Foolish Bride Read online

  “As you wish, Father.” She continued to stare at Mother as if seeing her for the first time.

  “It is just as well. He is beneath you now anyway. I was only allowing the wedding because the agreement was already signed, and I did not wish to renege. It is a shame that a true patriot has suffered such a fate, but you can certainly do better now that you are the daughter of an Earl.” Father was mostly talking to himself, but she listened for some bit of logic that would make this sudden change of plan make some kind of sense.

  “Mother, what is going on?”

  Father cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two ladies to have a chat.” He practically ran from the room, his morning coat flapping as he went.

  Most people in London society thought Elinor was silly and senseless, and she would admit to her closest friends that she rather liked the low expectation her ignorance afforded her. However, at that moment she wasn’t concerned about what society, her friends, or her mother thought of her intelligence. “Mother, I demand to know what is going on.”

  Mother sat in the small chair, then leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. The pose imitated the one she’d taken just over a year earlier, when the paper had reported Elinor’s certain ruin. She and Michael had been caught kissing in a library at a ball by Lady Pemberhamble, the most notorious gossip in London. The kiss had been brief and passionate. It had been foolish really, but she couldn’t help herself when she was with Michael Rollins. Then, when Michael had escaped town after the report became public, she was only saved by her friends’ support. She hated causing Mother any pain, but needed to know what was going on.

  “Elinor, please take a seat,” Mother whispered.

  She perched on an armchair facing Virginia. Whenever summoned to her father’s study, she snuggled into the soft cushion. Usually the chair was warm and cozy, and no matter what silly rules her father set out to impose, she would snuggle into the chair and listen to him with half an ear. She waited for her mother to speak.

  And she waited.

  Mother held her head, fidgeted in her seat, and looked up and back several times at the Persian rug between them.

  After a full three minutes, it became clear that Virginia might never speak if not prompted further.

  “Mother, I can see that you are upset. Shall I ring for tea?” Though tea was the last thing in the world that Elinor wanted, it might put her mother at ease and thereby speed up the dissemination of information.

  “No, dear. That will not help today.”

  “What would help, Mother?” The question came out less kindly than she intended.

  Mother looked up, and a weary sadness dulled her usually clear blue eyes. “What I am going to tell you is not easy for me, Elinor. These kinds of things are just not discussed. Your father had much difficulty in his explanation to me, and I dare say probably left out quite a bit. Now, I will tell you, but at this point who knows where the story has gone wrong with so many people between the source and you and me.”

  Elinor couldn’t think of a single response.

  “Sir Michael was in an accident of some kind while working on behalf of England. He was in France.” She looked up at her daughter hopefully.

  “He did mention that he would be traveling on the continent for a few weeks. He promised to return a week from now and told me that I should not be concerned about his missing the wedding. He said it rather jokingly, and so I took little notice.” Michael often went away on some business for the crown. Never asking the nature of his business, she’d accepted him at his word.

  “Yes, well, I do not know the exact nature of his business in France, but I do know that it was official and important, according to your father. I also do not know the exact nature of the injury or how he obtained it. I cannot tell you exactly where he was in France. I do not know when he returned to England.”

  “Mother, what do you know?” Elinor’s frustration leaped to her breaking point.

  A deep sigh shook Mother’s shoulders. “It would seem that his ability to be a proper husband has been compromised.”

  Elinor waited for her to continue. This couldn’t be all the information she would be receiving.

  Virginia took a deep breath and her expression eased, as if satisfied with her explanation and would say no more.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Her mother’s frown returned. She pulled her handkerchief out of the waistband of her skirts and dabbed her bright red cheeks. “It means that you cannot marry him.”

  “But why? You have not told me anything.” Hysteria was one more bit of strange conversation away. Her skin itched, which meant red blotches were appearing all over her neck, arms, and face. It happened whenever she was hysterical, and there was no way to stop it.

  “I have told you enough,” Mother said.

  “No. You have told me nothing.” Elinor stood and walked toward the door.

  “Elinor, stop.”

  She faced her mother. “Tell me what has happened, or I swear I will go directly to Michael and ask him myself.” She scratched her neck making the blotches worse.

  “He is no longer able to father children,” Virginia screamed.

  Elinor stood still and let what Mother said seep into her mind. “This is certain?”

  “Your father had it from Lord Marksbury at his club. I cannot imagine the earl would make up such a tale.” Virginia pressed two fingers to her temple, which meant she was developing a headache.

  It was difficult not to sympathize, but she had to get to the heart of the matter. “Perhaps his Lordship was mistaken. Where did he hear this news?”

  “I do not know. You know how fast news travels in London, dear.”

  “And how in error those rumors often are.” Anger welled up from her gut.

  Virginia stood, walked over to her, and placed an arm around her shoulder. “I understand that you would wish the rumors were false, my dear, but I am afraid we must look elsewhere for a husband for you.”

