Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (34 page)

They were wealthy. Weren’t they?

Before she could scoot into the parlor, Alice and Lambert bustled down the stairs. They appeared happy and excited.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Alice cooed as she reached the bottom.

“You’re being overly kind,” Faith replied. “If you were honest you’d realize I’m a complete mess.”

Alice had loaned Faith a gown for the wedding. It was a flattering blue shade that should have set off the color of her eyes and the auburn in her hair, but she was cold and nervous, pale and trembling. No amount of blue fabric could fix her reduced condition.

“No, no, you look fabulous,” Alice insisted. “What’s your opinion, Lambert?”

“Yes, you’re very pretty, Faith.” He noticed the file. “What have you there?”

“A man from town brought it. He was sent by your solicitor.”

“My solicitor!” Lambert laughed. “Isn’t it just like the rude oaf to bother me on my wedding day?”

He adroitly slid the file from her hand to his own, and he gave it to a passing servant, murmuring orders for it to be taken to the library. As it vanished down the hall, she nearly called for the servant to halt, nearly demanded a delay so she could study the documents.

But had she the right to request it? She wasn’t Lambert’s wife yet and had no idea what was allowed and what wasn’t. If he refused to let her, they’d quarrel as they were leaving for the church. She couldn’t bear to.

Besides, it was ten-thirty, and the vicar was meeting them promptly at eleven. If she dithered they’d be late, and it seemed an evil portent to be late for one’s wedding.

When Lambert turned to Faith again, he was all smiles. “Let’s be off, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s go,” Alice said. “You two are my favorite people in the entire world. I can’t wait for you to tie the knot.”

They started out, Lambert easing Faith along as if she were a sheep and he a sheep dog, guiding her in the proper direction. The carriage was in the drive, and Lambert helped Faith climb in, then Alice. She and Alice sat together, and Lambert sat on the seat across. The driver clucked to the horses, and the vehicle rolled away.

“What was in that file, Lambert?” Faith casually asked. “The man who delivered it advised me it was foreclosure documents.”

“It’s an annoying situation with one of your father’s old warehouses.”

“Is someone foreclosing on it?”

“He’s trying to, but there was a mix-up in the payments. The fellow contends he wasn’t fully compensated, but he definitely was. I believe his employees are embezzling and that’s why there’s no record on his end.”

“Embezzling! My goodness.” Faith assessed him, not certain what to think. “What about your solicitor? His clerk claimed he hasn’t been paid either.”

“Why would I pay him when he’s made such a muck of the whole debacle? If he’d been doing his job—which he hasn’t been—I wouldn’t be having these problems.”

Alice said, “Your father left things in such a tangle, Faith.”

“My father left a tangle?”

“Yes, and Lambert has been an absolute angel in straightening it out. He’s worked himself to the bone over it.”

“Has he?”

Her father had left his businesses in disarray? He’d left bills owing and accounts not balanced? It didn’t sound true, and she couldn’t imagine him mismanaging any venture, but then she’d been away for years. Any catastrophe could have unfolded.

“Could I see the estate books once we’re home?” she inquired.

“Of course,” Lambert blithely responded, “but can we enjoy our wedding breakfast first?”

“It doesn’t have to be today,” she said. “I’d simply like to have a better understanding of our financial affairs.”

She’d never read an account ledger in her life, and even if she perused one she doubted she’d grasp what the numbers were telling her.

“I hate to admit it to you, Faith,” he retorted, “but we’re in a bit of a quandary. Your father was in debt when he passed away.”

“He was?”

“Yes. He had several mortgages and had made some bad investments.”

“My father?”

“Yes, but I’ll have the trouble fixed very soon.”

“How will you do that?” Faith asked.

“Lambert is so clever,” Alice interjected. “He’s brimming with remarkable ideas.”

“Yes, that’s me, a veritable economic genius.” Lambert chuckled glibly, then shifted the topic to frivolous matters: the scenery along the road, what dishes Cook might prepare for their breakfast.

Shortly they arrived at the church and went inside. The place was empty except for two elderly ladies who were quietly praying. Alice, Lambert, and Faith walked down the aisle and sat in the front pew.

In a few minutes, the vicar appeared. Lambert jumped up to greet him, looking giddy and relieved and delighted, while Faith was exhausted and wary and perplexed.

