The Star-Crossed Bride
First published by Zebra Books, March 2001
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by
Kelly McClymer
Copyright 2001 © Kelly McClymer
Cover Copyright 2011 © Julie Ortolon
First published by Zebra Books, March 2001
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
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Dedication
This book is lovingly dedicated to Jim, Kristen, A.J. and Brendan, who put up with my distractibility, preoccupation, highs, lows and a few burned dinners while I created it. All thanks belong to the amazing group of women who helped me polish this manuscript to a shine: Yvonne, Kathy, Trudy, Lynn and Jackie. All mistakes are mine.
Scottish Border, 1837
Emily woke as the carriage slowed. "Must we stop?"
Valentine smiled tensely at her. "The horses cannot go on much farther unless they are fed and watered, and I cannot let you starve."
She pressed her lips together a moment, then flashed him a brave smile. "I wish it were done."
"It will be soon enough. We are very near the border." He did not sound as certain as she wished him to, for the hundredth time, "Are you certain of this, Emily? I am willing to wait until your father sees reason."
"We have already waited months as it is." She shook her head. " Mother will never allow him to consider you. She has a most unreasoning desire to see me a marchioness, at the very least."
"Given time — "
Emily grimaced. "Given time, I will find myself locked away until I do as I am told. My mother has strict guidelines for a dutiful daughter to follow."
He smiled. "Perhaps she is right? Perhaps Viscountess is not a sufficiently powerful title for the daughter of the earl of Wertherley?"
He sat forward and looked into her eyes, as if he would look through to her very soul. "Are you certain you can bear the gossip you will suffer when society hears of our elopement?"
Silly man. How could he not see the truth in her eyes. She touched his cheek. "It will be for the briefest of times, as you well know. And once we have settled and begun our family, we shall become yesterday's news and quite too boring to gossip about."
He made a strangled sound of protest.
Emily laughed at his feigned shock, noting all too well the upward curve of the right half of his mouth‚which indicated he was anticipating the benefits of marriage as eagerly as she. Fastening her gaze on his beautiful mouth, she smiled, knowing how to end his argument, as well as any further talk of halting the elopement. Without hesitation, she went into his arms and kissed him soundly. As she had anticipated, the heat of his return kiss was all the reassurance either of them needed that they were doing the right thing in defying her parents' wishes and making a runaway marriage.
To her great disappointment, as the carriage rolled to a stop, he broke off the kiss to whisper in her ear, "Let's get you fed, my lady. This will wait until we are married."
Eager to get the delay over with quickly so that they could be back on their way Emily did not wait for the coachman to open the door, but flung it open herself and prepared to leap out. Unfortunately, as she stood exposed to the light of day, she caught a brief, horrifying glimpse of her much too proper cousin, the duke of Kerstone.
She turned her head away, praying that he had not seen her, and quickly retreated, closing the carriage door and knocking Valentine -- who had been half-risen to follow her--onto the floor of the carriage. His hand tightened on her arm, bringing her down on top of him. They did not even try to untangle themselves, just lay frozen where they had fallen. Valentine's voice was low and urgent. "What is the matter, Emily? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Has your father discovered us?"
"Worse. My cousin is in the courtyard of this very inn."
"The duke is — " His whole body went tense and still beneath her. "Did he see you?"
"I pray not." But her prayers were not to be answered, as the coach door swung open and her cousin's imperturbable countenance appeared above them.
"Emily?" His cold green eyes swept over them lying in a tangled heap and his voice was sharp enough to sliver a diamond. "Fenster."
"Your grace." His voice was as cold as the duke's had been, but in a very different way. Emily could feel Valentine's horror as if she were experiencing it herself. He held the duke as a hero, with good enough cause she supposed, although right now she would happily wish her cousin to the devil.
"My uncle did mention that he was afraid you'd no better sense than to run off with her."
She twisted to glance at Valentine, hoping that he would show some sign that he did not intend to meekly give her up. A spark of anger flared deep in the blue depths of his eyes, reminding her that any argument between the men over such a serious matter could result in a challenge. She did not want either of them dead.
For a moment she was afraid that they would fight each other there in the courtyard of the inn. Then the duke said, with a hint of disappointment in his eyes, "I had thought better of you."
Emily did not need to look into Valentine's face to see the devastating effect of those simple words. He worshiped the duke — the perfect duke, the perfectly saintly paragon of society. The perfect man to foil all her hopes and dreams of a future with Valentine.
The duke reached in to assist her out of the carriage and she went, numbly. "Come, Emily. I will get you home before your foolishness has been discovered, I hope." He glanced back into the carriage where Valentine had not moved. "Can I trust you to say nothing of this, Fenster?"
