Stealing the Bride (22 page)

The duke’s machinations chilled Temple to the core. This was exactly why he’d disavowed his grandfather’s money in the first place, why he chose to live in near poverty.

What had he been thinking? It was bad enough that he was ensnared by his grandfather’s ill will, but he couldn’t ask Diana to share such a prison.

He tried to hold on to the memories of his fortnight with her, the joy of her kiss, the brilliant sparkle in her eyes. But in the face of his grandfather’s scorn, he felt his grasp on those precious memories slip away.

For he would never come crawling to Setchfield Place as his father and mother had. In humiliation, subjecting themselves to the duke’s control, his scorn.

“Sir, I’m not moving back into your house.” Temple glanced once again at Diana, this time seeing her as if she were some far away dream. He wasn’t going to make his father’s mistake…to follow his heart and live to regret his folly. “You’ve made a mistake. I have no intention of marrying the chit.”

His grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can cut a better deal with Lamden behind my back. I’ve already spoken to him, and he’s not all that fond of the union. Thinks I’ll bedevil his precious girl. The only way you’ll win his approval is with my help, and I won’t give it unless you agree to my conditions.”

“That, sir, will never happen,” Temple told him. And he meant it, with every ounce of fortitude he possessed.

“Hmm. Don’t want to live on foolish pride, eh?” The duke eyed him once again. “Got more sense than I thought. Perhaps we are cut from the same cloth.” He cocked his nose in the air and glanced over the crowded room, like a lion eyeing its dinner. “Upon my honor, there’s Fellerby. ’Bout time someone informed him what an idiot he is.” He stomped off, his next victim well in his sights.

Temple’s heart cracked.

Yet what could he do? He had no income other than the nominal salary Pymm paid him—which was barely enough for him to live on without having to take a farthing from his grandfather. But to ask Diana to share his poverty? He couldn’t do that.

One day he might inherit his grandfather’s title and riches, but Temple knew better than to cling to that hopeful thought—the Setchfield dukes were a wretchedly long-lived lot, and his grandfather showed no signs of doing anyone the favor of dying.

Live on love
, some long-lost voice seemed to urge him.
Go ahead, my boy.

Temple shook his head. What had it gained his parents? A life spent at the whim and mercy of the duke. He tried to remember that they’d been miserable, unhappy, but he couldn’t. His parents’ love had been like a blindness to everything but themselves. He couldn’t fathom how they had done it, for they’d lived in their own world, despite the duke, spoke their own language, and in the end, died within days of each other rather than be apart.

Leaving him alone. So very alone.

Yes, he’d seen the results of that futile dream and the anguish it left in its wake.

Temple closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And when he looked again he spied the overly fashionable young man who’d paraded by earlier and earned the duke’s complete and utter disdain.

Suddenly he saw a new way to ensure that he and his grandfather weren’t cut from the same cloth.

“I do say, sir,” Temple asked. “Who is your tailor?”

“Me, sir?” the man asked, holding up a lorgnette and striking a particularly foolish pose. “Say, aren’t you Templeton, Setchfield’s heir?”

“I am. But Temple is the address my friends use. And you, sir?”

The man preened anew. “Lord Stewart Hodges. But to you, Stewie. Now, sir, you were asking about my tailor. I was just about to head to White’s for a meal. Join me and we could discuss the matter in some detail. Besides, not much of account here. I was hoping to pay my addresses to a certain young lady tonight, but it appears she wasn’t invited. An heiress, mind you.” He sighed. “Bit on the thin side since my father died, and my brother isn’t so generous. Second son, and all. So I’ve got to find a bride this year. Suppose I’ll have to suffer Almack’s for that.”

Temple forced a laugh and followed Stewie to the door.

But only too quickly Diana was in his path, her sweet lips parted in a broad smile, her eyes full of love for him.

The chattering words from his newfound friend fell silent. In fact, the entire room seemed to still.

Faltering only for a second, he ignored the hammering in his heart, the joy of being so close to her again, and stepped around her, continuing toward the door.

