His Bride Read online

  Gayle Callen

  His Bride

  To my wonderful critique group, the Packeteers: Ginny Aubertine, Laurie Bishop, Lisa Hilleren, Theresa Kovian, Jenna Mindel, Amber Schalk, and Chris Wenger. Over the years, we’ve given each other writing advice and support, but best of all—friendship and laughter. The memories sustain me.

  And to Chris Wenger, for valiantly answering my last-minute, desperate, “Can you quickly read my manuscript and tell me what you think?” pleas. You’ll never know how much I appreciate your help and encouragement.

  Contents

  Prologue

  “My wife is dead.” Sir Edmund Blackwell folded his arms…

  Chapter 1

  “Gwyneth, we have news of the most excellent kind,” said…

  Chapter 2

  Sir Edmund Blackwell—for who else could it be?—stood before the…

  Chapter 3

  Gwyneth and Lucy clung to each other as the coach…

  Chapter 4

  Gwyneth felt her smile die as Sir Edmund’s eyes suddenly…

  Chapter 5

  Edmund hadn’t known what to expect from Gwyneth after he’d…

  Chapter 6

  Gwyneth felt a little shock crackle through her as she…

  Chapter 7

  When Edmund first glimpsed Gwyneth in the winter parlor, she…

  Chapter 8

  Although Gwyneth thought she’d been seen, she heard a voice…

  Chapter 9

  They spent the morning visiting farm after farm with varying…

  Chapter 10

  Stunned, Gwyneth stared up at her husband. Many in the…

  Chapter 11

  At midmorning the next day, Edmund was working with the…

  Chapter 12

  At first, Gwyneth could only blink in shock. “I’m not…

  Chapter 13

  Gwyneth dressed in the morning still unable to believe she’d…

  Chapter 14

  For a wild moment, Gwyneth wondered what Edmund would do…

  Chapter 15

  Trust her?

  Chapter 16

  “I am perfectly capable of walking,” Edmund said.

  Chapter 17

  Gwyneth’s breath caught and her heart sped up like a…

  Chapter 18

  The most difficult thing Edmund ever had to do was…

  Chapter 19

  Pleading a headache—which wasn’t a lie—Gwyneth escaped to the quiet…

  Chapter 20

  Gwyneth had never lived with a lie before, and it…

  Chapter 21

  Gwyneth watched Edmund pull his doublet on and stride to…

  Chapter 22

  On Christmas morning, Gwyneth awoke alone, as usual. Edmund always…

  Chapter 23

  When Gwyneth followed Edmund into the garden, she saw the…

  Epilogue

  When Mrs. Haskell announced a visit from Geoffrey Drake, Edmund…

  Other Romances

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  England

  1591

  “My wife is dead.” Sir Edmund Blackwell folded his arms across his chest and stared into the faces of his wife’s parents. “I am sorry for your grief, my lord, but I do not understand why you felt the need to see me. After all, you know how she died.”

  He’d been summoned from Yorkshire to Earl Langston’s estate in Lincolnshire to face the two people who’d conspired to make the last few years of his life a nightmare. He knew they blamed him for their daughter’s poor choices. When he arrived, he’d been offered no refreshments, only led through the great hall with its racks of spears and suits of armor, as if the threat of their military power was supposed to daunt him. The gallery where he now faced them ran the length of the mansion and let in the sun through stained-glass windows, which cast muted color everywhere. He was seated on a heavily carved chair. Dour ancestral portraits glared down at him; the earl and his countess did the same from a cushioned bench. A polished table stood as a barrier between them. Buffets and cupboards were scattered down the length of the room, decorated with china or covered with Turkish carpets.

  Lord Langston, a thin, cold man, made no effort to conceal his contempt. “As part of Elizabeth’s dowry, we gave you Castle Wintering and its lands, which is an ancient part of our family estates. We merely wish to buy it back from you now that our daughter lies at peace.”

  Edmund resisted the urge to voice his disgust. Their daughter hadn’t let herself have peace in life, so why would she be blessed with it in death? He had hoped that with time, he and Elizabeth would have grown to suit each other, but she and her parents had made sure that had never happened.

  But give up Castle Wintering? Give up what he’d worked so hard for, the only source of income he had left? Never.

  Edmund returned the cold stare with one of his own. “I have invested much time and labor in the estate, and I wish to continue.” He started to rise. “If this was all you had to discuss, we could have done it through letters.”

  “Please sit down, Sir Edmund,” said Letitia Langston, his wife’s mother. Where her husband pretended civility, she let malice glitter behind her eyes. “We could force you to sell us the land. After all, there are already those who believe you were the cause of my daughter’s death.”

  He remained standing above them, knowing that his size usually frightened people. He narrowed his gaze at Lady Langston as her threat seemed to coil around him. What more proof did he need that they had planted this lie even as far away as Castle Wintering, all in an attempt to manipulate him? Would it ever end? “And we both know that that is a lie. I have already agreed not to publicize the details of her death. Do you wish me to change my mind?”

  Edmund knew his own threat was a gamble, for they were a very powerful family. Yet their weakness was the merest thought of a scandal connected to their family name.

