Page 73 of A Widow for the Earl
He must have saved her from her attacker. Everything in her memory was black after she had been unceremoniously thrown onto a horse—which went some way toward explaining her bruised ribs—so it stood to reason that she could not remember a rescue.
But this is not Wycliffe.
Maybe, it had not been safe to return there. If her attackerhadbeen one of her deceased husbands’ family members, maybesomeone had decided—Frederick, most likely—that it would be for the best if she was taken care of in an unaffiliated residence.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, touching a gentle hand to her brow.
“As if I got smacked in the head with something,” she replied, with a wry laugh that immediately made her grimace.
Her hand moved to her sore ribs, her chin dipping to her chest as she waited for the latest surge of pain to ebb.
“I am sorry about that,” Frederick said with a sigh. “I did not want to hurt you but, if it is any consolation, I have not left your side. I did my best to bandage your head, but, you understand, I could not summon a physician.”
Her head lifted, her eyes blinking to clear the blur and the confusion that swirled in her mind. Surely, she had misheard him. Surely, he meant that he had not want to hurt hermorewhile tending to her injuries.
“I… do not understand,” she rasped. “Where am I?”
He gestured to the door of a small, quaint bedchamber. “You are at the hunting lodge on my brother’s estate. Well, what will soon bemyestate.” He grinned, his smile so wide that it did something strange to his eyes, widening them in a way that made him appear quite mad for a moment. “Do not worry, you are perfectly safe. You are precisely where you should be.”
She stared at him, willing her dazed mind to make sense of this. “I should like to go home now,” she said thickly. “And I should like to see a physician.”
“You will be home soon,” he insisted with that same, twisted grin. “In a few hours, we will be husband and wife at last, and though we will have to make do with my brother’s secondary residence for a while, we will be the Marquess and Marchioness of Merricold by next year. Just in time for summer, I should think.”
A prickly chill began to slither through her veins, numbing her pain temporarily as fear took over. “Is this a joke, Freddie? If it is, I am not finding it very funny.”
“It is no joke,” he said, his tone losing some of its strange kindness. “I have attained a special license. It is rather easy to do when the bride is so infamous.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she searched the room for anything she might use to defend herself. “I am not marrying you, Freddie. This is ridiculous. Come on, enough of this; I do not like this jape.”
Finding nothing that resembled a weapon, she began shuffling toward the opposite side of the bed. “Take me home to Wycliffe, Freddie, and we shall say nothing more of this. Evidently, you thought you would play a trick, but it has gone too far. I will forgive you if you just… put me back where I belong.”
He appeared in front of her, eyes flaring. “When I am Marquess, I canbuyWycliffe. This is no game, Trixie.” He seized hold of her hands. “By noon, youwillbe my wife.”
“But… I do not want a husband,” she floundered, still unable to believe this was happening. That her dear friend had attacked her, and now seemed to be holding her prisoner.
Frederick sneered, tightening his grip on her hands until she thought he might crush her fingers. “That is not what you said to your cousin.”
Her heart jolted, her stomach dropping like a stone. “You eavesdropped on us?”
A hard look darkened his eyes. “How fickle you are, suddenly deciding you might like to wed a wealthy earl, because he gave you a manor. Yet, I have been at your side for all these years,waitingfor you to choose me. I am done waiting, Trixie.”
“What?” She swallowed. “We… have always beenfriends, Freddie. You have never shown any romantic inclination toward me, as I have shown none to you.”
“Is that what you think?” he scoffed. “I have loved you with my actions, Trixie.Iam the one who deserves you, for all I have done for you. I might not have a manor to give you yet, but I have kept you safe. I am the one who saved you from those awful marriages, those awful men who would have pawed at you and made you miserable, caging you. I want nothing more than for you to be free, with me.”
Beatrice faltered, her breath lodging in her throat as she stared up into those mad eyes. She could not understand what she was hearing. It made no sense. He had always been so sweet and generous, someone she could rely on without any fear of him wanting something in return.
It has all been a game of patience. He has always thought he would be the victor, winning me; I just did not know it.
“What do you mean?” she rasped, though she feared she already knew the answer.
Frederick smiled. “The moment I heard that your father was forcing you into marriage with Lord Albany, I came to your aid.” His grip on her loosened slightly. “I could not stop the wedding, that would have been too suspicious, but Icouldstop the wedding night. I had the means. A poison unknown to England’s oblivious physicians. It was not cheap, but it worked better than I could have expected. It acts slowly, making it seem as if a man has merely suffered an apoplexy after retiring to his study for a drink.”
“No…”
“Lord Brinkley was more difficult. Not a drinker,” Frederick continued. “I had to sneak into his chambers and force it down his throat. He struggled, but I knew he would not get far. Rather poetic, that he tried to reachyoubefore it claimed him. As for Lord Wycliffe, I just dropped a very special sugar cube into his nightly sweetened tea. Creatures of habit make for very easy prey.”
Beatrice dropped her chin to her chest, feeling sick all over again. Her head pounded, her throat dried up, the whole world spinning. She had trusted this man, she had defended their friendship, and he had… ruined her life for his own ends.
