Bride Who Fell in Love with Her Husband (7 page)

He loved her. The words had broken her heart.

Wilkinson's evil face rose in her mind and solidified her decision.. She had to make her escape.

Just before dawn, she dressed herself in a plain brown dress and bonnet and slipped from the room, with one last glance at the bed. “I love you,” she whispered to his sleeping form, put the note on the dressing table, and closed the door quietly behind her.

Rose took care not to be seen by the servants and slipped from the house. She crossed the tiny garden and stepped into the mews. As she'd arranged the day before, the sleepy stable boy was waiting with a chestnut-colored gelding that had seen better times. Its back was swayed and its muzzle speckled with gray.

“'Twas the best I could find, missus, with the coins ye gave me,” he said, looking sheepish as she frowned. “Certainly Mr. Stanhope could provide ye with a finer nag.”

“As I explained earlier, I am off to ready a surprise for my husband. If a horse is missing from the stable, he will ask questions. So we must keep this secret between us.” She leveled a hard glare on the boy.

He gulped and nodded, sending bright red hair tumbling over his forehead. “Aye, missus.”

Leading the horse to a mounting block, the boy held the animal steady while Rose settled onto its back. She was a fair rider, albeit a bit out of practice. She was thankful the nag did not appear to have the stamina to toss her off. He stood still as she collected the reins from the boy.

“If anyone asks, I will be back tonight.” The boy accepted the lie and stepped back. She nudged the horse forward with her heel and turned him toward Scotland.

* * * *

Thomas awoke to find Rose gone. His valet came to dress him and assured him that he hadn't seen Rose this morning. It was unlike her, as she enjoyed waking in his arms.

Concerned, he went off to question the maids, the housekeeper, and the footmen. No one had knowledge of her whereabouts.

They had quarreled earlier last evening. Perhaps she went to the courtesan school to visit Miss Eva . . . If Rose needed a few hours away, she might go to her friend.

He walked into the breakfast room and found Prudence sitting alone at the table. “Have you seen Rose?” he asked.

“Not since last evening,” Prudence said, and took a bite of toast. “Have you lost her?”

“It seems I have.” He took a pastry and headed for the mews. If Rose had gone off at this early hour, the groom would know. When he questioned the man, the groom shook his head.

“I haven't seen the missus, but there is something curious,” he said. “A saddle and bridle are missing.”

Thomas's stomach knotted. Rose would not be able to saddle a horse herself. A quick walk through the tidy stable confirmed that his horses were all accounted for. He sensed something dire in the making. “Wake the stable boys. I want them questioned.” He waited for the groom to roust the two boys. “My wife is missing. Who knows something about this?”

The older boy shook his head vigorously, while the younger kept his eyes on the ground. “George, come here.” The boy shuffled over. He couldn't have been more than twelve. “If you intend to keep your position here, you will tell me where my wife is.”

The lad chewed a nail and drew a circle in the dirt with his bare toe. “The missus made me promise not to tell.”

“Not to tell what?” Thomas pressed. His patience was worn thin and he wasn't up for games.

“'Tis a surprise for ye, sir. She said she'd be back by nightfall.”

Nightfall? Thomas looked down the row of stalls. “How could she have left without a mount?”

“The lady bought one. It was a sorry nag, but she 'adn't the coin for any finer.” He spit the fingernail he'd been chewing into the dirt. “I would 'ave saddled one of the others, but she wouldn't 'ave it. She can't 'ave gone far.”

Dread settled over Thomas. First the secret visit from Wilkinson and now Rose had suddenly vanished? It didn't take much of a leap to put the two together.

“Saddle the mare. I shall be back for her.” He hurried to the house and changed into riding clothes. It was then that a wedge of paper on the dressing table caught his eye. He snatched it up.

 

Dearest Thomas,

 

Although I care for you and your family very much, I fear I am not suited to be a wife. Please forgive me.

