Azalea (31 page)

He did not.

"Yes, I knew about your partiality for
Glaedon —your meetings in the Park have been reported to me. But my
sources also tell me that he is presently in the country with his
dear grandmama." Kayce's features twisted with dislike as he
mentioned the dowager Countess.

"A pretty story, my dear, but most
improbable. I fail to see why either of you should have desired a
secret wedding. Where are the marriage papers? Why was there no
announcement? And what of the small matter of his betrothal to your
cousin, Miss Beauforth?"

Azalea's sudden confidence began to crumble.
Without any proof, her story of a wedding in Williamsburg when she
was but thirteen sounded absurd even to herself. The only person in
England who could corroborate her tale was Mr. Timmons, and as far
as she knew he was still bedridden.

At her silence, Kayce smiled unpleasantly.
"I thought as much. No, my dear, it will take more than such a
fable to change my plans. And I warn you— one word of this during
the ceremony and I might have to arrange an unpleasant, ah,
accident for young Glaedon."

He smiled as Azalea's eyes widened in
horror. "I shall return for you shortly. Mrs. Melkin," he said,
turning toward the nurse, "help her to dress."

The wedding gown Mrs. Melkin held up was
beautiful, but did not serve to distract her a whit. Somehow, she
must get out of this!

Since there was obviously no chance of
overpowering the massive nurse, Azalea allowed herself to be
fastened into the exquisite dress without a word, hoping that some
opportunity for escape would present itself after she left the
bedchamber.

True to his word, Kayce returned in less
than an hour to escort her downstairs to a large room at the rear
of the house —the dining-room, she realized, with the table removed
and the chairs placed along one wall. Drowling was there, along
with the skinny butler and a man she assumed was the clergyman. If
anything, he appeared even less sympathetic than the others, she
thought despairingly.

Drowling turned to smile at her, but there
was more lust than affection in his glance. His look made her skin
crawl, and Azalea suppressed a shudder, knowing that he would show
no more pity than her uncle.

As if in a nightmare, she allowed Kayce to
guide her to her place at Drowling's side.

Now?
Should she deliver that carefully prepared speech? But what
of Kayce's threat? Azalea had no doubt whatsoever that he was
capable of carrying it out. She could not risk Christian's safety,
or possibly his life, even to stop this travesty of a
wedding.

Oh, Chris, where are you
now?
she moaned silently to
herself.

* * *

After driving at a reckless pace through the
dark London streets, Christian finally drew to a halt a few doors
from Lord Kayce's Town house. He did not wish to call attention to
his presence just yet. For the sake of Azalea's safety, he thought
it might be wiser to discover all that he could before pounding
down Kayce's front door.

Proceeding on foot, he went around to the
rear of the house to check the stables, hoping to gain some useful
information there. Sure enough, drawn up outside them was a
handsome travelling carriage with a crest on the side that he
recognized as Lord Drowling's. Here to visit his reluctant bride,
was he?

Though not well-acquainted with the man,
Christian had developed a dislike for Drowling after an occasion
several months before when he had found him in a tavern forcing his
attentions on a terrified young serving wench. The idea of that
bully laying so much as a finger on Azalea made his blood boil.

Just then, a stable-lad came out of one of
the stalls and stopped short when he saw a stranger, obviously one
of the nobility, standing there. Plainly unsure of his
responsibilities in this circumstance, he came forward
hesitantly.

"How can I help you, guv'nor?" the boy asked
in as deep a voice as he could muster.

"With information, my good man," answered
Christian with a wink.

When the boy hesitated, he reached into his
pocket and brought out a gold guinea. "This is yours, if you can
help me," he said, flipping it expertly into the air and catching
it again.

The lad's eyes gleamed as he watched the
glinting coin. He was only an under stable-boy, and had never
possessed so much money in his life as this liberal stranger was
offering. Lord Kayce was not so generous that he commanded
unswerving loyalty from his lower servants.

"What might you be wanting to know, milord?"
asked the boy, suddenly respectful.

"Who is within with Lord Kayce right
now?"

