‘Now …’ the clergyman placed an ancient liver-spotted hand on her shoulder ‘… I should check that this handsome devil hasn’t abducted you from beneath your mother’s nose.’ The clergyman chortled at the hilarity of his joke.
Viscount Varington smothered a cough and grinned at Tregellas.
Lord Tregellas showed not one sign of having heard anything untoward.
‘As if Lucien would have any need to do such a thing! Known him since he was a boy, and his brother there, too.’ The clergyman glanced across at the Viscount.
Madeline followed his gaze. So Lord Varington and Lord Tregellas were brothers. That explained the similarity in their looks.
‘Knew their father, too, God rest his soul.’ The clergyman patted her shoulder. ‘Sterling fellows, all three. Why, I remember in the old days—’
Lord Tregellas cleared his throat. ‘Reverend Dutton, Miss Langley is rather tired after her journey.’
‘Of course. Know the feeling myself.’ He peered in Lord Tregellas’s direction. ‘And you, sir, are no doubt impatient to make this lovely lady your wife. Now, where did I put it …?’ The clergyman patted at his pockets and gave Madeline a rather confused look. ‘Had it a minute ago.’
She felt Lord Tregellas step close against her back, looking over her head, impatience growing sharper by the minute. Her scalp prickled with the proximity of his large and very male body.
‘Ah, here we are!’ A battered old book was waved before them and the clergyman cleared his throat. ‘Dearly beloved, ye have brought this child here to be baptized … Oops, wrong one,’ mumbled Reverend Dutton. ‘Getting ahead of myself there somewhat. You won’t need that one for a little while yet.’
Madeline’s face flamed.
Lord Tregellas stiffened behind her.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.’ He stopped and beamed at Madeline. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’ Lord Tregellas moved round to stand at her right-hand side and the rest of the old clergyman’s words passed as a blur. This was a binding ceremony in the eyes of both God and the law. By the end of it she would be Lord Tregellas’s wife; his wife, no less. Not half an hour ago she had been sitting in Almack’s, existing minute by minute, doomed by a promise to marry Lord Farquharson, empty save for despair. Now the threat of Cyril Farquharson was gone, removed in one fell swoop by the man standing by her side.
‘Madeline.’
His voice invaded her thoughts, pulling her back to the present, to the reality of her situation.
‘Madeline,’ he said again.
She looked up into those stark eyes. Saw a tiny spark of anxiety in them. Knew he was waiting for her answer. He was a stranger, she had only spoken to him on three evenings, and this was one of them. And he was Earl Tregellas. Tregellas, for goodness’ sake. The Wicked Earl! How did she even know that what he had told her about Lord Farquharson was true? What she was doing was madness. Absolute insanity. She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. Well, only a little, if truth be told. He had spoken of instincts and trusting them. Every instinct in Madeline’s body told her that Lord Tregellas would not hurt her. He had saved her twice from Farquharson. Now he was prepared to give her his name to save her yet again. If she refused him, she knew full well what awaited her—Cyril Farquharson. Just the thought of that man conjured real fear.
His fingers touched to hers as if willing her to speak the words.
And she did.
More voices, more words, warmth of his hand on hers, touch of cold metal upon the third finger of her left hand. Then, with a brush of Lord Tregellas’s lips against her cheek, it was done. There would be no going back. She had just become Earl Tregellas’s wife, while all the while her mama sat unknowing, waiting for her in Almack’s.
‘Hell, I thought for a minute that she meant to refuse me in front of Reverend Dutton.’ Only Tregellas and his brother remained. Colonel Barclay had volunteered to see the clergyman safely home, and the critical letter had been dispatched to Mrs Langley via Lucien’s most trusted footman. Lucien filled two glasses, loosened his neckcloth, and sat down in the buttoned wing chair opposite his brother. Heavy burgundy-coloured curtains hung at the library window, blotting out the night beyond. The room was dark save for a single branch of candles upon the desk by the window and the flames that danced within the fireplace.
Guy helped himself to one of the glasses. ‘What would you have done if she had? The best-laid plan would have crumbled beneath a simple refusal.’
Lucien’s dark eyebrows angled dangerously. That would have necessitated the introduction of plan B.’
‘Plan B?’ echoed Guy intrigued.
The firelight exaggerated the clean angles and planes of Lucien’s face and darkened his eyes. ‘The one in which Miss Langley spends the night unchaperoned in the bachelor residence of Earl Tregellas. Come morning, without so much as touching her, I would have ensured that Miss Langley had no other choice but to marry me.’
‘My God, that’s wicked. Wicked but effective.’
Lucien shrugged and took a swig of brandy. ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. It would have been in her best interest. And the Wicked Earl is, after all, expected to execute such things.’ But the blunt words did not prevent the stab of guilt at the thought of his betraying Miss Langley’s trust.
‘Then old Dutton’s reference to abducting Miss Langley from beneath her mama’s nose was even more applicable than we thought,’ laughed Guy.
‘I did not abduct her,’ said Lucien. ‘She came most willingly once I had explained the situation.’
‘And why not? I do not think there was much chance of her turning down your offer, Lucien. Half the women in London would give their right arm to become Lady Tregellas, no matter what they might say to the contrary. Little Miss Langley has done rather nicely out of your arrangement. Her mama could not have done half so well. Discarded a baron and came up with an earl.’
‘Guy,’ Lucien argued, ‘it isn’t like that.’
‘Why did you marry her? Like you said, you could have just kept her here for the night. That alone would have been enough to make Farquharson discard her and call you out. Then Farquharson would have been dead, Miss Langley safe, and you in a position to choose a more suitable bride.’
‘Miss Langley’s reputation would have been ruined. For what that counts for in this town, she might as well be dead, as be carved up by the tabbies. What kind of man do you take me for?’
Guy rolled his eyes and gave a cynical sigh. ‘To hear you speak, one might be pardoned for thinking they were talking to a bloody saint! Have you forgotten what you’ve spent the last five years doing, big brother? A one-man crusade to deliver vengeance on Farquharson.’
‘That’s irrelevant. I’m trying to protect her, not ruin her life.’
‘Oh, come, Lucien. Face facts. This isn’t really about the girl at all. It’s about appeasing your conscience and killing