 

Rose

He cursed and crumpled the note. So she'd left him, had she? His earlier suspicion of the man and his secretive visit now notched up to an alarming degree. He knew deep down that Wilkinson had caused this. Rose had not been herself since their meeting . Had he forced her to run off with him, or had she willingly run off with that bounder? The notion was almost too much to bear.

Feeling foolish, he'd thought Rose cared from him. Was this a lie? Did she ever care for him at all, or was he just a way to escape her courtesan life?

There was only one avenue to take to get answers. He had to find her.

Hurrying from the room, he passed his mother on the staircase.

“I understand Rose is missing?” There was a pleased light in her eyes.

“Not now, Mother.” He brushed her aside and rushed back to the mews. “If my wife returns, take away her horse and keep her away from the others.” He swung up onto the mare. The horse was the swiftest in the stable. If he had to chase down his wayward wife, he'd need speed to catch her. She had a lead of several hours.

First, he had a visit to make.

The ride to Wilkinson's apartment on St. James Street wasn't long. Tying the horse to the wrought-iron fence, he took the steps two at a time and knocked so hard that the door rattled.

A sober butler answered. “Yes?”

“Where is Wilkinson?” Thomas pushed past the servant.

“He isn't here,” the man called after him as Thomas rushed from room to room. The servant hadn't lied. With the exception of a cowering maid, the small apartment was empty. “He hasn't been here since yesterday morning.”

Thomas growled and left. He reclaimed the mare and headed out of London. If his wife had run off with Wilkinson, there was only one direction they'd go to hide—north to the wilds of Scotland.

He intended to kill Wilkinson before the day was out.

* * * *

Rose traveled the Great North Road, the horse making no effort to do anything but plod along at a jolting pace. Her entire body ached and her brain pounded against her skull as the miles crept slowly by beneath overgrown hooves.

Her heart shattered a piece at a time as the distance between her and the town house grew. Still, she did not turn back, even when a misty rain began to fall and the road turned muddy. As long as the horse kept onward, she would accept the cold rain seeping through her shawl and clothing as her penance for living a debauched life.

A coach passed, splashing foul water on both her and her mount in its wake. Rose looked down at her soiled dress and burst into tears. The reins went slack as she slumped forward and put her grimy gloved hands over her face.

Without guidance, the horse meandered off the road before she realized what he was doing. When she finally looked up and brushed away her tears, she realized he was standing in a muddy ditch.

“Bad horse,” she said, and tried to steer him back onto the road. He was having none of her efforts. She slid down from his back and slogged through the deep puddle to his head. Her boots filled with water and sloshed as she walked.

No amount of tugging would move him. He was stubbornly happy to stay as he was, his legs buried up to his hocks in watery mud. “Please,” she begged.

Chilled to the skin, she began to sob, her tears mingling with the rain as it dripped off the narrow brim of her sodden bonnet and down her face and neck. Her patience long gone, she tugged and tugged on the mangy beast until her arms grew weak from the effort.

“Need assistance?” The voice came out of the rain like a boom of thunder. Rose and the horse startled. She looked up through a veil of water and saw only the dark outline of her rescuer. But she knew the voice intimately.

“Thomas?”

He swung down from his horse and splashed over to take the reins. The horse seemed to sense he couldn't continue his stubborn behavior and let Thomas lead him easily from the ditch.

Traitor,
Rose thought as she trudged silently along behind them.

Once they gained the road, Thomas faced her. “Where is Wilkinson? Has your lover abandoned you already?”

Her head jerked up. She stared. “Wilkinson? You speak riddles, husband.”

His frown turned dark. “Come, wife. I know you have run off with the cad. I need to know his whereabouts so I can find him and break his neck.”

A shiver overtook her. She wasn't certain if it was from the cold or the tone of his voice. Either way, she knew he'd misunderstood the situation.

“I did not run off with Wilkinson,” she snapped. Her teeth chattered. “I despise him with my entire being. I'd rather throw myself into the Thames than let him touch me.”

Thomas pushed his hat back. “A few minutes in his company and you'd choose death over him. Why?”

Clutching her wet shawl around her, she refused to answer.

