Table Of ContentHidden Affections Copyright © 2011
Mary Lechleidner
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ISBN 978-1-4412-3235-9
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Published by Bethany House Publishers
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Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
Dedicated to
my three beautiful grandbabies.
You fill the world around you
with faith, hope, and love.
Chapter One
WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA
1831
Annabelle Tyler may have hoped she would marry again someday, but she never
dreamed she would be wearing handcuffs during the ceremony when she did.
Scarcely thirty-six hours after leaving Hanover, Pennsylvania, to forge a
respectable future for herself, she barely listened to the man next to her as he
grumbled his vows. She was still struggling to make sense of the frightening turn
of events that had led her here, to this nondescript minister’s cottage in a small
rural hamlet where she knew absolutely no one.
Despite the sheriff’s coat around her shoulders and the hearty fire burning in
the small parlor, Annabelle shivered with cold that had penetrated every bone in
her body. She glanced up at the man by her side. Harrison Graymoor had been a
complete stranger to her until only yesterday, but the ordeal they had endured
together had taken its toll.
His finely tailored vest and cambric shirt were badly soiled with the same dirt
and grime that stained her travel gown, and exhaustion had painted dark circles
beneath his ebony eyes. His determined fight to prevent this marriage had now
been replaced by a resignation that surprised her, since he had far more at stake
by marrying than she did. The grim reality that he was being forced into this
marriage, however, had erased his rakish smile and the surprisingly deep dimples
in his cheeks, but he held his head high when he finally gritted, “I do.”
She swayed a bit, locked her knees, and dropped her gaze. She had not eaten
since the day before yesterday, and she used every last bit of her waning strength
to keep standing on her own two feet, if only to maintain a modicum of dignity
in front of the four men who were witnessing this mockery of a ceremony. When
she adjusted the heavy coat about her shoulders, she inadvertently yanked the
short chain on the metal cuff on her right wrist that kept her linked to Harrison.
She froze instinctively, and his hiss of pain distracted her from the minister’s
monotone recitation of the vows she was supposed to pledge. When she looked
down, she saw a fresh trickle of blood ooze down the back of his hand from
beneath the too-small cuff that dug deep into his swollen left wrist. She quickly
averted her gaze, but not before she got a glimpse of the end of the rifle barrel
nudged against his back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you again,” she whispered. “I-
I’m sorry.”
“The proper response is ‘I will’ or ‘I do,’ ” Reverend Wood admonished, as if
she had been speaking to him.
When she turned her attention back to the minister, she wondered if he could
see anything more than a few inches in front of his face, since his eyes were so
clouded by age.
“I’m still waiting for you to recite your vows and acknowledge them,” he
demanded, clearly annoyed that he had been dragged from his bed shortly before
dawn to marry them.
One of the two men standing directly to her left edged closer in an unspoken
warning to cooperate, reinforced as the two men on Harrison’s side nudged him
closer to her. Determined not to utter any words that would seal her union to Mr.
Graymoor, she took a deep breath to gather up the last of her rapidly fading
strength. Now that it appeared she had no other choice, she swallowed her pride
and decided she had to admit she was not the maiden they believed her to be.
“Please. Just let me explain. There’s no need to force this man to marry me.”
The minister’s voice hardened with impatience. “Do you or do you not
recognize the scandalous nature of your situation and the attempt we’re all
making on your behalf to salvage your reputation?” he snapped.
“I’m a God-fearing woman of faith, and I’m telling you that nothing improper
happened,” she insisted, repeating the claim she had made to the four men when
they had rescued her, as well as Harrison, less than an hour ago. “I give you my
word.”
Harrison cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s not your word and your character
that are in question. It’s mine.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “That may be, but my future’s at stake,
too,” she quipped before turning her attention back to the minister again and
softening her voice. “The men who stopped our stage robbed us, handcuffed us
together, and left us tied to the stagecoach while they escaped with the driver and
all of our possessions. It’s not Mr. Graymoor’s fault or mine that it took a full
day and night to find us. Mr. Graymoor was a complete gentleman and quite
concerned for my well-being the entire time,” she insisted, remaining silent
about his attempts to flirt with her when they first boarded the stage or the fact
that the robbers would never have robbed the stage if he had not been aboard in
the first place.
The sheriff snorted. “Harrison Graymoor may be exceedingly wealthy, but he’s
also a cad and a libertine who needs to be held accountable for his outrageous
behavior, particularly with women. His reputation, I assure you, is well-known
far beyond Philadelphia, where he resides.”