She tried to catch his gaze, staring into his familiar and well loved face, but he avoided looking at her. For one brief moment she dared hope that he might try to persuade the duke that this elopement was not a foolish whim.
"I would die before I would bring harm to Emily." His words broke her heart. He meant every one of them — and he had decided that eloping with her would hurt her. As if her reputation meant more than her heart.
The duke stood silent for a moment and then shrugged lightly. "Your death is not necessary, Fenster. Just your silence."
Eddingly Castle, Scotland, 1840
Approaching darkness and the lowering gray of the sky blurred the lines of the stone walls of Eddingley Castle ahead. The castle itself was massive, its towers and walls rising like ghosts in the mist, but for a moment he blinked, thinking that he had imagined it there in front of him. No, he could see lights now, glowing dimly through the growing gloom. For an eerie moment he could not shake the notion that he'd traveled back in time four hundred years.
Despite the urgency of his mission, he brought Caesar to a halt and simply stared at the sight ahead of him. He understood, then, what his impatience and callowness had cost her. His own twin sister, Miranda, had a penchant for believing in fairy tales and he knew without a doubt what she would say about this. They had locked Emily in a tower and thrown away the key. But that was not strictly true. They had put the key to her release in the hand of a man whose very soul was corrupt. He only hoped that they had done so unwittingly. And that he was not too late to prevent a tragedy from occurring.
It was late in the day for a social call, but after his hasty journey, he did not want to wait now, so close to his goal. He urged the horse forward as suddenly as he had halted him a moment before. At the end of the drive he dismounted and threw the reins to the willing stable boy, not daring to pause for fear he would lose courage. Would they let him speak to her? Should he, if they did? No. It was better not to meet, not to see her. It had taken almost these entire three years for him to put her out of his mind, and his heart.
Even now, though it was no business of his, he couldn't bear the thought that her family might marry her to a man whose reputation was shadowed by the most vile of rumors . . . and some truths that Valentine would reveal only to her family. The footman opened the door to him. He felt a little shudder of relief when the door was not summarily shut in his face. Three years had apparently been long enough for the memory of his indiscretion to fade — at least in this footman's mind. He held out his card. "Please tell the countess I've come on a matter of extreme urgency."
The footman placed the card on an ornate salver and then, apparently reading the name at last, blanched. His gaze swept up in horror to Valentine, who spoke in a voice that brooked no dispute, "Tell the countess it is a matter of life and death, or I would never have come."
He wondered briefly if he should have added that it was Lady Emily's life for which he feared. Would that make the matter more urgent for her mother, or less? But then the footman was back, ushering him into a cold parlor which lacked all but the most haphazard adornment. Obviously, his indiscretion had not been forgotten — or forgiven. He stood before the cold grate, the sting of the insult not even truly registering except in that it would make his task even more difficult than he had feared. Lost in thought, the first he knew that the countess had deigned to join him was when her sharp voice cut his thoughts short. "You are fortunate the earl is dead. I do believe he would have whipped you for the insolence of appearing here, despite the fact that your sister married his nephew."
Prepared for battle, what else might he have expected from the countess of Wertherley? Could he soften her? He turned and offered her an unoffended, deferent smile. "I can assure you, Lady Wertherley, I most sincerely regret attempting to elope with your daughter. I can only claim that my feelings for her clouded my reason enough that I did not stop to think how unsuitable the match would be." He dared to meet her eyes, hoping to put this matter, at least, behind them. "I can make you a solemn oath that I no longer believe myself a worthy husband for her."
"And I am simply to believe this change of heart after you have so grievously deceived my family?"
"In the years since, I have had the responsibility of my five younger sisters, my lady. I am now appalled at how badly I wronged you and the earl. I know I would treat any young fool who dared to dishonor any one of my sisters as sharply as you treated me. I would not harm Lady Emily for the world." He willed her to read the truth in his eyes.
There was no softening in her bulldog features. "All well and good, as my daughter is due to wed Lord Granbury as soon as the year of mourning for her father has passed."
"So I have heard. It is in regard to the upcoming wedding that I have come."
"Have you intentions to upset our plans, then, after all? You would do her no favor. She has been unlucky in her last two hopes of marriage. Both men died before they could be led to the altar."
And this was the crux of the matter, then. Would the countess choose another engagement, cut off before the wedding, over her own daughter's welfare? "I do not wish to cause further scandal, my lady, but neither can I wish harm for Lady Emily, or for your family — " He paused, putting every ounce of sincerity in his voice despite her skeptical mien. "I have recently been in London on business and have heard disturbing rumors which I felt would alter your feelings toward Lord Granbury as a suitable husband for your daughter."
