The Switch (25 page)

"You do?"

"Of course I do. Why do you think I married you?"

"To save me from Carland."

"I could have simply bought your uncle off, or sent you to the Americas to achieve that end," he said with disgust. "Tying myself down to you for the rest of my life was not necessary."

"But the morning after we… umm…'
er'd
" she said at last for want of a better word. "You told me you did not love me."

"You were not even awake when I left you."

"When you thought I was Charles," she explained.

He was silent for a moment, then said, "I recall your asking about love, and my starting to say that I did not think it an important consideration at that point, but stopped to consider my feelings. I was
very confused at that time. I had feelings for Charles that I thought wholly inappropriate, and feelings for Beth sometimes but not others. It was not until I learned of the switching you and your sister were doing that I sorted everything out and realized that all of my feelings were for you."

"Then you do love me?"

"Would I be kneeling on the floor in pink ruffles if I did not?"

"Oh, Jeremy, I love you too," she sighed, tears pooling in the one eye he could see. "I wish I could hold you."

"You will," he said firmly. "I will get you out of there, but first I have to—"

"Darlee?"

Radcliffe stiffened at that low nimble and turned to stare over his shoulder at the giant standing over him. He had not heard the man approach.

"Yer not Darlee." Radcliffe saw the fist coming down toward his head like a hammer, but didn't have a chance to duck out of the way before pain exploded in his head and unconsciousness overtook him.

It was cold water splashing in his face that dragged him back to reality. Swimming up through the swirling fog in his brain, Radcliffe blinked his eyes open, closed them, then opened them again to squint at the blurry images around him, attempting with difficulty to bring them into focus. Charlie was the first thing he saw, or Charles, he supposed, taking in her breeches and waistcoat as well as the fact that she was seated on the floor, cradling his head in her lap. Then he saw that she was glaring at the second blur furiously, and he squinted at it until it shaped itself into Norwich, who stood above them. An empty pitcher was dangling from one of the man's hands.

"Finally," the other man sighed impatiently. "Really, the two of you are quite tiresome. First, she shows up instead of you, then you come early. I told you midnight—can neither of you read? Nice frock, by the way," he sneered, turning to stomp toward the door. "You have a little over six hours until midnight. Enjoy them. They shall be the last you have together."

"Bastard," Charlie hissed as the door closed behind him, then turned to look down at Radcliffe with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Aye," Radcliffe sighed, sitting up with her help and peering around, his hand moving automatically to nib his aching temple.

"Mayhap you should stay lying down for a bit," Charlie murmured anxiously, but he shook his head and forced himself to his feet where he swayed woozily.

"I do not have that luxury. I have to figure out a way to get us out of here."

"I shall do that, you just rest," she insisted, taking his arm to steady him.

"Nay. I—"

"Dammit Radcliffe, I am wearing the breeches now. Sit down before you fall down," she snapped.

"You are wearing the breeches? What the devil is that suppose to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to, now just sit down." Charlie gave her husband a gentle push that made him drop weakly onto the foot of the bed, then moved to the windows to inspect her handiwork from earlier. She had been working on one of the nails with a silver candlestick holder when Radcliffe had knocked at the door

and called out her name. "What are you doing?"

Glancing around, she saw that Radcliffe had stumbled weakly over to join her and now stood swaying like a sapling in a stiff breeze beside her. Frowning, she took his
arm and urged him back to the bed. "Will you just sit down and let me deal with this? I have enough to worry about without having to keep you from falling on your face."

"I will not fall on my face," he snapped irritably, shrugging her hand off. "And I am your
husband;
you do not order me about."

"Is that right? Well, I have news for you, Radcliffe. You are not my husband."

"I am so."

"Are not. You married Beth."

"She may have stood in for you, but it is your name on the register."

"But not my signature. We are not married."

He was stumped briefly by that, then scowled. "Well, we shall rectify that situation. The moment we are out of here I will arrange a proper wedding."

"Good for you, be sure and send me an invitation, I will see if I can not show up to witness it."

He stared at her in bewilderment, wondering whether the injury to his head had not done more damage than he had initially thought. "What is going on? The last
thing I recall before being knocked out was our admitting our love for each other, yet now you seem to be saying you will not
marry me. What did I miss here?"

Sighing in frustration, Charlie nibbed her hands over her face wearily and shook her head as she crossed back to the window. "You have not missed anything. I missed it. I love you, Radcliffe, but I am not sure that I wish to spend the rest of my life with a man who treats me like an inferior."

