The Wedding Escape Read Free

Whitcliffe was the best she could find, and he was willing to take me on, despite the fact that he believes me to be common and foolish.”
    â€œHe told you that?” Jack felt a sudden overwhelming urge to grab Whitcliffe by his almost nonexistent neck and choke an apology from him.
    â€œI overheard him telling my father. At first I thought he was only saying it because he was trying to get my father to pay him more for the privilege of my marrying him. It may surprise you to learn, Mr. Kent, that for an American girl to marry an English lord costs quite a bit of money. But then Lord Whitcliffe cited some examples of what he called my ‘crass and unseemly behavior,’ and I knew he really did think that I was frightfully uncouth.” She lowered her gaze and made a halfhearted attempt to straighten the torn cocoon of satin and silk surrounding her.
    Jack thought of her scuttling down the side of the church in her wedding gown. Whitcliffe would have probably had a heart attack had he been witness to that particular escapade. He repressed the impulse to smile.
    â€œIf you won’t sell your carriage to me, Mr. Kent, would you consider permitting me to hire it for a day or two?” Amelia persisted hopefully. “I promise that I shall take very good care of it, and will send it back to you directly.”
    Jack avoided her imploring gaze. His family had exited the church and was standing in a cluster, searching the crowd for him. His three sisters looked extremely pretty in their elegant outfits, which had been designed by Grace. Each of his sisters was happily married to a man of her own choosing. Although Jack was familiar with the practice of arranged marriages, particularly amongst the nobility, Genevieve’s gentle upbringing had always stressed the principles of independent thought and freedom of choice, and she had instilled those values in her children. The idea of Annabelle or Grace or his beloved Charlotte being offered up like prized lambs to be purchased by the highest bidder was utterly abhorrent.
    â€œMr. Kent?” Amelia’s voice was strained.
    A party of men was fanning out to search the carriages. Jack noticed Simon and Jamie making their way toward his vehicle. Genevieve had probably asked them to take a look inside, not to search for the missing bride, but to see if their wayward brother had taken refuge within and fallen asleep. The minute they discovered Miss Belford, the carriage would be swarmed. His determined little heiress would be hastily extracted and marched into the church to meet her fate with Whitcliffe, willing or not.
    And there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do about it.
    â€œPlease, Mr. Kent,” Amelia whispered.
    She reached out and laid her hand upon his, beseeching him with her touch.
    He stared at her hand in surprise. It felt cool and soft upon his skin, despite the sweltering heat of the day and the sudden closeness of the carriage. It was a small hand, made even slighter by the enormity of the ostentatious ring Whitcliffe had elected to bestow upon it. The fingers were slender and immaculately manicured, as one might have expected of a bride on her wedding day, and the skin was pale and silky smooth, indicating that it had spent much of its existence safely swaddled in expensive gloves. But it was the profusion of thin, scarlet scratches hatched across it that captivated his attention. They must have occurred during her fall, Jack realized, as she desperately struggled to cling to the vine before plummeting helplessly into the bushes below. He took her hand and slowly turned it over, only to discover a deeper cut slashed into the tender flesh of her palm. It oozed a thin stream of blood, which had smeared his own skin.
    She had asked him if he had ever known what it was to be hopelessly trapped. The bitter truth was, he did know all too well. Until he saw that ruby stain of blood marring his own skin, he had not understood how desperate