham’s hand went to his waistcoat. He could feel the ring there—the ring he’d so eagerly looked forward to placing on Sophie’s hand, making her his forever and always. It was the perfect “Sophie” ring, simple and elegant and unpretentious—except that Sophie didn’t actually exist.

The damned thing even
fit
the lying, thieving creature, for pity’s sake!

He dropped his hand as if the ring had burned him. “No,” he stated firmly. “I do not have a ring for this woman.”

The cleric hesitated. “Then . . . you may kiss the bride.”

Kiss the bride
. The words took a long moment to sink into Graham’s brain. Then volcanic fury erupted through his icy shock and loss. Yes, by God, he
would
kiss the bride!

There, before God and two hundred witnesses, he pulled his adversary roughly into his arms. Thrusting his fingers deep into her silken pile of hair, he tipped her head back and brought his hard mouth down on her soft one. For a long, passionate moment, he bestowed
upon that beautiful stranger all his rage and pain and thwarted, lost, betrayed love—

And kissed her good-bye.

Then he released her, spun on his heel and strode out of the church without a word.

He had to get away from her, away from those eyes, from that hauntingly elegant face, away from the magnetism that drew him, had always drawn him, had made him feel more alive than he’d ever felt before, had made him believe for the first time that there might be more to people than only sin and selfishness.

You wanted her to be real. You wanted to believe that she was good and true because she was the only person you’ve ever known who didn’t think you were a bloody poor waste of air
.

Who was worse—the liar, or the fool who chose to believe the lies, despite all evidence to the contrary?

His future in ruins, he had no plans but that of getting drunk and staying drunk.

Wolfe, sitting in the back, was doubled over in silently hysterical laughter. Tears of relief streamed down his face.

Stickley gazed at him in horror, but Wolfe only grinned at the partner he so despised.

“I’ve been sober for far too long,” he wheezed when he found the breath. “I think I’m going to have a little drinkie to celebrate the nuptials of the Duke and Duchess of Edencourt.” He let out his breath on a long happy sigh.

No more worries, no more schemes. No plan at all, but that of getting drunk and staying drunk for days!

Sadie slipped out the back of the church, her exit covered by the general hubbub and excitement. Since the St. Mary Abbots church was located solidly in the center of Kensington, it wasn’t a terribly long walk to Mayfair and Brook House.

It only felt like a hundred miles.

As she approached the great house, it occured to her that they might not let her in. After all, she had no claim to relationship and had perhaps criminally defrauded them all in some way.

Yet everything she owned was in that house. She must chance that no one had yet heard the news.

She didn’t have to knock. The door opened onto the sternly handsome face of Fortescue. “Your Grace.”

What was left of Sadie’s shattered heart slithered to her knees. Bad news certainly traveled like lightning.

Yet Fortescue opened the door wide and bowed her through. “Will you be staying long, Your Grace?”

She lifted her chin. There was no judgment in the butler’s eyes. She wondered why. “I only came to gather my things.”

He nodded. “Your dressmaker has already been here. He left word that you are to keep what you were given and that he wishes you well.”

Sadie blinked. She’d not expected such kindness from Lementeur, for him she had defrauded worst of all, except for Graham. Then she remembered his words.

“
A poor Cockney lad who dreamed only of beautiful fabrics and fine lace
.”

Well, perhaps Lementeur, the Liar, who slipped seamlessly into Society on talent alone, knew a bit about playing a part.

Fortescue was gazing at her evenly. There was nothing at all in his smooth face, but somewhere in the back of his eyes she saw . . . empathy? “Fortescue, what am I to do now?”

His lids dropped slightly, shuttering that glint of fellow-feeling. “I’m sure I’m the last person one should ask, Your Grace.”

Should she go to Eden House and play at being its lady? Should she live with Graham in hateful silence for the rest of her life?

Well, it wasn’t likely he’d be willing to live with her, was it? Perhaps there was an empty house, a small one, somewhere on the estate where she could live, a duchess in exile.

A princess in a tower after all.

The first step must be to go upstairs and pack. The next step she would think about when that task was done. Surely if she kept putting one foot in front of the other, she’d walk through all this somehow.

Oh, Graham. Why did you do it? Why did you make
me your duchess? Now I carry all of Edencourt on my conscience as well!