"I would never treat you like an inferior."

"Well, you certainly do not treat me like an equal anymore."

"Oh, that is nonsense."

"It is not nonsense. Ever since you found out that I was not really a Charles, you have been treating me like some sort of hothouse flower that does not have a thought in her head and might expire from the effort should I try to place one in it."

"I have not," he denied hotly.

"Oh, really? Well, when was the last time that you discussed business with me?"

"It is not polite to discuss business in mixed company, besides women cannot understand the intricacies of…" His voice trailed away, his face flushing with guilt as he realized what he was saying.

"Funny that I seemed to understand it well enough as Charles, but am not even good enough to discuss it as Charlotte."

"I had not realized…" he began faintly, dropping to sit on the bed with dismay.

"What? That you saw women as lacking? That you have been treating me like a tickle-brained jolthead?" she asked dryly, then moved to pick up a candelabra and positioned herself beside the door. Before Radcliffe could ask her what she was about, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and raised the holder over her head as a key jiggled in the lock. The door flew open, a wide-eyed Little Willy stepped in, and she brought the heavy holder down on his head with enough gusto that Radcliffe half-suspected that she was working out some of her anger at him on the poor man's skull.

When the behemoth crumpled to the floor in a heap, she tossed the holder aside, bent to snatch the keys from his limp hand, then straightened to eye Radcliffe impatiently. "Well? Are you coming, or had you intended to wait there for midnight?"

Closing his gaping mouth, Radcliffe got quickly to his feet and stumbled forward. The moment he had stepped through the door, she pulled it closed and locked it, then pocketed the keys and hurried toward the stairs. They were halfway down them when Norwich appeared at the bottom. Much to Radcliffe's amazement, Charlie continued down even as Norwich stepped back and raised his gun to await them. At the bottom of the stairs, Radcliffe moved quickly to place himself protectively before his not-quite-legally-married-wife and faced the man.

Norwich frowned at him with annoyance as he raised his gun and aimed it, then said, "I do not know what is the matter with you two. Why can you not simply do as you are told?
Things would be so much easier if you did so."

"Oh, yes, that would be nice, would it not?" Charlie snapped over Radcliffe's shoulder. "Then you could give nice little orders like
die
and we would just
drop at your feet."

Norwich frowned at her, then raised an eyebrow at Radcliffe. "Sassy little thing, is she not?"

"I prefer to think of her as passionate."

Norwich's eyebrow rose further. "Really? Well, I can hardly wait to experience her full passion."

"Not in this lifetime, Norwich," Radcliffe snarled.

"He is right," Charlie said calmly when the man chuckled derisively at the threat. "I am afraid the game is up. Your plan never would have worked in any case. Radcliffe and I are not even really married Beth is the one who married him in Gretna Green."

"Your sister married Mowbray."

"Aye. Four days prior to our arrival in Gretna Green she married Tomas, then the morning your men rode into Gretna with us, she dressed up as Charles and married Radcliffe. It was not a legal marriage. If you kill Radcliffe, all you will get from marrying me are a couple of paltry jewels. Most of them have been sold and the money invested." When he started to shake his head with patent disbelief, she shrugged. "If you do not believe me, ask Beth. She is standing right behind you."

He laughed openly at that. "If you expect me to believe—" His voice died as something hard poked him in his lower back.

"Well, hello, Lord Norwich. Fancy meeting you here," Beth trilled cheerfully, then nudged him a little harder in the ribs with her weapon. "You will give up your gun to Lord Radcliffe, will you not?"

Radcliffe took the pistol as it suddenly hung limply in the other man's hand. Beth waited just long enough for him to point the weapon at the villain, then rushed around him to hug her sister. "I did it, Charlie! I saved you.
I
saved
you
. And I did it with a candlestick," she half-laughed and half-gasped, pulling away to hold up her weapon. "Oh, it was marvelous. What a rush of sensation! I have never felt so frightened or so truly alive. Do you know, I do not think I shall ever be afraid of
anyone again," she said, then laughed and hugged her again. "
I did it
."

"Aye, you did." Charlie smiled at her widely. "Where are the others?"

"Right here, my lady," Stokes said, pushing a bound-and-gagged Aggie down the hallway toward them
withBessie and Mis. Hartshair following.

"But how did you know they were all here?"

Beth asked Charlie in amazement.

