Maybe This Time, page 22
Alyssa’s smile faded and her heart lay stone heavy in her chest. Her ploy had failed. He would not relent. Stricken, she whispered. “You are serious?”
“Most serious.”
“Father, no!”
He glared down at her. “Cease your impertinence at once. It is a good match, Alyssa Kathleen. The banns have been called, and—”
“What?” Alyssa jumped to her feet. “That is not possible.”
“It is fact,” Lord Cameron insisted, returning to his seat. “You wed Lord Innes tonight.”
The banns had been called. His words reverberated in her mind. The room spun around her, and she crumpled to the floor.
For the first time in her life, Alyssa Kathleen Cameron swooned.
ALYSSA OPENED her eyes. Daylight slivered into her chamber around the edges of the draperies drawn closed over the window. She was still abed! Talking to her father had been a dream.
Relief came, and she let it wash through and soothe her. She had been ill for such a long time. Of course, that was the reason for her nightmare. Her father would never insist she marry Innes. Of all men, not Innes.
She remembered her father’s bloodstained clothes. His insistence that he remembered nothing of where he’d been after he’d left White’s with Innes that night. Tremors raced between her shoulders, through her chest, pitting her stomach. Wed Innes. That had been a dream, hadn’t it?
She saw her needlework in the chair beside the fire. The peonies on the border. She’d not yet started them.
Scrambling from her bed, she checked. Two peonies boasted threads. Her memory flashed, and she recalled sitting by the window that morning, working the Spanish blue petals. “Meg! Oh, God, Meg!”
Meg burst into her chamber, her cap askew, her blond curls tumbling. “What is it? Are you worse again?”
Alyssa’s heart lodged in her throat. “My father. Did I speak with him this morning?”
Meg worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Yes, you did. And swooned, pretty as you please.”
“Oh, God,” Alyssa mumbled.
“Please,” Meg said, taking Alyssa by the arm. “Sit down—here by the window. It is an awful shock, to be sure.”
Numb, Alyssa collapsed onto the seat. “It’s true, then?”
“If you’re meaning about you marrying that Lord Innes, it is. His lordship says you’re to be dressed and ready to leave for the church at six o’clock.” Meg’s jaw looked corset-cinched. “Disgraceful, it is. Making a lady wed at night.”
Through startled eyes, Alyssa looked up at Meg. “At night?”
“Yes, Milady.”
“I won’t do it. I won’t marry him at all, but—at night? Oh, Meg. You must be mistaken. My father would never insist—”
“I tried to explain to his lordship. Proper ladies marry only in the morning, I said to him. But he heard none of it.”
Tears clogged Alyssa’s throat. She swallowed them. “Why is he doing this to me?” She slung her needlework against the wall. “I’ll not do it. I’ll not marry that scapegrace. I’ll—I’ll leave.”
“Considering the fate of the first Lady Innes, and things being what they have around here, I figured those would be your feelings.” Meg settled sympathetic blue eyes on her. “Unfortunately, so did his lordship.”
“What do you mean?”
“As soon as I heard the awful news, I took the liberty of borrowing a few shillings from your reticule and bribing James into hiring a carriage.” Meg’s eyes burned bright with anger. “I knew you wouldn’t leg-shackle yourself to the likes of that Innes.”
“Oh, Meg, you’re an angel.” Alyssa hugged her, then reared back. “When do we leave?”
“We don’t.” Meg frowned. “James got caught. Burns heard tell of a strange carriage in the neighborhood and investigated. There was nothing James could do but fess up.” Meg’s lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, his lordship is in an awful rage. James was beaten and his lordship ordered Burns to flog him first thing in the morning.”
“He can’t do that. It’s—barbaric. Oh God, Meg, surely that’s against the law?”
“I don’t know, Milady, but he’s ordered it done either way. And—and he’s locked you in your chamber, too. Anyone letting you out before the wedding will be given the same as James.”
Alyssa’s stomach gave a great heave. She pressed her hands over it, willed it to settle down. “Is James hurt?”
