Kathryn Smith (13 page)

It was difficult for Brave to breathe with the rage building inside him. The conversation would be absurd if he didn’t know Rachel, but being as drawn to her as he was, respecting her as he did, it was damn near impossible not to want to pummel the slimy baronet within an inch of his life.

“Now, a man like you wants a pure wife,” Sir Henry continued with an engaging smile. “That don’t mean I’ll stop you from having your fun with Rachel, no, my lord, but I certainly won’t hold you to your offer of marriage.”

“Just what are you getting at, Sir Henry?” His eyes felt so hot he was certain flames must be dancing across his irises.

The stocky man shrugged. “Just that why marry her and be saddled with her for life, when you can have her for as long as you want—for a fee.”

Brave’s heart pounded with the effort to keep from killing Sir Henry. His vision blurred, and for a split second he thought he had burst something in his brain. This…this…
bastard
would sell him Rachel’s body, her innocence, and then sell her again to Charlton.

Understanding came with a rush of dizziness. Sir Henry wasn’t just a despicable bastard, but he hated Rachel with a passion. He didn’t just want to profit from her, he wanted to destroy her.

Why?

Head swimming, he looked for something to grab on to. Sir Henry’s throat was tempting.

Julian came to the rescue.

“Sir Henry, I do believe you misunderstand my friend’s intentions.”

The baronet scowled. “Oh?”

Julian smiled, even though Brave could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. Perhaps Julian would save him the trouble of killing Sir Henry by doing the job himself.

“There have been no nefarious relations between Brave and your stepdaughter. Her honor is quite intact.”

His anger ebbing, Brave almost laughed.
Nefarious?

Sir Henry snorted like the pig he was. “He seriously wants to wed the baggage?”

Julian nodded.

His gaze trailing between the three men, Sir Henry appeared to be looking for some manner of deceit about them. Let him look. At that moment Brave knew there was nothing more honest than his desire to marry Rachel and get her out of this house.

The baronet’s chin jerked up defiantly. “I don’t know if I want to just
give
her away,” he remarked sullenly. “I’ve already been offered a substantial bride-price.”

Every muscle in Brave’s body knotted with barely restrained tension. Now he knew how people could commit murder in a fit of rage.

Julian tried his best to be congenial. “Surely the two of you can—”

“How much?” Brave growled. Every muscle in his body tightened.

Both Sir Henry and Julian jumped at the barked question. Brave relaxed a bit as Gabriel came up beside him, laying a calming hand on his shoulder. He didn’t care if Sir Henry saw how badly he wanted to tear him apart; he
didn’t care what the consequences would be if he decided to do so.

“W…well, there is the cost of the wedding to c…consider.” Sir Henry stuck a finger under his cravat to loosen it and swallowed. “And she’ll need new clothes, and I have my own expenses—”

“I’ll pay for the wedding and anything Rachel needs,” Brave informed him, moving toward him like a cat on a fat mouse. “How much do you want for her?”

Sir Henry stared at Brave’s chin for a few courage-gathering moments before raising his gaze. His eyes were hard, shining with greed and the mistaken idea that
he
held the balance of power between them.

“Ten thousand,” he declared with a smug smile.

Julian gasped. Brave nodded. “Done. I shall have my solicitor draw up the agreement.” He looked down at the baronet. “You realize that you will never get another cent out of me?”

Sir Henry seemed momentarily disappointed, but was too swelled up with his own gluttony for riches to let it last. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

Brave’s eyes narrowed. “And you realize should anything happen to Rachel or her mother between now and the ceremony, I will consider this arrangement null and void.”

“What could possibly happen to them?”

Brave shrugged. “Accidents happen all the time. One of them could fall down the stairs, run into a door…You know how clumsy women can be?” He arched a brow.

Sir Henry flushed a dull red, but nothing else betrayed his guilt. “Indeed I do, Lord Braven.”

“Good. Now that I’m certain my future countess is in safe hands, I will bid you good day. Let us go, Angelwood, Wolfram.”

Gabriel and Julian bowed to Sir Henry. Brave turned on
his heel without extending the same courtesy. He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to leave a place in all his life.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Braven,” Sir Henry called after him. “But better the chit under your roof than mine.”