"I saw you all climb out of the carriage and crawl through the first-floor window from the room upstairs," Charlie explained. "I was trying to decide at that point whether 'twould be better to block the door, break the window, and climb out, or lure Little Willy into the room, knock him out, and risk the stairs. Seeing you come in made me decide to try the stairs. I hoped you would arrive in time to help with Norwich."

"And I did!" Beth's face was as bright as a candle flame with pride and Charlie could not help but laugh.

"Aye, you did. You were marvelous."

"I was, was I not?" she marveled breathlessly.

"Aye, and I never again want to hear you say you are a coward. It took great courage to face him down with naught but a candlestick. You could have been killed. Why, all he had to do was glance over his shoulder and—Beth?" Reaching out quickly, she caught her twin as Beth crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

"What time is it?"

"You have asked that question twenty times, Radcliffe," Tomas pointed out with exasperation as he checked his timepiece once again. "
'Tis four minutes after the hour."

"They are late."

"Women are always late. I do not know why you are worrying yourself so. I am not worried"

Radcliffe grimaced at that. "You are already married Whether you go through with the service again today or not,
you
will still be married to Beth. Charlie and I are another matter entirely."

"But the two of you sorted it out. She has agreed to marry you. Has she not?"

"Aye." He looked slightly heartened, but then worry crept across his face again. "But what if something has happened?"

"Something like what?" Tomas asked curiously.

"Who can say with Charlie? She attracts trouble like no woman I have ever known."

"True," Tomas agreed morosely, worry plucking at his own brow now as well. "And Beth has taken on that rather unfortunate trait herself lately. Ever since that incident with Norwich, in fact."

Radcliffe nodded solemnly. It was true; the once quiet and sensible Beth had become more like Charlie, thrusting herself into the path of injustice at every turn and making her husband crazy with it. Much to Radcliffe's amusement,the Mowbray home, too, now sported an array of waifs and strays she had rescued from one predicament or another. Though he would never reveal his secret amusement to his friend. And Tomas was correct in saying that it all harked back to the incident with Norwich and her disarming the man with naught but a candlestick. It seemed her words of that day had been true, despite the faint that had followed the incident; she truly was no longer afraid of
anyone.

As for Norwich himself, the last they had seen of the man was when the authorities had taken him and Aggie away. He had been squawking that he was the son of a king at the time. What had happened to him since was
anyone's guess. Aggie had suffered a heart attack in prison and had not survived to stand trial, and when Radcliffe had made inquiries about the prosecution of Norwich, he had been told not to worry, the matter had been handled. He had heard various
rumors, but suspected that the man had been locked away in Bedlam where he could cause no further embarrassment to the royal family.

"Damn," Tomas muttered suddenly, drawing Radcliffe from his thoughts. "Now I am worried too."

Exchanging gloomy glances, the two men began pacing the front of the church under the watchful eye of the minister and the four hundred restless guests cramped into the church.
Every single member of the ton had wanted to be present at this "renewal of vows" between Charlie and Radcliffe and Beth and Tomas. They all thought it terribly romantic. Of course, none of them realized that it would be the first time Charlie would get to say her vows and that their earlier marriage might not be quite legal.

Charlie had insisted on it being one year to the day after their supposed marriage at Gretna Green, just so that there would be no confusion over wedding anniversaries. Beth and Tomas had understood and agreed to the date. Of course, that had been before they had learned that Charlie was pregnant and that her due date was just a week after the date set for this "renewal of vows." Radcliffe had tried to convince her that they should push up the wedding date. There was no way he wanted the child
born prior to the wedding and possibly being a bastard because of it. Still, Charlie—charming, exciting, sweet,
stubborn
Charlie—had said nay. They would continue as planned and hope the baby did not come early.

"How
did
you convince her to remarry you?" Tomas asked curiously, drawing Radcliffe from his thoughts.

Making a face, he admitted, "I had to draw up a contract stating that I would never again condescend to her. That I would discuss business with her on a daily basis were she interested, and…"

"And?"

He sighed unhappily. "And that I would take her to my club dressed as a man."

Tomas gave a start. "What?"

"Shh," Radcliffe cautioned, glancing nervously around to be sure that they had not been overheard. No one seemed to be paying attention to them. Most of the guests were casting expectant glances toward the back of the church, hoping to spot the brides who should have been there by now. Glancing back to Tomas, he nodded. "She was quite adamant about seeing the club. It seems she was jealous of Beth's getting within those 'hallowed halls'—her words, not mine—and she was
determined to see inside for herself."

