Protected by the Major
Anne Herries
Sullied, Shamed and Surrendered!Bound by marriage to a cruel lord, Madeline no longer dares to remember the innocent love she once shared with Major Hallam Ravenscar.But when her husband offers her favors to a notoriously depraved marquis to settle his debts, Maddie knows she must escape. Her good name compromised, Maddie must withstand the scandal that looms in the wake of her departure. Should she turn to noble, honorable Hallam, or would she end up tainting him with her shame?Officers and GentlemenFor duty, for honor, for love
OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN
For duty, for honour, for love
Bound by honour and family ties, three brave men fought for their lives in France…
Now, back in the drawing rooms of England, they face a new battle as three beautiful women lay siege to their scarred hearts!
PROTECTED BY THE MAJOR January 2014
DRAWN TO LORD RAVENSCAR February 2014
COURTED BY THE CAPTAIN Already available
AUTHOR NOTE
This is the second of the Ravenscar cousins’ trilogy. Hallam helped Adam when their cousin Mark Ravenscar was murdered. Now that they have caught the culprit Adam and Jenny are married and Hal turns his mind to his own problems. He has never been able to forget Madeline, the girl he asked to wed him before he joined the army. She turned him down to marry a wealthy lord, but now he has discovered that she is desperately unhappy. Should he forgive her for the pain she caused him and help her in her time of need?
I hope my readers will enjoy this second book. The third is coming soon.
Love to you all.
Protected
by the Major
Anne Herries
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I would like to dedicate this, the second of the cousins’ trilogy, to my editors at HM&B past and present for all the help they have given me over the years.
Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. Anne is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk
Previous novels by the same author:
THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY
A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE* (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE* (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE* (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE FORBIDDEN LADY† (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE† (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) HER DARK AND DANGEROUS LORD† (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) FUGITIVE COUNTESS† (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) BOUGHT FOR THE HAREM HOSTAGE BRIDE THE DISAPPEARING DUCHESS** (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) THE MYSTERIOUS LORD MARLOWE** (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) THE SCANDALOUS LORD LANCHESTER** (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) SECRET HEIRESS BARTERED BRIDE CAPTAIN MOORCROFT’S CHRISTMAS BRIDE (part of Candlelit Christmas Kisses) A STRANGER’S TOUCH† (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d) HIS UNUSUAL GOVERNESS PROMISED TO THE CRUSADER COURTED BY THE CAPTAIN‡ (#ulink_4fc00562-1683-5dd4-94eb-52c2bdf9f08d)
* (#ulink_93ba62d7-4633-5290-b8cb-d33018333f28)A Season in Town † (#ulink_93ba62d7-4633-5290-b8cb-d33018333f28)The Melford Dynasty ** (#ulink_93ba62d7-4633-5290-b8cb-d33018333f28)Secrets and Scandals ‡ (#ulink_93ba62d7-4633-5290-b8cb-d33018333f28)Officers and Gentlemen
And in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:
LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE
COUNTERFEIT EARL
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Contents
Prologue (#u621b1a93-c65b-5f1b-8e8d-8daae82ca84c)
Chapter One (#ud08e41fc-d851-531d-b976-f2057980cb25)
Chapter Two (#u1ff54027-1cd1-5078-8cbc-63778c8c659c)
Chapter Three (#ufa4c68bf-ad43-5f56-bd10-6f8de0ca954c)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Afterword (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
‘Please do not do this,’ the handsome young cavalry officer begged, catching at the girl’s arm as she started to walk away. ‘If you marry him you will break my heart and I know he cannot make you happy, Madeline.’
She blinked back her tears as she looked at him, her green eyes misty and filled with an appeal that caught at his heart. She was lovely, with her long, naturally wavy hair brushing her shoulders and her soft mouth that had always smiled for him. In her eyes he saw the love she had once declared beneath this very apple tree, but her words were cold and dismissive.
‘I pray you let go of my arm, sir. I have accepted the count’s proposal of marriage and the contract is signed. There is nothing I can do.’
‘Come away with me now,’ he said, breathing deeply as the wintry sunlight caught the red-gold of her hair. ‘If you are my wife, he can do nothing to prevent it. I know you love me...you swore it to me only last summer.’
‘In the summer things were different.’ She turned her beautiful face from him. ‘You do not understand, Hallam. It was all arranged and I...I am happy with my promise. The count is rich and will give me all the things I...require. Besides, I do not love you.’
‘You swore you would always love me. We kissed to seal our promise to each other and I was to speak to your father when I returned.’
‘You were away too long,’ she said, and her face was proud, cold and withdrawn. ‘And you have no money, Hallam. How can you expect me to share your poverty? If your father had not lost all his money gambling or...’ She pulled away from him, her face turned from his so that he could not read her expression. ‘I should not even have come to meet you. My father will be furious. Please go away now, Hallam...and do not bother me again with your unwanted attentions.’
