The Switch (21 page)

Turning away from the men, Charlie slid back along the seat to the opposite door, opened it, and slid out.

"What do you mean, she got away?" Symes cried in alarm. "There were three of you suppose to be watching her.
Three
of you could not keep one girl from escaping?"

"We only turned our backs for a minute. She was weak as a kitten. I don't know how she managed it."

"Telling me that she was weak as a kitten is not improving my opinion of you allowing her to escape," Symes snarled.

"My men are searching for her now. They'll bring her back."

"They had
better
, and they had best come back with her ere my lord comes out."

"They should be back any minute with her. If you hadna come back out early ye ne'er would have known. Why are ye back anyway? Ye said 'til noon."

Symes heaved a sigh. "Lord Carland is an early riser and insisted on my lord being awoken when I told him that you had arrived with the girl. Of course, now my lord is in a foul temper, one he will most like take out on you should your men not return ere he comes out, or—"

"Symes! Where is this carriage you said Charlotte was in?"

"Damn," the beefy man muttered. It was a sentiment echoed by Symes as he turned with resignation to face Henry Westerly.

"Did you hear that? She has escaped!" Mrs. Hartshair crowed happily.

"That is my Charlie," Beth murmured with pride.

Radcliffe pounded on the wall of the carriage behind the driver's seat and the carriage pulled off. Once they were a safe distance away from the inn, he thumped on the wall again, then got out when it stopped and crawled onto the bench seat. "Did you hear?"

"Aye, my lord," Stokes said. "Am I right in assuming that we are going to try to find Lady Charlie ere they do?"

"Aye, you would be right. Keep your eyes open."

Nodding, the older man urged the horses forward again.

Charlie nearly fainted with relief when she spotted Seguin's carriage. She picked up her pace and hurried forward. She had been walking around for what seemed like hours searching for it while trying to dodge her pursuers. Oddly enough, the longer she walked, the stronger she felt. She suspected it was the fresh air that was doing it, that and the water she had scooped from a pail in the stables when at one point she had ducked in there to avoid her kidnappers spotting her.

"There she is!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the two men running toward her. Cursing roundly, she ducked into the building, spotting Bessie at once.
The maid stood before a man in a blue coat, and beside Seguin who held her arm firmly with one hand while he bent to sign something with his other.

"Wait!" Charlie cried hoarsely. "Stop! Bessie, do not sign it!"

"You again!" The man in the blue coat scowled as she hurried forward.

Charlie hardly noticed, her attention on Seguin and Bessie as the lord straightened from signing his name. "You cannot force her to many you. She is not Elizabeth."

Seguin rolled his eyes impatiently. "Who the devil are you? Never mind, I do
not care and it does not matter. I shall not fall for your tricks. She tried the
same argument with me already, boy. Besides, 'Tis too late, 'Tis done. The ceremony is over and we have both signed. She is my wife."

"He
made
me sign," Bessie wailed miserably just as the door crashed open behind Charlie.

"Grab her!"

Charlie was just beginning to struggle against the hands that suddenly arrested her when the door crashed open again and Uncle Henry's voice rang out. "I see that you found her. At least you had the sense to bring her here."

Charlie sagged in defeat as she was turned to face her uncle, his man Symes, and a grim looking Carland who now sauntered toward them. "You see, Carland, I told you all would be well. You can many the chit now without delay."

"Nay. He cannae," the fisherman snapped, drawing all eyes. "I'll not marry her to
anyone else today."

"The devil you say." Uncle Henry beetled his eyes at the man.

"The devil I
do
say. I canna marry someone who's already married, and she is already married"

"You mean to say that
that
is Charlotte?" Seguin gasped, grasping the implication of what the fisherman was saying. "Why, she looks like a boy." His lecherous old eyes moved to his bride with new possibilities shining in them. "Do you wear breeches too, my dear?"

"She is
not
already married," Uncle Henry snapped impatiently, ignoring Seguin's lascivious wonderings.

The fisherman's eyes narrowed, his mouth firming into a straight line. "Aye, she is. I presided over it myself not more than twenty minutes ago."

Charlie gave a start at that, her eyes widening incredulously. He must be talking about Beth, she thought. But that made no sense. Her sister should have been married several days ago and be back in London by now.

