Chapter 30
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Zachary called over the wind, his horse struggling to keep up with the pace of Philip’s stallion.
They had struck out from Ashbrook with something of an entourage. Philip had tried to insist on going alone, but Zachary had rejected the notion. Once he had, Reuben and John had decided to join the hunting party.
Fortunately, the latter two were far slower and had fallen behind some time ago. But Philip still would have preferred to shake Zachary so that there would be no one and nothing to stop him from exacting due and brutal punishment on Lord Ramsbury.
“He took her, Zachary,” Philip shot back. “I plan to do whatever is necessary.”
“What if he didn’t take her? What if she chose to go with him?” Zachary suggested.
Philip narrowed his eyes at the seemingly endless road ahead as hedgerows and trees flashed past in the lightening dark. It could not be much longer now.
Could that be true? Could I have hurt her so much that she would choose that feeble substitute?
He didn’t want to believe it, but there was a possibility of it being true. Mary had insisted that the Marquess had just wanted to speak to Selina alone. Might he have persuaded her that he was the better choice?
The Marquess certainly didn’t seem like the sort of gentleman who had much experience with women. Perhaps Selina had sensed that too, unaware that for Philip, there could never be any woman but her ever again.
He had indulged in the comforts of women because he was in pain, or he thought he might die tomorrow, or he needed distraction from the horrors of war and the hopelessness of it all. He had never felt anything for them, and they had not felt anything for him. It had been a mutual service.
That was not the case with Selina.
She was someone special, someone who had awakened feelings in him, someone he would never stray from, as loyal to her as he had once been to his battalion.
But you didn’t bloody well tell her that, did you?
He cursed under his breath as he rode on, praying that when he arrived at the Marquess’s residence, he would be able to persuade her to come back.
To come home, where she belonged.
“Your father told me about the letter you received from the Duke,” Lord Ramsbury said as he sipped tea in the chair opposite. “If it is passion you want, my darling, I can give you that. I can write whatever you desire.”
Selina glared at him, her wrists and ankles sore from the chafing rope. “I doubt there is a passionate bone in your body.”
“You would be surprised.” He chuckled. “Listen, my dear, I don’t want us to begin our life together with such unpleasantness. I shall be a good husband to you, as long as you behave.”
“I refuse,” she retorted. “Indeed, I will try to run every chance I get.”
He shrugged. “You can go back to your family once we are wed, if that would make you happy, just as long as I receive your dowry.”
“That is why you are doing this? For money?” She stared at him in disgust.
He laughed coldly. “Well, it is not because of your exceptional beauty or your famous character. You are pretty enough, but you talk too much. It is very unattractive.” He smirked. “Of course, it is for money. Money that I was promised. Money that shall fix everything.”
“You are that desperate to be able to employ a few more servants?” She turned her nose up at him.
The servants that he did have were notably absent. She had to wonder how he had earned their devotion, for she could not think of many servants who would watch their master kidnap and tie up a woman without even the slightest protest.
“It is not about servants,” he snapped. “It is about legacy. It is about longevity. It is for the benefit of my poor mother.”
Selina frowned. “You think your mother would be proud of you for doing this?”
“I think she will be delighted when she returns from her visit to a friend in a week’s time and discovers that I am married and that this manor can be restored to its former glory,” he replied with a shrug. “That is worth everything.”
“It does not look so bad to me.” Selina glanced around the dining room.
Yes, there were a few damp patches on the ceiling, and the drapes were rather motheaten, the linens yellowed, one of the windows cracked, but it was not in the worst of conditions.
“I am pleased you think so, now that this is to be your home,” he said wryly.
“And when the scandal sheets spurn you and your mother for your part in forcing me into a marriage against my will, will she be pleased then?”
Lord Ramsbury sank back in his chair. “There will be no such gossip for them to titillate the masses with. The story will be as follows: you had a change of heart after you realized what a licentious monster the Duke is, I graciously accepted you back into my affections, and we were married without delay.”