This time Hallam released his grip on her arm. ‘Bother you with my attentions? No, indeed, Miss Morris, I shall not. I believed your protestations of love and your lying smiles, but I was a fool. Run back to your father and your bridegroom-to-be and I wish you joy of him.’
He turned and strode away, leaving her standing beneath the apple tree where they had promised undying love just a few short months earlier. Madeline stared after him, her pale face turned to stone and the tears slowly slipping down her cheeks.
She longed with all her heart to call him back, but it was too late. She’d had no choice but to send him away, for her father had signed the contract despite her pleas to wait for Hallam’s return.
‘Even if he comes it will not serve,’ Sir Matthew said to his only daughter. ‘I am ruined, Maddie, and Lethbridge holds my notes. Would you see your mother and sister thrown on the parish—and me in my grave? I could not live with the shame if Lethbridge took everything. You are my only hope.’
‘But I do not love him!’
‘Foolish child,’ her father said. ‘Marriage and love have nothing to say to each other. Marry Lethbridge and live in the style you were meant to live, and, when you have given him his heir, he will probably tire of you and leave you to sleep alone. Perhaps then you may look elsewhere for love if you are discreet.’
‘Papa!’ Madeline stared at him in horror. She knew that it was often the case that both men and women looked for love outside marriage, but she had wanted something different. She had hoped for love—but how could she deny her father when he would be ruined if she refused the count’s offer? ‘Very well...if it is your wish.’
‘My dear good girl,’ her father said and kissed her brow. ‘I knew you would not let me down.’
Madeline had had no choice, but pride would not let her tell Hallam that she had been the victim of emotional blackmail. She knew that he would not have understood that she must do her duty. No, it was best if he thought her heartless, but it had broken her heart to see the pain and disappointment in his eyes.
‘Oh, Hallam,’ she whispered as she turned to walk back through the meadows to her father’s house. ‘Oh, Hallam, I loved you so...’
But she must put away all thought of love and do her duty. Madeline knew that the count was a jealous man and she sensed that he might be cruel if he were thwarted. She must try to make him a good wife, even though she was dead inside.
Chapter One
Hallam Ravenscar, now a major in His Majesty’s Own elite cavalry regiment, and the recipient of some half-a-dozen medals for gallantry on the field, straightened an imaginary crease in his immaculate coat of blue superfine and placed a diamond stickpin in the soft folds of his cravat. His short dark hair was brushed casually into a fashionable style and he looked the complete man about town, his eyes grey with a look of steel in them. Having returned to England after Napoleon was finally defeated to the shocking tragedy of his cousin Mark’s murder, he had played his part in the unmasking of an evil rogue. He was now in London to see his man of business and to purchase a wedding gift for his cousin Captain Adam Miller to Miss Jenny Hastings.
A half-sigh left his lips for he had been urged by his lawyers and agents to consider marrying an heiress, too. Indeed, it must be marriage or the more drastic step of selling his late father’s estate, which was at present burdened with insupportable debt. His father had been a lifelong gambler and after the death of the wife he’d adored, he had plunged deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Hallam had been fighting for his life in France when his father succumbed to a virulent fever and it was only on his return to England that he truly understood what awaited him.
‘You have little choice, sir,’ Mr Hatton, his father’s lawyer, told him. ‘Had your father lived he must have sold most of the estate but since his death I have had hard work of it to keep the bank from foreclosing. It would be better to sell than let them simply take the estate. That way you might save something.’
Hallam knew that he was close to ruin. He had the small estate his maternal grandfather had left to him, but that was little more than a large farmhouse and some one hundred acres, most of which was let to tenants. Together with his pay, it had brought him sufficient income to sustain him as a cavalry officer, but was hardly enough to support a wife and family in style, unless he could find another source of income. Adam had invited him to come in as a partner with a wine-importing business, and Hallam had agreed. He would need to sell his commission and that would bring sufficient funds for a modest investment—but what of the future?
His lawyer had made no bones about it. ‘Your mother was the youngest daughter of an earl, Major Ravenscar, and your father the younger son of an old and respected family. You do not at present have a title to offer, but I think you might find that the daughter of a rich merchant would welcome an offer.’
‘Good grief, you want me to sell myself?’
Hallam had greeted the suggestion with horror and disgust, but in truth he could see very little alternative. He might make a fortune with Adam, but that was well into the future. In the meantime he had two choices, neither of which appealed.
Damn it! He would not think about the problem of his estate tonight. He was engaged to meet some friends to dine, and from there they would go on to a card party at the house of Lord Devenish. He understood there would be some dancing after the musical recital for those that cared for it—nothing lavish, just a few couples standing up in the gallery.
He picked up his swordstick and hat, gave himself another depreciating look and left his lodgings to keep the appointment. It was years since Hal had thought of marriage, being content to flirt mildly with charming young ladies and enjoy a friendly relationship with an obliging widow while on service in Spain and France.
How could he even consider marriage when his heart had never completely healed? Madeline had dealt his heart and his pride a severe blow. While the pain had subsided gradually, and a harder, stronger man had been forged in the fires of battle, Hal had never felt anything stronger than affection for the lady who had so kindly tended his wounds and given generously of herself.
