Lovers Forever (31 page)

Read Lovers Forever Online

Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Tess swung round to face him. “I don't,” she said from between clenched teeth, “want to marry
you
!”
“Doesn't matter,” Nicolas said softly, “you don't have any choice—it has all been decided. Hasn't it, Rockwell?”
“Afraid he's right, Tess,” replied Rockwell. “You ain't got any other choice but to marry him. Face ruin otherwise. Just be glad that you'll be marrying a wealthy member of the peerage.”
“A handsome, charming devil, too,” said Alexander, a coaxing glint in his eyes. “Couldn't find a better man, brat. Think you should know that Rockwell and I had already approached him about a match between the pair of you. This ain't the way we would have wished for it to come about, but thing is, we approve.”
Despair knifing through her, Tess glanced beseechingly at her two aunts. Meg shook her head slowly. “No, darling,” she replied, answering Tess's unspoken plea. “There is nothing that we can do. Marriage to Sherbourne is the only way out of this unfortunate affair.”
Hetty rose up to pull Tess against her. “It won't be so very bad, pet,” she murmured into Tess's fiery curls. “You already know that he is a kind and noble man—didn't he rescue you from the Black Pig? You were alone and defenseless, and he could have taken base advantage of you. By your own words you have admitted that he did not. Doesn't that speak highly of the sort of man he is?”
Tess nearly choked on the bitter laughter that surged up through her. Oh, God, if Hetty only knew the truth! But it wouldn't change anything, she admitted grimly, even if she told them that he had, indeed, seduced her—that information would only make their demands for marriage all the more vociferous. But it rankled to have them think that he was such a
noble
man, and it didn't help to know that she had only herself to blame for everyone's distorted view of Nicolas. She should never have tried to shield him! Feeling rather put upon, Tess flung him a look of utter loathing, her temper fraying even more when she caught the glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes.
“Believe me,” she said tightly, “I know
exactly
what sort of man he is.”
“Well, then,” said Rockwell, beaming. “You know what a fortunate young lady you are! Just think—you'll soon be the countess of Sherbourne.”
 
At that precise moment Tess didn't feel very fortunate, but she realized there was nothing she could do but put a good face on it. For better or worse, it seemed that she was destined to marry Nicolas Talmage, a man who was marrying her only because of a cruel twist of fate.... Heartsore and weary, she let the warm, teasing congratulations of her relatives wash over her.
If anyone noticed that Tess was singularly quiet while plans for her hasty wedding to Nicolas were discussed, no one commented on it. Probably too grateful that I gave in without more of a fight, she thought sourly as she curled up on her chair and stared moodily at the fire.
Eventually, when all had been settled to everyone's satisfaction, the three ladies disappeared upstairs, while the Rockwells remained in the main room of the cottage, planning on dozing in chairs by the fire for what remained of the night. Nick was leaving for Sherbourne Court and from there, almost immediately, for London.
Tess had thought she would be subjected to a great many pointed questions when she was finally alone with her aunts, but such was not the case. They were all exhausted after the night's events and, with very little conversation between them, retired to bed. There was some argument about sleeping arrangements, but it was finally agreed that Hetty and Meg would sleep in Tess's far more comfortable bed and Tess would take the small, narrow bed that had been set up earlier, in anticipation of the arrival of the two ladies.
For Nicolas there was to be no sleep that night. Leaving the Rockwells in command of the cottage, having quietly told them of the attack on Tess and his suspicions that the owlers had been behind it, and after warning them to be on the alert, he departed. At Sherbourne Court he roused Lovejoy and made his wishes known. After a hasty bath, a change of clothes, and a swiftly consumed meal, he was on the road to London.
Nick was extremely busy while in London, but he managed to make time for an exceedingly brief meeting with Roxbury. His face giving no clue to his thoughts, Roxbury listened in silence to Nick's convoluted tale. With a twinkle in his gray eyes, he finally said, “Then congratulations are in order? You are to be married?”
Nick grinned ruefully. “It would seem so, sir, and while the circumstances are scandalous, I find I cannot regret them.”
Roxbury nodded, then said quietly, “You are to be commended for what you have discovered about our smugglers in such a short time. I had thought it would be weeks before you managed to make contact with them. Your information about a ‘gentleman' and the attack on your lady is most interesting. I tend to agree with your opinion that he might very well be our ‘Mr. Brown.'” The twinkle in the gray eyes returned, growing even more pronounced as he said, “In view of your excellent work, I think that for the time being . . . at least for a few days, you can forget about the owlers and concentrate on your bride.”
Nick smiled and nodded. “I intend to!”
 