  Her life was once again turned upside down by the will of London gossip. She shrugged off her mother’s embrace and stormed across the room. “Look elsewhere. You make it sound like we are purchasing a dress. I will not be looking anywhere, Mother. I will marry Sir Michael Rollins or no one at all until I hear from his lips that he does not want me. Father can do as he wishes, but I will not cry off. I am not quite sure how anyone could know whether or not my fiancé is capable of producing an heir, but I am certain that London’s gossips will not stop me from having the man I am in love with.”

  “Do you mean to disobey your father?” Virginia’s eyes were wide and her skin pale as death.

  To actually state such a thing would be foolish. Her father would likely lock her in her room, or worse, exile her to the country estate. She must be smarter than them. “I will think on all you have explained to me, Mother. I realize I have become overwrought. I would prefer to go to my room now, if that is acceptable to you.”

  “Quite understandable, dear; you will need some time. I completely understand. We will not accept any invitations for the remainder of the week. Monday will be soon enough to begin again. I do hate the thought of starting this whole marriage business again. We were so close.” Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes.

  Elinor left her mother, curtsied to her father, who hovered outside the door, and rushed up the steps to her room. She had to have a plan.

  Sitting at her desk, she pulled out her journal and made a list. Perhaps the most important one of her life.

  Get out of the house unseen

  Transportation

  What to say to Michael

  Would he require care when she saw him?

  Find the address of the best surgeon in London

  What if he refused to see her?

  The last item sat her back in her chair. Then what? Tears filled her eyes. Elinor wiped them away, but more came.

  All her shock at the news she wouldn�
��t be married to Michael overwhelmed her. Gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably, she tried to move herself to the bed. She had to write a letter to Michael. She had to know if he had truly thrown her over. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to go to him, at least not immediately. It would take time to plan a clandestine visit to a man’s townhouse.

  Once the tears began, she couldn’t stop them. Writing was difficult with the flood coming down her cheeks and blurring her vision. After several failed attempts, she gave up and put her head on the desk. Racking sobs shook her body.

  There was a scratch at the door, but Elinor did not answer.

  * * * *

  She woke to a dim room hours later without the slightest recollection of being undressed or put into her night clothes. The fire was warm and kept the room from complete darkness.

  Had the entire evening been a horrible nightmare? The dread in her chest spread down her arms. It had all happened. If her father had his way, she would never be Mrs. Michael Rollins. Fresh tears filled her eyes.

  At her washstand, Elinor splashed her face with cool water, wiped it dry, and went to the small desk strewn with a dozen crumpled and torn pages. She opened one of the tear-splattered attempts at writing from the night before.

  Michael, why have you deserted me?

  Even to her grief-stricken mind, the note was pathetic and selfish. He was injured, and she was only thinking about herself. Had she even asked Mother about the seriousness of her fiancé’s injuries? She couldn’t remember.

  She began a new letter. It took her the rest of the night to compose the correspondence, but once done, she was satisfied. Once he responded, she would know how to proceed.

  What if he were too ill to respond?

  Taking another sheet, she wrote a second letter addressed to his mother. This was even more difficult than the first. The sun peeked through the heavy drapes by the time she’d completed her writing.

  She rang for her maid.

  Josephine popped her head in a moment later. “Miss, have you been up all night?” Her tone was near scolding.

  “Josephine, can you take these two letters and see that they are delivered without my parents’ knowledge?” Elinor’s voice was higher than normal even with the scratch of a sleepless night.

  Josephine took the letters and stared at them. She scrunched up her nose and frowned.

  Elinor was grateful Josephine couldn’t read.

  “If you will promise to take yourself to bed immediately, I will see them delivered. I’ll not have you becoming ill.”

  Elinor grabbed her in a quick hug. “I will sleep for a while. Just see that those are delivered, Josephine. It is very important.”

  “Yes, Miss.” She tucked the notes in her apron and bundled her mistress into bed.

  * * * *

  Knowing that Rolf Burkenstock waited below stairs, Michael fought the pain shooting down his legs and up his back until he was somewhat upright.

  His mother, Tabitha, tucked several pillows behind his back. “Are you sure you are up to this, Michael? I can send his lordship away. I’ll tell him to come back in a week. It’s impertinent, his coming at this point in your recovery.”

  Closing his eyes, he waited for the sharp agony of his wound to subside to a dull ache. “Another week will not change what Malmesbury has to say. Tell him to come up, please.”

  A deep frown crossed her face. “As you wish, but I think he could wait a week or so.”

  Forcing a smile, he pushed the pain to the side. “Your objection is noted.”

  She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Do not let him overtax you, or I will become cross.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” It had been years since Mother had ordered him around. Hiding his amusement wasn’t an option.

  With a nod, she left the room.

  Michael’s hero status might have kept the bill collectors at bay after his father’s death, but nothing would stop Malmsbury from having his say. No amount of money or deeds done would help him now.

  Hands flat against the mattress, he pressed himself more erect and endured the jolt of pain, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out.

  As the door creaked open, Michael steadied himself and hoped his expression was mild and calm. “Come in, my lord.”

  His face burned bright red as Rolf Burkenstock, The Earl of Malmsbury, entered the bedroom. “Sorry to bother you while you are still abed, Sir Michael.”

