Authors: Mary Jo Putney
But lately she’d been buffeted by forces beyond her control, and that had left her off balance. She needed reassurance that she was not a helpless victim. Tenderly he kissed her temple, thinking how lucky he was that reassuring her was so richly rewarding.
The subject of withdrawing from the marriage was not mentioned again. The morning began well, with a visit to the Kimballs’ solicitor, chosen because Dominic wanted no part of the family lawyer who had revealed Amworth’s plans to Lord Grahame. The solicitor, a shrewd-eyed man named Carlton, promised to immediately draw up documents to keep Meriel’s fortune under her control so they could be signed that afternoon at Kimball House.
Procuring a special license at Doctor’s Commons proved simple, if time-consuming, and the vicar of the local parish was willing and able to perform the ceremony. Dominic’s last stop at his rooms had the bonus of finding his valet, Clement, who had just returned from visiting his sick mother, now much improved.
It was a relief to confide the events of the last weeks to Clement, who was as much friend as servant. Though the valet rolled his eyes eloquently several times during the narrative, he efficiently packed Dominic’s clothing and wished his master a pleasant wedding day. Dominic considered inviting Clement to the ceremony but decided against it. Meriel didn’t need more strangers around her. The valet could join him later.
Dominic returned to Kimball House to find that Meriel had become a household favorite. Besides playing with the children and keeping Rebecca company in the studio, she’d used weeds, garden flowers, and an ancient, paint-encrusted pot to create an arrangement. When Rebecca saw it, she remarked,
“Meriel has the eye of an artist.”
“A painter in blossom and branch,” Dominic agreed. Now that he’d learned to appreciate Meriel’s originality, he loved her creations.
Late in the afternoon, Carlton arrived with the draft marriage settlements. At a meeting in the study, the lawyer explained the provisions to Meriel. Kenneth also attended as a general advocate for Meriel’s interests. Dominic didn’t want there to ever be any suggestion that he had taken advantage of her in any way.
Faced by three earnest men, Meriel listened to the proposed settlements with a vaguely unfocused expression that worried Dominic. She seemed to have withdrawn from sheer boredom, and didn’t really grasp the importance of what was being decided.
He should have known better. After Carlton’s summary, she scanned the document, then calmly ripped it into pieces. As the men stared, she said, “The provisions for children seemed reasonable. Retain them. As for the rest, draw up a settlement in which Renbourne and I share equally in responsibility for Warfield, and have equal access to all moneys. Neither of us may do anything drastic, such as selling offland or investments, without the consent of the other.”
Carlton’s jaw dropped. “That is a very radical arrangement.”
Meriel’s delicate brows arched. “But surely not illegal?”
“Not if properly drawn,” the lawyer admitted.
“Then do it.” Meriel got to her feet. Wearing a simple blue morning gown of Rebecca’s, she was every inch an aristocrat. “If I die before my husband, he is heir to all I own. If we both die without children, my fortune goes back to whence it came—the land to my mother’s family, the bulk of the money to my father’s people.”
Dominic stammered, “B-but you wanted to have all of your holdings in trust, so that I would not be able to misuse your fortune.”
“Your idea, not mine,” she said coolly. “I said I would rather be your mistress than your wife, but I have never distrusted your honesty.” She inclined her head. “Gentlemen.” Then she turned and left the study, her long flaxen braid swaying gently.
Dominic, still stunned, saw that Kenneth was shaking with silent laughter. Carlton took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and polished them with his handkerchief. “A remarkable young lady, Mr. Renbourne. One who knows her own mind. While her settlement requirements are most unusual, one cannot say they are unreasonable.”
Grinning, Kenneth said, “You’re marrying a sylph of steel, Dominic. One can see the blood of Norman conquerors in her veins.” Gaze becoming unfocused, he picked up a pencil and began sketching on a piece of torn settlement paper. “That’s the way to paint her—as a Norman chatelaine on the castle walls, defending herself and her people against siege while her noble husband is away. Fragile but indomitable as she brandishes a sword to rally her men-at-arms.”
Dominic rolled his eyes, knowing he’d get no more sense out of Kenneth for a while. But even though Meriel had made him look like an idiot in front of the other men, her gesture warmed him. She wanted them to be equal partners. Not a common arrangement, but very fair, and exactly what he would have chosen.