Had he wished to marry for comfort’s sake, he could not have done better than to wed Mrs Sarah Bowman, for she had been a soldier’s wife and would have been willing to follow the drum—but Hal did not wish for a wife. How could he marry when his heart was dead? Madeline had killed it when she married her count for his money.
It was ridiculous to think of Madeline. She had long forgotten him—and was probably content in her marriage with several children at her skirts.
The picture gave him pain and he put it from his mind. He must forget Madeline and move on. Perhaps it would be better to take his lawyer’s advice and seek out the daughter of a wealthy Cit, who would be grateful to offer her father’s money in return for a home and a place in society.
His lips curled with distaste at the idea, but he would not be the first or the last to seek a solution to his money problems in this way.
If the worst came to the worst, he would consider it, but for the moment he would look for other ways to pay his debts.
* * *
Lord Devenish’s rooms were overflowing with guests, all of them enjoying the fine champagne and other wines, which waiters offered them constantly as they circulated with trays. Hal accepted a glass and sipped it, moving through the crowded rooms and stopping now and then to talk to people he knew. He was hailed as a hero by many, welcomed home and greeted warmly. His bravery had been mentioned in dispatches and everyone was eager to congratulate him, asking how long he intended to stay in London and offering invitations to all manner of events.
‘The Regent told me you were an outstanding officer,’ Lord Devenish told him as he clapped him on the shoulder and welcomed him to the house. ‘Knew your father well, m’boy—and regretted what happened at the end. If you need any advice or help you know where to come.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Hallam said and smiled. ‘I do not suppose you know of an heiress in desperate need of a husband?’
He meant it as a jest, to turn off the offer of help, but his host looked grave and then light dawned in his eyes. ‘As it happens I do, Hallam my dear fellow. Her father is indebted to me for various matters of business I put in his way and told me he would like to see his girl settled with a decent fellow. He made it plain that he doesn’t look for money, but a good family and the entry into society is what is hoped for. Would you like me to arrange a meeting?’
‘Oh, I hardly think it necessary just yet,’ Hal said lightly. ‘It would be a last resort, sir.’
‘Well, I can’t vouch for the girl’s looks or manners, never seen her—but I’ll ask them to a supper party and send you an invitation. Make up your mind when you’ve seen her.’
Hallam thanked him and passed on as some newcomers arrived. He had spoken lightly, but his host had taken him seriously—but he would not think of a marriage of convenience just yet.
As the rooms filled up, the ladies took their seats for the musical recital, but most of the men moved into the card room, where several tables had been set up in readiness. Hal was invited to join a hand of whist for modest stakes and accepted. He was a skilled player and won as often as he lost. Provided he stayed within the limits he’d set himself for his lifestyle, he did not consider it wrong to gamble a little. Unlike his father, he never played the dice or faro, though he enjoyed a game of skill.
His luck was mixed that evening for he won the first hand with his partner, lost the second and third, then won the fourth, which meant he rose from the tables for supper in no worse case than he had been when he sat down.
Making his way into the supper room, he helped himself to a small pastry and ate it, sipped some wine, then made his way out to the terrace to smoke a cigar. A lady was about to enter the supper room and for a moment he stood in her way. He apologised and glanced at her face, feeling shocked as he saw the beautiful sophisticated lady whose path he’d blocked. Her hair was piled high upon her head, one long ringlet falling on to a white shoulder, her gown cut daringly low to show off the sweet valley between milky-white breasts. So far different from the girl he’d known was she that he spoke without thinking.
‘Madeline...good grief! I should not have known you.’
For a moment she seemed too stunned to answer, then a look of sadness swept into her eyes. ‘I dare say you think me much changed, for I am older.’
‘No, no, you are beautiful,’ he said, recovering. ‘You have become a great lady, Madeline.’
‘It is the gown,’ she said and a half-smile was on her lips. ‘I had heard you were home—and I was sad to hear of Mark’s death. You must have felt it deeply. You were always close as young men.’
‘We became even closer for we served together in France,’ he said. ‘How are you? You look very well.’
‘I am quite well,’ she said. ‘I am glad to have seen you. Please excuse me, sir. I went out for some air and my husband will look for me.’
Hal stood to one side, allowing her to pass. For a moment as he’d looked at her the years had slipped away and he’d forgotten their parting, forgotten the pain she had so carelessly inflicted. Now he had remembered and he felt the bitterness sweep over him.
She was obviously content with her life and her marriage, and why should she not be? The diamond necklace she was wearing must have cost a king’s ransom. He was a damned fool even to think of her. She had made her own life and he must make his. Perhaps he should move on in his life, make a marriage of convenience, as Madeline had.
He walked about the terrace, smoking his cheroot and then threw it into the bushes. He would speak to Devenish, ask him to arrange that supper party soon. If the heiress were presentable and—more importantly—agreeable, he might as well take the easy way out and marry her.
