The Dark One (13 page)

Tears gathered in Rosalind's eyes. “Yes, a maid, Lydia. She had been dismissed and I assume that was why she took her life. It's one of the reasons Armond came to me. To comfort me.”

Both men exchanged a glance. Armond suspected they were making mental pictures in their heads about the kind of comforting Rosalind had received from him.

“Your stepbrother let him in the front door, did he?” one man asked suspiciously.

Rosalind shook her head. “No. There is a trellis next to the balcony leading into my bedroom. When Lord Wulf visits me, he climbs up it. My stepbrother is unaware of his visits.”

“I see.” The inspector shoved a piece of paper, a quill, and an inkwell toward her. “You are aware that Mr. Chapman will soon learn the truth about Lord Wulf's late night visits?”

“Yes, Rosalind, you are aware of that?” Armond added for good measure. “It's not too late to withdraw your admission.”

She finally glanced at Armond. Her eyes softened.
“I could never live with myself if I forced you to sacrifice your freedom, perhaps your very life, only to save my reputation. I want you to know that about me.”

Damn her goodness! She had backed him into a corner, and he could see only one way out, at least for her. “And I want you to know this about me. If you sign that paper, Rosalind, you are also agreeing to become my wife.”

Her face paled. “What?”

“You know that I would not so completely ruin you, then leave you to fare as you will among society. Or in your stepbrother's house,” he added meaningfully. “Think long and hard before you commit yourself to me. I do not love you.” Even though her stricken look reached inside of him and tore at his heart, he felt he had to add, “I will never love you.”

Rosalind's hands began to tremble. The inspector seated across from her muttered, “Bastard,” under his breath. This was not an Armond Wulf she had seen before, but wait, it was. The Armond Wulf who had nearly seduced her inside his carriage the night of the Greenleys' ball. A man who could turn his heat on and off in a heartbeat. She thought since that night she'd come to know him better. He had comforted her last night. He had held her in his arms and been enraged on her behalf. He had offered a solution to her problems. Now he offered her another one.

But unlike the other solution, this one came with a condition. He did not love her; she supposed she could only count him as truthful to give her such an admission. He would never love her. That was cruel. But then, love had seemed too much to hope for in a marriage when Franklin held her future in his hands. At least Armond wouldn't beat her or stand still for another doing her harm. At least she was attracted to him.

Society would shun her for becoming his wife, but her rational mind told her she had no other choice. Better to be shunned as a married woman than to be shunned and single and still living beneath her stepbrother's roof.

She tried to control the shaking when she wrote out the statement saying she knew Armond to be innocent of the crime of murder, and that he had spent the entire night with her. She swore to her statement upon her father's good name. Once she finished, she laid the quill down and straightened.

“You may go, Lord Wulf,” the inspector said. “But know that we will be watching you, and let us pray that no more dead women are found upon your property.”

Armond rose and walked to the door. Rosalind turned to follow him.

“God have mercy upon your soul, Lady Rosalind,” the inspector said quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

She had no idea what she was doing. Her mind had gone numb. Once, in his stable, Rosalind had wanted Armond to at least pretend as if he might offer for her. Now she had agreed to marry him over something that had nothing to do with love. Before her very eyes, he seemed to have retreated from her. She had lain in the warmth of his arms the night before; now she only felt coldness from him.

They left the inspector's home. Outside, Armond's carriage sat. When she'd reached Armond's home, Hawkins had been in the process of sending Armond a change of clothing and some personal items he thought he might need. Rosalind had implored the man to allow her to go along in the coach, saying she had evidence that would clear Armond of the murder. The man had only given his usual expressionless nod and had the driver assist her inside.

“Where do we go now?” she asked Armond as they neared his coach.

“To see the archbishop of Canterbury,” he answered. “I'll get a special license and we'll be married today.”

“Today?” Rosalind croaked.