  The countess’s fingers were white where she gripped her skirt at the knees.

  Before she could speak, her husband interrupted. “Blackwell, we have another suggestion for the dilemma presented to us.”

  “There is no longer a dilemma between us,” Edmund said tightly.

  “Then there is your dilemma.”

  He stiffened but remained silent.

  “You have land, Blackwell, but you no longer have the money to make it succeed.”

  Not a difficult thing for their spies to discover.

  “Thanks to you—and your daughter.”

  Lady Langston slammed her hands onto the table between them, but her husband touched her arm.

  “I am resourceful,” Edmund continued, “and will get what I need for Castle Wintering.”

  Lord Langston said, “I have a solution to your problems—all of them. We regret that there are those who blame you for our daughter’s death. We would like to offer you a new bride.”

  Edmund tried not to let his astonishment show. He had known Elizabeth’s parents had something planned, but he never would have guessed this attempt at manipulating him. “I am not interested in marrying so soon, my lord.”

  Lord Langston continued as if Edmund hadn’t spoken, and his eyes glittered with challenge. “The girl is of good bloodlines, as she’s a cousin of mine through her mother, and her father was knighted by the queen. By offering another relative in marriage to you, we prove to the world that we do not believe the rumors about our daughter’s death.”

  Edmund controlled his bitter laugh. Another Langston wife? They had said nothing that would induce him to marry someone from their family again.

  “There is a substantial dowry involved, of course,” the earl said slowly, as if dangling bait.

  And it was the perfect bait
. Money was the one thing he desperately needed, now that his wounds prevented him from earning his living as a mercenary.

  The Langstons were offering him a way out—but at what price and for what twisted reason? He could only imagine the kind of woman they wanted to saddle him with. But what choice did he have?

  “Sit down, Sir Edmund,” said Lord Langston.

  He sat. “Why are you doing this? Are you trying to rid yourself of this girl?”

  The earl leaned back in his chair, not bothering to hide his triumphant smile. “She is a good girl whose family is not wealthy. We’ve taken her under our wing. She is used to hard work and will be an asset to you.”

  That Edmund doubted. Why should a cousin of Elizabeth’s know anything more than beautiful clothes and what court functions to attend? If he actually went through with this farce, he would handle marriage much differently.

  “Show me the bridal contract.”

  Lord Langston reached into a cupboard behind him and brought forth a sheaf of papers, which he pushed across the table.

  Both of Elizabeth’s parents were watching Edmund closely now.

  As he bent over the contract, the thought of another Langston bride made his stomach churn. His instinctive reaction was to refuse, but he had to be smarter now, to weigh the advantages. Castle Wintering’s potential was enormous, with the land so perfect for raising sheep, and the wool trade prosperous. And he had yet to have the land explored for mining opportunities. But all of this required money. He desperately needed this estate, even if it meant matching wits with the Langstons.

  The contract was brief and the language precise. There was only one clause that Edmund had to read twice, a provision that should he die without a male heir, the land would return to Langston hands. He glanced at them, and the earl’s lip curled as if he knew exactly the clause Edmund was reading.

  They really wanted their property back, did they not, even if their heirs had to await Edmund’s death?

  He sat back in his chair and studied Elizabeth’s parents with narrowed eyes.

  “You are still suspicious,” the earl said.

  “Every dealing I have had with you has made me that way.”

  “Then let us be open about the hostility between us. You seduced our daughter and forced that marriage, and now she is dead.”

  Edmund gritted his teeth, knowing all the critical things Langston had left out of his summary. But he would let some of that go for now. “And while I was away, you threatened my steward to make sure two years’ worth of profits from Castle Wintering went for Elizabeth’s lavish accessories rather than grain and cattle. Why should I trust you now?”

  “There will never be a time for trust between us, Blackwell. If you choose not to accept this…arrangement, you shall lose the land for taxes, and who do you think the queen will agree to sell it to?”

  “Then why are you interfering?”

  The earl leaned forward, and his lips curled back over his teeth. “Because this is personal between us, Blackwell. Consider this a challenge, a duel of wits between you and me. If you accept, you shall have the money to begin the restoration of Castle Wintering and a woman to give you an heir. But always you will have to wonder what I’m planning, how I’ve manipulated this situation to win. The money and land aren’t as important to me as knowing you’ll be humbled in the end. Dare you take that chance?”

  For several moments, Edmund could only stare at the old man, feeling hatred suffuse the gallery. And by God, he returned their feelings. “And what do I win if I solve your plots?”

  “Your freedom from me. You will already have the money and a gently bred bride to begin a new life.”

  “And if I lose?”

  “But you’re already close to losing everything, are you not, Blackwell?”

  How Edmund longed to defeat Langston in battle, the honorable way. But it could not be. He desperately needed that money—and he needed to defeat Earl Langston once and for all. Already he had a plan simmering in his mind.

  He took a quill pen, dipped it in ink, and signed his name at the bottom of the contract.

  “Your challenge is met, Langston.”