* * *
Madeline entered the hot, overcrowded rooms and realised she could not bear it another moment. Her throat was tight with emotion and she felt close to tears. How unfortunate to bump into Hal like that! He had been much in her thoughts these past weeks, since Lethbridge had told her about Mark Ravenscar’s murder. She had longed to write to Hal and tell him how sad she was, but it would not have been permitted. Indeed, she dare not for fear of what her husband might think or do.
Lethbridge was unpredictable in his moods. When she pleased him, he would buy her a new jewel or a stylish gown such as the one she was wearing this evening, but he was often jealous and if she appeared to enjoy the company of a gentleman too much he would come to her room last thing at night and rage at her. Sometimes he would punish her.
When they first married, she had tried to be a good wife to him, welcoming him to their bed with a smile, but he was a cruel man and he had taken her without thought for her pleasure, subjecting her to things that shocked her innocence, as if she were a whore rather than an innocent girl. It was a long time since she had been able to smile at him or do anything but freeze when he touched her.
A little shudder went through her for her husband had been in an odd mood of late. Their relationship had been deteriorating for some time, because of their unfortunate situation. Lethbridge needed a son to succeed him, but Madeline doubted it would ever happen. Her husband blamed her, though what she could do about it when he’d ceased to visit her bed long since she did not know. When he did come to her it was to punish her rather than make love to her.
She blinked hard, blocking out the tears that threatened. She would not pity herself simply because she’d seen Hallam—been so close to him that she might have touched him, had she dared. Pain ravaged her, but she struggled to keep an appearance of calm. No one must be allowed to see her distress. Pride was all she had left. She did not ask for pity. Indeed, she would not allow it. She had married for the sake of her family and nothing had changed. Nothing could ever change while...
No, she would not think of that now. She had the beginnings of an unpleasant headache and all she wanted was to go home. In her own room she could give way to the tears that might bring some relief to her distress.
She stopped a passing footman and asked for her carriage to be brought round.
* * *
Only when she was being helped inside did she ask for her husband to be told that she had retired with a headache. The last thing she needed was to drag Lethbridge from his cards to accompany her home. He would be angry either way, but tonight she needed a little solitude.
Seeing Hallam so unexpectedly and at such close quarters had brought home her wretchedness. She must hope that Lethbridge would play late and be too tired or too drunk to bother with her when he returned. In the morning she would have recovered sufficiently to face him, but if he questioned her tonight she was not sure she could hide her despair.
* * *
Fortunately, Madeline’s husband had enjoyed a successful evening at the tables and had ignored the message that his wife had gone home because of a headache. Rising from the tables at three in the morning with his pockets filled with the guineas he’d won from his companions, he’d called for his carriage, which Madeline had had the forethought to send back for his convenience. Conveyed to his home in a mellow mood, he did not bother with visiting his wife’s room, but drank a glass of brandy after his valet had undressed him and went to bed to smile over the evening’s play and sleep through until late the next morning.
* * *
Madeline was up and dressed and about to go out when her husband entered her room in his dressing robe. He looked at her from narrowed eyes.
‘Is your headache better, madam?’
‘Yes, sir, I thank you,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for leaving early. It was shockingly bad and I did not wish to disturb you.’
‘Just as well for I could not have left the play,’ he said. ‘My luck was in and I won several hundred guineas.’
‘I am sure that is very pleasing, sir.’
‘It pleases me,’ Lethbridge said, a slightly sour twist to his mouth. ‘As you are aware, Madeline, I have little else to please me in my life.’
She lifted her head proudly, a nerve twitching at her temple despite all her determination to show no feeling of any kind. He was looking at her in such a way and she steeled herself for what must come next.
‘Madeline, must you always treat me so coldly? Is it unreasonable of me to want a child? I’ve given you so much.’
‘Forgive me, I cannot love you.’ She raised her head, cold and proud as a marble statue, and heard him suck in his breath.
She tensed as he moved towards her, her body suddenly rigid as he reached out to take her in his arms. An icy coldness swept through her and she stood perfectly still as he held her crushed against him, his mouth on hers. He tried to force her mouth open with his tongue, but she could not open to him. Every nerve in her body rejected him, even though she did not say or make any attempt to repel his caress as his hand moved over her breast. She could not prevent him touching her, but neither could she respond for he had killed her young eager warmth with his cruelty and his vile treatment of her body, making the most intimate of acts a bestial ordeal rather than a pleasure.
Lethbridge swore and flung away from her. ‘You do not refuse me, but you make it impossible for me. You are frigid, madam, an iceberg. Your father cheated me and so did you, for you told me you would obey me in all things.’
Madeline looked at him, seeing him from a distance. She had learned long ago to shut out his cruel words and to stop herself feeling anything. She could not help herself, for the first few weeks of their marriage when he’d claimed her as his bride had shocked and distressed her so much that the only way she could cope was to lie still and think of something else as he forced himself on her. Lethbridge called her cold and perhaps she was—but she really could not bear his touch unless she closed her mind to what was happening.
