Kasey Michaels - The Bride of the Unicorn

“[A] hilarious spoof of society wedding rituals wrapped around a sensual romance filled with crackling dialogue reminiscent of The Philadelphia Story.”

—Booklist on Everything’s Coming Up Rosie

“A cheerful, lighthearted read.”

—Publishers Weekly on Everything’s Coming Up Rosie

“Michaels continues to entertain readers with the verve of her appealing characters and their exciting predicaments.”

—Booklist on Beware of Virtuous Women

“Lively dialogue and characters make the plot’s suspense and pathos resonate.”

—Publishers Weekly on Beware of Virtuous Women

“A must-read for fans of historical romance and all who appreciate Michaels’ witty and sensuous style.”

—Booklist on The Dangerous Debutante

“Michaels is in her element in her latest historical romance, a tale filled with mystery, sexual tension, and steamy encounters, making this a gem from a true master of the genre.”

—Booklist on A Gentleman by Any Other Name

“Michaels can write everything from a lighthearted romp to a far more serious-themed romance. [Kasey] Michaels has outdone herself.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, Top Pick, on A Gentleman by Any Other Name

“Nonstop action from start to finish! It seems that author Kasey Michaels does nothing halfway.”

—Huntress Reviews on A Gentleman by Any Other Name

“Michaels has done it again…. Witty dialogue peppers a plot full of delectable details exposing the foibles and follies of the age.”

—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on The Butler Did It

“Michaels demonstrates her flair for creating likable protagonists who possess chemistry, charm and a penchant for getting into trouble. In addition, her dialogue and descriptions are full of humor.”

—Publishers Weekly on This Must Be Love

“Kasey Michaels aims for the heart and never misses.”

—New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROLOGUE

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

BOOK TWO

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

1801

Evil is easy, and has infinite forms.

Blaise Pascal

And doom’d to death, though fated not to die.

John Dryden

“CAROLINE, DO SIT STILL, CHILD. It’s enough that this coach is rocking as if John Coachman were blind as well as deaf and can not see the ruts, without your bouncing to add to the jostle.”

“Felling ill again, pet?” Henry Wilburton, seventh earl of Witham, and soon to become a father again at the advanced age of forty-six, looked adoringly at his young wife, who was still dealing with the fractious three-year-old. “We shouldn’t have stayed so long. Silly children’s party.”

Lady Gwendolyn pulled Caroline closer to her on the wide velvet seat, tucking the carriage blanket around the colorfully embroidered hem of the child’s gown and the chubby legs that refused to remain still, then hastened to reassure her husband. “Nonsense, Henry. It was a delightful evening. I’m much improved now. It was ill-advised of me to have sampled the syllabub, that’s all. At least not until I am past this third month. My reaction to sweet creams was much the same with Caroline, remember?”

“Vividly, my dear, vividly,” Lord Witham answered, stretching forward from the facing seat to pat her hand. “I suppose I will simply have to cosset you outrageously for these next months, a chore I admit I look forward to with great delight.”

“You are the very best of husbands, Henry—and I vow to hold you at your word. I rather enjoy being cosseted.” She reached across her daughter to lift the leather flap over the window and peered out into the darkness brightened only by the coach lamps riding high on either side of the driver’s box, then frowned. She hadn’t been entirely truthful with Henry about the state of her stomach. A lingering queasiness was still giving her fits, and she could barely wait to be out of the swaying coach and on solid ground again. “Are we nearly home? I believe I see raindrops on the pane.”

“Very nearly, pet. Caro, my rambunctious little lamb, why don’t you sing us the song your mama has just taught you? You remember—‘Now Is the Month of Maying.’”

“No, Papa,” Caroline answered with a mulish pout squeezing her small, perfect features. “Caro’s tired,” she said as she burrowed her blond curls against her mother’s breast.

Lady Gwendolyn chuckled at this not uncommon display of temper. “Willful little beast, isn’t she, darling? We can only hope our unborn son will have half Caroline’s starch. Boys should be—What’s that? Henry? That was a shot, I’m sure of it!”

She watched as the earl immediately cocked his head toward the window to his left, then frowned at the unmistakable report of a second pistol shot. He opened his mouth to warn her to take hold of the strap, but it was already too late for her to have time to obey him.

A heartbeat later all three occupants of the coach tumbled to the floor when John Coachman, whose deafness might not have alerted him to the noise, hauled mightily on the traces, then put on the brake as two dark-cloaked riders plunged out of the trees and directly onto the roadway in front of the horses, calling: “Stand and deliver!”

Caroline immediately began to wail, sounding not hurt but angry, as if overcome by a mighty indignation born of finding herself sprawled inelegantly on the floor, wedged partially beneath her mother’s body. Lady Gwendolyn couldn’t blame her, for she too was feeling the effects of being tossed about like so much flotsam.

“Are you all right? Good. Quiet her, Gwen,” Lord Witham ordered as he helped his wife back onto the seat, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a small purse that contained ten or twelve gold pieces. “I have enough on my plate being robbed, without Caro’s bawling to add to the chaos. Damned depressing, you know. I was told this road was clear of high-toby men. I’d give half my fortune to be able to turn my pistols on them, but it’s best not to put up a struggle. Give me your jewels, sweetheart, and I’ll step outside and deal with the wretches. We’ll be out of this and home safe and dry in a trice, I promise you.”

Lady Gwendolyn, forgetting her nausea and fatigue, fumbled to remove her diamond earrings and the matching bracelet the earl had given her just that past Christmas. She handed them over, then laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Filthy beasts. I won’t give them my rings, Henry,” she told him firmly, “nor shall they have my beautiful pendant. There are some things that simply cannot be replaced.”

Lord Witham’s smile was eloquent with love, so much so that Lady Gwendolyn felt herself dangerously near to tears. “Anything can be replaced, my sweet,” she heard him say, “except you and our dearest Caroline. Now hurry, my pet,” he added, frowning. “We can’t have the rascals catching more than a glimpse of either you or the child. You are both too beautiful by far, and I don’t wish to tempt them.”