  Chapter 1

  London

  One week later…

  “Gwyneth, we have news of the most excellent kind,” said Earl Langston. “We have found you a husband.”

  Feeling suddenly light-headed, Gwyneth Hall tried to keep herself from gaping at him. “A husband, my lord?” He had never shown interest in helping her family—his cousins—before. Why now?

  Stunned, she sat back in the cushioned chair and tried not to feel overwhelmed by the opulent withdrawing room in her cousin’s London mansion. Painted angels hovered above her on the ceiling. Somber portraits of people she’d never met decorated the darkly paneled walls. While a timid maid served her spiced cider, the earl and his wife smiled like they were baring their teeth.

  They’d only invited her to their home once, a few months ago, when they’d needed a companion for their daughter, Elizabeth, while her husband was out of the country. Gwyneth had accepted, glad to experience more of London than her poor corner of it. Instead of a companion, she had been an unpaid servant, seeing to her cousin’s wardrobe. But Elizabeth was dead now, and Gwyneth had promised to keep the circumstances a secret. Was this offer of a husband a payment for her silence?

  “How old are you now?” Lord Langston asked.

  “I have three and twenty years.”

  “And I believe your father does not have dowries for his four daughters.”

  She saw the earl glance distastefully at her garments, knew her green woolen gown with its simple linen ruff at the neck might as well be rags to him. But besides her gloves, she wore a hat with a narrow brim that her mother had given her tilted at a smart angle. She felt proud of her appearance.

  Her back stiffened as she lifted her chin. “My father works hard, Lord Langston, but he has grown sickly over the last several years.”

  “I understand, my dear. That is why I have taken it upon myself to provide you with a dowry.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “And why would you do this?”

  She heard Lady Langston inhale with a hiss, and the earl’s smile thinned.

  “Because, girl,” said Lady Langston, “we cannot give you in marriage to Edmund Blackwell without it.”

  Edmund Blackwell? The name echoed about in her head like a stone thrown down a rocky cliff.

  “Elizabeth’s husband?” she finally managed to say in a faint voice, though her tongue felt swollen. The husband her cousin had cried over?

  The earl nodded. “He has an estate to run, and we feel that a wife will ease his burdens and provide companionship.”

  Gwyneth well remembered trying to start awkward conversations with Elizabeth. Once she had asked if hers was a love match, because she’d always thought the Langstons wanted to marry her to a nobleman. Elizabeth had only burst into angry tears and refused to discuss it.

  “Elizabeth died but six weeks ago,” she said in bewilderment. “He needs a wife this quickly?”

  Lady Langston shook her head. “Do not think he agreed to it easily, girl. It is a difficult thing to lose such a woman as my daughter was. But he understands the reality of needing the dowry for his lands and a woman to run his household.”

  But of course he needed the money most of all; she could see that immediately. Such was the way of things in marriage. She had hoped it would be different for her, that she’d have a man to love and a family to care for.

  And there was no saying she couldn’t have that yet. She had spent her life learning how to be a good wife and had despaired of ever getting the chance—until recently, that is, when a prosperous merchant had begun to court her. He was twice her age and had lecherous intentions, but he offered a gift of money that would bring her family back from the edge of poverty, and he had wanted no dowry, which in itself made him attractive to her family. She would be one less daughter to worry about feeding.
/>   But Edmund Blackwell would offer no money. How would this help her family—help her sisters with dowries?

  Suddenly her hope soared as she glanced from the earl to his wife excitedly. “Forgive my curiosity, but does this mean you will be so kind as to offer my sisters dowries as well?”

  Lady Langston gave her a frosty, knowing look, as if Gwyneth was begging for ownership of all of their estates. “Your mother is family. We are offering to ease her burdens by seeing one of her daughters settled. Is your greed so great that you demand more?”

  Gwyneth felt the blood drain from her face. “My lady, you misunderstand me. I am grateful for this opportunity, and only wish to make my decision with all the facts available. I only ask that I might meet Sir Edmund before I decide.”

  “He has already returned north to Yorkshire because the grain harvest is well under way.” The earl already seemed distracted, as if her concerns were unimportant.

  “There is no choice, girl,” said Lady Langston coldly. “He needs a wife, and we have already offered you to him. The marriage contract has been legally signed.”

  Gwyneth stared at her clenched fists, trying to quell her rising panic. The decision had been made without her. Did Sir Edmund leave so quickly because he did not want her to see him? She tried not to think about the cold, bitter tone of Elizabeth’s voice whenever she spoke of him.

  Yet she had been wishing desperately for another man to choose as her husband, because she soon would have been forced by her conscience to marry the merchant. Was an ugly stranger better than an old man whose odor often lingered after he had left the room?

  Although her cousin Elizabeth had complained about her husband leaving her alone when he went to France, she had never said that he mistreated her—and he had put up with her selfishness. Of course, Gwyneth had heard the rumor that he killed Elizabeth, but Gwyneth herself had been there at the end of her cousin’s life, while Sir Edmund had been with the army in France. Malicious gossip was only for people with little else to occupy them, and she gave no credence to it.