‘I am sorry. I cannot be what you want me to be. I would if I could, but it is impossible. Why will you not divorce me and take another wife who can give you all you want?’
‘Because I want you,’ he said, his mouth hard with anger. ‘I was deceived in you, Madeline. I thought you a warm lovely girl who would welcome me to her bed and give me an heir.’
‘Forgive me, I have tried...’
‘Oh, yes, you try. With that look of martyrdom on your face. It is enough to make any man shrivel. Damn you, madam! You have cheated me and I shall not stand for it.’
‘I have already asked you to let me go. What more can I do?’
‘You could act like a woman instead of a damned ice queen,’ he muttered. ‘Where were you sneaking out to when I came in?’
‘I have an appointment with my dressmaker.’
His eyes narrowed in fury. ‘Go and spend more of my money then, but remember there will be a reckoning one day. You will accompany me to dine with friends this evening—and I want no more excuses, no headaches. Do you understand me, madam? I want a child and I shall come to your bed tonight without fail. Be prepared to accept me.’
‘When have I refused?’ she asked, and as he flung away in disgust she took the opportunity to move towards the door. ‘I must not keep the horses standing, sir. Please excuse me, I shall see you this evening.’
Lethbridge was a bully when angry, though he’d been kind enough in his way at the beginning of their marriage. It was her fault, Madeline knew. Her fault that his attempts to be a man in her bed had begun to fail soon after their wedding. Her husband said it was her frigidity that had made him impotent and she believed him. Yet her dislike of being touched by him was so great that she could not bring herself to accept him with smiles or sweet words. She had tried, but as soon as he touched her intimately, she froze.
If only he would divorce her and take another wife.
If only she had never married him.
Bitter tears stung her eyes as she thought of what might have been. Seeing Hal the previous evening, remembering the sweetness of his kisses before she’d sent him away, had made her see her life for what it was—an empty shell. If only she could go back to that day...if only she could have been Hal’s wife...
* * *
Hal dressed with care that evening. Lord Devenish had arranged the supper party to which both Hal and Miss Helen Carstairs were invited together with perhaps fifty others. The introduction was to be casual, for as Devenish said, if too much were made of it and Hal did not care to continue it would be an insult to the young lady.
Hal would never wish to cause a young lady distress and he believed Miss Carstairs to be no more than eighteen; the daughter of a Cit who had ambitions, for his only child was no less deserving of respect than a lady of high degree.
Two weeks had passed since the ball and Hal had begun to recover from his brief meeting with Madeline. He’d been stunned by the change in her, amazed by her beauty and reminded of the pain she’d caused. But he had his feelings under control now and was giving serious consideration to the idea of marrying for convenience.
If Miss Carstairs were an agreeable girl and not a complete antidote, he would arrange to meet her again and discover if they were suited. And he would not compare her with Madeline.
* * *
Madeline sighed as she looked at the gown her husband had asked her to wear that evening. It was a pretty shade of green, fashionable and made of the finest silk, but once again the neckline was far too low for her taste. Given her own way, she would have worn a tulle fichu with the gown to cover herself for modesty, but if she did Lethbridge would more than likely tear it away. However, she would wear a stole and cover herself a little whenever she could.
They had been invited to a supper party at Lord Devenish’s house, an evening of cards and pleasant conversation with some music. There would be no dancing this evening, but that did not disappoint her for she was seldom permitted to dance, unless Lethbridge chose to bestow the privilege on one of his friends, which seldom gave her pleasure.
She wished that she might plead a headache and stay home, for she would have rather gone to bed with a book to read, but her husband would have been furious with her again. His recent visit to her bed had once again ended in failure and at the moment he was treating her with icy indifference.
She found herself thinking once again of the man she’d loved as a young girl. It had shocked her to see Hal the other night, but since then she had looked for him in vain. If she could just speak to him, see his beloved face...explain why she had been forced to marry Lethbridge...but it was all too late.
Tears caught in her throat. Of what use was it to think of a time when she’d been happy? She was married to a cruel man and nothing could change that, as she knew too well.
Lethbridge was waiting for her in the hall when she went down, glancing impatiently at the long-case clock in the hall, as if he thought she were deliberately making him wait.
‘Can you never be on time?’ he demanded. ‘I do not wish to be late, Madeline. Come along for it does not suit me to be caught in a queue of carriages.’
She sighed, but made no reply. Since this was a small supper party by the standards of high society they were unlikely to have to queue outside the house and would possibly be some of the first to arrive. Why he was so impatient she could not know for he normally preferred to arrive later in the evening.
However, she went silently ahead of him and out to the waiting carriage. It was, she supposed, unlikely that she would meet Hal this evening for it was a small affair and she was not even sure that he was still in town.
* * *
Miss Carstairs was a pretty fresh-faced young woman with a lively mind. Having been introduced to her by his host, Hal stayed to talk to her for a few minutes, asking her how she went on in town and whether she was enjoying herself.