"Have you taken her there yet?"

"Nay, nay. I managed to put her off for quite some time, and then by the time she lost her patience with my stalling, she was with child and did not think the smoky atmosphere would be good for the baby. I am hoping by the time it is
born and she is up and about again, she will have forgotten—" A faint shriek from outside the church made him pause and stiffen in alarm. "That sounded like Charlie."

Turning, he hurried toward the back of the church with Tomas on his heel. Crashing through the church doors, they both froze at the top of the steps and gaped at the spectacle taking place on the street below. Charlie and Beth, in all their wedding finery, were in the midst of attacking what appeared to be a sheet vendor. Flowers were flying through the air as they both pummeled the man with their bouquets and shouted at him furiously.

"Have I mentioned, Radcliffe, how little I appreciate the effect your wife has had on mine?" Tomas murmured suddenly, and Radcliffe glanced at him with amazement.

"My wife? Good Lord, Tomas, you cannot blame Beth's sudden change on Charlie. They grew up together, for God's sake. After twenty years of influence, she was not like this."

Tomas frowned. "I had not thought of that. What do you suppose did it, then?"

Radcliffe grinned slightly. "The only new thing in her life is you."

Tomas was gaping over that truth when Stokes slipped out of the church to join them. "Oh, dear. Lady Charlie and Lady Beth are hardly in
the condition for that sort of behavior."

Radcliffe and Tomas glanced back to the activity in the street. The man had turned away, it seemed, and tried to climb up on the bench seat of a wagon, only to have one of the women launch herself at his back. She appeared to be attempting to climb him like a mountain, and despite her advanced state of pregnancy, was doing a bang-up job of it. Meantime, the other "bride" was now stomping on his toes, kicking him in the shins, and yanking his hair for all she was worth. The vendor was squealing like a pig.

Both men started forward at once, grim determination on their faces. Radcliffe went automatically for the woman on the man's back, unhooking her from the vendor and carrying her several steps away to set her down. When she turned to face him, he blinked in surprise. "Elizabeth?"

"You are letting him go. Stop him!" Beth cried, running forward even as Charlie slipped from Tom's grasp and rushed toward the man.

Cursing in unison, Radcliffe and Tomas hurried forward, latching onto their wives'
arms and urging them away before grabbing the vendor by his
arms as he tried to climb into his wagon once more. Dragging him back to the ground, they turned him about to face the panting women.

"Now." Radcliffe frowned over the women's disheveled and breathless state. "What is going on?"

"He was beating that child," Charlie gasped furiously, reaching up to straighten her veil.

"What child?" Tomas frowned, and his wife answered.

"The boy in the back of the wagon."

Leaving the vendor where he was, both men moved to the wagon to peer in at the child cowering there. There was no mistaking the marks he bore as anything but bruises from a vicious beating. Radcliffe reached in to lift the child off the filthy strips of leather he lay on.

"Here now. Put him back. He's mine." The vendor rushed forward.

Radcliffe arched a brow coldly. "Yours?"

"My nephew, I got him when his parents died. I'm apprenticing him. Teaching him to be a cobbler and he's mine to deal with as I see fit. Besides, he deserved the beating. He done gone and run off on me. O'course I beat 'im when I spotted 'im here and caught him back."

"I would run off, too, if you beat me," Charlie snapped. "Not all those bruises are new."

Radcliffe and Tom peered from each other to the face of the miserable child Radcliffe held.
The boy was thin, too thin, bruises old and new decorated his pale skin, and he had a hopeless expression on his face that no child should have. Shifting impatiently, Radcliffe glanced at the cobbler. "I will buy him from you."

"Radcliffe," Charlie gasped in honor. "You cannot
buy
a child."

"Aye, he can," the cobbler said quickly. "How much?"

"We shall discuss that in the office of my solicitor tomorrow morning at eight o'clock." While Charlie listened grimly, he gave the address to the man, then handed the child to Stokes, took Charlie's elbow, and started them up the steps to the church. They were halfway up before he realized that Charlie was being unexpectedly quiet. Glancing at her narrowly, he frowned at her tight-lipped expression. "Are you all right?"

"Aye," she said quickly, pressing a hand to her burgeoning stomach.

"You are not—" He paused on the steps as she bit her lip in pain. "You are, aren't you?"