Armond glanced at her. “You don't think your stepbrother is going to allow us to post banns or plan a wedding, do you?”

“No,” she agreed, and the thought of Franklin's rage when he found out she had married Lord Wulf and ruined all of his plans made her feel sick. In fact, it terrified her.

“The archbishop only grants a special license at his discretion,” she informed Armond. “Do you really think he'll give us one?”

“His discretion, or so I've heard, can be greatly influenced by how much one is willing to pay for the license. I'll make certain he agrees.” Armond opened the coach door and helped Rosalind inside. He joined her after giving instructions to the driver. Well, here she was, inside Armond's coach again. Only this time, she didn't imagine he would try to seduce her.

“You don't have to do this, Armond,” she said once the coach lurched forward. “I didn't come to force you into a marriage with me. I came to help you, the same as you wanted to help me last night, remember?”

He ran a hand through his hair. It hung loose, brushing the tops of his shoulders, the way she liked it. “I am not trying to be cruel to you, Rosalind. I had vowed to never marry. I planned to keep that vow. There is a reason why I made that pledge to myself.”

She thought she knew why. “Because of your family? Because of the curse?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Perhaps you and your brothers will be spared from the insanity your parents suffered,” she offered.

He surprised her by laughing. It was the same kind of laugh she'd heard from him the night of the Greenleys' ball. One without true humor. He sobered a moment later. “All of society thinks the Wulf brothers are cursed by insanity. That isn't the curse at all.”

Rosalind was confused. “Then what is?”

He glanced away from her. “Pray you never have reason to find out.”

That was all he said, and from the way he stared outside the coach window at the congested traffic in the streets of London, that was all he intended to say. Now that the numbness had started to fade, Rosalind had to wonder if she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life or if somewhere in the detached man sitting across from her lived the same Armond Wulf she was just beginning to know before fate had tossed them into this stormy sea together. She supposed she would soon find out.

It was the dead of night when Armond's coach lumbered up before his residence. Rosalind came awake with a start. The day had been eventful, to say the least, and she'd fallen asleep once they'd left a small parish not two hours' drive from London. They'd been married there by the parish priest, had their wedding witnessed by a blacksmith and his young son. Now her stomach began to twist into knots. Would Franklin be waiting for them? What would happen? And what exactly did Armond expect from her now that she was his wife?

She hardly remembered the ceremony that had forever tied her life to Armond Wulf. She'd been in shock she realized. Too stunned to do anything but answer “yes” to the questions that made her a stranger's wife. And he was a stranger. She realized she'd known her husband for less than one week.

Armond helped her down from the carriage. He held her hand as they approached the door, which swung open immediately, the expressionless Hawkins forever at his post.

“Ready the bedchamber next to mine for Lady—Lady Wulf,” Armond said to Hawkins.

The man's bored expression never wavered. “Very well, My Lord. I've left a cold supper spread for you in
the dining room in case you returned home tonight. I thought you might be hungry.”

“Good man, Hawkins,” Armond responded, then led Rosalind through the darkened house.

The dining room was lit by a candelabra placed in the center of the table. Only one place had been set, she noted. Armond led her to the seat next to his at the head of the long table.

“We'll share; since Hawkins wasn't expecting you,” he said. “Are you hungry, Rosalind?”

She was famished. “Yes,” she answered.

Armond took assorted slices of ham and cold chicken from a plate, slices of thick cheese and soft bread, and put them upon his plate. He lifted a goblet and took a drink, then offered the goblet to her.

The setting was intimate. Rosalind took the goblet and drank. The sweet wine nearly immediately went to her head because of her empty stomach.

“There are matters we should discuss,” Armond said.

Indeed, Rosalind thought. Such as what he expected of her, what they planned to do about Franklin, and then there was the issue of her stepmother. Rosalind had almost forgotten her duty to the woman.

“I must continue to see to my stepmother,” she said. “I must visit her regularly. I don't expect she'll live much longer.”