‘I live in Hampstead, sir,’ she told him in an unaffected manner that did her great credit, ‘but if you mean am I enjoying this supper party the answer is I think so. I am not sure why I should have been invited for I am certain most of the company is above my touch, but Papa was keen to come. I believe he has business with Lord Devenish.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Hal said. He smiled, feeling relieved that her father had said nothing to his daughter of a possible match with one of the guests. She seemed a pleasant girl and he had taken a favourable opinion of her when he moved on to greet other guests.
Hal could not flatter himself that she had been more pleased to meet him than any of the other gentlemen present and for himself there was at the moment no more than a mild appreciation of her open manner. He would need to meet her several more times before he could even consider the idea of asking her to marry him.
Unsure of his feelings on the matter, he moved forwards into a large drawing room where several ladies were seated at a table. They had cards, wine and sweet biscuits before them, but seemed more interested in talking than in actually playing cards. The serious players, usually gentlemen, would be found in the card room where several tables would be set up for their convenience.
He was about to pass through when he heard laughter and, glancing towards the table, saw that Madeline was one of the ladies seated in the group. Her beauty was dazzling and his breath caught in his throat. She looked up and saw him and for a moment he thought he saw pleasure in her eyes, but in the next instant it had gone. She inclined her head to acknowledge him, but her expression remained calm, even withdrawn.
Hal walked on towards the card room. He felt a tumble of emotions inside, torn between dismissing Madeline and making himself known to Mr Henry Carstairs with a view to courting his daughter.
It was what he should do, what the wealthy merchant had hoped for when he brought his daughter to this supper party. Yet even as he told himself that the girl would make an excellent wife, he knew he could not do it.
Miss Carstairs did not deserve to be treated so ill. If he married her when his heart was still so affected by a look from Madeline’s green eyes, he would be doing her a disservice.
If he courted Miss Carstairs he might arouse feelings in her—feelings that might be crushed if he could not love her as he ought.
It had been a stupid notion. To marry for money was wrong and he would not subject any woman to that pain.
He must find another solution to his problems and he must forget Madeline. It was time he returned to the country.
* * *
Lethbridge rose from the card table after having lost heavily to the man sitting opposite him. Two weeks had passed since Lord Devenish’s ball, where he had won nearly a thousand guineas from Rochdale, but this evening he had lost more than three times as much. It was unlike him to lose, but the situation had been forced on him for Rochdale held the bank at faro and insisted on replacing the cards every hand, which made it impossible for them to be marked. He would have left the table before he became so badly dipped had the marquis not goaded him into remaining.
‘I believe I am in debt to you for several thousand pounds,’ Lethbridge said, trying to hide his anger, as much with himself for being a fool as the other man, for faro was not his game. ‘I shall have to beg your indulgence for a few days—say next week, when I shall have the funds to repay you.’
‘No hurry,’ Rochdale said and smiled in a way that annoyed Lethbridge. Accustomed to winning large sums himself, he did not care for being a substantial loser. ‘We may come to some other arrangement. But we should play again and you may recoup your losses.’
‘I do not play if I cannot pay.’ Lethbridge scowled at the thinly veiled insult. ‘I shall sell some bonds and pay you next Thursday—and certainly I am ready to play whenever you choose. It is not my habit to lose.’
‘No, I have noticed it,’ Rochdale said, an unpleasant smirk on his face. ‘Shall we meet again on Thursday next at the club and try our luck again?’
‘Delighted,’ Lethbridge said between his teeth. ‘But I prefer whist or piquet next time.’
‘Certainly, whichever you choose, Lethbridge.’
Walking away from him, the count balled his hands at his sides. Something pricked at him, something that made him suspect that the marquis knew the reason why Lethbridge normally won most evenings at the tables.
He couldn’t know for certain. Lethbridge was so careful. No one had ever questioned his luck, because he made a point of losing now and then. Most of the gentlemen he played with were half-foxed or too careless with the money they had so much of that they could afford to lose a few hundred guineas or even a thousand on occasion. He took care never to win huge pots, just enough to maintain his way of life—and he’d been forced to cheat because he himself had been cheated, not at the tables, but in a business venture that had failed, losing him some thirty thousand pounds. The ships he’d invested in had been unworthy and had sunk in heavy seas carrying a cargo that would have doubled his investment, but like a fool he had not raised insurance and that meant he’d lost all his money rather than just a part.
His family seat was intact for the moment, though it was heavily mortgaged, but he had expensive tastes—one of which was his wife. Her beauty pleased him and he liked to see her wearing valuable jewels and costly gowns...even though she was unresponsive to his advances. Why must she be so cold to him? He glowered at his thoughts for he honestly could not understand what he’d done, not realising that his habit of coming to bed the worse for drink, his coarse manners in the bedroom and his selfish way of taking what he wanted without considering her needs had turned her from a sweet gentle child into the cold woman whose icy stare could make him incapable of performing as a man ought.
With his mistress he indulged in all the base acts that pleased and aroused him, but with Madeline he could not manage to perform the simple act that might give him an heir.
