Captured Love (5 page)

“You are going to marry her, Morton! No other man will
have her now!”

Lord Morton stood before her, looking down at her,
appearing shocked and bemused and pale, but then all of sudden, his stupor
dissolved, and there was a wildfire of anger in his gaze. She thought he might
strangle her when his hand lifted. His eyes were so hard and cold. But it
merely curled in a fist. Then he turned away and she saw the people who had
followed her father, staring at her.

“I will wed her,” he growled.

She had given him no choice. He either shamed her
entirely or took her.

She knew he was a gentleman; he would not shame her.

“But for now, I suggest you take her home.”
Before I kill her
, she heard the other
words she imagined he did not speak.

She had done a dreadful thing. She knew she had. It
had been cruel and manipulative. But guilt refused to stir inside her. If it
was so dreadful, why was her heart bursting with joy? He was going to marry her!
He was!

“I shall call upon you in the morning,” Lord Morton
said to her father in a bitter voice, before walking away. People parted to let
him go.

Her father caught a hold of her arm and growled
through the side of his mouth. “I told you I had signed the contract with
Perrigrew
, girl, and now you must maneuver this. You have
made me a laughing stock!” He knew she’d forced Lord Morton, then. Her gaze
spun to their audience. They knew too; she could see it in their faces. She
supposed Lord Morton’s anger must have made the situation obvious.
 

Meredith knew she was blushing bright red as her father’s
fingers pressed hard into her arm, and then she was half dragged away.

The crowd left behind them laughed and chattered.

Meredith had not seen Rowena, but Rowena would learn
about what had happened; someone would tell her.

Part
Two

Rupert had come downstairs to discover armfuls of roses in the hall this
morning. He had not been in the temper for such things. He was in an even worse
temper once he’d discovered they were from Kendrick.

Why would the man not leave Rowena alone? She had
quite clearly told Kendrick, no, even if she had been too polite to use the
word. Just as Rupert would have done, had he been given a choice in his own
engagement.

He could not quite believe what had occurred last
night, even as Divine’s butler showed Rupert into the
not-so-grand
drawing room, of Divine’s townhouse.

They lived comfortably, in a decent area, but it was
not Mayfair and Rupert was not impressed in the least. The drawing room stank
of tobacco, and the furniture was tired and dated. It was all a little shabby,
as was Miss Divine. But like it or not, the woman was now to be his wife.

He’d been snared; caught in the noose; trapped in the
parson’s mousetrap; shackled... He could think of a hundred clichés men used to
jest about their fate once a marriage agreement had been made, but he did not
think many men were actually, literally, captured as he had been — fool that he
was.

What had made him follow her into the garden, and,
God forbid
, stand alone with her outside
the summerhouse? He deserved this fate, for being such a rash idiot.

He’d stupidly sought some good in her, only to face
the bitter, ugly, truth; that he had been right all along. There was no damned
gray in her. There was black and white; she was as obvious as he had thought,
an open book, a scheming, conniving, little mischief maker.

Well, Meredith Divine was going to rue the day she had
compromised him.

Yet it had done one good thing. It had broken his
sister’s adoration of the girl. Rowena had been outraged last night, and quiet
this morning. Meredith may gain a wealthy husband, and a title, but she had
lost any hope of friendship or kindness in his house.

As for Rupert’s mother, she was appalled. So Miss
Divine could not expect a welcome there either. The girl would be exiled in his
home. She had made a fatal error when she’d chosen him to play her games with.
She would learn that soon too. It was the one thing which was keeping him sane,
imagining all his sources of revenge.

She was going to have a lot to endure as his wife. He
was going to make damn sure she did. He intended making her life hell in return
for this. She would gain his title, and the comfort of his money, but she would
have no peace.

Rupert had spent half the night drinking with Edward, as
they had done in the weeks before his cousin had met Ellen. Only then, it had
been Rupert consoling Edward as Edward had tried to drink away the anger eating
at him, when Robert had come back from the continent. This time, it had been
Rupert drowning his sorrows in wine, while Edward reassured. Edward had again claimed
Meredith had a fancy for Rupert, and excused her action with that statement.
He’d said all might be well... Rupert did not give a damn if the girl liked
him. He did not like her.