“Not really,” Meg reported between sniffles. “The stablemaster’s heart wasn’t in the beating. He’s grown fond of James, to be sure. But—but the flogging—”
“Blast him!” Alyssa strode over and tugged at the door. When it didn’t give, she muttered an oath that put fire in Meg’s face and fresh tears in her eyes. “He means to make me do it, then.”
“He does, milady,” Meg sobbed. “He truly does.”
Alyssa reached into her reticule and pulled out three gold coins. “When you can, give these to James. It must be tonight, Meg. Before—before morning. Tell him to see a doctor tonight, and that I’m sorry.” She gave Meg a pointed look. “He must not be flogged.”
Meg nodded and tapped on the door. It opened, and she looked back. “Try not to give into the blue devils. Burns ain’t flogged James yet, and you ain’t married. Not yet. Something will happen to lighten your heart. The entire household—except that feckless Burns—is praying hard.”
Knowing Meg was trying to comfort her, Alyssa forced a smile to her mouth. “Thank you.”
Meg nodded, and, clutching her skirt, went out. The door closed behind her. The lock clicked. The mantel clock struck like a death knell.
Alyssa refused herself the luxury of tears. In four hours she’d be forced to wed Innes. Feeling as she did, fearing him as she did, how could she bear marriage to him?
Her stomach clenched into knots. How could her father do this? True, since October he’d grown more and more strange, but could being a widower for so long do that to a man?
No, she decided. It was the drink. His fondness for liquor had dulled his wits. And, too, might he be suffering a relapse of gaming fever? Meg had relayed James’s concern about her father’s again frequenting White’s. After that awful, unexplained night, he had stopped going—at least for a short time.
“Think. You’re not addlepated,” she told herself. “There must be something you can do to get out of this.”
Digging through her reticule, she found she had less than a pound. Unless she could get out of her chamber and into the library undetected, she couldn’t get to any of her jewelry either.
Her mother’s jewelry. Had her father located her mother’s missing diamonds? Until she married, she could wear only her pearls. Still, she must remember to ask him about the diamonds.
For pity’s sake, she chided herself. At the moment, her mother’s diamonds were the least of her worries.
The gravity of her situation settled on her, wiping all thoughts save one from her mind: leaving was an impossibility. Even if she managed to slip from her window, three floors above ground, she’d surely break her neck. And if by some miracle she did get to the ground uninjured, she still had nowhere to go—and no way to get there.
At four-thirty, she faced defeat. She was trapped.
Sitting near the window, she stared out at the carriages proceeding down tree-lined Whitehall en route to Hyde Park. Tears brimmed in her eyes and fell unchecked to her cheeks. She let herself cry, let her soul pour out its anger. God, how she despised futility.
When she felt empty, she brushed at her face with the back of her hand, closed her eyes, and lifted her face toward Heaven. “I know that in these modern days there are no armored knights rescuing ladies in distress. They’ve gone with the dragons.” Her voice trembled and shook. “But, dear God, I’m so frightened. If you could spare just one . . . He needn’t be perfect. Please! I—I don’t know what to do.”
She opened her eyes and hugged herself. Memories of how things had been when her mother was alive came to her. She’d been happy then. Secure and loved and protected.
But her mother was gone now. And her father was . . . different. She could depend only on herself for guidance. And she knew in her heart she could not marry Innes. She could not, would not, make a mockery of the sacred vows.
Her stomach churned. How much would she forfeit to protect those vows? Everything?
Her father had removed every other alternative. Resolved to what she must do, she stood up. At the bowl and pitcher, she poured a measure of water and splashed her cheeks. Looking into the cheval glass, she saw that the skin around her eyes had become puffy and swollen, her nose, an unsightly red slope in her blotched face. “You look like the bride of Innes,” she told her reflection. “But he’ll not have you. Not tonight. Not ever.”
The decision had been made.
Fifteen
MEG PULLED her stone-drab cloak closer around her slender body and slipped out of the Cameron establishment’s servant’s door.
The cold air fogged her breath and stabbed at her lungs. Overhead, an angry sky thick with fat heavy clouds threatened to burst. She hurried her step.
