The Bride of Devil's Acre (7 page)

Knowing Jacqueline, none of it was true, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was Jacqueline needed his help, and with his daughter’s reputation on the line, Lord Edwards was in no position to refuse his request. “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand. We can be married immediately and put this whole unfortunate business to rest before any more damage is done.”

Lord John sat back and eyed the young man seated across from him. Despite his daughter’s best efforts, he was well aware of Mr. Gates’ suit. He had hesitated doing anything about it because, up until now, there seemed little risk of his daughter settling for the young man.
 

But recent events had changed many things, and it was time to step in.

“Mr. Gates,” Lord John began. Clearing his throat delicately, he released some of the tension from his shoulders and forced a congenial note to his tone. “While I appreciate your offer, I feel duty-bound to tell you…”

Upstairs, Jacqueline remained in bed, despite the late hour. She didn’t feel like getting up; in fact, she didn’t feel like doing much of anything.
 

A slight
thump
, and a gentle dip in the mattress heralded Cat’s arrival. The kitten padded across the bed, unmindful or uncaring as she crawled over Jacqueline and perched herself in front of her mistress.

Purr-meow.

“No.”

Jacqueline would have sworn the cat glared at her.

Meeeooowww
. This time, there was no purring, and Cat punctuated her displeasure by butting her head against Jacqueline’s nose.

Jacqueline closed her eyes, a ghost of a smile drawing up the corners of her mouth at the furry touch.
 

Emme had brought the kitten to Jacqueline that first morning after her return, tucking the motherless animal under her chin, thinking the two females might heal each other.
 

It had worked, until the rumors started.

Adjusting the covers, Jacqueline reached out and scratched Cat under her chin. The animal quickly succumbed, tipping back her head and closing her green eyes.
 

Jacqueline ignored the knock on her door as the purring got louder, and Cat rolled over onto her side.
 

“My lady?” Emme cracked the door and peeked inside. Her mistress hadn’t moved since opening her eyes that morning, and her breakfast sat untouched beside the bed. “My lady, you really must eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jacqueline told her maid.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need to eat,” Emme said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her.
 

“I’ll eat something later,” Jacqueline lied. She didn’t want to eat. She didn’t want to get up or get dressed, either. She just wanted to be left alone.

“You’ll feel better once you get up and eat something,” Emme said. Circling the bed, she picked up an unworn gown, shaking out the light fabric and folding it over her arm. Every day she brought Lady Jacqueline breakfast in bed and laid out her clothes. And every day, they both went untouched.

“No, I won’t,” Jacqueline told Emme. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore. Jacqueline never realized how much hope she had secretly harbored: the idea that one day she would be free from her father, free from the guilt of her mother’s death, and allowed to live a life of her own.
 

But what hope she’d had was gone. Even if her father decided to let her go, there were no one that would take her now. No man wanted a wife soiled by another man, his touch permanently carved into her skin.
 

Jacqueline shuddered.
 

If there were such a man, what then? One day, that skin would stretch with the growing life of his child, the scars twisting grotesquely. Those marks were all any man would ever see. They were all she could see.

You’ll carry me with you forever. Even in death.

Bile burned the back of her throat. Stomach churning, Jacqueline lunged out of bed and reached for the chamber pot.

Emme was there, holding the ceramic pot and rubbing soothing circles along the small of Jacqueline’s back.

But there was nothing for her to throw up. Jacqueline suffered through violent dry heaves, her body trying to rid itself of memories that could not be forgotten so soon.
 

“Thank you,” Jacqueline said, accepting a damp towel and wiping her face.

“This will help,” Emme said, handing Jacqueline a glass of watered wine. “Sip slowly.”

Jacqueline nodded, climbing back into bed and pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emme asked softly, busying herself with tidying the room. It was quick work.
 

“No,” Jacqueline said, and turned her face away.

Distantly, the knocker sounded downstairs. Jacqueline frowned. There had been a noticeable lack of visitors since her return.
 

Emme went to the window. “It’s Mr. Gates,” she said, spying the future earl’s carriage.