“Temple,” Diana cried out.

He kept walking.

“Temple!” she called out, a rising tide of panic and pain filling her voice.

Not even he could ignore that. He came to a halt.

And now, to his annoyance, the room did grow quiet at the prospect of some scandalous display about to be played out.

Stewie glanced over his shoulder. “I say, do you know that bossy chit?”

Temple turned and looked at her, sweeping his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her satin slippers as if he were searching for some remarkable feature with which to revive his memory.

Mrs. Foston stood behind her, her hand on Diana’s shoulder restraining her charge from bolting forward and making a further spectacle of herself.

“Do you know her, Temple?” Stewie asked again, stepping up to his side like a second, as if they had been boon companions for years rather than mere moments.

He shook his head, looking directly at the woman he loved so very much, and said, “No, I can’t say as I do. Deplorable manners, don’t you agree, Stewie?”

Diana gasped, the blast of it like an icy wind cleaving his heart in two.

And yet even as the chill of her anguish seemed to cut him off from life itself, hope held on to a tiny spark, and sent up one last prayer, before Temple locked his love away forever.

Wait for me, goddess.

Lake District, 1809

The first jolt brought Temple’s attention back to the road. The second one threw him from his perch.

For those infinitely long seconds as he catapulted through the air, he knew he should be having some inspired moment of insight before he died, but the only thing he could think of was Elton’s admonishment.

Marry the gel.

Fine words indeed to end one’s life with, he thought wryly, especially when he realized that his servant was right.

Diana will never know the truth. I love her with all my heart.

He landed in a hedge, the thorns shredding his coat, cutting him in a hundred different places, but much to his chagrin he lived.

Behind him he heard the carriage come to a crashing halt, the horses screaming in protest at the tangled mess behind them.

He tore himself free from his barbed snare and staggered to where the toppled carriage had come to rest.

“Elton!” he yelled. “Where are you?”

His driver clung to the seat atop the carriage, the wily man having somehow managed to ride out the storm.

“Last time I let him drive,” he was promising the frantic horses as he scrambled down from the wreckage. Elton calmed them with soft words and a gentle touch here and there. Once he was satisfied the beasts were fine, he shot an assessing glance at Temple and smirked.

“Landed in the briars, eh?” Elton chuckled at his own joke.

Temple didn’t find anything at all amusing about their situation, since it seemed that half the thorns were still stuck in his coat.

Besides, he was supposed to be the decoy to lead the French away from Diana, not the sitting duck for them to swoop down and discover.

“Can we continue?” he asked.

Elton held up his hands, then walked around the carriage to survey the damage.

On the far side, they found their problem. One of the wheels lay cracked and tilted to one side.

Elton eyed it critically and then announced, “Not as bad as it seems. We can probably mend it well enough to get us to Ambleside. I’ll get my tools.”

Temple followed him, divesting himself of his jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves. If his grandfather could see him now, he’d probably be more ashamed of his heir for lowering himself to common work than for being London’s premier fool.

This was no time, however, for aristocratic privileges.

At the back of the carriage, Elton was having trouble getting the trunk open. The accident had left the lid wedged tight.

As Temple and Elton started to shove it open, there came from within a frantic pounding.

They stepped back from the trunk and stared at it in shock.

“Botheration,” a voice called out. “I’m stuck in here. Get me out!”

Diana
.

Temple ignored her, and instead turned to Elton. “Did you know about this?”

His servant shook his head. “We’d better get her out of there.”

“I say we leave her inside,” Temple said. “Serve the little baggage right.”

“I heard that,” Diana called out. This was followed by more pounding and cursing.

With a particularly hearty kick, the lid came wrenching open. A rumpled and rattled Lady Diana sat up. She frowned at the pair of them, then turned her ire toward Temple. “I suppose
you
were driving.”

It wasn’t a question but an accusation, one that pricked at Temple’s anger more so than the discovery of her presence.

He should be furious with her, but a tiny part of him sent up a mighty “huzzah.”

