Barbara Pierce (27 page)

“Good grief, Tem, when you make a mess of things you do not do it by degrees.” Fayre groaned in frustration. She was not happy with Fayne. He had adeptly neutralized her unkind opinion of a lady she had been prepared to hate, and actually had her feeling sympathetic toward her. She lightly punched him on the shoulder. “You are fortunate I love you. How can Maccus and I help Lady Kilby?”

Mr. Brawley, or Mac as he had insisted that she call him, had been correct about his wife and Fayne. Their private argument might have gotten rather spirited, but it was blessedly brief. When Fayne and Lady Fayre returned, his sister actually apologized for her rudeness. Kilby discreetly glanced at Fayne, wondering what he had revealed to his sister to change her opinion.

Since she had explained to Mac the unfortunate circumstances with her brother, the men immediately began to form a plan.

“Someone needs to ride to Ealkin and collect Gypsy before Nipping thinks to use her against Kilby,” Fayne explained to his family. “With your permission, I’d like to send one of your servants off to get a message to Ramscar.
The man is responsible and good with children,” he added, hoping to ease Kilby’s concerns. “He could slip Gypsy out from under your brother’s nose if need be.”

“Wait.” There had been a sudden change of plan and Fayne had failed to discuss it with her. “I thought we were going to collect her? Gypsy might not go willingly with a stranger.”

Both men ignored her. Lady Fayre shrugged and patted her hand sympathetically. Clearly she was used to these overbearing males. “I have my maid preparing a bedchamber for you,” the other woman confided to her.

Kilby tore her gaze away from the gentlemen, who were arbitrarily making plans without consulting her, and tried to concentrate on what his sister was offering. “You are too generous, Lady Fayre. However, I would not want to impose.”

“It is no trouble,” Lady Fayre assured her. “I am also having her lay out a few dresses.”

“But—”

Before Kilby could refuse, the other woman glanced knowingly at the blanket that concealed the damage done to her bodice, and wrinkled her nose. “Do not argue. You cannot continue your journey wearing a ruined dress. The blood splattered on the front will draw unnecessary notice.”

“Forget Ramscar,” Mac was telling Fayne. “I’ll collect the girl.”

“Do I not get a say in this matter? I am, after all, Gypsy’s sister,” Kilby testily reminded them. Had they forgotten she was in the room?

Mac winked at her. “Trust me, Lady Kilby. Your sister will be safe in my care.”

Fayne was taken aback by his brother-in-law’s offer. “There is no need to involve yourself. Once I contact Ramscar—”

“There is no time to track down your friend,” Mac said
tersely. “I’ll retrieve little Gypsy from Ealkin, and then bring her back here. No one will think to search for the child here.”

It was a very generous offer. Still, Kilby did not understand why they could not go to Ealkin themselves. “Fayne, why do we not col—” She gritted her teeth, when he silenced her with a gesture.

“It was not my intention to involve you and Fayre so deeply,” Fayne admitted, though he seemed relieved. “Nevertheless, we are grateful.”

Mac accepted Fayne’s thanks with a courteous nod of his head. “You are family, Carlisle. Besides, Fayre and I could use the practice.”

Kilby glanced questioningly at Lady Fayre, who was blushing profusely.

A huge grin broke across Fayne’s face. Whooping, he crossed over to his sister and picked her up. “And you said nothing, you little minx!” He hugged her tightly and spun her around.

“Easy, Tem. My stomach is always unsettled these days,” Lady Fayre warned, her green eyes sparkling with joy. “I take it you are pleased with our news?”

Fayne gently placed his sister on her feet again. He kissed her lovingly on the forehead. “You are making me an uncle. I cannot think of any better news.”

Unexpectedly, Lady Fayre looked over at Kilby. “Oh, I am positive you will come up with something,” she said enigmatically.

Fayne extended his hand to his brother-in-law, and they shook. “Congratulations, Brawley. Good thing the duke did not manage to shoot you, after all, eh?”

“Something for which I am eternally grateful,” Mac said wryly.

Kilby rose from her chair. “Best wishes to you both,”
she said to the Brawleys. She was tired of Fayne’s ignoring her and she meant to do something about it. “Your Grace, I am concerned about the time.”