“Lord Morton.”

“
Mr.Divine
.”

“I‘ve had the contract drawn up. You need only sign it.”

“I shall read it first.” Rupert walked forward and
picked up the document Divine had indicated. It had lain discarded on a desk in
one corner of the room.

Rupert scanned every line as Divine stood in silence.
It was not a dream
;
 
this
was really happening, it was written in ink on the page.

When Rupert put the paper down, he looked at Divine.
“I have acquired a license. I shall arrange a church for tomorrow and let you
know where to bring her.”

“Do you not wish to see my daughter, Lord Morton?”

“No.” He had nothing to say to Miss Divine. In fact he
did not yet trust himself not to wring her neck. He was willing to make the
rest of her life hell, but he did not think he could get away with killing her.

~

It was a small church, tucked away in the side
streets.

Meredith knew it was normal for
ton
marriages to take place in St George’s in Hanover Square. So
she now knew, too, that Lord Morton did not wish their marriage to be celebrated,
or even noticed.

She felt like crying. She’d heard nothing from him
since he’d left her at the summerhouse. She’d expected to be called to the
drawing room yesterday, if only to be made to account for
herself
.
But he had not asked for her. She’d expected him to ring a peel over her head
for tricking him into this, not to be so silent. At least if he’d spoken to
her, she would have had the chance to explain.

She looked up at her father as they entered the
church. His anger had cooled once they’d reached home the other night. He’d realized
then that his daughter would be a Countess, and instead of being angry, his
chest had puffed out with pride, and he’d forgotten he’d ever recommended
Mr.Perrigrew
.

He’d spent the last four and twenty hours bragging
about how his son-in-law was to be an earl, and telling any of the servants who
would
listen
that he would be rubbing shoulders with
such impressive company now. He had spoken about inviting Lord Morton into a
business venture, and dining at his daughter’s new home.

She doubted Lord Morton would ever let her father
through the door of his house. He’d always looked at her with disgust when
she’d entered.

Oh
, why had she forced this engagement? He did not like
her. Yet she had just seen an opportunity and, terrified of the alternative,
grasped it.

Her gaze scanned the quiet church as she absorbed the
atmosphere of mistrust, anger and resentment.

Lord Morton stood before her. She’d expected him to be
waiting at the altar, but instead he was by the door.
Behind
him stood Lord Edward and his wife.
Rowena was with them.

Meredith smiled at Rowena. Rowena did not smile.

Meredith felt tears rush into her eyes, but she
refused to cry. This life would be far better than the one her father had
intended. Lord Morton would be her husband, Rowena would be her sister, and
Meredith would make the best of this.

Yesterday, she’d heard
Mr.Perrigrew
express his disgust when her father had broken their agreement. His angry shouts
had rung through the house. Then Meredith had seen Lord Morton’s carriage
arrive and heard his restrained knock on the front door.

His exit had been as quiet as his entrance. She had
waited in her room for her father’s summons,
then
suddenly heard the door shut.

Of the two fates, she much preferred to face Lord
Morton’s quiet fuming. He was a gentleman; he would never rage at her, or raise
his hand against her. She was sure of that, if nothing else.

“Are you ready?” He spoke to her, his gaze searching
her face, and then he looked down and his intense gaze equally skimmed across
her body, as if judging what he was about to tie himself to in marriage.

She’d worn her prettiest dress. It was white, as all
her dresses were, but it had exquisite lace decorating the skirt in rings.

She remembered the lace she’d pulled from her bodice
the other night and blushed as his eyes came back to her face.

She nodded, and then looked at her father, hiding
behind the brim of her straw bonnet. She ought to have curtsied, she remembered,
but it was too late to curtsy now.

She breathed out and gripped the chrysanthemums she’d
put together as a bouquet more tightly.

Lord Morton hated her. He had good cause.

Her father gave her a stiff glance, as if encouraging
her to simply grasp Lord Morton’s arm and claim her place. She could not be so
bold. She wondered if her father realized how much Lord Morton disliked her. They
had not discussed the incident the other night since, only the outcome.

She heard Lord Morton turn away and looked back. He
was already striding up the aisle. It was as if he just wished to get this over
with. His cousin followed.