For if Diana wasn’t at Danvers Hall, she wasn’t about to be married to another man.

But as much as Temple wanted to celebrate that fact, Diana’s arrival in their midst only meant she was now in more danger than before.

Not that it seemed to matter to the lady.

Diana took a deep breath and began to climb out of the trunk. She didn’t dare ask for help, for Temple looked mad enough to be on the verge of ordering Elton to shut her back in.

“What the devil are you doing in there?” he finally said.

“What does it look like,” she shot back, realizing that helpless and innocent were no longer going to work to her advantage. “I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t recall inviting you along.”

She caught hold of the edge of the trunk and threw herself over the side and into the dusty road. “Yes, well, you have a bad habit of not consulting me before you make decisions regarding my life.” She brushed off her skirt and then placed her hands on her hips.

“What were you thinking, hiding in there?” he asked. “You might have been killed.”

“I wouldn’t have had that problem if you would let Elton drive. Really, Temple, you’re a terrible whip.”

She bustled past the two of them and tipped her head to survey the damage. “I think I heard you say you could fix it?” She directed this question at Elton, deliberately ignoring Temple.

“Aye, miss, I could have,” Elton replied, as he glanced up from her hiding spot. “But it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting very far now.”

“Why not?” This came from Temple.

“Because the tool case is missing.”

Diana bit her lip and glanced back inside the box. “Do you mean that rather heavy sack that was inside there?”

“Aye.”

“I fear it was in the way,” she said, backing up a few steps. “I had to leave it behind so I would fit.”

Temple reached inside the trunk and pulled out her valise. “But I suppose
this
was necessary?”

She plucked it from his hands, for fear he would cast it into the lake. “Of course. You couldn’t expect me to travel without my belongings.”

Temple groaned and started stalking toward her.

Diana suspected her valise wasn’t the only thing Temple was considering tossing into the dappled water.

“Sssh.” Elton hushed them both as if they were a pair of noisy, errant children. “Someone is coming.”

Temple caught her by the arm. “Back inside you go.”

“I don’t hear a thing,” Diana said, shaking at Temple’s uncompromising grasp and digging her heels into the gravel. “Now let me go.”

“If someone is coming, then the only way to see you safe is to see you hidden away.”

“If you think you can stuff me back inside that trunk on such a flimsy claim, make no mistake, you’ll find yourself back in the thorns.”

And even as Diana was about to make good on her threat, the distinctive
clip-clop
of horses’s hooves and the grinding turn of wheels echoed down the road.

Diana and Temple froze, while Elton shot them both a look of pure redemption.

“Goodness, you were right,” Diana whispered. “We are being followed.”

Temple let go of her abruptly and strode over to the carriage, ripping and pulling at the jumbled contents inside the wreckage in search of something. Elton had gone to the front and was doing the same, rummaging about under the driver’s seat.

For a moment, Diana stood rooted in place, her gaze fixed on the bend in the road some hundred or so yards away. Then she remembered the gift that Georgie had given her before the lady had helped Diana stow herself away in the carriage.

She ran over to her forgotten valise, thankful that it hadn’t gone flying into the lake.

Temple came around the side, a pistol in his hand. “Get in the trunk,” he told her.

“No,” she said, still rummaging in her valise. Her fingers closed around Lady Danvers’ gift.

“Do as I say,” he said in a steely voice that surprised even Diana. “I won’t have you taken. And I won’t have you harmed.”

“If they think I’m the King’s daughter, they won’t harm me.” She rose up from the ground, brandishing Georgie’s pistol. “And I have no intention of being stolen by anyone.”

T
emple had been faced with many adversaries in his life, but never had he seen such a look of fear and shock as was on the face of the poor farmer who rounded the bend in the road and discovered three armed people pointing weapons at his poor load.

The man dropped his reins as his hands went flying up in the air. The tired plow horse gave out a great sigh of relief, thinking that his journey was over and came to a happy, plodding halt.

A black-and-white wiry-haired dog, the size of a well-fed cat, sat up in the seat beside the driver, his paws in the air.