Fayne always knew she was annoyed at him when she started addressing him formally. In an attempt to appease her, he came over and put his arm around her. Kilby blinked in surprise that he would so boldly declare their intimacy. She had only told Mac about her brother, and had been deliberately vague about her relationship with Fayne. What had the man told his sister?

“Yes. You are so right.” He nudged Kilby toward Lady Fayre. “Is everything ready?” he asked his sister.

“I assume so. Amelie was taking care of everything.” His sister extended her hand to Kilby. “Come along, Lady Kilby. Let us get you cleaned up before your departure.”

The notion of changing her dress and washing her face was appealing. Still, she could not help but feel that she was missing a critical piece of his plan. “Wait. If Mr. Brawley is riding to Ealkin, what is our destination?”

“Gretna Green,” Fayne said, kissing her on the mouth and pushing her at his sister. “You are about to become my duchess.”

Within the hour, Fayne and Kilby were under way. He had switched his light carriage for Brawley’s larger travel coach. Although he was trading some speed for comfort, the enclosed compartment guaranteed their anonymity. If Nipping was searching for them, and Fayne was certain the man was, he would be searching for the Solitea crest.

“You are serious about this?” Kilby asked. His highhanded announcement still had her reeling.

The time she had spent alone with Fayre and her maid had significantly improved her appearance. She had bathed, removing all the blood and grime off her face. The swelling on her lower lip had disappeared and a touch of rouge on her cheeks had hidden the redness from Nipping’s blow. Her long black tresses had been brushed until they gleamed and were swept up and pinned high on her head. The torn dress had been replaced with one of his sister’s. Kilby wore an underdress of sarcenet with long sleeves that concealed the light bruising on her arms. On top of the underdress she had added an amaranth-colored velvet
Turkish robe that was trimmed with ermine. Her headdress was made out of the same material as the robe.

Fayne thought she was the most exquisite woman he had ever beheld. It mattered little that she was frowning at him. “Of course I am, love. In spite of the grief I feel obliged to give my sister’s husband; Brawley is a good man. I would not put your sister’s welfare in his hands if I did not think he was capable.”

Kilby crossed her eyes at him in exasperation. “You are being intentionally obtuse. You know very well that I am speaking of our imminent nuptials.”

He settled back in the seat. She had not screeched her refusal at him in front of his family. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that she had been resigned to her leg-shackled fate. “Oh, that. Why wouldn’t I be serious? I’ve already asked you to marry.”

“And I recall rejecting your generous offer,” she countered huffily. “If I had been the seductress you had assumed I was, I doubt you would have found it necessary to come up to scratch.”

“I disagree.” It maddened him tremendously that her indignation over his one tiny mistake had not abated. Moreover, was he not marrying the lady? “I believe I stepped on the flowery path to marital bliss the instant I saw you.”

Kilby looked skeptical instead of awed by his romantic declaration. “There have been so many other women in your life. Why would you want to give up the bachelor existence that gave you access to an assortment of lonely widows and discontented married countesses and pledge yourself to one lady?”

Fayne sensed that was not the question she had wanted to ask. What Kilby really wanted to know was if he viewed marriage as his father had done. She knew what a rake the duke had been. Was the son like the father? What she knew of his past was not comforting. A lady might be better off
reconsidering her marriage to a gentleman if she thought she was fated to endure an unhappy life of turning a blind eye to her husband’s numerous indiscretions.

Could he be faithful to her? He honestly did not know. No lady had ever ensnared him so thoroughly that he had contemplated pledging his heart, his honor. The generations of adulterous Carlisle males who came before him would attest that his family had not been born for fidelity. Still, he had sworn to be different. It was one of the reasons why he had planned on putting off marriage until he was in his forties. Meeting Kilby had changed everything.

“Are you demanding constancy?” he warily asked. He supposed he could say the words she needed to hear. They were only words. However, it did not seem to bode well to be offering half-truths and speculation on his wedding day.

“Many find it a virtue in marriage,” she said, disappointed by his response. “Let me ask you, do you expect faithfulness from me?”

“Yes!” he replied without hesitation. The thought of her turning to another man sent a need for violence rushing through his system. “I have not been intimate with another woman since our first meeting, Kilby. You satisfy me as no other who came before you. Marriage is just a legal binding for the courts. It does not alter who I am, how I feel about you.”