He clearly wouldn't accept her silence. He dropped the reins and gripped her upper arms. “Rose, you tell me why you've run away, now, or I will leave you here to freeze.”

Freezing to death did not seem like a remote possibility. She barely had the strength to stand. “He knew me as the duke's courtesan,” she whispered. “He made threats.”

Thomas swore under his breath. “A simple threat sent you off on this ridiculous ride on that shabby horse?”

She slowly shook her head. “There is more. He said if I didn't go to his bed, he would see your family ruined.”

Rage burned in Thomas's eyes. “I'll kill him.” He released her arms and clenched his gloved hands into fists.

Rose stepped back. She couldn't bear the thought of Thomas spending his life in Newgate because of her. “Please let me go,” she begged, her voice rising. “I am not meant to be a wife. It will be best for us all if I disappear.”

“Best for whom? My mother?” He shook off his great coat and settled it around her shoulders, then he took her arm and led her beneath a nearby tree. Once they were sheltered from the rain, he faced her. “I do not care that you were a courtesan. How many times must I assure you of my feelings?”

“Saying such is easy when you do not consider your family. They will not be so generous when they find out the truth. You cannot hide my past from them forever.”

Thomas wanted to both shake her and kiss her, his bedraggled wife. She'd risked everything, even freezing rain and possible death, to keep him from ruin.

“I can assure you Wilkinson will say nothing of your past,” Thomas said. “He will risk his life if he does so.”

Rose turned away, looking small and fragile. Somewhere during her flight from London, she'd lost her spirit.

“Oh, Thomas, please free me. Find a more suitable wife.”

The dejection in her voice took him aback. For a woman who claimed she'd never love him she sounded lost.

He walked around to face her. “Is that truly what you want, Rose?” She said nothing. He pushed back her bonnet and lifted her chin. “Do you love me, Rose?”

There was no need to ask, for he saw it in her eyes. Still, he wanted her to say the words. “Tell me.”

Wet, shivering, and on the verge of collapse as she was, Rose's bottom lip trembled as she nodded slowly. “I love you desperately.”

With a clipped snort, he hugged her tight. “Why then do you sound so miserable?” Cupping her face, he dipped his head until their noses nearly touched. “There will be no more talk of running away. We will face our future—bumpy as it may be—together.”

Rose pushed away. “Do you not see? Do you think Sir Alistair would have issued an invitation if he knew I was a courtesan?” She did not wait for an answer. “He would not. Being a baron's son would not protect you or your family from the taint of my past.”

“Rose—”

“No, do not tell me again that it does not matter.” She stomped a foot.

Thomas rubbed his forehead. “You are correct. Your past may cause difficulties for some. And love will not always conquer everything we face. But I am willing to fight for you. And if we have to run away, I own a plantation in Virginia, in America. It will be an excellent place to raise our dozen children.”

Shaking her head, she snorted. “You are impossible.”

“And still, you love me.” He pulled her close.

Rose wasn't completely ready to concede. “Your mother could find out. She may be worse than those venomous societal matrons.”

“She will say nothing,” he said. “It will be too shameful to admit her son married a courtesan.”

“And drive her mad to be forced to accept me.”

He kissed her trembling blue lips, smiling against them as her arms slipped into his coat and around his waist. He could feel her icy hands through his waistcoat.

“We need to get you warm before you take a chill.” He swung her into his arms and settled her on the back of the mare. He secured the elderly gelding to the saddle and they were off in the direction of a nearby inn.

He left the horses in the care of a groom and hurried inside with Rose in his arms. He secured a room and bath and soon she was settled into the hot water. It took a good half hour before she regained her color and her shivers subsided.

Satisfied that she had not fallen ill, he helped her from the bath, dried her off, and tucked her beneath the quilt. For the next several hours, he watched her sleep, confident in her love.

* * * *

The staff was pleased to see their mistress returned safely and Priscilla hugged her until Rose was certain she'd lost some stuffing.

“I was so worried,” Priscilla said, releasing her and stepping back to examine her face. “What made you go away?”