“Yes, he appears quite the dangerous French agent,” Diana said, tossing a disgusted glance at Temple and Elton. “Especially his well-trained partner.”

“Our sincerest apologies, sir,” Diana called out, handing Temple her pistol, and approaching the man with that enchanting smile of hers that always made Temple say yes even when he’d vowed to say otherwise.

“Gave me quite a start, you did,” the man said, his hands still in the air. He shot a nervous glance over her shoulder at Temple and Elton.

Diana waved her hand at both of them, and then glared until they put their weapons down. “I fear we were set upon earlier in the day and thought the brigands were returning.” She sniffed and made a delicate little shudder, as if the memory of the experience was about to put her into a state of vapors.

“Oh miss, that sounds right terrible.”

“Yes, it was,” Diana readily agreed. “I fear I will never be the same.”

Temple thought she was starting to put on the brown a bit thick, even for this simple fellow, but Diana had the man eating out of her hand.

“And your carriage?” the man asked.

“Ruined,” she said, an air of desperation clinging to her words. She leaned forward and whispered loudly. “Our man let my husband drive, and he hasn’t much skill.” She hung her head and shook it, as if it were her greatest embarrassment to have such a spouse.

Husband?

Temple decided to take over before she had him wrapped in wool and pushing into his dotage. He stepped in front of Diana. “Sir, could we ask your assistance? Our tool chest was waylaid, and we have a broken wheel that needs mending.”

The man nodded his head, appearing all too relieved not to have to be dealing with a potentially hysterical lady. “Aye, sir, that I can. I’ve lost my fair share of wheels on this road.” With that, the man climbed down from his wagon and joined Elton and Temple in examining the carriage.

“Temple, I’d have a word with you,” she said, catching him by the arm.

He shook her free. “It will have to wait.”

Thus dismissed, Diana went over to her valise and fetched the bag of food Georgie had sent with her and settled on a nearby rock for a few biscuits and a tin of cold tea.

The farmer’s dog, a quick creature with a patch of white over one eye, jumped down from the seat and dashed over to Diana’s side, settling in at her feet. His paw scratched at her shoe and he tipped his head just so, as if to let her know he wasn’t averse to sharing.

“I wouldn’t be feeding him, missus,” the farmer said. “I made that mistake a few weeks ago when he wandered onto me farm, and he moved right in.”

“What type of dog is he?” she asked, ignoring his warning and tossing the fellow a bite of biscuit.

The dog caught the piece and then bowed his head.

“I think the better question would be what kind of dog isn’t he,” Temple said.

The farmer scratched his head. “I think he’s just a regular dog, missus. Nothing fancy.”

“Does he have a name?” she asked, tossing the little charmer another piece of biscuit.

“None that I know of. And don’t say I dinna warn you. You’ll never be rid of him now. I was taking him into town for me mum. She don’t like dogs, but I can’t keep him. My best collie has been put out and won’t herd since His Majesty there arrived, full of tricks and stunts, he is.”

Diana didn’t care. The little fellow tipped his head again and grinned at her. She gave him another piece.

By the time they had managed to wrestle the carriage upright and get the wheel back on, the dog was happily snoring at her feet.

Temple came over to her side. “The wheel isn’t safe to carry a load, so Mr. Maguire has offered to bring us along in his wagon, while Elton follows with the carriage.”

Diana nodded and rose. “Come along, Tullius,” she said, and immediately the dog sprang awake and trotted along at the very edge of her skirt, casting an admiring glance up at her every few steps.

“Tullius?” Temple asked. “Isn’t that a little formal for someone of his, shall we say, questionable breeding.”

She smiled down at the little fellow. “Then I shall call him Tully. Come along, Tully.”

The farmer’s wagon was loaded with a stack of firewood, crates of chickens, and buckets of milk.

“For me mum,” he said, pushing the load aside, to make room for Temple and Diana. “She likes living in town now, so I bring her in some supplies once a month.” He turned to Temple. “Not a good idea to have your mother live with you when you decide to take a wife.”