Kilby glanced away, not wanting him to see the moist sheen in her violet gaze. “So why marry me, if it means so little?”

Fayne was in a quandary. He was fouling things up. Just because they were on their way to Gretna Green did not mean she would marry him. “Did you think it all ended with your rejection? I told you that I intended to marry you. My timely appearance at Lady Quennell’s town house was no accident. Since you were not being very cooperative, I had planned to solicit the viscountess’s support for the match.”

“You were declaring your intentions to Priddy?” her voice squeaked. “You should have warned me.”

And give her a chance to flee? Never. “Why should I have consulted you, when you were being obnoxiously stubborn about the issue? I was counting on Lady Quennell to be more practical. I had assumed she would be able to sway your brother into accepting the match.” Fayne snorted. “Well, that was before I realized he was demented.”

“If you have gotten it into your head that you need to behave honorably because I was a virgin when you bedded me—”

“No, it is more than your virginity, damn it!” Fayne leaned forward and clasped both her hands. “You are rejecting me out of pride, when you need to be practical. Lady Quennell suspected it before I did.”

Only because you did not tell me the truth until last evening,
he thought, but kept the snide comment to himself. “You need a husband, Kilby, and I am willing. There is protection to be gained by taking my name. With the assistance of the courts, we will take Gypsy away from Nipping. We can be her guardians. I will summon the finest physicians in the country and have them examine Gypsy. Hopefully, with a little time she will return to being the little girl she was before your parents’ deaths.”

Perhaps it was ruthless on his part to use Kilby’s feelings for her sister as a means to convince the lady to accept their marriage. Unfortunately, she did not have too many options. The lady was going to marry him. He was not above using anyone or any means to influence her.

“And what do you get out of this arrangement?”

Her quiet question took him by surprise. A mischievous grin formed on his lips as the first advantage popped into his head. “You.” He slid down on his knees and began pulling up her skirts. “Permit me to demonstrate how dedicated I am to this union.”

“Here? In the coach?” She was shocked by his wicked suggestion.

Shoving up yards of fabric, he settled between her parted thighs. Fayne suspected the memory of her brother’s offensive groping still lingered in her mind. He hoped to replace those horrible thoughts with something devastatingly pleasurable.

In an appalled whisper Kilby asked, “What if the coachman hears us?”

Fayne nipped her inner thigh and she shuddered. “A man anticipating his bride,” he murmured, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal. “Hmm . . . under the circumstances, I warrant the coachman will completely understand.”

She was a married lady.

Kilby peered into the mirror attached to the wall as she prepared for her wedding night.

“I am the Duchess of Solitea,” she said, still not comprehending how it had happened.

This morning she had awakened in her bed at Priddy’s town house and tonight she was preparing for bed at an inn with her
husband.
She brushed over the faint mark where Archer had struck her. It barely hurt now. She pushed all thoughts of her brother aside. Indeed, it had been a strange day.

Fayne had been incredible and extremely efficient for a man who had claimed he had never thought of marrying anyone before. When they arrived at Gretna Green, she discovered that once again he had been one step ahead of her. Within his pocket he had a ring.

Kilby held up her left hand and examined the gold ring on her finger. The ring was as weighty as the title her marriage to Fayne bestowed. It was a large, exquisite oval ruby framed with clear white diamonds. After Fayne had slipped it onto her finger, he had told her that rubies had been worn
throughout time to banish sorrow and ill thoughts. Diamonds were supposed to expel anger and were considered the stone of reconciliation. The ancients believed if a warrior wore a diamond into battle, he would return home victorious.

Fayne had teased that if there were a grain of truth in the tale about the stones being talismans against misfortune, then their combination assured them happiness in their marriage. It had eased Kilby’s anxiety to discover he was as nervous about their marrying as she was.

Kilby stared at her reflection in the mirror. Lady Fayre had given her a nightgown to wear on her wedding night. It was designed with seduction in mind. The cambric fabric was so sheer, she might as well not be wearing anything at all. Kilby laughed softly to herself. She doubted Fayne cared what she wore. He coveted what was beneath.