Better yet, she had said in as many words that she trusted him. Someday, God willing, she would love him as well.
Chapter 36
Kyle felt a curious sense of unreality when he arrived back in London. Everything seemed exactly the same, almost as if he hadn’t left. Yet at the same time, he felt as if he had been away for years and changed beyond recognition.
Shaking off his disorientation, he decided that the first order of business was to visit his brother’s rooms. They had agreed on several possible methods of establishing contact on Kyle’s return, depending on how matters went at Warfield. First and easiest would be if Dominic had fulfilled his mission and returned to London. If that was the case, Dominic had only to brief Kyle on the events of his visit, and Kyle would proceed from there. A swift wedding, he presumed, because Lady Meriel’s uncle Grahame would return from the Continent in another fortnight or so.
If Dominic was still at Warfield, he should have sent a message to his man Clement. If the valet was still in the country, Kyle would have to travel to Shropshire and secretly communicate with his brother, or go to ground until Dominic returned to London. Certainly it would be impossible to change places at Warfield; even the least observant person would notice if Dominic turned into Kyle overnight. Some time must elapse to blur the differences between them.
Kyle suspected that Dominic had become bored with life at Warfield and returned to London by now. If so, the deception was over, with no one the wiser.
Impatient to finish the business, he traveled to Dominic’s lodgings. As he waited in the dim hallway, he was glad to hear footsteps responding to his knock on the door. At least one of the men was back in London.
Clement opened the door. Arching his brows, the valet asked, “Did you forget something, sir? If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for your own wedding.”
Kyle froze as a premonition of disaster struck him. “What wedding?”
Clement looked closer, and paled. “Good God, Lord Maxwell!”
He tried to slam the door, but he was too late. Kyle forced his way into the flat, demanding, “Who is Dominic marrying?”
Poker-faced, the valet backed slowly into the small drawing room. “I misspoke, my lord. I was not expecting to see you.”
“That’s for damned sure!” He advanced on Clement, expression thunderous. “He’s marrying Lady Meriel Grahame, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”
Despite Kyle’s premonition, the flicker of acknowledgment on Clement’s face was a numbing blow. How could Dominic have betrayed him so treacherously?
Yet it made perfect sense—Dominic had always resented being the younger son, with no property and only limited income and status. Marrying the mad Lady Meriel would set him up in style for life. Instead of having to settle for a modest estate, he was now master of a fortune equal to the Wrexham inheritance. It was all so logical.
And all Kyle’s fault, for being bloody fool enough to trust his brother. He spat out, “Where and when?”
The valet shook his head, refusing to answer. The rage that had been building since Kyle had learned of Constancia’s fatal illness exploded. He slammed the slightly built Clement against the wall and locked his hands around his throat with bruising force. “Tell me, or by God, I’ll choke it out of you! Where is Dominic marrying her?”
Clement gasped, “A-at Kimball House, but there’s no use trying to stop the ceremony.” His frightened gaze went to the mantel clock. “It will be over before you can get there. You’re too late.”
Swearing, Kyle released the valet and headed for the door. It might be too late to stop the wedding, but there was still time to break his brother’s neck.
Rebecca had been right—it was worth the extra effort to make the wedding special. Wearing a gown of ivory silk, with her incredible hair falling free under a fine veil and a chaplet of fresh flowers, Meriel was so beautiful that Dominic’s heart hurt. She entered the drawing room carrying a bouquet of roses and trailing ivy, her small feet bare and elegant and utterly enchanting. Decorated with massed flowers, the room had become a place of celebration. Rebecca and Kenneth were the attendants, with their children and Rebecca’s parents as the only guests, but it was enough. Meriel would not look back on her wedding day and feel that she had been deprived. Nor would Dominic.
Suppressing the painful knowledge that he was about to drive the last nails into the coffin of his relationship with his brother, he took Meriel’s hand and turned to the vicar, who stood with his back to the windows. The vicar had a warm smile for them, and for the Gray Ghost, who watched with interest from the sofa. In a sonorous voice, he began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God…”
The stately, familiar words flowed over Dominic, bringing him a sense of peace. He and Meriel belonged together. When she said her vows in a soft, clear voice, it was hard to remember the wild girl who had fled his presence when they first met.