Brave flashed a cold smile over his shoulder. “Sir Henry, I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Y
ou look so beautiful.”

Lifting her gaze to the mirror, Rachel looked first at her mother’s beaming reflection before settling on her own more sedate countenance.

She did look nice, but
beautiful
?

Annie had piled her hair artfully up onto the back of her head. A fine dusting of powder took the shine from her nose and added a touch of pearl to her cleavage. A heavier mixture worked to disguise the discoloration on her cheek. The bruise hadn’t turned ugly, and was fading, but it was still noticeable. Annie had done an excellent job of concealing it. Her eyelashes had been darkened just a touch to offset the pale powder, her lips—now healed—touched by the softest of pink creams.

The Wycherley sapphires had arrived by footman earlier that afternoon. A brief note from Brave stating that he believed the stones came close to matching the brilliance of her eyes accompanied the heavy oak box. Rachel had gasped
when she opened the lid. She’d never seen so many gems in her life. She shivered as the cool necklace, set in platinum, settled against her skin. The earbobs were heavy on her lobes and dangled against her neck in a way that made her want to swing her head, just to watch them sparkle.

Mrs. Ford had made certain her evening gown was ready in time for that evening. She and Belinda had been right about the color. The rich, dark blue silk brought out the darkness of her eyes and made her skin seem as pale as alabaster. It completed her transformation from plain Rachel Ashton to elegant stranger. She could scarcely believe her eyes.

Would Brave find her beautiful? She stared at her reflection with a growing sense of hope. Surely a man who took notice of a woman’s eyes took more than a passing interest in her appearance? She’d only seen him once since his proposal—in church the morning the first of the banns was read. Everyone had stared at them as their names floated out above the congregation. Rachel had flushed scarlet under the scrutiny, the scratchy, incoherent whispers buzzing around her. But Brave had smiled that little smile of his and gazed upon her as though their marriage was more than just a sham. He’d given her strength to face the gossips.

“It was very thoughtful of the earl to have the jewelry sent over for you.” Marion smoothed the front of her chocolate-velvet gown. She looked lovely—the mother Rachel liked to remember from her childhood.

Rachel shrugged. She didn’t want to believe Brave might actually care about her feelings. She shouldn’t wonder if he would be affected by her appearance. To do so might lead to thinking that he cared about
her
, and she couldn’t allow herself to forget just why he was marrying her. Even if he did think her eyes were more vibrant than the beautiful sapphires that glittered against her skin.

“It was a nice gesture, but I’m afraid it’s going to give our guests the impression that the marriage is more than what it
is. People might think it’s a love match.” Indeed, she was having trouble herself remembering that it wasn’t.

Her mother regarded her strangely. “Of course,” she replied softly before looking away.

Rachel shot her a sidelong glance. “What?”

Marion’s face was pulled tight with concern. “Would it really be so horrible if you fell in love?”

“If he wasn’t in love with me, yes.” She stood, the rustle of silk like music to her ears as she moved toward her mother.

“What if he loved you, too?” Her expression was as hopeful as a child arguing the existence of unicorns.

Picking a speck of lint off her mother’s shoulder, Rachel smiled ruefully. “What if he did? Who would look after you? The whole idea behind this marriage is to get you away from Sir Henry. We can’t do that from a mile away.”

Her hand was brushed away with an impatient frown. “Am I so frail and weak that I need to be taken care of?”

“Mama—”

“Do not try to cajole me as though
I
were the child and you the parent, Rachel.” Marion glided toward the window, giving Rachel a clear view of her squared shoulders.

“That is not what I meant—”

Her mother whirled around. “I have enough guilt in my life without you adding to it by sacrificing the chance to have a life of your own.” Her hand sliced through the air like a blade. “I’ll go through the scandal of divorce if it comes to that, but I’ll not have you martyring yourself in the process!”

Rachel smiled. “Yes, Mama.” But there was a hard lump in her throat, for despite her mother’s impassioned speech, Rachel knew she would never be able to pursue her own life until she knew her mother was safe from Sir Henry.

Before Marion could reply, the bedroom door came banging open, revealing Sir Henry’s corpulent form. Rachel
placed herself in front of her mother and met her stepfather’s dark gaze with challenge in her own.

