Rogues Gallery (22 page)

Marisa was clad in a simple nightrail and Lord Midnight's cape rather than the extravagant gown of sheer muslin and beads Edmund had selected. Yet it was the most beautiful wedding any maiden could hope for since she was gazing into the sparkling eyes of the man she loved. Her own eyes glittered with emotion, but she managed to repeat her vows calmly, hesitating only when she heard her highwayman's name for the first time.

"I, Marisa, take thee, Gabriel," she said with reverence. She added in a whisper for him alone, "'Tis a beautiful name." He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then she continued with easy assurance to the end of her vows, plighting her troth to the man she cherished and adored.

She was too bemused to remember much beyond that, for Gabriel seemed slightly out of focus when he recited his vows. He had placed a ring on her hand, for she recalled holding onto it with her thumb lest it slide off her small fingers.

He kissed her with such tenderness, she nearly sank into another swoon. He gripped her waist, keeping her steady, as though he knew just how wobbly her knees were in that moment.

It was when she signed the marriage lines that something recognizable flickered in her brain. She could not reflect on it at that moment, for she was distracted by Gabriel's dazzling smile, and the undeniable happiness on his face.

He had rescued her by marrying her.

He was her husband.

In the next instant, her bewitched brain finally brought forth the vital information it had been struggling to comprehend.

Her new husband bore the same surname as the man she sought to escape.

Marisa's heart stopped beating for several seconds. She inhaled sharply, but all of a sudden she could not exhale. Her mind whirled with a multitude of unanswered questions, none of them pleasant ones.

"Gabriel."

He turned to her, a satisfied expression on his face. It quickly disappeared. He nodded once at the rogues, his lips set in a grim line. The young men dashed toward the heavy wooden door of the church, tossing Marisa a hasty farewell as they rushed by. The cleric departed as well, fading into the background before the palpable tension could ensnare him.

Marisa glanced at Gabriel. She had only learned his given name moments before, while she pledged herself to him, her heart overflowing with genuine love. Until that instant he had been Lord Midnight, a dashing rogue who visited her bedchamber clandestinely. Yet now she realized how little she truly knew about this man she adored.

Such as why he shared the same surname as Edmund.

"I have much I must ask you," Marisa said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

"I would imagine you have a question or two," Gabriel responded with maddening calm.

She wanted answers, to all of her questions, particularly about their future, and what to do next for Aunt Althea. But even more, she required reassurance from her new husband. She needed to know her doubts were unwarranted, that there was nothing for her to fret about. Yet everything about the situation, indeed, the covert nature of the wedding ceremony, screamed deceit.

Marisa tamped down her rising fear. She began with what seemed the easiest answered, as well as the most puzzling. "Your surname is the same as Edmund's."

He smiled before kissing her nose. "As is yours now, angel."

"Gabriel!"

She was unable to banter with him at that moment. This was too important. She studied his features while she waited for his answer, a response to allay her mounting panic. To her dismay, nothing was forthcoming.

Surely it could not be coincidence that Edmund and Gabriel carried the same surname. It would strain the bounds of credulity. That could only mean that Gabriel knew of the connection.

Had he known of it all along?

She did not want to believe it of him. She loved him. He was her husband now. She fought off the rising terror, offering him another opportunity to provide the assurance she so desperately needed.

"It is clear you must be related, in some fashion," she pressed on. "For DeVault is not a common name. Yet Edmund has never mentioned any family, or even any distant relations. I know I have never encountered any."

Gabriel's lips tightened, but still he did not respond.

Another flutter of panic assailed her. She had thrown herself into this man's arms, many times, yet he was a veritable stranger after all. How could she know what he planned for her? Could she even be certain he did not mean to harm her?

The darkened chapel closed in on her, the few remaining lit candles unable to dispel her unease. She had asked Gabriel for his assistance, and then blindly accompanied him without even considering the consequences. She tamped down the nervous laughter seeking to escape. Moments ago, her worst fear had been that he would bid her farewell before she was quite ready.

Now she was legally bound to him. He could do with her whatever he wished.

Suspicion snaked up her spine. If Gabriel were any other man, it would be easy to believe this unorthodox marriage was part of some intricate scheme. Especially since he would not enlighten her in any fashion.

She could not bear such a betrayal, not from Gabriel.

"You appear to be quite successfully impersonating Edmund. And I can only assume you have a logical reason."

She paused, but Gabriel merely gazed at her as though she recounted a fantastical tale.

"Gabriel, I entreat you," she whispered. She reached for him, needing his oath that she was not part of some unknown plot.

Gabriel brought her hand to his lips for a sweet kiss. "I know there is much you want to know, angel." He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, gentle as ever.

She closed her eyes with contentment, reveling in his tender ministrations.

"And it grieves me that I cannot give you any answers."

Her eyes flew open. "You must! I insist. There must be a good reason why you and Edmund share this name."

Gabriel shook his head. "I cannot speak further on this topic."

Marisa, her patience at an end, turned toward the church door, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. Gabriel, despite his deceptive calm, caught her arm before she had moved but an inch.

"I ask only for your trust," he said.

"And I ask only for the truth."

She glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration. His eyes pleaded with her, yet they were also intense with determination.

The silent battle of wills continued. In the next instant, a curious sense of
déjà vu
swamped her. It was as if she was battling with her father, once more struggling for supremacy in an effort to secure her future.

The fear that had danced along her nerve endings swelled into rage. She had suffered betrayal at the hands of those she loved, and those who professed to care for her, for far too long. She could not—would not—bear it again. Especially not from Gabriel, the one who had vowed to rescue her.

"Gabriel."

"Angel," he whispered. He took a deep breath, almost as if he was gathering courage. "Continue to trust me a while longer."