Meredith met Rowena’s gaze, but Rowena merely lifted
her chin in a dismissive gesture, then turned away and followed her brother.

The only person who smiled at Meredith was Lady
Eleanor, who gave Meredith what appeared an understanding and bolstering look. Meredith
smiled back, only for an instant. Then Lady Eleanor turned away, too, and when
she caught up with Rowena, she took Rowena’s arm.

Meredith longed to have someone who might hold and
comfort
her
. Her mother had died when
she was very young; she could not even remember what it was like to have
compassionate, female comfort. Her father had never been loving, or even
protective. He did not even offer his arm now. She grasped it anyway, needing
something to cling to.

They followed Lord Morton’s family up the aisle, and Meredith
was certain she clutched her father’s arm too tightly, but she could not let
go. She felt desperation and fear and longing, all at once.

Her heart began to hammer even harder when she had to
let her father go as he left her at the altar. Lord Morton stood beside her,
his posture stiff.

The service seemed to progress very fast from that
moment on as the vicar’s voice echoed about the small, nearly empty, church, and
she struggled to keep up with it.

Lord Morton never looked at her face, let alone into
her eyes, when he said his vows — he spoke to the vicar, and when he slid the
ring onto her finger — looked only at her hand.

She spoke her vows, loudly and clearly, wishing this
was the wedding she had dreamed of as a child, looking at his profile, and
longing for him to look at her and see that she loved him. Surely he could see?

But he did not turn, and perhaps he did not even care.

Her hands were shaking when the vicar pronounced them
man and wife, and the ribbon which tied the three chrysanthemums she clasped and
trailed in curling bands of green, trembled.

When the vicar asked them to sign a register, Lord
Morton did not offer his arm, but once again walked ahead of her. He bent and signed
it first, then stepped back so she could sit and sign it too. She was Meredith
Stanforth
now, Countess of Morton. She was Lord Morton’s
wife.

The vicar shook Lord Morton’s hand.

He grunted acknowledgement, then turned to his cousin.
“Home I suppose, then.” He still did not look at Meredith. “You will come with
us, Ed?”

Lord Edward’s eyebrows lifted.

“We shall, of course, we shall,” Lady Eleanor
interjected.

It was Meredith’s wedding, they ought to be celebrating,
yet none of them showed any sign of joy. Meredith felt joy.

Lord Morton was tall and handsome, and having seen him
with Rowena, she knew he could be kind. His hazel eyes caught her gaze, only
for a moment, and then they lifted to look at her father instead.

“Divine?” It sounded like a begrudging offer.

“I shall come.”

“Good; then you may take Meredith in your carriage.”

Lord Morton did not even want to accompany her. His
dismissal cut like a knife into her breast. She was not at all welcome, then. Tears
threatened once more. Yet she knew she deserved his rejection; she had forced
him into this situation after all. She turned away toward her father, to hide
her distress. But as she did so, she caught Lord Edward’s gaze, and he gave her
a half a smile.

She did not know what to make of it. His expression
implied he was asking a question of her, rather than anything else. She turned
and walked out beside her father, leaving Lord Morton and his family to follow,
feeling daggers thrust into her back.

~

Carrying the tension which had been gripping him all
day, Rupert walked into Meredith’s bedchamber, wearing only a silk dressing
gown. He still could not quite believe this was real. It felt like a nightmare,
one from which any moment he might wake. But she was there, in the Countess’s
bedchamber, which connected to his rooms via a private door. She was in bed,
awake, but silent.

She wore a nightgown, which he could see above the top
of the sheets. It was buttoned right up to her chin, and also at her wrists,
hiding almost every inch of her. Her hands gripped the covers and held them
over her chest as she sat up. Her loose hair fell in a glorious waterfall of
amber, tumbling over her shoulders, caressing both the covers and the pillow
behind her as she moved.

Something clasped heavy and firm in his stomach and
gripped at his groin. He might not wish her for his wife, but he would have no
trouble consummating the match, no trouble at all.

“Meredith.” He’d said little more than that to her all
day. He was not willing to make this marriage easy for her, and nor was he
going to let her avoid her duty. She had forced him to take her as his wife, so
now she must fulfill all the expectations of that role.