"Henry?" Carland murmured in a threatening tone.

"Well, it just is not so," her uncle gasped. "It cannot be."

"Can it not? Twenty minutes ago is about when we learned she had escaped."

"Aye, but—" He was sputtering in his panic. "Who could she have married?"

"Me."

Charlie gaped at Radcliffe who now filled the entrance to the little building. What was
he
doing here? And why did the man in blue think—? Oh! Of course. He had paid the man off, she thought, then noticed with surprise that Tomas and Stokes were flanking him. She caught a quick glimpse of a slender lad behind them.

'That's him!" the fisherman agreed. "I hitched these two to each other not a quarter of the hour ago. It's registered right here all good and proper."

"Henry," Carland growled.

Blanching at the cold fury on Carland's face, Henry turned to Charlie. "Why, you little—" he began, raising his fist to hit her.

Radcliffe was there before he could finish either action or words, grabbing his fist in his own much larger one and startling the older man into silence. "You will not speak to my bride that way."

Henry reacted first with alarm, then a certain craftiness entered his eyes and he even managed a conciliatory smile as he glanced toward Carland. "All is not lost. They may have married, but they could not have possibly consummated it yet. We can take her back to London and have the king dissolve what was done. Then you can
marry her yourself."

"You will not be taking her anywhere," Radcliffe corrected, crushing the hand he held. "And the wedding was consummated before the fact. She is no longer a virgin."

Uncle Henry must have already been paid and spent the money Carland had promised for the privilege of marrying her, Charlie decided when her uncle winced in pain. Still, the man continued to plead with Carland. "He is lying. He must be. If you would just call your men and—"

"I need a goddamned heir, Henry. You know that. I'll not take the chance of her carrying another man's brat. I want my money back."

Her uncle was beginning to look quite sick with panic when Symes suddenly moved forward, tugging a sack from his doublet. "Lord Seguin gave me this as agreed when he collected Lady Elizabeth, my lord."

Uncle Henry nearly fell upon the man with relief. "Oh, Symes! How clever of you to think of that now. Here you are, Carland." He took the sack from his man of affairs and handed it over. "Seguin was paying the same amount for Elizabeth that you were for Charlotte—so it should all be here."

"It had better be," Carland said coldly, pocketing the bag.

"Did I hear my name?"

Charlie turned to find Beth now standing in the entrance. She was dressed in the lavender gown Charlie had packed away in the satchel for her to be married in. If it had been her sister she had glimpsed dressed as a boy earlier, she must have changed faster than she had ever done before in her life. Still, that didn't startle Charlie nearly as much as the fact that her sister was backed by Mrs. Hartshair and her children. Good Lord! Was
everyone here?

"Elizabeth." Uncle Henry breathed the name in honor.

"Elizabeth?" Seguin gaped from her to the veiled woman he had just married. "Who? Who are—"

"I tried to tell you," Bessie wailed.

"So did I," Charlie murmured archly. "Seguin, meet your bride, Bessie… my lady's maid. Though, I guess she is a countess now."

"L-lady's maid?" Seguin choked, clutching his upper arm as if it pained him. "L-lady's maid?"

Finally released from the cruel grasp he had had on her since collecting her from their kidnappers, Bessie ripped the veiled hat from her head, revealing her red hair and powderless face.

"Do not panic," Henry cried earnestly, talking as fast as he was thinking in an effort to get out of this mess. "We can clear this all up. Your marriage to the chit cannot be legal if she signed
Beth's name. We can still marry you to Elizabeth."

"Nay. He cannot. I married Elizabeth right here in this room not four days ago," Tom announced with
satisfaction.

"Aye." The fisherman nodded in verification, then glanced down at the papers
both of the newlyweds had signed. "Besides, she signed the name Bessie Roberd.
Is that yer name?" When Bessie nodded miserably, he shrugged. " 'Tis all legal, then. You two are married."

"But I thought she was Elizabeth!" Seguin cried, nibbing his arm faster. "It was under false pretenses."

The fisherman shook his head. "She told ye her name twice or three times ere I commenced the ceremony. I heard her tell ye. There weren't no false nothin'. 'Sides." His eyes narrowed. "Ye had to threaten her to get her to
marry ye in the first place, ye'll not be cryin' off now."

