The Star-Crossed Bride (14 page)

"No. I was only frightened. But Valentine, he threatened me — he threatened you — he said — "

"Never mind what he said. We'll be gone when he wakes." He could feel her trembling against him, but there was little time to waste in comfort. "Come. We are leaving. Get dressed and pack a few things as quickly as you can."

"No." She pulled away from him, shaking her head.

He stared at her, certain that he had misunderstood. "Emily, we must leave at once. If we hurry we can be wed and in London before anyone can even guess where we've gone."

She stared down at the marquess as he lay insensible upon the carpet. "We can 't. He said — "

"It does not matter what he said."

"You don't understand, Valentine. He threatened . . . he must be mad, there is no other explanation." She looked up at him and his breath stopped at the sheer terror in her eyes. "He said he would see one of us hanged for the murder of those two hapless men who never made it to the altar with me."

"He could never do it, Emily. We can talk about this as we travel. We must leave at once." He pulled at her hand, but she resisted him.

She said again. "We cannot."

It began to dawn on his fevered brain that she had no intention of going with him. It didn't matter that there wasn't time. He needed to find the words to convince her that they must go — and quickly. It was the threats which seemed to have sapped her will to fight. He took a quick breath and concentrated on the marquess's threat to have one of them hanged for the murder of men who had died naturally if unexpectedly. The words conjured frightening images, but were idle, surely? "No one would believe him."

She looked up at him, her eyes sad, "Of course they will. They half believe it even now."

"What are you saying?"

"You may think that my mother walled me into this castle to keep me from making a fool of myself, but that was not my father's reason."

He heard how people gossiped, and what they said. Attempted elopement, one fiance dead, the next suffering a foolish accident. It had to be my fault."

"But — one was an old man in poor health, the other a drunkard. How could you be blamed for circumstances beyond your control?"

She sighed, a bitter twist to her lips. "Because it amuses someone to suggest it, and others to gossip about it. If Granbury were truly to do more than spread idle rumors, if he were to try to convince the authorities that I . . . it would not take much for people to believe it."

Unfortunately, he could see the truth in what she said. But gossip was not the same as being charged with a crime. "If we elope, you will already have provided enough gossip for the bored in Society. They would not need to try you for an imaginary crime. No one would hang you."

"Perhaps not. But they would convict me in their minds, just the same. And don't you see? You are vulnerable as well. Everyone knows that you set out for a wealthy heiress bride and tried to elope with me."

"I told no one; we could deny it."

"My mother knows. The servants know. We could not keep the truth a secret. And it could get you hanged, though you had nothing to do with the deaths of my former fiancees."

He could sense that if he did not change her mind immediately, they would lose the chance to escape. "Once we are married, he will have lost — he can do nothing more to us if we are husband and wife."

Emily laughed softly, an unhappy laugh. "I have waited so long to hear you ask me to marry you again. So very long." He reached out for her, but she evaded his touch. "Valentine, if we marry now, it will be proof to any who doubt the truth of Granbury's outrageous claims. Everyone would be pleased to believe you some murdering scoundrel who would do anything for an heiress and her fortune."

"Emily, we have no choice."

She smiled sadly and touched his cheek with a trembling hand. "To marry you would be to put the noose around your neck. And that I will not do."

"You are talking nonsense — you're overwrought from tonight's events. But there is no reason we cannot marry. He will not fight when he knows he has already lost."

She looked at him blindly. "You don't understand. He will not allow it. He does not let himself lose. Not ever."

"He does not have the power to keep us apart. Surely he will realize that once all Society knows the deed is done."

"You read that letter. He does have the power. He is not a sane man. To him, the game would not be played through until he had separated us forever." Emily stared at him, conviction in her expression. "He will see one of us hang for killing the hapless men who dared to ask my father for my hand."