Henry. Why would Henry…? Jacqueline jolted. Henry! Of course! If there was one person in this world she could count on, it was Henry.

Jacqueline kicked back the covers. “Help me with my dress, and hurry!”

“Yes, my lady,” Emme said, hiding a smile.
 

Down in Lord Edwards’ study, Henry sat frowning.
 

“You are aware of the rumors?” Lord John asked.

“I don’t believe Lady Edwards was culpable in what happened,” Henry said, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand.

“I am sorry to inform you, but my daughter was very much to blame for what befell her,” Lord John lied.

“I beg your pardon?” Henry sat forward. “I was led to believe that Lady Edwards carriage was attacked.”

“Indeed, the whole thing was staged to look like a kidnapping,” Lord John said, his voice tinged with the appropriate amount of embarrassment. “It seems my daughter has developed a bit of a tender for a man of questionable origins. She knew I would never approve of such a match, and the two of them came up with this bit of fiction. It was only through fortunate circumstances that I was able to catch them before they made it to Scotland.”

Henry collapsed back in his chair. No, it wasn’t possible! Lady Edwards—Jacqueline—the girl he’d grown up with, would never do something so impulsive. Hadn’t he just told her that she needed to stop living a life of duty and follow her heart?

Henry’s heart beat hard in his chest. What if she had taken him at his word, and this was the result? He had always assumed that he had her affection, as sure as she held his heart. But what if that wasn’t true, and that by encouraging her to follow her heart, he had sent her into the arms of another man?

“My lord,” Henry said, and stopped to clear his throat. “Are you sure she…?”

“I’m sure,” Lord John said softly. “I was the one who found them together.”

“I see,” Henry said, his mind working furiously. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. The circumstances didn’t have to change anything. He still wanted Jacqueline. There had never been anyone else for him. He could certainly overlook a moment of weakness, especially one he may have had a hand in.
 

“You said you found them in time?” Henry asked, wondering at the type of man who could persuade the normally stoic Lady Edwards to act so rashly. “If that’s true, then nothing has changed. Lady Edwards remains in need of a husband and a marriage to repair the damage done to her reputation.”

“That is very noble of you,” Lord John said, forcing a sad smile. The boy was tenacious—he’d give him that. But there was one thing no self-respecting man could live with. “However, I cannot expect you to take on another man’s bastard child, and there is every possibility that my daughter is already increasing.”

Henry felt the color drain from his face. “I beg your pardon? I didn’t realize—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gates,” Lord John said, shaking his head sadly. “I love my daughter, and it is for her that I have kept silent about the unfortunate details while I try to figure out what is best. But I cannot let you make such a sacrifice without knowing the extent of Jacqueline’s shame.”

“I see.” Henry rose slowly. “Well, I thank you, my lord, for your time and your honesty.”

Lord John rose, watching his daughter’s childhood friend collect himself. He felt no shame over the lies he told; it was best for Jacqueline. Gates would never be man enough for his daughter.
 

“I’m sure you can understand that under the circumstances, I regret I must withdraw my proposal.” Henry swallowed past the lump the words formed in his throat. “My father would never allow a woman in your daughter’s condition to bear the heir to the Arlington estate.”

“Of course,” Lord John said. H tipped his head in acknowledgment, the gesture masking a flash of satisfaction. “I would do the same, were I in your father’s position.”

Henry nodded and made his way to the door. Halfway across the study, he turned back to find Lord Edwards watching him. “You will give your daughter my regard? I would not have Lady Jacqueline believe I am wholly unsympathetic to her plight.”

“I’m sure she will appreciate the sentiment,” Lord John said.

Benson stepped forward and handed him his hat and gloves.

“Good day, Mr. Gates,” Benson said, eyeing the young man’s pale face.
 

“Thank you, Benson,” Henry said, stepping past him and out into the afternoon.

Heart pounding, Jacqueline waited for the door to close behind Henry before stepping out from beneath the stairs.
 