“We’re far from Philadelphia, and we should all avoid gossip that no one here
can confirm,” she argued, but she was also relieved they were a far cry from
Four Corners, the small town where she had become equally infamous.
The minister nodded. “I’m retired from active ministry now, but I’m not a
hermit. I recognize the family name, as well as this man’s reputation,” he
informed them and looked directly at Annabelle. “The sheriff told me he found
you lying in this man’s arms after spending the night with him alone. Are you
now disputing that fact, or is it true?”
She blushed, although she could not remember exactly how or when she had
ended up cuddled against his side during the night. “Yes, it’s true,” she admitted,
“but the weather had turned exceedingly cold again and the thieves had stolen
my cloak as well as his coat. Mr. Graymoor eventually freed us from the ropes
they used to bind us to the stagecoach, but there was nothing he could do to
remove the handcuffs,” she explained, still ridden with guilt for injuring
Harrison when she tried to do just that. “We tried walking to find help, but a
thunderstorm forced us back to the stagecoach for shelter. By then, we were both
drenched and—”
“And this wretched man used this poor woman’s distress to his sinful
advantage.” The man directly to her left squared his shoulders and took a step
forward. “My name is James Jenkins. One of Graymoor’s country estates is near
my home in Chad’s Landing. My wife, Camille, went to work there when he
showed up four months ago, and this man . . . this man . . . seduced her,” he
murmured, repeating the charges he had made to the sheriff earlier.
“I did no such thing,” Harrison argued in a low voice that was just as
authoritative as it had been earlier when he’d tried to reason with Jenkins and the
sheriff. “I did not seduce Mrs. Jenkins, and I did not seduce Miss Tyler.”
“He gave this to my wife,” Jenkins charged, pulling an intricate gold bracelet
from his pocket and dangling it in front of the minister, who leaned his face so
far forward to see it that Annabelle wondered how he kept his balance. “What
sort of man gives a married woman an expensive gift like this unless he’s
seduced her?”
The minister pulled back and pursed his lips. “Mr. Graymoor?”
Harrison shrugged. “It was a parting trinket to thank her for her work as a
temporary member of my staff. Nothing more.”
Jenkins shoved the bracelet back into his pocket. “You gave it to her to assuage
your conscience, although I’m surprised you have one,” he charged and drew in
deep breaths of air as his cheeks reddened with the shame of his wife’s betrayal.
“I did not seduce your wife, and she did not betray you. Not with me,”
Harrison argued.
Sheriff Taylor shook his head and addressed the minister. “I’m afraid Mr.
Graymoor’s reputation as a womanizer makes it difficult, if not impossible, to
take him at his word. Not where women are concerned.”
The minister cleared his throat, effectively ending the discussion. “Perhaps if
Mr. Graymoor were to be married to a ‘God-fearing woman of faith,’ ” he said
firmly, using Annabelle’s own words against them both, “she might inspire him
to lead a life of honor befitting the name he carries. More importantly, Miss
Tyler should not bear the burden of having her reputation or her name sullied—”
“There is no burden,” Annabelle argued, tilting up her chin. Although she was
weakened by fatigue as well as frustration, she could not overlook the absurdity
of the predicament she was in or the fact she was actually handcuffed to the man
she was being forced to marry. Handcuffed!
“Even the appearance of impropriety demands that you be protected. If you
were a married woman, that would be a matter for Sheriff Taylor to address. You
are, however, a single woman, and it is a matter for me to remedy,” he insisted
and turned to Harrison. “Are you prepared to fulfill the vows you have already
pledged or do you rescind them?”
Harrison sighed. “No. I do not rescind them,” he murmured and arched his
back as if the barrel of the rifle had been pressed harder.
“And you, Miss Tyler, will you accept this man as your lawful husband and be
faithful to the vows I’ve already recited for you?”
She swallowed hard. She was only twenty-four years old. She could hardly
believe that all the hopes she had had for the future would be gone once she
married this stranger, but she was too disillusioned and too exhausted to argue
anymore. Holding tight to her faith in God, if only to give strength to her belief
that He was totally in charge of the new path her life was taking, she let out a
long sigh and finally uttered the words the minister wanted her to say. “I . . . I
will.”
“Then as a minister of the Word, I now declare that you are man and wife. Go
in peace, together, to serve Him in this world in order to rejoice with Him for all
of eternity. Now then, would you like to kiss your bride, Mr. Graymoor?”