"Just the swell what owns this coach, and
the parson, milord," answered the boy eagerly, his eyes never
leaving the guinea.

"No one else?" asked Christian sharply.

"Oh, there's the young lady, the master's
cousin or niece or some such," replied the lad, "but she's been
here since day before yesterday. I thought you just meant whose
horses was here."

"Thank you. A parson, you said?" The boy
nodded. "Does he come here often?"

The lad had to stifle a laugh. "Never before
that I've see'd, milord. Lord Kayce ain't exactly the church-goin'
type, if you take my meaning."

"I understand," said Glaedon. "Then what
might he be doing here now?"

"Oh, I reckon he's to do the wedding,
milord. The young lady be going to marry that swell as I mentioned.
Harry, the groom, told me so."

Christian was already striding toward the
house. "Thank you, my lad, you have earned this." He tossed the
guinea over his shoulder and the boy caught it with a grin and
stowed it in his pocket. It was by far the easiest money he had
ever earned.

Walking softly now, Christian approached the
kitchen entrance. No one seemed to be around, but he had no desire
to raise the alarm prematurely. He peered into the scullery: empty.
Closing the door silently behind him, he passed swiftly through the
kitchens and into the passageway beyond, then stopped. He could
hear voices behind the door on his left and pressed his ear to it,
trying to make out the words.

* * *

CHAPTER 17

"Miss Clayton?" asked the acerbic clergyman
with increasing annoyance.

Azalea knew she was supposed to be repeating
his words at this point in the ceremony, but could not bring
herself to speak, regardless of the threat Kayce held over
Christian. Instead, she looked first pleadingly, then defiantly at
her uncle. He could force her to stand here, but not to repeat
wedding vows!

Kayce returned her look with a frown. "She
does," he said firmly.

The harassed cleric looked from the defiant
girl before him to the man who had paid him so well to perform this
wedding. Really, this was most irregular! Still, for fifty
pounds... "Very well," he said. "And do you, Lord Drowling—"

"I do not!" broke in Azalea, speaking just
as firmly as her uncle had.

"A moment, please," said Kayce with
deceptive pleasantness. He pulled his niece aside and beckoned to
Mrs. Melkin, who had been standing unobtrusively in the background.
"Must we drug you again, my dear? I had thought concern for young
Glaedon would ensure your cooperation, but I am prepared to take
other measures."

"What I told you is true, Uncle," said
Azalea grimly. "Even if I say the vows, this marriage will not be
legal. I swear it upon my life."

Kayce glanced over at Drowling, who was
watching them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "If
Glaedon were to die, then the point would be academic, would it
not?" he asked in low tones.

Azalea gasped at this bald threat. "You
would not!"

"My dear, you have no idea what is at stake
here. There is very little I would not do to achieve my ends."
Kayce watched her face shrewdly and nodded in satisfaction when he
saw that she was finally defeated.

While Azalea was convinced that Christian
would have no trouble besting Kayce, Drowling, or even both of them
together in a fair fight, she knew that her uncle would never
engage in one. What chance could even the bravest, most skilled man
have against a paid assassin striking unexpectedly from behind?

Slowly, she resumed her place and the
ceremony continued. As the clergyman droned on and on, she closed
her eyes, praying for the miracle she knew was not to be. The
service was nearly over.

"By the power vested in me—" the pastor was
saying, when he was interrupted by a resounding crash from the
other end of the room as the door to the kitchen slammed open.

"There will be no marriage!" proclaimed Lord
Glaedon loudly, striding into the room and effectively halting the
proceedings.

The clergyman's mouth dropped open. Even
fifty pounds was surely not worth this kind of agitation to his
nerves!

"Christian!" gasped Azalea, starting toward
him. Then, at a sudden, violent movement on the part of Lord Kayce,
she cried, "Watch out!"

Glaedon turned to face the older man, his
anger at what he had tried to do to Azalea matching Kayce's obvious
fury at being thwarted. Almost without thinking, Christian felled
Lord Kayce with a single blow from his fist before turning to face
Drowling, who was now also advancing menacingly, having recovered
from his surprise at the intrusion.