“I thought I’d find you two in here,” he boomed, looking them both over from head to toe. “We’re going to be late if you two don’t get yourselves downstairs in the next two minutes!”

Collecting their wraps and reticules, Rachel and her mother strode toward the door. Rachel guided Marion to her husband. Her mother’s expression was guarded, but Rachel regarded her stepfather with a mixture of amusement and defiance. “How colorful,” she commented drily.

He puffed up like a peacock. “Yes, it is rather splendid, isn’t it?”

Rachel curved her lips into a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Indeed.”

Despite his penny-pinching when it came to his family, Sir Henry had no trouble spending money on himself. His clothes were beautifully tailored, if not better suited for a much younger, much more flamboyant gentleman. His cravat was intricately tied, his shirt points so high on his cheeks that he could scarce move his head. His coat was dark blue velvet, paired with a silver-and-green-striped waistcoat. His pantaloons were custard yellow, and so snug they revealed every nook and cranny of his lower body. There were some things, Rachel thought with a shudder, that were better left to the imagination.

“Well, we’d better not keep the earl and his guests waiting any longer,” Marion remarked, taking her husband’s arm.

“Just a minute,” Sir Henry barked, shaking free of her grip. “I want a word with Rachel.”

Marion’s worried glance darted between Sir Henry and her daughter. Rachel waved her on her way.

“We’ll be down in a minute, Mama.” She gave her a reassuring smile.

Her mother hesitated, but turned and left the room. Sir Henry closed the door behind her.

“What do you want, Sir Henry?” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. “I assume this isn’t going to be a touching father-to-daughter talk?”

He shook a finger at her. “One day that smart mouth is going to get you in some serious trouble, missy.”

Rachel shrugged. “But not today. What do you want?”

Straightening his waistcoat, Sir Henry didn’t even glance in her direction.

“I wanted to tell you to be a good wife to Lord Braven.” He tugged on his cuffs. “He paid a lot of money for you—”

It felt as though someone just dropped a bucket of ice water down her back. “He what?”

Her stepfather finally looked up, a confused expression on his full face. “You didn’t think I’d let you go for nothing, did you?”

Rachel couldn’t believe her ears. Brave had paid for her? Of course. Charlton would have always been there with a “loan” whenever Sir Henry wanted it, but Brave wouldn’t feed her stepfather’s greed. Sir Henry had seized the chance to get whatever he could from the earl now. How was she ever going to repay Brave for his kindness? She had nothing to offer him, and so far he had already given her so much.

“You know, coming from some fathers, that statement would have almost been sweet, but not from a greedy bastard like you.”

Sir Henry’s face darkened with rage. His nostrils flared as he raised his hand to strike her. “You ungrateful little bitch!” Then he flinched, as though he remembered something and lowered his fist.

“How much did he pay you?”

He glanced at her in disgust. “More than your true worth, that’s for certain.”

Despite her alarm at being placed even further in debt to Brave, Rachel couldn’t help but smile wryly. “That little?” She took a step forward. “Have you always hated me, Sir Henry?”

He didn’t even seem surprised by her question. In fact, his expression indicated that he believed she already knew the answer.

“Yes,” he replied gruffly. “I thought it would pass, but you were a reminder of your father. Your mother went on constantly about how much you resembled him. She doted on you—more than she ever doted on me, and it was all because you were
his
daughter.”

His gaze met hers with a blazing hate that frightened her. His hands clenched into tight fists. “She could never love me while you were around, reminding her of him. Once you’re gone, she’ll love me again.” The way he said it made it sound like a warning.

Rachel could have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t made her mother’s life such a living hell. She shook her head at him. “She’ll never love you again, Sir Henry. You beat that out of her.”

He blanched as she spoke. “I’ll make her love me again,” he insisted. “I don’t care if it kills me.”

Rachel strode past him to the door, yanking it open in an effort to burn off some of her anger. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“If only it would, Sir Henry. It would make all our lives so much happier.”

“Having second thoughts?”

Brave rubbed his hand. Sir Hugh had nearly crushed his fingers with his enthusiastic congratulations.