Armond took a bite of ham as he reached for the wine goblet again. “You are never to visit the house next door unless I am with you or you know for certain that your stepbrother is not at home,” Armond specified.

“Yes,” Rosalind agreed. “I don't want to be alone with him. Not ever again.”

“Likewise when you wish to go out, or you wish to attend a social event, which unfortunately, now that you have become my wife, will probably be seldom, if at all,
I will escort you, or Hawkins will escort you when you wish to shop. I do not want you to feel as if you are now my prisoner, Rosalind. I only want to protect you, as I have sworn to do.”

He sounded far more formal with her than he'd ever sounded before. Formal but gallant “And what of our marriage?” she bravely asked. “What sort of marriage will it be?”

The candlelight was reflected in his eyes when he lifted his long lashes and looked at her. “Are you asking if I expect you to share my bed?”

She knew by the heat flooding her face that she was blushing. Well, she did want to know. “Yes,” she answered.

He ran his finger slowly around the rim of the wine goblet as he stared at her. “No.”

Mesmerized by the seductive way in which he handled the goblet, she glanced up at him. “No?”

He smiled slightly, and she realized she'd sounded almost disappointed.

“No, not tonight, or no, not ever?” she asked.

“I suppose that will be up to you,” he answered. “Would I demand husbandly rights from you when you feel as if I am still a stranger? No. Will I play unfairly to get them? Most assuredly.”

“And what of children?” she asked, unnerved by his last statement. She had a feeling that he could play very unfairly if he wished.

“Out of the question,” he answered. Armond glanced away from her and muttered, “And from the day she cast the spell, it will pass from seed to seed.”

She barely heard his words. “What did you say?”

His gaze returned to her. He took another sip of wine, staring at her over the rim. “Do you think Chapman is capable of murder?”

Rosalind nearly choked on the piece of chicken she'd
put into her mouth. She swallowed it with a gulp. “Murder?”

Armond handed her the wine. “I think he killed Bess O'Conner, or rather he inflicted the injuries that led to her death. I think he planted the woman found this morning on my property to get back at me, perhaps to get me out of the way.”

“But what would he hold against you that would cause him to do something so horrible?”

He shrugged. “You. Perhaps he thought you might at some point turn to me for help. Perhaps I am simply an easy target for the game he plays. The only way I find it plausible that Bess O'Conner could have ended up in my stable was if she had been trying to escape from the house next door.”

Taking another sip of wine, she considered his suspicions. They rang true. Franklin was cruel, abusive, but was he a killer? Rosalind shivered at the thought. “I don't know,” she answered. “I know I was afraid of him. I know he has a temper that at times he cannot control. Still, I would hate to think he would be capable of . . . of killing a woman.”

“Perhaps I'm wrong,” Armond said. “But I don't think so. If I prove that your stepbrother is responsible for the murders that I have been implicated in, how will you feel about it?”

Rosalind wasn't sure. She'd feel awful for her stepmother's sake, but then, the lady hardly seemed to know what took place around her. Rosalind supposed it would damage her own reputation somewhat, guilt by association, but then, she'd forgotten, her reputation was no longer an issue. She was surprised that didn't bother her more than it did. She supposed someone like Lady Amelia Sinclair would be devastated to be shunned by society, no matter how brave the young woman pretended to be.

“How do you intend to prove Franklin is guilty?” she wanted to know. “And when do we face him with the announcement of our marriage? By now, I am certain he knows that I am missing.”

Armond nibbled on a piece of bread. “We will face him in the morning. I am surprised he wasn't already waiting for us. As for proving his guilt, I plan to follow him, catch him in the act.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Rosalind hated the prospect of facing Franklin, but knew it must be done. She was also worried about Armond's plan to follow her stepbrother. “Following Franklin could be dangerous,” she said. “If my stepbrother could stoop so low as to kill a woman, I don't imagine he would have qualms about killing a man.”