"By what right do you come bursting in here,
Glaedon?" he demanded. "This is my wedding! "

"I think not, Drowling." Glaedon's voice was
as cold and sharp as steel. "I am here by right of being the lawful
husband of this lady. Do you care to name your seconds?"

Drowling's face became a study in
astonishment. "Husband? Are you serious? Why was nothing said about
this?" He looked accusingly at Kayce, who was struggling to rise,
holding a handkerchief to his bleeding mouth.

"There is no proof!" shouted Kayce hoarsely.
"The girl all but admitted it!"

"You are mistaken, Kayce," said Christian
calmly. "I have the proof in my pocket. Your thugs did not do a
thorough enough job on Mr. Timmons, I regret to tell you, and he is
very much on the mend. He told me where the papers were hidden." At
his words, Kayce paled visibly.

"By the way," Christian continued, "you may
be interested to know that one of his assailants has been
apprehended and has named you as his employer on this and one or
two other occasions. I believe a magistrate is likely on his way
here at this moment."

With a wild look, Kayce darted from the
room.

Christian turned to Lord Drowling.

"'Twas all Kayce's idea, Glaedon," the
Viscount said, shrinking back from what he saw in the other man's
eyes. "He thought that if I married into the family, I would remain
silent about the trick he played on his brother Walter, back in
'91."

"And what trick was that?"

"The duel he was goaded into fighting. He
thought he'd killed his man, but it was all a sham. The pistols had
been tampered with and the surgeon paid off. Walter fled the
country, which was what Kayce wanted." He glanced at Azalea, who
was regarding him incredulously, then back at Christian. "I never
knew a thing about a previous marriage, though, I swear it!"

Christian regarded him coldly. "That may
well be, but I cannot think you believed Miss Clayton amenable to
the match. Get out of my sight, you piece of filth."

Drowling's life was infinitely dearer to him
than his honour. He left nearly as quickly as Kayce had done.

"Just as well," said Christian, turning at
last to Azalea. "I had no desire to flee the country myself just at
present."

He opened his arms and she ran to him
without a word.

During the short walk to Christian's waiting
carriage, Azalea managed to find her voice. She was still shaking
from the ordeal she had been through, as well as from the
after-effects of the drug, but she felt it was imperative that she
speak.

"I was never so happy to see anyone in my
life, Christian," she began in a trembling voice, "but I don't
understand—"

"Shh!" He laid a finger on her lips. "There
will be time enough later for explanations. Right now, I intend to
restore you to Lady Beauforth so that you can recover from this
very disagreeable experience."

In fact, Azalea did feel unequal to any
lengthy conversation, and it was obvious that a short one would
never do. Since she had not yet had time to organize the chaos of
her thoughts and emotions, she lapsed gratefully into silence.

Christian helped her into the carriage,
where she nestled comfortably against him, to his complete
satisfaction. By the time they reached the Beauforth mansion, she
was sound asleep.

* * *

Azalea awoke to find herself back in her own
cozy green-and-gold chamber, the sunlight of early afternoon
streaming through the half-open curtains. She smiled and stretched
lazily, enveloped in a glorious sense of well-being. What a dream
she'd had!

The door opened as she sat up to admit the
ever-vigilant Junie, breakfast tray in hand.

"Good morning, miss—or, should I say, good
afternoon. It's a treat to have you back with us, I must say! I
trust you slept well?"

Full recollection flooded back, and Azalea's
smile broadened. So it hadn't been a dream! "Marvellously, Junie,
thank you," she said. "That breakfast smells delicious. I declare I
am ravenous!"

"Cook thought you might be, so he fixed you
up something special," said Junie, placing a tray bearing hot
chocolate, creamed sole, ham and popovers for her mistress. "Ring
when you want me, and I'll help you to dress."

A short while later, Azalea descended to the
front parlour to find Lord Glaedon and Lady Beauforth deep in
animated conversation. Seeing her in the doorway, Christian rose.
She came forward hesitantly, looking from one to the other
questioningly. Lady Beauforth spoke first.