Page 2 of Suddenly a Bride
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 him 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 defeat 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 repayment 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.