Why was she so hesitant? If she wasn’t sure, she had to speak up and announce that she couldn’t continue. Was that what she wanted? Would she embarrass Lambert and disgrace herself?

She couldn’t decide the best course and was so overwhelmed that she felt dizzy.

Lambert pulled her to her feet. Her hands were like ice, and she was trembling.

“Faith!” he said. “You’re shaking! What’s wrong? You’re not afraid, are you? Tell me you’re not. I’ll be horribly crushed if you are.”

Alice stood too, and she moved so she was very close to Faith, her skirt brushing Faith’s own.

“Don’t be scared, Faith,” Alice said. “It’s easy to repeat the vows, and the ceremony goes very quickly.”

“Not
too
quickly, I hope,” Lambert jested. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for an eternity. I plan to enjoy every second.” He slipped her quaking hand into the crook of his arm and leaned nearer. “It will be over before you know it.”

“Yes, I’m certain it will be,” she murmured.

He faced the vicar. “We’re ready, sir.”

The vicar stared at Faith. “Are
you
ready, Miss Newton? You seem a tad under the weather. Do you wish to proceed?”

Faith gaped at the minister, at Lambert, at Alice. They were all smiling, all optimistic and eager to help her become a bride. What reason was there
not
to proceed?

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” he beamed. “Then let’s begin.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lambert clutched Faith’s hand as tightly as he could, almost as if he worried she might float away. Very soon the ceremony would be over, and she’d be his bride. Her dowry was so near to being his, he could practically smell the money that would flow into his bank account.

Then…ah…then the pressure would ease.

“Mr. Newton?”

He realized the vicar was speaking. “Yes?”

“The vows are important. Please pay attention.”

“I most humbly apologize.”

“It’s all right,” the vicar said. “The notion of matrimony can be alarming to some men, but it’s really not that bad.”

Lambert smiled a fake smile. “I’m not alarmed. I’m very, very happy that Faith and I are finally marrying. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

He glanced down at Faith, but she appeared catatonic and didn’t reflect—by the slightest blink of a lash—that she agreed with him.

“What was the question again?” he asked the vicar.

“Do you, Lambert Newton, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“Yes, I absolutely do.”

The vicar nodded, then went off on a lengthy diatribe about being
richer and poorer
, about
sickness and health
.

Lambert was struggling to focus, anxious to reply in the correct spots, when the door at the rear of the church banged open. Someone stomped in, and the vicar scowled and peered back, momentarily losing his place in the text.

Two men marched down the aisle. They were handsome, tall, broad in the shoulder, slim in the waist. They were armed to the teeth, pistols, knives, and swords strapped to their bodies. They’d brazenly carried in the weaponry, not concerned in the least that the building was a house of worship.

For a horrifying instant, Lambert wondered if they’d been sent by his creditors, but the man in front—who was obviously the leader of the pair—said, “Faith!”

She turned toward him in slow motion. “Mr. Hubbard?”

“Tell me the ceremony’s not over. Tell me we made it in time.”

“Sir!” The vicar snapped his prayer book closed. “We are in the middle of a wedding, and you’ve interrupted.”

“Yes, I have,” Mr. Hubbard brazenly retorted. “Have you gotten to the part yet where you ask if there are any objections to the match?”

“Well…ah…no,” the vicar stammered.

“Then I must inform you that I plan to protest.”

“On what grounds?” the vicar inquired.

“On the grounds that she’s mine”—he pointed at Lambert—“and this dolt can’t have her.”

“How dare you!” Lambert said, while the vicar said, “This is most improper.”

Mr. Hubbard grinned. “If you think my interrupting is improper, just wait until you discover what I intend to do next.”

He wedged himself between Lambert and Faith, separating them as cleanly as if he’d used a knife to slice through their bond.

“Let’s go, Faith,” he said.

His command yanked her out of her stupor.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m kidnapping you,” he unabashedly claimed, “to prevent this marriage, which would be a grave mistake.”

“Of all the nerve!” Lambert griped.

Alice made a shooing motion with her fingers. “Go away, Mr. Hubbard! I warned you not to bother Faith again.”

“You know this blackguard?” Lambert asked Alice.

“No…um…yes. Maybe.”

