Sadie hadn’t meant for poor Mrs. Fitzmartin to slip from the organist’s bench and swoon to the floor. She hoped the woman didn’t break anything—old bones were difficult to mend, and the floor was made of stone.
Between her father’s roar and Tristan and the vicar springing to her assistance, Sadie saw her chance and dashed down the chapel aisle, only to be thwarted by her previous intended who was blocking the door.
“I will rescue you,” Roderick said, grasping her shoulders.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I will rescue myself.” Sadie had been all too lulled by Tristan’s kisses and had completely forgotten she was going to refuse to be married. She had stood like an automaton, mindless and parroted every word the vicar said. What had been wrong with her? “Let me go.”
He shook his head, and his fingers dug into the lace. “I know my duty. I must take you away from here. This town is a veritable madhouse. Do you know they lock themselves in like some medieval walled city? I had a devil of a time getting someone to open the gate. Cost me a fortune.”
“You can afford it,” Sadie replied, unmoved. “Let me go, I said!”
“Not after your father has weaseled away all my money!”
“You shouldn’t have trusted him. It’s your own fault.” She bucked sideways, but the viscount hung on like a barnacle.
“But I wanted to marry you!”
“I can’t understand why. I’m not very—nice.” She had gone out of her way for years to not be nice.
“Unhand her!” Tristan’s words echoed off the stone chapel walls. Miraculously, Roddy’s hands relaxed and fell to his sides.
“How is Mrs. Fitzmartin?” Sadie asked, turning to face him. She could tell how he was, and she shivered.
“As well as can be expected. She’s lying down on a pew. What were you thinking to expose yourself like that? We had an arrangement.”
“If you didn’t want people to know, you shouldn’t have done it. That’s what Miss Mac always told me,” Sadie said primly
“Your governess, if I recall your silly tale to the Stanchfields. Right before she spanked you, I imagine. And how I’d like to follow in her footsteps.”
Sadie shivered again. She could picture Tristan putting her over his knee with very little effort at all.
“She doesn’t want to marry you.” Roddy didn’t sound quite as brave now.
“We are already married. Aren’t we, Mr. Fitzmartin?”
The vicar was invisible behind the high-backed pew, hunched over his incapacitated wife.
“Fitzmartin!” the duke shouted. “Are they wed or not?”
The vicar’s head popped up. His skin looked bleached with worry. “I think we should send for Dr. Oakley. Helena is not as young as she used to be.”
“None of us are,” Tristan mumbled. “I’ll go find a footman and send him to the village. You must promise me if I leave this chapel that you will not run away.”
Sadie’s eyes slid to Roddy and she sent him a silent message. Was he smart enough to understand it? “I promise.”
“You little witch. Come on.” Sadie found herself propelled by the chain on the cuffs as Tristan dragged her through the chapel door and into the hallway.
“I am not some dog to be exercised!” she cried. “Slow down!”
“When Mrs. Fitzmartin’s life is at stake? I thought you better than that.” He broke into a run and she had no choice but to follow.
“Robert! William! Anyone!” he barked.
Footmen poured out of the halls. Tristan shouted instructions, and soon Mrs. Anstruther bustled into the chapel with a vinaigrette, a jug of water and a cloth. Tristan still hung on to Sadie in that vile, proprietary way, and she was unable to shake loose from him.
“Sit.”
“As I said, I’m not your dog.”
“If you were my dog, you’d be better behaved.”
Sadie was breathless with rage. “How dare you!”
“I dare because it’s true. And you are my wife.”
“I am not.”
“She isn’t,” Roddy said from a neighboring pew.
“She’d better be!” The duke scowled. “Spent the night in his bed, did you?”
“Nothing happened,” Sadie lied.
“All of you shut up!” Hearing such harsh words from the elderly vicar surprised the lot of them, and silence reigned until Dr. Oakley arrived.
Sadie was relieved to see Mrs. Fitzmartin sit up. Mrs. Anstruther was mothering her as Dr. Oakley gave her a gentle examination.
“I think she’ll be fine, Virgil. A day or two of rest. No excitement. No outside irritations.” Dr. Oakley seemed to be glaring at Sadie rather specifically.
“I’ll have my driver take you both home,” Tristan said. “Anything we can provide for you—calves’ foot jelly and whatnot—I’ll leave to Mrs. Anstruther’s good judgment.” He whispered a few words in the housekeeper’s ear, and she rushed out.
“Not so fast! The ceremony isn’t over,” the Duke of Islesford reminded them.
“And it doesn’t have to be, Sarah. My solicitor—”
“Damn your solicitor, Charlton! You’re too late, in all ways. Are you questioning my honor? Lady Sarah spent the night in my bed, as she has admitted herself. In my nightshirt, I might add, and a most fetching sight. Which you will never see. It is my obligation—”
“Obligation? You owe me nothing but the key to these horrible things!” Sadie was sick and tired of hearing about legalities, duty, and obligation. She felt like a bone tossed between two dogs—three, counting her father—and she was picked clean. “I don’t want to marry anyone.”
Mr. Fitzmartin cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that, Lady Sarah. You did follow the service, didn’t you?”
Not really. Sadie had been in an utter haze, her heart beating, her lips swollen, her head filled with cotton wool.
“There’s not much left to say but I-now-pronounce-you-man-and-wife,” the vicar said hurriedly. “And what God has joined, let no man put asunder. We can sign the register tomorrow when my wife is recovered. I must get her to bed. Let’s go, Helena, my dear. We can journey back in the good doctor’s carriage. So sorry to miss the wedding breakfast.”
Lying hypocrite! And he was supposed to be a man of God!
Sadie did what she did best. She sank to her knees and howled. But somehow Tristan Sykes got tangled up with her and joined her on the chapel floor.
He raised one of his damned eyebrows. “Really? Again? Have you no new tricks to torture me with?”
“You are horrid! Get off me!”
“You didn’t mind so much last night. Or should I say this morning?”
“Ooh!” It wasn’t much of a comeback, but it was all Sadie could think of.
“Hold still.”
She felt him jam something on her finger and blinked. An emerald set in chased gold winked back at her. Very large. Very bright. A halo of diamonds around a huge stone.
Very lovely.
Although the ring itself was a touch too tight. She tried to pull it off but failed.
“I’m afraid old Fitzmartin is getting a little forgetful in his dotage. I think he skipped a few paragraphs.”
“Then we’re not really married.”
“Oh, I think we are. There were witnesses. Under the circumstances, I think everyone would agree the deed has been done. We wouldn’t want to hurt Mr. Fitzmartin’s feelings, would we?”
“I don’t give a rip. What about Roddy’s solicitor? He’ll object and find some way out of this.”
“I sent him off back to London or wherever he came from. Mrs. Anstruther and the boys are taking care of it even as I speak.”
“Ooh!” Sadie was becoming repetitive.
“Come along now. If you continue to writhe under me, we’ll have to consummate this marriage on the chapel floor.”
Sadie stopped herself from saying one more “Ooh.” She’d never been so angry in her life. Outmaneuvered. Outnumbered. Outdone. Tristan Sykes was no one to be trifled with.
“We are not consummating anything.”
“We’ll see about that. But first, some bacon and eggs. I’m starving. Aren’t you?”