"H-Heniy, you b-bastard! This is all your fault." Següin gasped, staggering a couple of steps toward the pale man with murder in his eyes before pain replaced it and he suddenly switched the hand that had been clutching his
arm to his chest. Swaying briefly, he growled another curse, then collapsed on his face.

They all stared wide-eyed as Radcliffe stepped forward and rolled the man over. After bending to press an ear to his chest, he straightened and shook his head. "Dead."

Carland gave a harsh laugh at the pronouncement. "You are the luckiest bastard I know, Henry."

When the other man merely peered at him blankly, Carland hefted the sack of coins he held. "Now you do not owe him
his
money back." Pocketing the sack, he turned and sauntered out of the building.

"Mmmm," Charlie murmured with pleasure as the warm, silky water closed around her body. It felt like days since she had been clean. It
had
been days, she realized with a sigh, but firmly turned her mind from such thoughts. She did not want to think of her kidnapping, that horrid carriage ride, or the scene in the fisherman's hovel. She had been more than happy to turn her back on Gretna, literally. Charlie had left Gretna Green mounted before Radcliffe on a horse. He had purchased the animal for the return trip at the livery where he had changed horses upon arriving and, much to her relief, had insisted that she ride with him. Aside from her nasty reaction to traveling, there simply had not been enough room in the carriage for
everyone. Even with just Tomas, Beth, Bessie, and Mrs. Hartshair and her children inside it had looked terribly crowded.

They had had to travel for nearly the whole day before coming across an inn with enough rooms to accommodate them all.

This inn. She tilted her head back on the rim of the bath and peered around the room. It was sparsely furnished with just a bed and, at present, a tub. The room was small, but it was clean. Besides, next to the carriage that she had spent the past two days in, it resembled a chamber in the finest palace.

The opening of the door made her stiffen and peer about as Beth slipped into the room. She and the others had still been filling themselves on the hearty meal the innkeeper's wife had supplied when Charlie had left the common room. Her stomach, still tender after the traveling sickness she had suffered, Charlie had managed only a few bites before retiring to their room to take a bath.

"My, that looks lovely," Beth sighed, eyeing the bath a bit enviously as she approached.

"It is," Charlie murmured, then began cleaning herself. "I will hurry, but you shall probably need fresh water when I am through. I really needed this bath."

"Oh, do not worry. There is no need to hurry. I have a bath being prepared for me in our room."

"Our room?" Charlie raised her eyebrows. "Are you not staying in here with me?"

"Nay. Tomas and I have the room next door." She blushed prettily, but Charlie hardly noticed as she frowned.

"But I thought—I mean, Radcliffe could only hire five rooms here."

"Aye."

"Well, Mrs. Hartshair and her children are in one, are they not?"

"Aye."

"And Bessie has one?"

"Aye."

"Then Tomas and you have one, I have this one, and I presume Stokes—Oh! Radcliffe must be bedding down with Stokes," she realized and relaxed, unaware that Beth had stiffened.

"Charlie?"

"Aye?"

"Radcliffe will not be bedding down with Stokes."

She tilted her head up curiously. "Well, then where is he staying? Oh, surely he has not stuck Stokes in the stables?"

"Nay, Charlie…" She hesitated, then plunged on. "He will be staying here… with you. You are married now."

She blinked at that. "Married? Nay, Beth, Radcliffe just said that to prevent
my having to marry Carland."

Beth shook her head. "You are married."

"But I never married Radcliffe."

"Aye, you did."

"Beth, I think I would recall something like that. I never married Radcliffe."

"Nay," she agreed. "I did in your place."

"What?" She peered at her sister blankly, not quite grasping her words.

"I dressed up as Charles, married him, and copied your signature to the—"

"What?" Charlie sat up abruptly in the bath, splashing water everywhere.

"He said the two of you were to marry. That you had made love."

Charlie flushed at that, irritation pulling at her expression. "Radcliffe has a big mouth. Besides, both partners must be in love for it to be lovemaking."

"You do not love him?" Beth asked with concern, and Charlie's frown darkened.

"Of course, I love him. What is not to love? The man is a darling. Sweet, generous, adventurous—"

"Adventurous?" Beth gasped, interrupting her. "The man is as stuffy as that carriage we rode here in."