"It will wait until after the wedding," she said determinedly, taking another shaky step.

"Charlie, are you going into labor?" Beth asked anxiously as she and Tomas joined them on the steps, her own gown burgeoning with the girth of a child. She was only a month behind her sister in her pregnancy. It did seem the twins liked to do things together. "You are, aren't you? Mayhap we should delay—" She fell silent as Charlie turned on her furiously.

"This child will not be born until his parents are properly wed."

Radcliffe was torn for a moment, then, cursing, he swept her up in his arms and hurried up the stairs with her, leaving the others to follow.

" 'Tis all right, husband, you can set me down, I think that the pains have stopped," Charlie murmured as he pushed his way through the church doors with her. When Radcliffe ignored her and strode purposely up the aisle of the crowded church, Charlie forced a smile for the benefit of the guests, who had turned as one and were now watching their approach wide-eyed. "Here we are," she called out in feigned cheerfulness. "Sorry for the delay."

"Get to it. Father," Radcliffe said grimly, pausing before the gaping man.

"Set me down," Charlie hissed, and after a hesitation, Radcliffe did so, setting her on her feet just as Tomas, Beth, Stokes, and the cobbler's boy reached their side.

"Father!" Radcliffe snapped impatiently, and the man gave a start, then cleared his throat and began.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here—"

"We all know why we are gathered. Father. Please get to the important bit."

"Now see here, young man," he began, then glanced worriedly at Charlie as she suddenly gasped and clutched her stomach. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"She is about to have a baby. Father. Perhaps we could get this over with before it comes?"

"Well, aye, I know she is having a—You mean
now
?" The horror on his face knew no bounds. "Then you must get her home, see her comfortable and—" His voice died on a choked sound as Radcliffe grabbed him by his vestments and eyed him menacingly.

"Marry us first." When the poor man nodded quickly, Radcliffe released him and put a comforting
arm around Charlie. Not that she noticed. Holding her stomach, she had begun to pant in a worrisome way.

"Do you, Lord Radcliffe, take—"

"I do," he snapped, and the minister frowned at him.

"At least let me finish—" He paused and swallowed as Charlie released a sudden groan, pain on her expressive face. "Oh, dear Lord," he breathed, then straightened grimly. "All right,Lord Radcliffe takes Lady Radcliffe, and, my lady, do you take him too?" When she nodded, he glanced toward Tom and Beth. "Lord Mowbray, do
you take Lady Mowbray? And Lady Mowbray, what about you?"

They nodded as one and murmured, "We do."

"Good, good, then… er… what is next?" Sweat appearing on his brow, he floundered briefly, then cried, "The rings! Put them on." Once Tomas and Radcliffe had slipped the rings on their wives' fingers, he sighed with relief. "That is it. You are man and wife… again. Now kiss them and begone."

Kissing Charlie on the forehead, Radcliffe bent to catch her up in his arms, then turned and hurried down the aisle with her, Tomas and Beth hurrying behind them.

Radcliffe, Tomas, and Stokes were pacing ruts into the salon floor when they heard the coughing squall of a baby's
cry. The clock on the mantel read five minutes to midnight. They had been pacing for more than twelve hours.

On arriving at the townhouse, Beth had had Radcliffe carry Charlie upstairs to their room, then relegated him and Tomas to the salon. Stokes had returned from the church shortly afterward with the cobbler's nephew, Mrs. Hartshair, her children, and Charlie's new lady's maid, Maggie, all in Mowbray's carriage. Leaving the children in Stokes's care, Mrs. Hartshair and Maggie had hurried upstairs to see what assistance they could offer. And that was the last the men had seen of any of them except for the occasional sight of one woman or another flying past the door of the salon on her way to fetch this or that. At least, Stokes at first had had tending to the children to distract him, but then they had been put to bed and he had joined his master and Tomas in the salon to accompany them in their pacing.

Now, hearing the cry from above, the three men eyed each other with a combination of relief and trepidation; relief because it was obvious from the child's lusty
cry that he was healthy, but trepidation because now they must await news of the mother's condition. For Radcliffe, the wait was interminable. Charlie's screams had reached them clear down into the salon, and every one had torn at his heart like the claws of a lion. A half-hour passed like a year as the men stood still, their pacing over as they stared at the stairs through the open salon door, waiting. Then Tomas murmured, "What do you suppose is taking so long?"