  It was probably a lie, but Michael forced a smile. “It’s all right, my lord. I expected you would come at some point. Would you like to sit?”

  Rolf trudged around the bed and stared up at the coffered ceiling, then ran his hand along the gold-trimmed chest near the window. “This is a fine house you purchased, Sir Michael. You should be proud of what you accomplished in the past few years.”

  Wishing Malmsbury would just get on with it, Michael stifled a sigh and resigned himself to enduring the next few moments of his ruined life. “I was happy Stonehouse came available for me to purchase. Though, I can take no credit for the décor. Your daughter and my mother are responsible for filling the rooms with charm.”

  Clearing his throat, Malmsbury clenched his hands behind his back. “Yes, well, they did a fine job. It is not your fault what’s happened.”

  “Are we speaking of my injuries, my lord, or something else?” Michael longed to get out of the damn bed and face his foe, but longing was all he was capable of.

  “Elinor is the daughter of an earl now.”

  Michael had seen this coming. Of course, her father wanted to marry her off to someone at or above his new station. His injury was the perfect excuse. “I am aware of your recent good fortune, my lord.”

  Rolf puffed out his chest like a pigeon on the prowl for a mate. “It was an unexpected boon from the crown.”

  Another lie. Burkenstock had lobbied for the prize and won by kissing more ass than a royal courtesan. It made no difference. “I assume your admiration of my new house and your good fortune are not the reason for this visit, my lord.”

  He bristled and walked closer to the bed, still keeping his distance as if Michael’s wounds might be contagious. “I regret this outcome, more than I can say. I have my daughter’s future to consider. She is our only child and such a delicate thing. I saw Lord Marksbury at Whites last week, and he is in the confidence of Mr. Church, who knows your surgeon quite well.”

  Evidently, the nature of his injuries had become part of London’s gossip. It was only a matter of time. Michael wished he’d had a bit more. Elinor’s sweet smile and musical voice floated through his mind. “My prognosis is still unclear, my lord.”

  Malmsbury gripped the back of the chair, his fingers biting into the red velvet fabric. “I am sure you wish it to be so, but word is you will never be the man you were. Even if the rumors are false, I cannot have my dear Elinor exposed to such harshness.”

  More likely, the earl feared the gossip would hurt his political aspirations and relationship with the crown. He was in too much pain to risk any sudden movements, but the sting to his heart might have outshone the rest of his wounds. “I see. What does Elinor say?”

  Malmsbury’s cheeks and ears flushed red, and he crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Lady Elinor is a good girl who does as she’s told. The matter has been discussed with her.”

  “Has it?” The notion that she knew of his inadequacies hurt almost as much as losing her.

  “Of course. Her mother and I explained it this morning. She was upset, but she knows her duty. We’ll say no more on the matter. I assume you still care for her and wouldn’t wish to hurt her reputation.”

  Fury burned his gut and twisted his mind. “You might find a willing duke to take my place, my lord. Wouldn’t that be a treat after nearly having to put her on the shelf last year?”

  Malmsbury gazed at the ceiling, oblivious to Michael’s sarcasm. “Oh my, wouldn’t that be something.” He cleared his t
hroat and shook his head, returning the concerned crease to the space between his eyes. “My family and I wish you a thorough recovery.”

  “I would like to speak to Elinor.” She would be better off without him, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking for one last sight of her. Skivington was available. She could be the Duchess of Skivington within the year, a far step up from the wife of a knight who’d stolen a kiss at a ball and ruined her. Maybe she would laugh at the folly of the memory.

  Backing toward the door, Malmsbury shook his head. “You wouldn’t want to confuse the girl. You know how she is, head always in the clouds. The kind thing to do is to make a clean break. She understands the situation. She’s a good girl.”

  “Of course.” Michael’s throat closed around the words.

  Malmsbury opened the door, bowed, and clomped down the hall.

  Michael clenched his fists and pummeled the mattress. Pain shot through him. His legs jerked with agony, and he rolled to his side.

  Thomas Wheel rushed into the room and eased him back onto the pillows. “Hang on, Mike. I’ll get your nurse with some laudanum.”

  Gripping the arm of his oldest friend, Michael shook his head. “Just wait. It will pass. I hate that stuff. Give me a minute.”

  When he opened his eyes, Thomas sat in the chair Elinor’s father had avoided. His eyebrows raised and his legs spread in front of him, he looked ready to either relax or run for help, whichever was needed. “Better?”

  Michael steadied his breath. “I lost my temper. It was foolish even in the privacy of my own thoughts.”

  Nodding, Tom leaned forward. “I passed Malmsbury in the hall.”

  “He came to inform me of the dissolution of my engagement. Though, he never actually said the words.”

  Thomas pounded the chair arm. “Cowardly to come at this time. You had a contract. He at least could have waited until you have properly healed. Bad form to hit a man when he’s down.”

  “He’s only protecting Elinor.” Saying it out loud made it a bit more believable.

  “If that were true, you wouldn’t have nearly killed yourself with the loss of your temper. You would die to protect that girl. What does she say about it?” Tom stared at him with intense green eyes, his military training looking for any tidbit to twist in their favor.