"Nonsense. Just look at the adventures we have had since meeting him."

Beth shook her head with a laugh. "Charlie,
you
are the one who brings about these adventures."

"Mayhap." She shrugged. "But I could not have done so without Radcliffe." When Beth looked doubtful, Charlie sighed. "He took us under his wing and brought us to London. If he had not, we would even now be moldering away at Ralphy's."

"Charlie,
you
will
never
molder. Besides, he only did that out of a sense of duty." When Charlie shook her head, Beth raised her eyebrows. "Nay?"

"Nay, Beth. All he had to do to soothe his sense of duty was warn us, or even give us a pistol. Or he could have dumped us once he saw us safely to London. Yet he did not; he took us into his home."

Beth was frowning over that, never having considered it herself. "Mayhap you are right, but I still have trouble seeing Radcliffe as adventurous. Just look at the fuss he made about the puppies. He
is
stuffy."

"He made a fuss over rescuing Bessie and Mrs. Haitshair as well," Charlie laughed. "But that is just talk, a way to try to hide his true nature. How
marry times have I told you, never listen to a person's words, watch their actions to see what is in their heart. A person can say
marry things they do not mean. For instance, Jimmy and Freddy who you said were betting on who could
win the most girls in the ton; do you not think they said things to those girls that they never meant as they set out to
win them?"

"Aye, but—"

"There are no buts," Charlie interrupted, then sighed. "All right, look at it this way. Radcliffe made a fuss about Bessie, but when it came down to it, he is the one who announced that she was to be your lady's maid and actually hired her on. Do you think someone like Lady Mowbray would have had her as a lady's maid?"

"Oh, good Lord, no." Beth's eyes were wide. "Bessie had no training. Lady Mowbray would not put out good money for an unskilled servant."

"Exactly. And the same goes for Mrs. Hartshair. Yet Radcliffe hired both of them despite his grumbling. Even taking in Mrs. Hartshair's children. And then there are the puppies. He could have denied me the money to save them and said it was for the best, or even have paid the
farmer, insisting he keep them and use the money for their care. But he did not. He speaks like an old curmudgeon, but his actions negate that." She glanced down at the water briefly, then added, "No stuffy old curmudgeon could possess the passion he does, either."

"You
do
love him," Beth said with relief.

"Aye."

"Then you will not try to contest the marriage?"

She gave a bitter laugh. "How could I? Uncle Henry would just try to force me into marriage with someone else, and Lord knows who he would find this time since I would be
ruined."

"You do not sound happy," Beth murmured worriedly.

"Would you be happy to be married to Tom, loving him yet knowing he did not love you?"

"Oh, Charlie, he must love you! How could he not?"

"Spoken like a true sister," Charlie murmured wryly, then admitted, "He told me he did not love me."

"He
told
you?" she gasped in honor.

"Well, he told Charles," she explained on a sigh. "I asked if he loved her—me—and he said, 'I do not' "

"Oh, Charlie." Her sister's eyes filled with sympathetic tears.

Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Charlie stiffened her back a bit and glanced away. "You had best get going. Your bath should be ready by now."

Beth hesitated, then seeming to recognize Charlie's need to be alone, she nodded reluctantly and moved slowly toward the door. "Goodnight."

"Good night," Charlie murmured as the door closed, then heaved a sigh and proceeded to wash her hair.

Radcliffe raised his hand to the door, then paused and drew it back, leaving the door unopened. Oddly enough, he was suddenly inexplicably nervous. This was his wedding night, but it would not be his first night with Charlie—so that was not the reason behind this sudden nervousness. Nay. He suspected the source of it was his uncertainty as to how his new bride was reacting to the knowledge that they were now married. He had no idea what to expect. Was she happy about it? Content? Resentful? She had been silent during the ride from Gretna. And he had been unwilling to ask her thoughts on the subject. Was she angry that Beth had married him in her name? Would she greet him with a shy smile, or whip something heavy and nasty at his head as soon as he entered the door?

Radcliffe smiled wryly. He doubted that most men suffered such worries on their wedding night, but then, they did not have wives like Charlie. Beautiful, bold, charming Charlie. He suspected that his calm, quiet days in the country were over. Life had suddenly become an adventure. Even going to his bed now carried some element of peril with it.

