The Madcap Marriage by Allison Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

distrust hurt, for it reminded him too much of Hillcrest. Would she also judge without facts?  Would she argue every statement he made, as Hillcrest had done with his mother?  Granted, she was right about her trustees, but he needed peace and a wife he could trust.
    * * * *
    As Rafe turned away to dress, Helen cursed herself for asking about Lydia. Perhaps her head was more scrambled than she’d thought. It was the only explanation for her faux pas .
    There would be affairs, of course. Rafe’s behavior had marked him as a rake from the first. It was unlikely that he would change. Few did. So she must abandon her dream of finding a loving, faithful husband like her father had been. But that was the least of her concerns.
    She had awakened from the most lascivious dream of her life to find that the man in her bed was real, with a more magnificent body than any field hand she’d ever seen and a darkly stubbled chin that increased his aura of delicious danger. Sensuality radiated from him in waves powerful enough to knock her over. To keep from drooling when he rose, baring a straight back that tapered to firm buttocks and muscular thighs, she’d blurted out her question about Lydia.
    Stupid. Wives did not acknowledge their husband’s mistresses.
    Dear God!  She was married. Her head reeled.
    Rafe shrugged into his waistcoat and turned back to the bed. “I’ll have to help you dress. The maid is a daily who won’t arrive for a couple of hours.”
    Helen nodded but couldn’t pry her fingers from the quilt. She was naked. Now that he was clothed, her condition was even more embarrassing. If his eyes had retained that lascivious gleam, she might have managed, but today they radiated fury. He already regretted their hasty marriage. Or maybe it was her injury.
    Last night remained hazy. What had transpired after arriving in Rafe’s rooms was unclear. Which parts were memory and which lingered from her dream?  Had he—
    “No,” he said, apparently reading her mind. “You passed out when your head hit the pillow. We’ll leave the rest until you’re recovered.” Anger threaded his voice.
    Of course, he’s angry. He committed matrimony to bed you, but now he must wait.
    At least he hadn’t ravished her unconscious body – a surprise, considering how drunk he’d been.
    “Did you fall while escaping from Christchurch?” he asked.
    “No. My uncle bashed me with his walking stick. It was how he got me inside.”
    “Is he stupid?  That is no way to win cooperation.”
    “No. He’s desperate and venal. Bribing the vicar eliminated any need for my cooperation. Hand me my shift.”
    He stared as if she’d grown an extra head.
    “My shift, Rafe,” she snapped. “You do know what a shift is, I presume?  You said you’d help me dress.” The shift dangled from the corner of the washstand.
    He flung it at her head. “Bribery?”  He’d abandoned any hint of charm. “You can’t believe that.”
    She gritted her teeth. “I’m not stupid, I don’t exaggerate, and I refuse to be treated like a lack-wit. My uncle is determined to claim my estate, but he knows I would rather die than marry his son, so he made sure he would not need my consent.”
    “Why not kill you and claim your estate as next of kin?  Bribing vicars is risky.”
    “I inherited Audley nine months ago, Rafe. I’m alive today only because killing me will not suffice. If I die, Audley goes to a benevolent society to become a school.” She pulled the quilt over her head so she could wriggle into the shift, but her heart quailed. Rafe considered murder a viable way to gain a fortune. As did Steven and Dudley and Clara’s husband. Gentleman’s honor was a flexible code often twisted to justify satisfying men’s own desires. Even her father used his oft-proclaimed protection primarily to thwart his despised brother.
    “How did he find a vicar willing to break both canon and civil law?  Approaching the wrong man would expose his scheme to