Free The Madcap Marriage by Allison Lane Page B

feared that wedding Helen had been a grievous mistake. And like Shakespeare’s Caesar, he might grievously answer for it.
    Helen was an enticing wench whose sensuality could raise the dead. Intelligence crackled behind her eyes. She refused to be a victim, instead fighting for what she wanted. Fleeing that church marked her as a lady of spirit, like his mother.
    On the other hand, she was apparently accustomed to being in charge, not just of herself, but of those around her, which boded ill for establishing a harmonious union. Already she’d demanded answers and argued perfectly reasonable suggestions. While he enjoyed debate, fighting sapped so much energy that it left him limp for days. He despised arguments, having suffered too much criticism from Hillcrest. In the past, he’d endured by letting angry words slide past him, then doing whatever he wished.
    But that wouldn’t work with Helen. He could ignore Hillcrest’s diatribes because he rarely saw the man. But he must share a house with Helen. Which meant he must either stand up to her or let her lead him around by the nose. Intolerable.
    Rapping snapped his head around.
    “Naughty boy,” purred Lady Willingham, pulling the carriage door open. “Why didn’t you tell me your plans?”
    “Why should I share my private business with you?”  He couldn’t manage his usual smile. If Helen returned now, the fat would be in the fire.
    Lady Willingham laughed as if he were teasing. “But we are such good friends, my dearest Rafe. And you will need friends. The girl must have a mentor, of course, to introduce her to the right people. A country miss can’t understand London without help.”
    He shuddered. Not only did he not want Helen to meet Lady Willingham, he had no interest in paying the price she would expect for such service. She pursued her liaisons so aggressively that only Lord Willingham’s fortune and social power kept people from cutting her. Rafe’s refusal to become her latest lover had increased her determination to bring him to heel.
    “My aunt will present my wife at court,” he said, shifting his legs to block the door.
    Fury flashed across her face, immediately banished. “I suppose she needs the distraction. As do you. Take advantage of your freedom while you have it, darling. You’ll have to waste your talents until you get her with child, so this is your last chance for pleasure. I’m free tonight.” Her hand brushed his thigh in blatant invitation.
    He opened his mouth on a stinging set-down, but swallowed it as Helen emerged from Mademoiselle Jeanette’s. Lady Willingham would laugh off a set-down. Thus there was only one way to be rid of her, short of arguing for half an hour. “What time?”
    Triumph twisted her face. “Willingham leaves by eight.”
    He nodded. “In the meantime, I must call on my tailor.”
    “Until eight, darling.” With a blatant caress across his groin, she left, her smile sending chills down his spine that stifled any guilt. He’d not precisely lied. And it would do the lady good to spend an evening alone.
    Helen was glaring daggers at Lady Willingham. Cursing, he whisked her into the carriage – Lady Willingham was the sort who couldn’t resist a last flirtatious glance before she vanished – then opened his mouth to explain.
    His breath caught.
    He’d thought yellow suited her, but black turned her into a red-haired enchantress. No wonder Dudley wanted her. She looked bold, dashing, and quite the most desirable woman he’d seen in years.
    Which was good. Her stunning beauty would explain why they’d wed so precipitously. He could describe his recent absence from town as courtship. The friend he’d visited was practically a hermit, so he was unlikely to talk.
    “I need a bonnet and black gloves,” Helen said coolly. “Someone recommended Michelle’s Millinery. Do you know it?”
    “Of course. It is around the corner.” But he cursed while she finished her shopping. Her tone would freeze the