Harrison held up the handcuffs that still bound them together. “I believe my
wife and I would like these handcuffs removed before I consider anything else,”
he countered.
When she nodded her agreement, the minister smiled for the first time that
morning. “There’s a blacksmith not more than a few miles from the inn, which is
about five miles farther away,” he offered. “Sheriff, I trust you’ll deliver Mr. and
Mrs. Graymoor there? They’re obviously both in need of nourishment as well as
rest before they continue their journey.”
“I will indeed.”
“Then once the marriage certificate is duly signed, you can all be on your
way.” He walked over to a small table in the corner of the room and signed the
paper lying there. One of the men who had helped Sheriff Taylor rescue them
signed right after the sheriff, who ordered all three of his companions to go
outside to ready the horses.
In turn, the minister motioned Annabelle and Harrison to come to the table.
“While you two sign this marriage certificate, I’ve got to record the marriage in
my book, which I’ve left in the other room. Sheriff, perhaps you could ask one
of your men to saddle up my horse for Mr. and Mrs. Graymoor to ride. Joshua
Lawrence, down at the inn, will see that it’s returned,” he said before taking his
leave.
As Annabelle and Harrison slowly made their way to the table, she took great
care to make certain she did not pull on the chain that bound them together.
Under the sheriff’s watchful gaze, they each signed the document, and she noted
the crooked scrawl the minister had managed to write.
“Wait here. I’ll be back to get you both as soon as we have your horse ready,”
the sheriff ordered before he left them alone for the first time since they had been
rescued.
Once the ink dried, she folded the certificate, planning to add it to the few
things she had been able to hide from the thieves by storing them in a cotton
pouch she had pinned to her chemise. She also pressed her arm to her side to
make certain the knitting stick she had convinced the thieves to let her keep was
still at her waist. “There was no need for you to be saddled with me as your wife.
Why didn’t you argue with those men more?” she whispered.
“I seem to recall having the barrel of a rifle planted in the small of my back, in
case you didn’t notice,” he replied. But there was just a hint of that twinkle back
in his eyes as he snatched the certificate out of her hand and stored it beneath his
vest.
“But we didn’t do anything wrong. I mean . . . you didn’t . . . we didn’t . . .”
Unable to put such a delicate matter into words, she dropped her gaze and hoped
her cheeks were not as red as she feared they were.
“No, we didn’t. Your virtue is intact, which is another reason why I didn’t need
to waste precious time arguing with men who weren’t prepared to listen to
anything either one of us had to say. Once we get these handcuffs removed, get
something to eat and some well-deserved rest, we’ll travel straight to
Philadelphia, where I can have this marriage annulled.”
“You’re certain we should arrive within a day or two?”
He nodded. “You won’t miss that appointment of yours,” he promised, and she
was pleased that he recognized how important it was for her to arrive before the
deadline. “When I meet with my lawyer to get the annulment proceedings
started, I’ll also have him draw up a settlement for you.”
Annabelle shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I rather think it is,” he argued. “At the very least, you’ll need to replace what
the thieves stole from you, which I assure you I can easily afford to do.” He
smiled when she nodded reluctantly.
“Are you absolutely certain there won’t be a problem obtaining a quick
annulment?”
He shrugged. “Since our marriage never has and never will be consummated, I
should expect it will be rather easy to obtain within a month or so,” he said,
using an authoritative tone that invited no argument from her. “Granted, it may
be a bit awkward for both of us for a while, but the annulment should be granted
so quickly, no one need ever learn we were married at all.”
“There are more than a few people who already know we’re married, and
Reverend Wood is recording it in his book as we speak,” she reminded him,
worried that he was either overconfident or merely accustomed to getting what
he wanted because of his immense wealth that everyone else had mentioned.
“We’ll never see any of these people again. Even if their gossip spreads to the
city, I’ve learned that rumors quickly disappear when no proof emerges,” he
countered. “Don’t worry. I’m absolutely certain I can have our marriage
annulled. When I do, it will be as if it never existed at all, legally speaking,” he
said as he led her closer to the fire to share one last bit of warmth before they
ventured outside again into the freezing cold that had blanketed the area for most
of November. “If all else fails, of course, I can always petition for a divorce,
which will be a first for anyone in my family.”
A chill raced up the length of her spine, and she trembled. “I’m afraid it won’t
be the first time. Not for me,” she whispered so softly she barely heard her own
words.
At least this time she knew the man she had married was a womanizer before
they were wed.