Dominic’s mind went blank when the vicar asked for the ring. He’d purchased one the day before, hadn’t he? Where was it? Before panic could set in, Kenneth produced the ring, a twinkle in his eyes. Dominic was lucky to have him for a friend.
He’d always assumed that if he married, his brother would be his best man…
Suppressing the thought, he slid the ring on Meriel’s ringer. She gave him a clear, green-eyed glance. His exquisite little pagan, enchanting and stubborn, mysterious and magical. He uttered a private prayer that he would always be worthy of her.
The rest of the service was a haze, until the vicar said, “I pronounce that they be man and wife together,”
and gave the final blessing.
After Dominic kissed his bride, the guests crowded forward, laughing and offering congratulations. Dominic accepted them, giddy with happiness. Meriel was his, to love, honor, and protect. Together they could face whatever might come.
He barely noticed a commotion in the hallway, until the doors flew open and Kyle burst into the drawing room, hair wild and expression dangerous. Only Dominic was looking in his direction, and for one endless, excruciating moment, Kyle’s raging gaze met Dominic’s. Then he stormed down the long room, shouting, “You bastard!”
His curse cut through the laughter, and the startled guests spun around to stare at the interloper. Meriel inhaled sharply, looking from Kyle to Dominic and back again. The Kimballs and Seatons did the same. For anyone who had never seen them together, the resemblance was downright eerie. With a feeling of numb inevitability, Dominic gently set Meriel aside and advanced toward his twin. “This isn’t what you think.”
Kyle’s answer was an incoherent growl, and a fist that smashed into his brother’s jaw. Dominic didn’t even try to avoid it. The impact spun him around, but he welcomed the blow. If only pain could wash away the crushing guilt.
“Enough!” Broad and formidable, Kenneth Wilding was on Kyle before he could strike again. Twisting one arm behind Kyle’s back with a strength that immobilized the younger man, he ordered, “Give Dominic a chance to explain.”
Kyle struggled to free himself, then gasped when Kenneth increased the pressure to the agonizing point just short of dislocating the shoulder. “What is there to explain?” he said bitterly, ignoring everyone except Dominic. “You’ve always despised me for the crime of being born first, and now you’ve got your revenge. Damn you!”
The devastation in Kyle’s eyes paralyzed Dominic, reflecting back to combine with his own anguish. All he could do was say numbly, “I’m sorry, Kyle, but for Meriel’s sake, there was no other way.”
“You bloody hypocrite!” Snarling obscenities, Kyle tried to break free again. Kenneth stopped that by jerking the pinioned arm upward. “I don’t care how upset you are, I’ll have no such language in front of my wife and children! If you want to talk to your brother civilly, fine. If not, get out of my house.”
A pulse throbbed in Kyle’s forehead, but he stopped fighting. “I never thought you’d stoop this low, Dominic,” he said in a shaking voice. “Christ! I’d been hoping that maybe we could be friends again, and all the while you were betraying me.” His mouth twisted. “So clever. Not only did you get the pleasure of seducing my betrothed wife, but in the process you got the money and power you’ve always wanted. And to think I was fool enough to trust you merely because you’re my brother.”
“There was no malice in this, I swear.” Dominic halted, achingly aware that it would be useless to explain that he loved Meriel and had needed to move swiftly to protect her. Kyle was so enraged that all he could see was the fact of betrayal. Any reasons Dominic offered would seem like cowardly excuses. Taking a firm hold of Dominic’s arm, Meriel said sharply, “You much mistake the matter, Lord Maxwell. I would never have married you, so you have no right to blame Dominic for stealing your bride.”
For the first time, Kyle looked at her. He blinked, startled, as if he didn’t quite recognize the woman he had intended to marry. Then he turned his furious gaze back to his brother. Meriel no longer mattered—it was Dominic who had committed the unforgivable crime. “I’m sorry, Kyle,” he whispered again.
“It’s time you left, Lord Maxwell,” Rebecca said crisply. “I suggest that after you calm down, you discuss this matter with Dominic, but not before.”
Kenneth released Kyle’s arm, then escorted him from the drawing room. Rigid to the breaking point, Kyle left without looking back.