"No!"

"I know it is a great deal I ask, but I must."

"It is too much to ask," she cried. "You have asked it of me too often."

"I cannot do anything else!"

Gabriel stalked away, his boot heels pounding against the stone floor. He gripped a worn wooden pew, his shoulders stiff, but Marisa was not sure if it was from anger, or frustration, or another emotion entirely. She had never seen him anything but charming, and lighthearted, and playful. She could only hope he would return to that demeanor, and grant her the information she desired.

After several long moments, Gabriel spun around to face her.

"You asked me to prevent your wedding to Edmund," he said, his voice flat. "And I have done so."

Angry tears filled Marisa's eyes, blurring her vision. She had hoped, foolishly it now seemed, that Gabriel chose to marry her because of his deep and abiding affection for her. She had misjudged the situation in a most horrifying fashion.

She inhaled a ragged breath. There was nothing left for her now but to depart, before she discovered what other schemes he had in mind for her. She would rescue her aunt, and they would spend their next years in safety, decrying the merciless males in their lives. Marisa would have much to condemn from this one night alone.

"I shall have need of a horse," she managed, despite the lump in her throat.

Gabriel blinked, as if confused by her statement.

"So I can leave for London."

He shook his head. "You will return to Westbrook Hall. Tonight."

"No!"

"There is no other choice." He turned his head, unwilling to entertain further discussion.

A sob escaped Marisa's lips, but she smothered the next one. She dashed a hand across her eyes, unwilling to show Gabriel how much he had wounded her. The snowdrops clutched in her hand nearly made her heart break anew.

How could she have trusted him?

Clearly she was part of some scheme. Much as she tried to rearrange the facts of this evening, she could not arrive at any other conclusion. Gabriel refused to convince her otherwise, and his unexpected betrayal blindsided her.

Marisa wrapped his cape close around her, trembling from the deep chill invading her soul. She was indeed wed to the man she loved. Yet he had broken her heart on what should have been the happiest day of her young life, forcing her to confront a most bitter truth.

She had evaded one unwanted marriage, only to become trapped in another.

Marisa closed the library door behind her. Though her heart was heavy, she could scarce believe her one moment of good fortune. She had made it into the library without being seen, or worse, accosted by Lord Westbrook.

Still, in case he should choose to cut up her peace, she had chosen a muslin morning dress with long sleeves, and high in the neck. Surely the lilac color would do little to stir his passions, though it was possible the satin ribbon tied beneath her bosom could incite riotous emotion.

Marisa scanned the library interior. Heavy mahogany bookcases lined each wall, from floor to ceiling, with books of every size and color crowding the bookshelves. Even if Lord Westbrook had a family Bible or some other record of his lineage, how could she ever hope to find it amongst all these tomes?

She strolled past the first bookcase, her finger trailing the tooled leather spines of the closest shelf. Yet none of the gilded pages cried out that it contained all the answers to her myriad questions about her husband.

Her heart thudded. She had believed Gabriel to be her knight errant, yet he had proved himself something else entirely. She pushed the heartrending thought aside, storing it next to her dashed hopes for a happy future. She must solve the riddle of Gabriel and his connection to Edmund, not lament her cruel fate.

The two men shared the same surname, yet it was widely known Lord Westbrook had no kin. It was not a common surname or she would suspect they were from distant branches of the same family.

Would Edmund be overjoyed to learn of the familial connection? Since Gabriel had wed the woman Edmund had planned to make his own bride, Edmund's joy at finding a lost relation might not overcome his dismay at needing to locate another wife.

She did not even need to imagine her father's reaction to this turn of events.

Marisa inspected the books once more, yet her eyes grew weary trying to read the print on so many volumes. Perhaps she should give up her hopeless quest, and spend the remainder of the afternoon in the cozy leather chair flanking the fireplace. Surely reading
The Mysteries of Udolpho
for the third time was a more productive use of her time than trying to solve the riddle of the DeVault family.

Yet she knew she would not rest easy until she satisfied her curiosity about the unusual familial connection. In truth, her faith in Gabriel could not be restored until she had the answers, and he had made it plain he would not enlighten her.

Her spine stiffened with resolve. Thanks to her dealings with her father, she had many years' experience devising alternate means to accomplish her goals. She set to reviewing the books with renewed purpose, skimming over the titles dealing with animal husbandry and estate management. The volumes of Shakespeare's tragedies and comedies could wait for another day.

All at once, her eyes lit upon an unexpected treasure: a local history of the surrounding county. Her heart pounded with anticipation. She grasped the book and carried it to the leather chair that had nearly tempted her to abandon her hunt earlier. The chair's back was to the library door, so she could read without being noticed, or having anyone learn her task until she had discovered the vital information on her own.

She was impatient to unravel the mystery of her husband.

Her husband
.

At one time the mere thought of Gabriel as her husband had filled her with indescribable joy. Yet now her heart ached at his obstinacy.

She flipped through the pages until she came to the end of the family section. The DeVault family may not have had many current representatives, but it had been in existence for several centuries. Her eyes skimmed over a long list of names, impatient to see something she recognized.

At last! There was Edmund's name. Surely Gabriel's was nearby as well.

The library door swung open, bringing a whoosh of cool air in from the hallway. The fire crackled as if greeting the visitor, the flames cavorting with delight. Marisa's breath, and disappointment, caught in her throat. She was not ready to face Edmund just yet—not until she knew more about Gabriel.

Perhaps it was not Edmund, but instead the chambermaid come to check on the fire. Marisa peered around the edge of the chair, careful to keep hidden. She held her breath for several long moments while she studied the intruder.

Marisa's heart plummeted. It was Edmund, just as she had feared.

A forceful sigh rushed past her lips before she could arrest it.