“No one will believe it,” she muttered, uncertain.
“Maybe not, but they will soon forget that there was any upheaval. They will move on to the next juicy morsel, and we shall be left in peace.”
That, she did not doubt. The scandal sheets might have been quick to judge, but they were also quick to forget. Within a week, there would be a bigger and better story for society to sink its teeth into.
“A dowry is not an income,” she said, changing tactics. “It will run out. Then, what will you do?”
His face clouded over, his eyes cold. “I mean to invest some of it, as my father should have done instead of gambling it all away. I will not make the same mistakes as him. I will not allow this house to fall into further disrepair.”
So, that was the reason he was doing all of this. He was destitute.
“You could sell the manor,” she suggested. “Begin again in a smaller property. I imagine there are some bad memories in this house if—”
“Sell?” Lord Ramsbury barked, tea sloshing in his cup. “Sell my home? Sell my mother’s home? Have everyone know my business simply because my father was a wretch who squandered everything? I would rather die than sell this manor.”
It was a nice house. Selina could imagine how beautiful it had been in its prime. With the dawn beginning to lighten the world outside, she could see the expansive lawns—they needed a rather comprehensive trim—and the woodland in the distance. A fine place, indeed, with some money to fix it.
But she was not going to be the one to provide it.
“Despite what you have done, I do not want to see undue harm come to you,” she said with a breath. “It is not too late to let me go back to Philip. If I speak to him, I am sure we could find another way to solve your problem.”
Lord Ramsbury’s lip curled. “I will never accept charity. Why should I, when I already have the solution?” He glanced toward the window. “It will be a fine day for a wedding.”
“I shan’t recite any vows. I shan’t say ‘I do.’ There will be no marriage,” she warned.
Lurching out of his chair, his face close to hers, his hands braced on the armrests, his eyes flashed a warning of their own. “You will do as you are told. Besides, I know the priest well. He does not need to hear your agreement to wed us.”
At that moment, as if summoned, the sound of a bell rang through the house. Someone was at the front door.
Could it be Philip?
Her heart soared, even though she knew the chance was slim.
“Right on time,” Lord Ramsbury said with a grin as he pushed away from the chair.
With her back to the dining room door, she could only listen to the sound of his footsteps echoing in the hallway beyond. She imagined him crossing the entrance hall and distantly heard the creak of the front door.
Please, let it be Philip… Please… Please…
Muffled voices drifted toward her ears. One was Lord Ramsbury’s; the other was not Philip’s.
Her heart sank into the very pit of her stomach. She sagged in her chair, her chin dropping to her chest. The bindings she had been fighting against went slack.
It was all over. She would be married to Lord Ramsbury against her will, and no matter how she felt about Philip or how he might feel about her, there was nothing either of them would be able to do to reverse it.
As the footsteps returned, growing louder, she twisted her head back to be sure of her fate.
Lord Ramsbury smirked at her while a priest stood at his side.
“Forgive the unusual situation,” he said.
The priest shook his head. “I have seen stranger. She is not the first reluctant bride I have encountered, but all of those marriages turned out rather well in the end.”
Selina didn’t believe that for a second.
“Is there no heavenly rule against forcing a woman to marry a man against her will?” she seethed.
“I have seen the banns, my dear. Your father gave his blessing,” the priest replied. “It is his right to do with you as he pleases.”
Selina sniffed. “Of course it is. God forbid that a woman should be anything but property.”
“Come, Father Michael, let’s not waste another moment,” Lord Ramsbury said brightly. “The chapel should be ready by now.”
The priest bowed his head. “Lead the way, My Lord.”
“Don’t fight, Selina,” Lord Ramsbury said as he bent down to begin untying her. “Within the hour, you will be my wife.”
“Not while there is breath in my lungs and a heart in my chest,” an ominous voice growled from the doorway.
All the color drained from Lord Ramsbury’s face, his eyes so wide with fear that Selina could see the whites.