Temple nodded, as if the two men were in perfect accord on the subject. He turned to Diana and held out his hand. “Your carriage, my lady.” He eyed the open back of the wagon, and then caught her by the waist and swung her up. For a moment, he found himself staring into her eyes.

The recrimination and the questions there tore at his gut.

“You shouldn’t have left me.”

“I had to,” he said without even thinking.

“You had to? Leave me for another man to claim? Ridiculous. Did you ever consider asking me what I thought about that notion?”

Before Temple could respond, Mr. Maguire called back, “Are you both settled?”

“Yes, sir,” Diana called up to him sweetly, smiling as Temple went to scramble into the empty space beside her.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Tully bounced up from the road as if he were made of springs and sat himself down next to Diana.

“Away, mutt,” Temple said, now trotting behind the wagon.

Tully looked once at Diana, then growled fiercely at Temple.

Diana smiled and wrapped her arm around the little dog.

Temple made one last frantic leap up onto the wagon and plopped down beside his new rival. “You do have a way of collecting the more discerning beaux.”

“I doubt he’d leave me behind.”

“At least not until you run out of those biscuits.”

“That doesn’t explain why you left me with Colin.”

“’Tis complicated.”

“Because you think I’m Louis’s bastard daughter?” she whispered.

He nearly toppled out the back of the wagon. “How did you—” Temple stopped himself. Staged elopements, stealing away in trunks, and now eavesdropping? He made a note to himself to keep Diana and Georgie well separated in the future. Colin’s wife had probably chronicled his entire conversation as to Diana’s likely parentage. And wasted no time in sharing her discovery with Diana.

Pymm would be hard-pressed to find two better spies for England.

“It’s not true,” she was saying, her voice lowered to an urgent hiss.

Temple shot a glance over his shoulder at the farmer. Satisfied the man wasn’t listening, nor could he hear over the cackle of the chickens and the creaking of the wagon, he still lowered his voice. “Whether you are or aren’t his daughter matters not to me.”

“Well, I’m not his daughter. The notion is ridiculous.”

“Not to Marden.”

She looked at him. “Or you. You think I am. How can you believe such a thing?”

“The mark on your shoulder, for one thing.”

“’Tis nothing but an accident of birth.”

“That mark is no accident, Diana. It’s a brand. It was put there on purpose.”

Her brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, hang that mark. If you were a gentleman you wouldn’t have mentioned it. And not to Colin.”

“If you were a lady I wouldn’t even know you possessed it.”

She colored and looked away. The wagon rattled and shook its way down the road at a wretchedly slow pace.

After a time, Diana spoke again. “Don’t you think I have as much right, nay more so, to discover the truth of all this? If it were you, would you have stayed behind to let others discover the truth?”

He couldn’t deny that.

“I’m coming with you,” she said with quiet resolution.

Temple was caught. It wasn’t as if he could turn around and take her back to Colin’s. They’d most likely run right into Marden and his murderous lot.

“I’m going with you, Temple,” she repeated. “I won’t be wed without knowing who I am.”

“Aye, Diana. As you wish.”

Now with her added to their party, Temple considered his best course of action to see them to Scotland quickly. If they could get to Ambleside before midday, there was a fair chance that they could hire a new carriage and be on their way before Marden caught up with them.

For now that she was making this quest hers, he was resolved to help her find her identity.

And then he would see her married.

Temple’s plan seemed sound until they arrived on the outskirts of Ambleside. Set at the head of Lake Windermere, the city appeared a serene haunt for those who loved the tranquil waters of the lake and the misty mountains beneath which the hamlet sat nestled.

As they drew near the city, Diana fished out her beloved travelogue.

To his chagrin, she began to read aloud.

“‘It is believed that the quaint village we now know as Ambleside was originally the Roman fort of Galava, built in the first century of our Lord. The Roman fortifications along Lake Windermere acted as vital link between the port city of Ravenglass to the west and extending all the way north to Hadrian’s Wall.’”