"I cannot protect you unless I am your husband. Do you not understand?" He would not let her distract him with her fears, valid though they might be. They had only this night to elope and flee to London. Now that he had attacked the marquess, his presence confirmed, they were both in immediate danger.

"All too well." She said quietly, "You asked me to marry you again. I have dreamed of it for years. And I must say no."

"Emily —

"Hold me." She leaned into him, and he could feel her trembling like a tree in a gale wind.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her head into the crook of his neck. "Emily, I know I've been stubborn about elopement before. You deserve better. But now there is no choice, surely you see that? I know that life will be hard for you, Emily, and I promise to do my best to restore a measure of luxury to your life in a few years, when my fortunes are better."

There were tears in her eyes, he saw, when she raised her head to look into his eyes. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say those words to me. And now, sweet as they are, they cannot be true. We cannot marry. You must go."

"I won't let you marry him. You cannot let him destroy you."

She brushed his cheek with her fingertips. "What else can I do? Let him destroy you and your family?" A light touch. Gentle.

He bent his head to look into her eyes. She was closer than he had ever dreamed he would have her again. And yet so far away. He held her tighter, his breath painful and ragged with distress. "Of course." It was foolish to agree, but impossible not to, when she looked at him with such certainty.

He had never seen Emily so thoroughly beaten before. The marquess must have shown his true nature, and fully, to have brought her to this state. He gripped her chin gently, so that she would not be able to look away from his gaze. "Emily — has he hurt you?"

She tried to duck her head, but he did not let her. She closed her eyes before she said, "Just my arms, where he flung me down on the bed."

He couldn't determine if she was telling him everything, and he couldn't see her eyes. He urged gently, "That was now. I mean, before, when he had you here alone. Before your mother screamed."

"Oh!" Her eyes flew open in horror. "No. I was drugged .... What could he have done with me unconscious beside him?" She shook her head somewhat frantically, as if tossing away unpleasant images. " No. He must have lain there waiting for Mother. What else . . . ?" She just looked at him, as if he might hold the answer to the newest question in her mind.

"I — " How could he ask the question? How could he not? He must not treat her any differently. Perhaps it didn't matter what her answer was. "Never mind." He dismissed the question in her eyes by pulling her toward him again and enfolding her in his arms. "I will not let him hurt you again."

"How?"

And he knew the answer, as soon as she asked the question. "I will ensure that Granbury loses the game, even though he will not know it immediately."

"Lose? How?"

"We will marry tonight — secretly."

"Secretly," she repeated, slowly, as if the word itself made no sense. He nodded, pleased with the plan which had sprung fully formed into his mind. "That way, he can never marry you, for you will be my wife." Wife. He marveled at how completely his attitude had altered since this morning. But the word felt right. The marriage felt right. "And if we keep the marriage a secret as long as possible, we will not have to expose ourselves to his revenge until I have found a way to make him reveal his true nature in all eyes."

Emily objected. "Granbury has sent his man for a special license. He will be back within days. Will I pretend to marry one man when I am already married to another? The law frowns on such behavior."

"You do not understand. You will be safe in hiding. I will be here, as footman. No one will suspect that we have eloped. They will believe you have run away. And, as my wife, you will be protected even if the marquess does manage to find you."

"Is there no other way?"

He frowned. "Your mother has indicated she will not protect one hair on your head. We cannot afford to wait even one more day," he said, hating the pragmatism of the statement. "And I can be more bold in my attempts to bring his deeds to light without having to worry about your safety."

"He will follow me."

"Perhaps. But I will not let him harm you." He hoped he was not making an empty promise. For Emily would still be exposed to danger, even if she was no longer going to be able to be forced into a marriage with Granbury. The man was unbalanced, as he had proven. He would take up the challenge of Emily's disappearance with relish.

"I believe that might work," she said slowly. "If we disappear, and do not reappear as a wedded couple, no one can be sure we have eloped." She looked up at him, a half smile on her lips. "After all, Valentine Fenster is supposed to have quit Scotland, and even I would not be assumed to have eloped with a footman."