“Would you be more at ease if I were, Gabe?” he asked with a smile, turning to face his friend.

“I would worry less.” The darker man tugged at his cuff. “Christ, Brave, you’re getting married, and you act like it means nothing. Nothing.”

Oh it meant a lot more than nothing. Brave realized that in church the morning the banns were read. All those speculative gazes, Rachel’s blush, and the whispers—some of which were far from kind—had made him want to wrap his arms around his betrothed and protect her from those who would dare slight her in any way. She’d suffered enough at their hands by coming to church with her lip swollen and bruised. She hadn’t needed any more indignity added to injury.

Brave took his friend’s arm and steered him away from the heavy traffic of the ballroom to a darkened corner near the top of the stairs. The house hadn’t originally been built with a ballroom, so Brave’s father had renovated several rooms on the first floor to suit the purpose. From where they stood, they could watch as guests strolled through the great hall and keep an eye out for Rachel when she arrived, but remain relatively unnoticed themselves.

The servants had gone above and beyond their duties with the preparations for tonight’s festivities. They’d wanted to show him how much they supported him, how pleased they were he’d decided to wed. It had worked. Brave was touched by their efforts.

He was also touched that Gabriel and Julian had changed their plans in order to attend the party. They’d postponed their trip to Julian’s property, deciding to return to Yorkshire for their hunting trip after Letitia’s birthday. They would remain at Wyck’s End until the day of the wedding.

“I’m aware of the impact my wedding to Rachel will have, my friend,” Brave replied in a hushed voice as they stepped into the shadows. “It means that soon Sir Henry will never strike Rachel or her mother again. I’d hardly call that ‘nothing.’”

“But is that noble cause truly your reason for wanting to
marry her?” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. His expression dared Brave to argue.

Brave met his friend’s gaze evenly despite the erratic pounding of his heart. “What other reason would I possibly have?”

“How long has it been since you’ve bedded a woman?” Gabriel countered. “Eighteen months?”

Thankful that his friend couldn’t see his face flush in the dim light, Brave averted his gaze. “A little more.”

“Your cause is a noble one, my friend, but can you honestly tell me you have not thought of Rachel Ashton in your bed?”

“Yes.” His voice was a harsh whisper. On the floor, against a wall, in the dirt even, but not yet in his bed.

In his mind he had dug his fingers into her soft flesh, tasted the sweat on her skin, driven himself into her until they were both sore and exhausted. But such fantasies served nothing but to make him frustrated and irritable. The idea that he would soon have her only made the ache worse.

“You lie.”

Brave’s head whipped around at the soft accusation. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped, angry that he had been so transparent.

“So I see.” Gabriel’s tone was nonchalant, but his gaze was scrutinizing. “Obviously I have overstepped my bounds. My apologies.”

Brave nodded curtly. If Gabe was the one apologizing, why did he feel so foolish?

The silence between them was strained. Brave gazed into the shadows behind them while Gabriel studied the toe of his shoe.

“This is ridiculous!” Brave sighed and massaged his forehead with his right hand. The other rested on his hip beneath his jacket.

“Gabe, why are we arguing?”

“Because I accused you of being too cavalier about your
wedding,” his friend replied, leaning his shoulder against the staircase. “I realize now that you are not as unaffected as I believed. Quite the opposite, really.”

Chuckling humorlessly, Brave met his gaze. “Trust me, I am not immune to Rachel’s charms; but I know what I’m doing, Gabe. I’m not going to make a mess of things this time.”

Strong fingers gripped his shoulders as Gabriel stepped forward. “My friend, you have often taken on more responsibility than your share, and I have seen you carry more guilt than was rational, but I’ve never seen you make a mess of anything you set out to do. In fact, you often take it to the opposite extreme.”

Brave smiled wearily. “I hope you are right.”

A cocky grin lit up Gabriel’s face. “I usually am.”

The sound of another arrival caught their attention. Brave’s heart began to pound in his chest. She was here.

Sir Henry and Marion came up the stairs first. Sir Henry was dressed like a dandy while Rachel’s mother was the picture of understated elegance. She was a frail-looking little woman, but Brave detected a resemblance between mother and daughter around the eyes and mouth.