The Bride Thief. Susan Paul Spencer
to stand before the polished steel mirror in his rented chamber. His dim reflection gave him little pleasure. His hair was overlong, he thought, frowning and running his fingers through the dark strands to smooth them. He should have had it cut—would have had it cut, if he’d had more notice. But with so little forewarning about the match that had been arranged for him, he’d been fortunate to achieve London as quickly as he had. Not that it mattered. The bride who’d been chosen for him had greeted him with less enthusiasm than Justin, himself, exhibited.
“I owe you for this, Hugh,” Justin said aloud, softly. “I most assuredly do. Could you not at least have chosen a willing lady for me?”
A knock fell on his chamber door, and at his spoken invitation, it opened.
“Good day, Chris,” he said in greeting as Sir Christian Rowsenly, the lord of Briarstone, made his way into the room, dressed in finery that equaled Justin’s.
“Almost time,” said Sir Christian. “Are you ready?”
Ready? Justin thought silently. Oh, yes, he was ready, whether he wished to be or not. If he failed in this final attempt, everything he had spent so many years working for would be taken away. Lost to him completely. All for the lack of a bride. Thus the duke of Gloucester had commanded, at the earl of Siere’s bidding, and thus it would be.
“Yes,” he said, bending to pick up his light dress sword. With a sure movement, he sheathed the beautiful weapon, which had been skillfully fashioned by his own hand. “I’m ready. ‘Twould not help our cause to keep Lady Evelyn waiting. My friend,” he said as he approached Sir Christian, setting a hand upon the other man’s shoulder, “I thank you for all you have offered to do to aid me in this matter. Only promise that you will take every care this day. If Lady Evelyn or her father should discover our intent before we have done, I will not want you sharing my rightful punishment.”
Sir Christian’s smile was fully amused. “You don’t think I’ll let myself be caught? Come, Justin, be serious, I pray.”
“I know you’ll be your excellent self, as you ever are,” Justin replied with a weary sigh, “but as everything that could have gone wrong with Lady Evelyn has, I fear I’m not optimistic about the rest of this unhappy venture.”
“Never fear,” Sir Christian said reassuringly, motioning for Justin to proceed him through the open door. “All will be well. You set your mind and skills toward charming the lovely, stubborn Lady Evelyn, and I’ll dedicate mine toward taking care of the rest. Depend upon it.”
An hour later found both men bowing, by turns, over the hand that Lady Evelyn smilingly offered.
“My lord, Sir Justin,” she said. “How kind of you to visit me again, so soon.”
The words had their intended effect, despite her gentle manner, and Justin inwardly cringed. He felt like a damned dog, sitting by her door night and day, and could only imagine how Lady Evelyn felt—probably like some prize calf at a fair being handed away to the highest bidder. She’d borne the matter admirably, and much more kindly than he would have done. Finding herself so suddenly betrothed to a complete stranger by the duke of Gloucester’s command must have been, for a beauty of her renown, quite an unpleasant shock. Until now she’d held court to an impressive assemblage of admirers, every one of them more suitable as a husband than Justin knew himself to be.
She was beautiful, educated, intelligent. At least Hugh had done that much in choosing a wife for him. And yet, Justin wondered if Lady Evelyn knew what she would lose if she married him. Talwar, with its simple comforts that appealed to Justin’s own nature perfectly, was like a stable compared to the grand wealth of this home where Lady Evelyn had been raised. Was that why she so firmly resisted the match? He was afraid it was only a small part of the reason.
“Thank you for receiving us, my lady,” he said, adding to her father, Baron Hersell, Sir Myles, “and thank you, my lord, for your long suffering in this unusual matter.”
Then, aware that the action would probably be viewed as extraordinarily rude, Justin walked past Lady Evelyn and Sir Myles, fully ignoring their surprise, and strode across the room to where another lady, dark-haired and plainly dressed, sat at a small table behind a stack of large leather-bound books. Seeing his approach, which she’d clearly expected even less than Lady Evelyn and Sir Myles, the girl flushed brightly and clumsily slammed shut the particular book in which she’d been making entries.
“Lady Isabelle.” Justin took the cold fingers she shakily proffered. Her heavy skirt caught beneath her chair as she awkwardly attempted to stand, causing her to stumble forward. Justin set a hand upon her waist to steady her, and the girl’s color became a fiery red.
“Sir Justin,” she murmured with what sounded like horror, her sapphire eyes wide.
Justin bowed over her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I hope this day finds you well?”
“Oh, yes. Yes. Thank you.”
“Will you have a glass of wine, my lord?” Lady Evelyn asked behind him, displeasure clear in her tone.
Justin smiled into Lady Isabelle’s worried eyes. “Will we have the joy of your company, as well, this day, my lady?” he asked, holding fast the fingers that she attempted to tug free.
“Oh—I don’t think—”
“I fear that my niece is too occupied with her work to join us, Sir Justin,” Sir Myles stated over Justin’s shoulder. “Isn’t that so, Isabelle?”
“Isn’t she always?” Justin murmured, too low for anyone but Lady Isabelle to hear. He released her and stepped away, turning to Sir Myles with a pleasant smile.
“Have you received the satisfaction you sought from the duke?” he asked as they walked together toward the table where Lady Evelyn was filling golden goblets with wine.
“I regret to say, my lord, that I have not. I spoke with Duke Humphrey yesterday, as I promised you I would, but I remain unconvinced of the legality of his dictates. To that end, I’ve sent a missive to France for the duke’s brother, John of Lancaster.”
Justin’s brow furrowed. “John of Lancaster? How can he have any say in the matter? His concerns are only for France, as England’s regent there. Surely he would not gainsay the duke of Gloucester in any such domestic matter as this.”
“This may be true,” the baron admitted kindly, accepting the goblet his daughter handed him. “Nonetheless, I will await word from him until I make my final decision.”
“But that may be many weeks, my lord. I have been commanded to wed before this month finds its end, three days from now, else I lose all that I hold as my own.”
Sir Myles’s smile never wavered. “I understand, my lord, and I appreciate your concerns, but I cannot—will not—force my daughter to wed you or any man unless she freely consents to do so. It was her mother’s final wish that Evelyn be allowed to have a husband of her own choosing. ’Tis an oddity, s’truth, but I gave my oath of honor and cannot turn from it.”
Justin’s steady gaze moved to Lady Evelyn’s lovely face. “And you, my lady. Every day for the past month I have come, asking the same question. Has your heart experienced a change since yesterday? Do you have a different answer for me?”
The expression in her eyes told him that he was the most desirable man on God’s earth, while her lips said, “You must know how flattered I am by your declarations, my lord. I can think of no finer fate than to be wife to a man such as you are. And yet, if I only had a little more time to think on the matter… You could not wish me to come to you, to wed you, unless I can bring my whole heart?”
There it was, Justin thought. The same as every day. They must believe him to be a fool ten times over. He felt the trap being laid out as surely as if Lady Evelyn and Sir Myles were spreading a net on the floor beneath his feet. They were a cunning pair, he admitted, but come the morrow, they would know who it was had played their game the