Then to her horror, Sadie saw Deirdre and Phoebe arrive at the rear of the entrance hall. She shot a panicked glance at the still open front door.

The knocker was back in place.

“Their ladyships came home in response to my first messsage,” Fortescue informed her in a low voice. “They were very worried about you.”

They didn’t look worried now. Phoebe, who was sweet-faced and as kind as she was pretty, was blinking at her as if she’d never seen her before.

Deirdre, stunning, golden-haired beauty, was frankly glaring, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed.

Sadie debated running for her life, but since she hadn’t anywhere in particular she needed to be for the rest of that life, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she stood before them both.

Phoebe, who although she was good-natured should never be mistaken for a fool, frowned at her. “Sophie is dead, is that correct?”

Sadie didn’t even bother trying not to laugh bitterly. “I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking. I was brought to Acton nearly a year after the influenza struck. I never even met her.” She tilted her head. “You did, however. When you were about five years old. Mrs. Blake talked about it. Do you remember Sophie?”

Phoebe shook her head regretfully. “No, I don’t.”

Sadie shrugged. “By all accounts, she was a very nice girl. Everyone used to talk about how quiet she
was, but knowing Mrs. Blake, that might have simply been because she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

Deirdre made a derisive noise. “Is that how you talk about your benefactress?”

Sadie gazed at the woman she’d learned so much from. Deirdre had resisted Tessa’s vicious oppression for many years, to emerge whole and victorious in the end. “She was never my mother, Dee. She was my warden.”

Wary sympathy flashed in those sapphire eyes, but stubborn Deirdre wasn’t one to give up that easily. “You lied to us,” she accused. “You lied to
Meggie
.”

Sadie took that blow directly to the heart, just as she deserved to. “I know. I’m sorry. I would not hurt Meggie for anything—”

“You already have!”

“—but since I didn’t know she would take part when I began this, I had no way to prevent it once begun.”

Phoebe leaned to Deirdre. “She has a point.”

Deirdre shook her head. “She doesn’t deserve a point!”

Sadie sighed. “Dee, Phoebe, I’m sorry. What can I do except to apologize?”

Phoebe tilted her head. “I think I’d like to hear the whole story. Dee, tell your magnificent butler to serve us some tea and cakes, will you? I’m absolutely famished and S—the duchess looks as though she’s about to faint.”

Deirdre grimaced. “She always looks like that.” But she waved her fingers at Fortescue anyway. “Put us somewhere quiet, Fort. I have a feeling this will take a while.”

It didn’t, not really. After all, her life had very little to recommend it.

“I was orphaned at the age of seven. I don’t remember my parents at all. I know their names and where they had lived, but it is only information from a piece of paper. I don’t know why that is, but all I remember is the orphanage.”

Phoebe leaned forward sympathetically. “Was it very bad?”

Sadie shrugged. “I had nothing to compare it to. It was very cold in the winter, but we slept two by two. We didn’t go hungry, but the food was very plain. Every day we worked to maintain the orphanage, cleaning and gardening and washing, but it wasn’t brutal work. We weren’t beaten especially, but neither were we educated. I could already read very well, I think, for I used to borrow books from the staff and read whenever I could.”

She gazed at the fire, her thoughts streaming back years. “The worst of it was always the knowledge that we weren’t wanted. Now and then people would come to choose a child for their own. The youngest and prettiest went first.” She tilted the corner of her mouth at Deirdre. “You’d have been gone in a flash.”

Deirdre’s face took on an arrested expression, as if seeing her own status clearly for the first time. “I’m an orphan, too.”

Phoebe smiled slightly. “There but for the grace of God go you,” she misquoted.

Deirdre looked grumpy. “Blast. How am I supposed to sustain my righteous anger now?”

Phoebe patted her hand. “You’ll survive.” She turned to Sadie. “Go on.”

“There isn’t a great deal to tell, I’m afraid. One day, Mrs. Blake’s housekeeper came to take me away. I was very excited. I thought I was going to have a new mother. Instead, she used me as an unpaid servant, a pair of feet to fetch whatever she needed, whenever she needed it. For years I truly tried to please her. Then I stopped attempting the impossible. I began to dream of ways to leave. Four months ago, Tessa sent Sophie’s portion through the post.”