When she left fashionable Whitehall and turned left onto Piccadilly, she looked back and sighed her relief. No one had followed her. By the time she passed Piccadilly Circus, the sharp bite of the cold wind had her bones near frozen, and the rain had begun. She skirted south of Hyde Park and finally turned onto Knightsbridge.
It was an impressive street. A good address for the elite members of the ton. She saw the number she sought—329—printed on a discreet brass plate on the fence wall, then looked up at the house. Long, arched windows stretched deep into the four high steeples, and a recessed entry led to angled mahogany doors. She hurried up the walk and lifted the great brass knocker.
Soon, a tall familiar man, standing very erect and sporting the tiniest flecks of grey at his temples, answered. He frowned. She’d known before she’d come that he wouldn’t be pleased. Before he could turn her away, she sputtered. “I’ve come to see his lordship.”
“His lordship is occupied at present,” the butler replied in a tone sharp with reprimand. “May I tell him who called?”
“Meg,” she said, her eyes narrowing. She was tired, cold, and near soaked to the skin. “You’d best be telling his lordship I’m here. He told me I should come if it was important, and ‘tis—’tis—” The gravity of her lady’s situation hit her and she burst into tears.
“Parks?” A deep-timbered voice came from inside the great hallway. “What woman has been reduced to tears on the doorstep of my establishment?”
Before Parks could respond, Meg cried out. “‘Tis me, milord. Meg!”
The great giant suddenly appeared, all dark and handsome as she remembered him.
He took her by the arm and led her inside. “What is it, Meg? You’re pale as a ghost.”
“And frozen, too, milord.” This was no time to stand on manners.
“Come.” He urged her into the library and down into a chair by the blissfully warm fire. “Parks, bring Meg a hot cup of tea.”
“There’s no time for that.” Meg slid Parks an uneasy glance that she knew he’d noticed, though he pretended he hadn’t.
“Speak freely. Parks holds my confidence in the matter of your lady.”
Meg nodded and offered Parks a smile. He smiled back. “You said I should come in a dire emergency. And, oh, milord, my lady has landed in trouble aplenty.”
His lordship’s expression grew anxious. “The fever?”
“No.” Meg frowned. “Her father’s forcing her to wed that Lord Innes—tonight!”
“I see.”
“I tried to hire a carriage, but James—you recollect young James MacMillian, milord. Well, he was caught in the act, and now Lord Cameron’s ordered him flogged.”
“Flogged? That’s barbaric.”
“So says milady,” Meg said with a nod. Her lordship’s cheek muscle twitched, then twitched again. He was far from pleased by any of this news. “She gave me blunt to send James packing before tomorrow.”
“She told you this?” Parks asked.
Meg turned toward the older man. “She said to tell him to see the doctor tonight, that he mustn’t be flogged. She wants him to leave before her father can see the deed done, to be sure.”
The earl and Parks exchanged a glance, and Meg could have sworn she’d seen a twinkle in his lordship’s eyes.
“Don’t worry, Meg. Matters are well in hand. Go back to your lady and help her dress for her wedding.” He turned to his butler. “Parks, have Major take Meg back in the carriage. But not too close to the house.” He looked again at Meg. “We don’t want anyone to suspect anything’s amiss.”
A twinkle was definitely in his lordship’s eyes. And, Meg realized, he hadn’t been in the least surprised by her news. Oh, the man would have made a fine gamester if he’d been inclined in that direction. Thankfully, he was not like Lord Cameron. Her lord had no use for games of chance. Hadn’t he proven that by installing her as Lady Alyssa’s abigail?
“Can you get to James?” the earl asked.
“Yes, they’ve got him bound down below ‘til morning.”
His lordship frowned. “Daniel will be waiting with the carriage for you both at the corner of Oxford and Bond at midnight.”
“But, milady? I can’t just leave—”
“You must. The risk has grown too great for you to remain at Cameron House any longer.”
“And you’re sending Daniel for us?” Meg asked. “Oh, begging your pardon, milord, but Major won’t take kindly to a footman handling the ribbons of one of your fine carriages.”