Did he wish for those serene times back? Radcliffe recalled the harmonious days that had blended into one another ere encountering Charlie and Elizabeth, then each wild escapade he had enjoyed since their arrival in his life. He chuckled softly to himself. He had thought it amusing when Clarissa had hung all over "the boy" like a limpet. Knowing that she had really been a girl made the memory even more amusing. Then he recalled Charles on the
farmer's back, fighting for the lives of those puppies, and he marveled at her courage. Then there was the time when she had been tied to the bed at the brothel with the whip-wielding Aggie straddling her… He began to chuckle aloud again, then blinked with consternation. Good Lord! He had taken his wife to a
brothel
he realized with dismay. And that was how his wife found him, standing before the door, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a round "O" of alarm.

Charlie had quickly finished her bath after Beth's departure then—with the dirty clothes she had worn for two days as her only other option—had wrapped the bed linens around herself in the Roman style and moved to sit before the fire to work on drying her long, damp tresses. Her hair had been perhaps half-dried when she had first heard the doorknob jiggle.

Her heart slamming against her chest, she had turned to stare at the door wide-eyed. When nothing had happened and the door had remained closed, she had relaxed slightly and gone back to finger-brushing her hair before the fire, only to pause again a moment later as a soft chuckle had reached her through the door. She'd had no trouble recognizing Radcliffe's distinctive laugh.

Thinking he was talking to someone in the hall, Charlie had continued to work with her hair, but when she'd heard no hint of another person's voice and Radcliffe's laugh came once more, curiosity had got the better of her and she had hurried to open the door. Now she stared at his rather horrified expression and frowned uncertainly.

Why was he looking at her like that? Did he find her that unattractive or—

"I took you to a brothel!"

Charlie blinked as that comment exploded from his lips, then relaxed and glanced curiously up and down the hall. "Are you alone, my lord?"

"What? Oh, aye," he murmured distractedly as he stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Then what were you laughing at?" Charlie asked curiously, trailing him across the room, the excess material of the linens she wore bailing behind her.

"I was not—Oh, well…" He frowned at her. "Did you not hear? I took you to a brothel, for God's sake."

"Hmmm," Charlie murmured, taking in the pale tinge to his skin. "And a gaming hall too."

He blanched further at that, then his eyes widened to great wide holes in his head "Good Lord, we slept together in the same bed the
very night we met!"

"I was above the linens while you were under them, if it makes you feel better."

She had moved to the fire and was holding her hands out toward it as if they were cold, her expression impossible for him to read. Gripping his future firmly in both hands, he murmured, "And is that how you wish to sleep tonight as well?"

She glanced about sharply at that, then followed his gaze to the linen she wore draped around her in what he suddenly realized was a most fetching and seductive manner. After the briefest of hesitations, she met his gaze again, holding his eyes with her own as she calmly reached up and undid the toga-style affair. It
dropped to the floor without even a whisper of sound, and she raised her chin defiantly. He may not love her, but he wanted her, and, with her usual gusto for life, she would take what it had to offer.

Radcliffe swallowed. His wife did not say a word. But then, she did not need to. Her actions were answer enough, he supposed as his gaze slid down over her generous breasts with their proudly erect nipples, across the gentle swell of her stomach, along the curve of her hips to her well-shaped thighs and calves before sliding back up to her face.

"My beautiful, bold, charming Charlie," he breathed his thoughts of earlier aloud. Her action, her stance, and her proud bearing seemed to epitomize her personality. Bold and passionate.
Dear God, I am the luckiest
of men,
he thought faintly, then lifted a hand, holding it out to her. "Come here."

When she stiffened, then hesitated, he thought they were about to begin the war of wills that was surely to come, for she was not one who would be ordered about. But instead of standing her ground and demanding that he come to her, she took several steps forward, erasing half the distance between them, then stopped, her eyes challenging.

Her message was clear. She would meet him halfway but that was as far as she would go. Carland would have beat her for her defiance on the spot. Radcliffe merely smiled and removed the rest of the distance between them with a couple of short strides.

Let other men battle for obedience, he decided as his arms closed around her warm soft body. He had Charlie. That was his last sensible thought before his wife's
arms slid around his neck.