Damn the woman! He was not certain why he put up with her. It would serve her right if he gave her the divorce she wanted. He could throw her out without a penny, for he’d never given her the settlement she’d been entitled to on marriage although it was hers by right, having been left to her by an uncle. Lethbridge suspected that if she had any way of supporting herself she would leave him and that would not suit him. He liked other men to envy him and he knew that Madeline was much admired. If he gave his wife her freedom, she would no doubt marry again, and quite possibly to a man even richer than he had been before a few unwise investments had made inroads into his fortune.
No, he would not let her go like that. He would force her to accept him. He would get an heir on her somehow.
* * *
Madeline walked into her bedchamber a week after the supper party at Lord Devenish’s house. They had attended one of the most prestigious balls of the Season, but she had danced only once with her husband, after which she had been forced to sit with the matrons and watch the young unmarried girls enjoying themselves while he repaired to the card room. She enjoyed the music and the conversation of her friends, but her feet tapped and she longed to dance. However, she had not dared accept the only offer she’d received, even though the gentleman was a friend of her husband’s. She would have suffered for it had she been reckless enough to dance without his permission.
And the only man she’d wished to dance with had not been there. She’d looked for him in the crowded room, but had not seen him.
‘I wish for a word with you, madam.’
Madeline breathed deeply as her husband followed her into the room. From the harsh expression on his face, she feared that she had displeased him yet again.
‘Is something wrong, my lord? Have I displeased you?’
‘Have you?’ he asked, eyes narrowed. He reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms, his fingers digging hard into her tender flesh. ‘You look guilty, Madeline. What have you done?’
‘Nothing.’ She lifted her head proudly. ‘I am tired, sir. I should like to be allowed to retire.’
‘And what of my wishes or needs?’ he demanded, his mouth thin and spiteful as he tightened his hold. ‘Will you never do your duty as a wife ought?’
‘Forgive me, Lethbridge. Have you forgot this is my monthly cycle?’
‘It is always some excuse with you—a headache or your feminine cycle. Is there someone else?’ He moved in closer, his face dark with suspicion. ‘Is that the reason you are so cold to me? If I discover you have betrayed me...’
‘How could I when you have me watched all the time? You know it is not so, sir.’
He pinched her arm. ‘I want a son, madam. You will give me one or I shall know what to do.’
‘I am at your disposal, sir. You may do with me as you wish.’
‘Damn you,’ he muttered and let her go so abruptly that she almost stumbled. ‘I came to remind you it is Adam Miller’s wedding next week. You will wear the blue gown I bought you—and I want no long faces in front of my friends, nor will I accept a headache as an excuse for not attending.’
‘Very well,’ Madeline said, lifting her head to look at him once more. ‘May I retire now, my lord? I am really very tired.’
‘Do as you please,’ he said. ‘You are a cold cat, Madeline. I shall spend the night with my mistress. She gave me a son...why can you not be as obliging?’
‘I only wish I might have a child,’ she said with such a ring of sincerity that his skin flushed a dark red, then he turned and left without another word.
Maddie rang for her maid, standing silently as she undressed her. She held her tears back until she was alone, but then, in the silence of the night, she wept.
Her life was so hopeless and the memory of Hal and what might have been served only to make her weep more.
* * *
Emerging from her milliner’s shop into a wet morning some days later, Madeline regretted having sent her coachman on an errand. She had intended to walk home, for it was but a few streets, and she had dispensed with the man’s services, preferring to enjoy a little fresh air. Now the rain had made it uncomfortable and she stood in the shelter of the doorway, looking hopefully at the sky. It looked to be easing off and, unless she called for a hackney, she had no choice but to walk home. She took little notice of the covered chaise that had just drawn up at the kerb.
About to walk past it, she halted as someone let down the window and looked out at her.
‘May I give you a lift home, Lady Lethbridge?’
‘Sir?’ Madeline stared at the gentleman in surprise. She was not on intimate terms with the Marquis of Rochdale and the idea of sharing a carriage with him was far from appealing. She knew little of him, but had been told that he was not a man to be trusted, though she was aware that her husband played cards with him. ‘I thank you for your thoughtfulness, my lord—but I am merely going in here.’
She turned into a small shop that sold gloves and laces and spent some minutes looking through them. The marquis drove off almost immediately and after a moment the rain had stopped enough for her to venture back outside.
The rain had almost stopped now and, by walking swiftly, she was home before it could fall again. She thought no more of the marquis’s invitation or of her refusal.
Chapter Two
‘You should not wear a sleeveless gown,’ Madeline’s maid said as she brought the pale-blue silk dress that morning. ‘It will show the bruises on your arm, my lady.’
‘It is the gown my husband purchased for me to wear at the wedding of his friend’s daughter. I have a new hat to wear with it, which is most becoming,’ Madeline replied. ‘You must powder the bruises on my upper arms and my breast, and I will wear a fichu of lace in the bodice of my gown and a stole to cover my arms. Perhaps no one will notice.’