At that moment, Nick may have been smiling, but Avery, returning home to Mandeville Manor, was definitely
not
. He arrived home late Sunday afternoon—just about the time Nick was meeting with Roxbury. Tossing his reins to a grim-faced Lowell, who had hurried out to meet him, he snapped, “Has she returned? Has there been any sign of her?
Any
word?”
Lowell shook his head, deciding cravenly to let Coleman be the one to inform his master that the aunts, too, had disappeared. Seeing the expression of angry frustration that crossed Avery's face, Lowell was quite content to lead the horses to the stables and spend several minutes slowly unharnessing and rubbing down the sweaty animals—a task he would normally have felt was far beneath him.
Striding into the silent house, Avery headed for his study, where he shrugged off his greatcoat and tossed his York tan gloves onto a cherrywood desk. After ringing impatiently for Coleman, he stalked the room, his thoughts on precisely what he was going to do to Tess once he got his hands on her. There was no doubt in his mind that he
would
find her.
Somewhat warily, Coleman entered the room a few minutes later. “You rang, sir?” he asked nervously.
Avery, who had been staring blindly out the window, cursing fate in general and Tess Mandeville in particular, spun around and glared at him. “Of course I rang, you bloody fool! Now go get that pair of conniving bitches from upstairs and bring them here.” His eyes hardened. “I want to have a talk with them—and this time I won't be gentle about it.”
Coleman paled. “Uh, L-L-Lowell didn't tell you?”
Avery's eyes narrowed, and his mouth thinned to an angry line. “Tell me what?” he demanded with lethal menace.
Coleman swallowed, his thoughts bitter against the missing butler. “The ladies aren't here—they're gone.”
Avery moved with the speed of a striking snake and grasped the lapels of Coleman's jacket, shaking him violently. “What the hell do you mean,
they're gone
?”
Coleman gulped, memories of his master's other rages flashing across his mind. “They disappeared sometime last night. We fed them about eight o'clock in the evening, and Lowell collected the trays about an hour later, locking the door behind him.” Unable to bear the fury in Avery's eyes, he glanced away and muttered, “This morning, when I took up their breakfast, the door was ajar and the room was empty. During the night someone had kicked open the door and taken them away.”
Avery's hands tightened on the lapels. His voice silky with sarcasm, he asked, “And I suppose you and Lowell never heard a thing?” At Coleman's unhappy nod, he shook him again and snarled, “The pair of you were probably too drunk to notice if an entire regiment had come marching through the house! Why the bloody hell I keep you—! I set you a simple task—to keep an eye on a pair of helpless females—and you let them escape! I ought to—!”
Coleman cringed, certain a beating was coming, but Avery merely threw him away, saying furiously, “If you and that oaf Lowell don't want to find yourselves looking for new positions, in the future you damn well better carry out my orders better than you have lately! Now get out of here and get me something to eat and drink—and send Lowell to me. I want a word with him.”
Not envying Lowell his audience with Avery, Coleman bolted from the room.
Alone in his study, Avery paced the floor like an enraged beast, frustration eating away at him. It was obvious that until he found Tess he was going to need more funds. Mr. Brown was just going to have to be a bit more generous—whether it was part of their agreement or not. He smiled grimly. Considering the disaster Mr. Brown faced if just one little word were slipped to the right people, Avery didn't doubt for a moment that his demands would be met. A scowl replaced his smile, and his hands clenched into fists. When he got hold of that little red-haired bitch again ... Lovingly he pictured several inventive ways of giving pain, but upon Lowell's appearance, he tore himself from that pleasant pastime to the present.
Avery was as menacing to Lowell as he had been to Coleman, even going so far as to strike his butler before demanding to be shown the broken door. With a frown on his face, he stared at the shattered wood, his mind racing.
Ignoring his two hovering servants, he returned to his study to consider all the implications of this latest disaster. Tess had to have been behind the escape of the aunts. He doubted she had been the one to kick in the door, but he was certain she had been involved. Which meant, he thought with an ugly smile, that she had to be somewhere nearby....
In the morning he would set his less-than-satisfactory pair of servants to reconnoiter. His eyes narrowed. After the tongue-lashing they had received today, they wouldn't dare fail again. He would find Tess, and when he did ...
 
Oblivious of Avery's sinister plans for Tess, Nick left London just before dusk that same evening, the special license tucked securely in the pocket of his greatcoat. There was no chance that he would arrive home before darkness fell, but he wanted to put several miles behind him before he stopped for the night.
The black sky was brilliant with stars when he finally pulled his horse to a halt before a prosperous coaching inn. A short while later, his stomach full of rich kidney pie and warm mulled punch, he sank exhaustedly into bed. Sleep descended instantly.
Waking the next morning, he looked around groggily, hardly aware of where he was. It was an unnerving sensation; nothing looked familiar, and for a terrifying second he couldn't even remember how he came to be sleeping in this particular bed. It was only when his eyes fell upon his greatcoat flung over a nearby chair that it all came back to him. Somewhat thoughtfully, he got out of bed. If Tess had been telling the truth about her memory loss ...
His mouth tightened. He had no reason to doubt her word now, and he cursed himself again. He should have realized within minutes of seeing Tess that she wasn't one of the usual wenches to be found in places like the Black Pig. And perhaps he had. The problem was, he admitted disgustedly, that he had wanted her in a way he couldn't remember ever wanting another woman, and he hadn't been willing to let anything stand in his way—not even the fact that she clearly didn't belong where he had found her. If he'd been half the gentleman he'd always considered himself to be, he would have come to her aid instead of deflowering her and forcing her to become his mistress.
The plain and simple truth of the matter, Nick thought grimly as he got out of bed and pulled on his clothes, was that like a green boy, he had allowed his body to dictate to his brain—he'd taken one look at Tess, at those huge violet eyes and soft, rosy lips, and nothing else had mattered, except that she be in his bed. He smiled acidly. Unfortunately, that particular fact was still true. Hell. He was even willing to put aside who she was in order to marry her, so that she'd
always
be in his bed! It was a damning admission for him to make, and his mood darkened even more.
What he found most annoying about the situation wasn't that he was going to be marrying Tess Mandeville, but that the fury and resentment he was certain he would feel if he'd found himself trapped into marriage with any other woman wasn't within him. He
had
been furious when the truth had exploded in his face, but again, there had been that curious feeling of satisfaction....
It wasn't until the inn had been left far behind him and he was on the final leg of his journey that Nicolas allowed himself to think about all the problems waiting for him at Sherbourne Court—not the least of these being his recalcitrant bride! He grinned. Tess was going to be a handful, he was well aware of that, and he rather thought that he was going to find being married to her more than tolerable—she'd never bore him, and there was no denying that he was definitely going to enjoy having her in his arms anywhere or anytime he chose.

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