Mr. Hubbard rounded on her. “If it isn’t the grieving widow. What was Faith’s opinion of my prior visit? Why am I certain you never told her about it?”

Alice’s eyes flashed daggers, but she managed to choke out, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I just bet you don’t,” Mr. Hubbard scoffed.

“She told me,” Faith said. “What gall you have to come to my home and try to extort money from me.”

“What?” Mr. Hubbard frowned ferociously.

Faith poked an angry finger at his chest. “You can beg me—the rest of your miserable life, if need be—to reimburse you for bringing me to England, but I’d rather jump off a cliff than pay you a single penny.”

Hubbard studied her as if she was deranged, then he shook his head and laughed. “Was that her story? That I was begging for money?”

“Yes, and I will never, ever give you a farthing.”

Hubbard leaned in so they were nose to nose. “I didn’t ask for money. I intended to propose, but this witch”—he rudely gestured to Alice—“claimed I was out of luck because you were
already
married to your cousin.”

Now it was Faith’s turn to ask, “What?”

“She was very sorry to inform me that you were away on your honeymoon.”

“Alice!” Faith scolded.

“So,” Mr. Hubbard continued, “I slithered off like a whipped dog only to learn from Rowena that the wedding is today. I hurried back, but the entire journey I was pondering why your stepmother would work so hard to keep us apart.”

They all spun to Alice, and she looked stricken, like a deer caught in the carriage lamp.

“Well, Alice?” Faith said. “Explain yourself.”

Alice wrung her hands, and she was checking the doors as if she’d like to race out and escape. Ultimately she stated, “You have to marry Lambert.”

“I have to?” Faith said.

“Yes.”

“Pardon me, Alice,” Faith said, “but I was laboring under the impression that I’m a free and independent adult and I don’t
have
to do anything.”

“We need the money,” Alice blurted out.

“Alice!” Lambert snapped. “Be silent.”

Lambert started toward Alice, but before he could reach her, Mr. Hubbard blocked his path and stepped to Alice himself, demanding, “What money would that be, Mrs. Newton, for I have always considered Faith to be poor as a church mouse.”

“Oh…oh…” Alice wailed. “You must ask Lambert. He’s so much cleverer than I am.”

Attention shifted to Lambert, and he said, “Alice is mad as a hatter.”

“I am not,” Alice grumbled.

Faith glared at Lambert. “What is she talking about?”

“How would I know?” Lambert insisted, stalling, frantically wondering how to fix the mess. “You’re aware of how foolish Alice can be.”

It wasn’t an answer Faith would accept, and she advanced on Alice. “What money, Alice? Just tell me.”

Without hesitation, Alice blabbed his secret. “Your dowry, you ninny.”

“I don’t have a dowry,” Faith said.

“Yes, you do,” Alice replied, “and I’m certain you’ll use it to help us. You’re kind, Faith. You always have been. Think of
my
plight. Think of my girls. Lambert can only help me if
you
help me first.”

“I’m guessing it’s locked in a trust,” Mr. Hubbard said to Faith, “and your cousin can’t get his hands on it unless he weds you. He must be beggared. Have you checked the account books since you’ve been home?”

“No,” Faith mumbled.

Mr. Hubbard scowled at Alice. “If you two are so determined, it must be a large amount.”

“It’s very large,” Alice confessed.

“Alice, cease your yapping!” Lambert barked.

His rough language had the vicar bristling. “Mr. Newton! That’s enough.” He glowered at the assembled group and announced, “Obviously there are serious issues to be resolved before I can pronounce you man and wife. This ceremony is over.”

He stomped off, exited out a side door, and headed for the rectory.

“It appears, Faith,”—Mr. Hubbard’s grin widened—“that you’re not married
and
that you’re suddenly an heiress.”

“I’m not an heiress,” she said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re wrong. I’m positive you’re very rich, so my kidnapping you is even more fitting.”

With the inane remark deftly hurled, Hubbard grabbed Faith and hoisted her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of flour.

“Put me down!” she shrieked.

“No. Ralston,” he said to his companion, “watch my back.”

“I will.”

“Follow us in a few minutes, but when you leave make sure this idiot can’t come after us.” The
idiot
to whom he referred was Lambert. “Tie him up if you have to.”