…under the circumstances I regret I must withdraw my proposal…

Shame heated Jacqueline’s cheeks.

…never allow a woman in your daughter’s condition to bear the heir to the Arlington estate…

Jacqueline reached out a hand to steady herself. Pressing her palm to her stomach, she felt the stiff, new bandage Emme had insisted she wear before putting on her dress. It was a good thing, too. If it weren’t for that small delay, Jacqueline would have rushed headfirst into her father’s study, embarrassing them both in her hurry to see Henry.

“Jacqueline?”

Jacqueline looked up to find her father stepping out of his study, his eyes soft with concern. “Was that Mr. Gates?”

Lord John nodded. “He came by to give his regards. I didn’t think you were receiving visitors.”

“No, no.” Jacqueline forced a smile. “I appreciate you making my apologies.”

“Of course,” Lord John stepped forward and took his daughter’s arm. “Why don’t you join me? I’ll send for tea.”

“You don’t drink tea,” Jacqueline said, letting her father lead her into the library.

“What Englishman doesn’t drink tea?” her father scoffed. Jacqueline took a seat on the couch, watching her father cross the room and give the bellpull a tug. “I just prefer mine with a bit of brandy.”

“Perhaps I should try it,” Jacqueline said, her smile wobbling.

“Or we could skip the tea altogether.”
 

“Papa?” Jacqueline’s voice was childlike in its sadness. “Henry doesn’t want me anymore, does he?”

Lord John crossed the room and knelt down beside his daughter. “Oh, my dear,” he said, taking up one of her delicate hands in his. “Do not concern yourself with Mr. Gates.”

Jacqueline nodded and brushed the tears from her cheek.

“You’ll always have me to take care of you,” Lord John assured his daughter, patting her hand.

Jacqueline forced her smile to stiffen. Looking into her father’s face, she realized it would forever be just the two of them.
 

Unfortunately, forever was a very long time.
 

CHAPTER FIVE

Devil entered Westminster Abbey, taking a moment to close the door quietly behind him. New beeswax and old sin permeated the air as he walked down the aisle, ignoring the high gothic arches and colorful stained-glass windows. Devil slipped into one of the pews and closed his eyes.

The past few weeks had been hell. Word of Lady Edwards’ kidnapping had spread through London like pox on a whore. There were wages in the betting books covering everything from the lady’s first public appearance to whether or not she was increasing, to the exact date she would finally flee London.
 

“Most of my parishioners attend church on Sundays,” Canon Andrew said, taking a seat beside Devil.

“That’s why I come on Wednesdays,” Devil said, opening his eyes.

“It’s never too late to change,” Andrew said, eyeing his friend.

“I know.” Devil searched Andrew’s face. And Andrew knew; Devil could see it in the holy man’s eyes. “But I don’t want to.”

“And no one has ever been able to get you to do something you don’t want to,” Andrew replied. He should know; they’d grown up together. Both boys running wild on the streets. But where Andrew had turned to God, Devil had turned to violence. “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Devil admitted. He hadn’t been sleeping. His dreams, and his nightmares, were plagued by visions of broken women—a long line stretching back to his mother. Noticeably absent was Lady Edwards, but it was just a matter of time before she made an appearance.

“Do you want to talk about it?”
 

“Not if you’re going to lecture me about my wicked ways,” Devil said. News of a nobleman’s daughter being abducted was not something that could be kept quiet. The particulars may not make the morning edition, but there was enough speculation that it would be a long time before the gossip settled and the event passed into history.

“No lecture,” Andrew promised, resting his arm on the back of the pew. “Just a friendly ear and maybe a bit of advice, if you wish.”

Devil was quiet for a moment, raking his hair with his fingers and scratching at his scalp. “Do you think intent matters?” he finally asked.

Andrew paused to consider his answer. “Like many things, it often depends on the circumstances.”

“You know the circumstances,” Devil said. Andrew, better than anyone, knew what he was trying to accomplish, and what drove him.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” Andrew said sadly. “Intent always matters, but God gave us free will, and with it comes responsibility.”