There was worry in her eyes, though, and he could imagine her mind looking for the flaws in his argument, and he decided to remind her of the necessity to hurry. "Then get dressed, quickly. And we can be gone before morning, safely away before anyone has missed you."

"And I will be your wife, then." She looked up at him, suddenly shy, with a hint of fear.

"Yes. You will be my wife." The responsibility for her happiness — and safety — were now his. He hoped he could live up to the duty.

She moved away to dress and pack, tripped over Granbury, and made a small sound of distress. "Whatever shall we do about him?" They both stared in consternation at the marquess on the floor. He did not stir.

They went quietly out to the stables in the darkness.

Eloping. Again. Emily remembered the joy she had felt the first time. There was none of that heady rush of blood this time. Valentine had only proposed the elopement in order to save her from Granbury. He still was not convinced they belonged together. But he loved her. And she loved him. She would simply have to do her best to convince him that love was all they needed.

They saddled the horses and led them quietly outside. She thought them nearly safe until a rustling noise from the gardens to their left caught her attention.

"Where are you off to at this hour?"

Emily turned at the sound of the unexpected voice. She suppressed a squeak of surprise with difficulty Who would be in the gardens at this time of night?

"Nan? Is that you?" Valentine's voice was low and urgent.

"Yes. I'd come to 'elp Lady Emily and I saw the two of you 'easing down the stairs." Nan came toward them in the darkness and Emily saw that she had thrown on a dark cloak which muffled her figure and made her nearly impossible to see. "Where are you going?"

Emily didn't know if she would have answered or not, but Valentine saved her the dilemma by replying quietly, "We're going to get married and don't try to stop us."

"Stop you?" Nan snorted. She swung something from her shoulders and Emily realized that the girl had two dark cloaks on, one of which she was now draping over Emily. "I thought I'd make sure you didn't get caught before you got away. That dress is so light it's like a beacon."

Emily wanted to cry at the kindness of the gesture — and kick herself for not having realized how her long, light yellow gown would stand out against the dark of night.

She was speechless, though, until Valentine said quietly, "Thank you, Nan."

"Yes, thank you, Nancy," Emily forced herself to say stiffly.

"No need to thank me. I wish you well, my lady." Nan squeezed her once, in a fierce hug that took the breath from Emily's lungs. "I want nothing more than the best for you, for both of you."

Emily was surprised to notice that Valentine's voice held a note of regret as he helped her up onto the waiting horse. "I hope you do, Nan, because you're coming with us."

"What — " Emily gasped when Nan came catapulting up onto the horse behind her. "Valentine, what — "

He reached for her hand in the darkness and pressed it to his lips to silence her before he spoke. "There's no help for it. We must all go. We need a witness, after all." Both women began to protest once more, and his voice came just as quietly but with more iron. "This way there is no chance that Nan will sound the alarm before we have accomplished our goal."

He mounted his own horse and began to walk it away from the castle, leading Emily's horse at a slow and steady pace behind. He turned back once and said tersely, "Explain what we are about, Emily Perhaps she will be useful in coming up with a story to tell the staff about why the marquess is passed out in the library, smells like brandy, and has an empty bottle next to the chair in which he is slumped."

Nan gasped. "My lady you didn't murder 'im, did you?"

Emily gave a mental shiver, thinking how quickly Nan had asked the question. Would she be any slower to jump to such conclusions were Granbury to exact his revenge by accusing her of the murder of her former fiancees?

"Of course not, Nancy. Valentine hit him over the head with a candlestick when he attacked me. We put him in the library and spilled a little brandy on him."

"Why would you do that?"

"To make him think he had passed out after drinking too much." The idea had been Emily's , and it had seemed like an excellent one at the time. Her father had been known to spend whole nights in the library with a brandy bottle. Why should the marquess not do so, too, without too much suspicion being aroused?