“Major will be otherwise occupied this evening, Meg.” Again his lordship exchanged a knowing look with Parks. “Daniel will bring you and James here. Then tomorrow we’ll send you to the house in Chatsworth.”
Meg hid her disappointment. Chatsworth wasn’t Brighton, but at least she’d be back under one of her lord’s roofs.
The earl patted her shoulder. “When a certain matter of consequence has been resolved, I’ll see to it you’re returned to Woodwind Manor.”
“Yes, milord.” Meg smiled up at him. Surely no finer noble had ever graced this earth. “It’ll be grand to be home again.”
“It’ll be good to have you home again. A year is a long time.”
Meg left his lordship’s establishment with a light heart. What the earl had in mind, only the good Lord knew for sure. But she’d be willing to wager her ivories that Lady Alyssa would not be marrying Innes this night!
Sixteen
ALYSSA SAT STIFF in a straight-back chair, her arms folded across her chest, a mutinous expression on her face.
She looked up to where her grandmother’s wedding gown hung waiting. Her heartstrings suffered a hard tug. Though simple, the silk gown was beautiful. Its high-waisted bodice and flowing white skirt were separated by a narrow width of silvery ribbon, and fine Belgium lace rose high onto the throat. The accompanying trailing scarf of delicate gauze lay on her bed, waiting to be pinned in her hair so its long ends draped her bare arms and fell down her back to the hem of her gown. A wreathed headdress of delicate pink baby roses lay beside the scarf. So pretty, so pale, and, now, so threatening.
She shuddered. For so long she’d dreamed of the day she would wear these clothes. But in her dreams she had never suffered this dread, or faced a future as bleak as the one before her now. In her dreams, the man she wedded was one she’d developed a partiality for—not Innes. Her flesh crawled. Never Innes.
“Milady, you must get ready, now. It’s gone five-thirty.” Meg reached for the gown.
“I’ll not,” Alyssa said in a quiet voice. She meant her words. And she would not alter them.
“But his lordship—”
“You may tell his lordship that if he wishes a Cameron to wed Lord Innes, he may do so himself. I’ll not do it.”
Meg stood gaping at her. “But—”
“I mean it, Meg.” Meg swayed on her feet, and Alyssa added, “Don’t you dare swoon on me. Someone must tell my father that I refuse to go through with this farce, and I’m not free to leave my chamber.”
“He’ll be spitting mad,” Meg said, casting her a worried look.
Alyssa refused the plea in Meg’s voice. “I’m sorry you have to bear the bad news, but I’ve no other choice. I’d rather be dead than Innes’s wife.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would. May I tell Burns, instead? I shouldn’t mind so much, if I can tell him. Let him feel the brunt of his lordship’s wrath.”
Alyssa resisted the urge to smile. The feud between Burns and Meg had begun before their introduction had been completed. “So long as my message remains unaltered, you may tell whomever you wish.”
With a bob, Meg turned and left. Alyssa was unsuccessful in stopping a smile from forming on her lips. Her own circumstances were dire at best, but Meg would relish the ear-blistering his lordship was about to bestow on the stuffy Burns.
Scant minutes passed. Then she heard her father’s bellows, his furious footfalls on the grand stairs, and his harsh order to “Open that door at once!”
She vowed she’d remain calm, that she’d injure her pride no further by losing control of her emotions. It still amazed her. She had swooned. Her illness, she decided. She’d no doubt grown weak during her illness.
He stormed into her room. His face fiery-red, his neck veins bulging, he scowled at her through his quizzing glass. God, how she despised that quizzing glass.
“I demand you explain yourself,” he said. “What do you mean, you refuse to marry Innes?”
She swallowed the fear that had her throat muscles quivering. “You gave me your word that I could choose my own husband. I’m holding you to your promise.”
“I’ve given you to Innes.”
Alyssa curled her fingers deep into her chair arms. The scrolled wood cut into her flesh. She looked up at her father. He was afraid, she realized. Why did he fear her refusal? “You gave me to myself first, Father. I was no longer yours to give to Innes.”
