The Madcap Marriage by Allison Lane

Author:Allison Lane [Lane, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2004-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

May 25

Wind whipped through the churchyard, ripping leaves from the trees and petals from the flowers planted on several graves. Clouds boiled overhead, promising rain to disguise any tears and wash away any regrets. It was the perfect day for a burial.

Clutching her skirts to keep her legs decently covered, Helen watched Alice as men slid Pauling’s body into the family crypt. The girl was beautiful – blonde, petite, and fragile as a porcelain doll. Hillcrest remained at her side, ready to catch her if she swooned.

Helen’s chest tightened. She’d been a fool to jump into marriage knowing nothing about Rafe. How could he not love sweet Alice? The girl was every man’s ideal wife – and everything Helen was not.

You’re jealous, whispered her conscience.

Never! She stiffened. Jealousy implied an attachment, but she did not know him well enough to be attached. Married the first girl you saw. No man of sense would consider uttering such a vow, let alone acting on it. Irresponsibility was no basis for marriage. She would have been better off eloping with any of the fortune hunters her father had turned away.

Rafe rested his hand on her back, but she stepped out of reach. He’d been furious to find her door locked last night and had been trying to charm her ever since. She couldn’t let him succeed. Pain left her too susceptible.

Hillcrest pulled Alice against him, letting the wind wrap his cloak about her.

Rafe stiffened.

That was jealousy. His eyes hadn’t left Alice since she’d stepped from her carriage. Every time Hillcrest brushed against her, Rafe tensed. Despite challenging Hillcrest to marry Alice himself, he clearly hadn’t meant it.

Hillcrest whispered in Alice’s ear.

Rafe growled.

She nearly warned him to keep his jealousy hidden, but she didn’t trust his control. He seemed on the verge of another temper fit. Arguing in a churchyard would shame them both.

Alice laid a lily atop the shroud, then accompanied Hillcrest to her carriage.

“It’s over,” said Rafe, taking Helen’s arm. “We can leave.” Hillcrest had made it plain that they were not to return, not even to share the customary funeral meats. “Thank you for insisting we come,” he added as they picked their way toward his carriage, which was the last one in line. The other mourners were already pulling away. “Pauling was a decent man. Not overly bright, but he did his best.”

“There are worse epitaphs,” said Helen noncommittally.

“Like Hillcrest’s.” Rafe opened the carriage door. “The best description is, A petty tyrant who forced his views on everyone he met.”

Helen ignored his bitterness. “We need to—”

“We need to return to London,” Rafe said, speaking over her.

“No!”

He shook his head. “You heard Hillcrest. There are rumors reviling you.”

“Which we cannot remedy just yet. No one knows me, and no one will believe you.”

“Absurd! I am a gentleman. Gentlemen don’t lie.”

“Think, Rafe. The tales claim you were duped by a scheming courtesan who stole my identity, passed herself off as an innocent, then pressed for marriage after you drunkenly seduced her.

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