Temple eyed the distance to the lake and considered if he could possibly throw that wretched volume far enough out into the waters so that not even Diana would dare venture out to save it.

Diana, on the other hand, was eyeing the mountains around them and then glanced back at Temple. “I would so like to see Hadrian’s Wall. Will we be going near it?”

“Need I remind you that this is not a sightseeing trip?”

She shrugged. “Yes, I know that time is of the essence, but if we just happen to be passing that way…”

Temple’s reply was saved by the shuddering halt of the wagon as it stopped before a neat little cottage. The stone house was covered with ivy, while a yellow rose bush tumbled over the doorway. The instant the wagon came to rest, a woman bustled outside, her arms wide and her face not all that dissimilar from Mr. Maguire’s.

“Johnny,” she called out. “I’ve been expecting you for hours.”

“Aye, Mum,” he replied, climbing down from his wagon and letting himself be enveloped by his mother’s embrace. “There now, that’s enough, Mum,” he told her, shaking himself free. “I had to help these poor people, so it delayed me. You weren’t worried, now were you?”

The woman tousled her son’s hair as if he were a youngster returning from an afternoon lark. “Not in the least.” She glanced over at the wagon and frowned. “I had hoped that you’d bring Jane. I have so much to tell her, why I’ll never remember all the talk next month.” She shook her finger at her son. “That wife of yers is sure to be vexed that she’s missed all the excitement.”

Mr. Maguire seemed unimpressed with the idea of excitement. Perhaps finding three armed strangers on the road was enough for him in one day.

“Just the same, who have ye brought along with ye?” his mother was asking. “Perhaps they’ve an ear for gossip.” She cast a curious gaze at Temple and Diana, her eyes narrowing as she looked over at Diana. “You wouldn’t be that bride everyone is talking about, now would you?” Before Diana could stammer a denial, the lady marched over until her nose practically touched Diana’s. She squinted and cocked her head. “No, I can see it now. You’re too old to be this heiress.”

Nudging Temple, Mrs. Maguire leaned toward him. “From what I hear, these heiresses are young, innocent things. This one has a sharp-eyed look about her. Probably keeps you in line. Harrumph! Though I imagine she has her work cut out for her in that task,” she said, giving him a saucy glance that had probably worked much better fifty years earlier.

“She has her ways,” Temple confided.

“Good for you, gel,” the lady told Diana, winding her arm with Diana’s and pulling her down from the wagon. As she led her along the path toward the open door, Mrs. Maguire said, “Marriage works best when a man knows his place. Some said I kept my John laced too tight, but he didn’t come home drunk and he never raised a hand to me. And that’s what’s important.”

Diana smiled at the woman. “Perhaps we should find this heiress and see to it that she starts her married life off on the right foot.”

Mrs. Maguire laughed heartily. “Gel, if I was to give that heiress my advice it would be this: Don’t get married. Keep the money for yourself.”

Both women laughed, though Temple didn’t think Mrs. Maguire’s advice was all that amusing. Still, the lady obviously knew about their plight, and if so, that meant that Penham and Nettlestone were nearby, or worse, Marden had cast his net in a wider circle than Temple had suspected.

“Mrs. Maguire,” Temple called out. “Who is this heiress?”

The lady stopped, turned and cocked a brow. “What would ye be needing with an heiress?”

“One never knows,” Temple said, offering her a wicked gleam and a wink.

Mrs. Maguire let out a whoop. She turned to Diana. “Oh, gel, you’ve picked a rare one.” She chuckled some more, then smiled. “Well, since Jane isn’t here, I might as well share my news with you folks. Johnny hasn’t the inclination for a good tattle.”

Johnny snorted and continued to unload the supplies he’d brought his mother. “Some of us have work to do rather than spending our days gabbing over the fence.”

“Bah!” she said, waving her hand at him. “I’ve done my years of work, let an old woman have her fun.” She turned to Temple, “Now where was I?”

“This heiress?”

“Ah yes. Ran away with one man and then killed him when she decided to set off with another.”

Temple cast a sly glance at Diana and spied the shock on her face.