‘Perhaps,’ Sally said and frowned. ‘Why does he do these things, my lady—and when he knows you will be seen in public?’
Madeline bit her lip, blinking back the tears that hovered. She’d steadfastly refused to weep when her husband punished her for not receiving his attentions with the enthusiasm he demanded of her. He’d called her a block of ice when he’d visited her bed the previous night and his hands had gripped her arms so hard as he shook her that his fingers left dark bruises. Sometimes he hit her in other places, but was usually careful to abuse a part of her body that was not on show when she was in company.
‘You are an unfeeling wretch,’ he’d shouted at her, when he’d come to her room. ‘Damn you! I’ve given you everything you could possibly desire: carriages and horses, jewels, clothes and a house in London. What more do you want?’
Madeline had not answered him at once, because what could she say? Her silence infuriated him and he’d shaken her. She had tried to apologise, but that only made him angrier. He blamed his failure in the marriage bed on her coldness, her icy indifference to his love making, and perhaps she was to blame, for a husband was entitled to some warmth from his wife. It was not that she ever struggled or refused, but she could not be the whore he desired.
‘I want nothing you can give me,’ she answered proudly. ‘If I am not satisfactory, I pray you divorce me. Give me my freedom and take another wife.’
‘And have the whole of society laughing at me?’ His eyes narrowed and he’d grabbed her by her arms, his fingers biting deep into her tender flesh. ‘You promised me a child and you’ll do your duty, madam, or I’ll beat you until you are black and blue.’ As yet he’d done little more than pinch Madeline and shake her or throw bitter words at her, but something told her that he meant this new threat and next time he punished her it would be severe.
‘I have not repulsed you,’ Madeline said, raising her head. ‘If you want more than I can give, I am sorry. I cannot give what I do not have—and I do not love you.’
‘Who is he?’ Count Lethbridge’s eyes narrowed in fury. He was a man of five and forty, not ill favoured though harsh of expression and tongue and of a violent temper. He shook her until she went limp like a rag doll and, when he let her go, she sank in a faint to the floor. ‘Your fainting will not save you, madam. I’ve paid for your services and even a whore would smile at me when I took her.’
Coming to herself, Madeline looked up at him. ‘I have not betrayed my vows despite your unkindness to me. I do not see what more I can do to please you, sir.’
‘The reckoning is coming, madam. I shall have you even if I force you. Your coldness will not deny me next time.’
Madeline had not answered him. Sometimes she wished that he might take what he needed from her, by force if necessary. In truth, a child might have helped to fill the emptiness inside her, but though he might bluster and threaten, she knew that when he came to her again it would be useless. She would lie unresisting, her eyes closed, but after some fumbling he would curse, angry at his failure, and then start to pinch and abuse her.
If only she could bear him a son and be allowed to retire to the country, leaving him to his mistresses and the life he enjoyed in London, but until that happened he would keep her here and she must bear his unkindness.
Her only defence was to face him proudly. He had done little more than bruise her, but she knew that he no longer felt tenderness towards her and had regretted his bargain. He feared being ridiculed and would not divorce her or let her live alone, which meant there was only one way he could be free of her.
Only her death would set them both free.
Lethbridge was a brute, but she did not think him a murderer. Perhaps he hoped that she would become so unhappy that she would save him the bother and take her own life? Perhaps it would be the best way for both of them.
Madeline held back her tears. She would make herself think of something else...of the look in Hal’s eyes when he’d seen her. Just for a moment she’d thought he smiled before turning away...
‘You look so beautiful, my lady,’ Sally said, recalling her thoughts to the present. Then, touching Madeline’s arm gently, ‘Why do you not run away? Leave him and return to your family?’
‘My father would send me back,’ Madeline said sadly. ‘I am his wife and in law he could force me to return. My father would suffer if he defied him for my sake.’
Nothing had changed since their marriage. The count had not returned her father’s notes as he’d promised when she married him, but simply kept them as a threat to use against her. Her father could not offer her a refuge because if he did Lethbridge would ruin him.
Tears caught in Madeline’s throat as she allowed her maid to place the confection of lace and ribbons on her head. A glance in the mirror showed her perfectly arranged red-gold hair that hung in one long ringlet over her shoulder. Magnificent pearls hung from her lobes and she had one string of large creamy pearls about her white throat, which were fastened with a diamond clasp. On her right hand she had a ring of diamonds and emeralds and a large splendid teardrop diamond adorned the third finger of her left hand, together with the thin band of gold that marked her servitude as a wife.
For a moment she was tempted to tear off all her jewels, refuse to accompany Lethbridge to the wedding and run away. If only there were some way that she could simply disappear and never be forced to return to her unkind husband.
Giving her head a little shake, she dismissed the idea. She must honour her bargain or her father would be punished in her stead. She painted a look of cool pride on her face, for she would never allow her husband to see that she was distressed.
She was going to a wedding and she must be gay and bright so that everyone would tell Lethbridge how fortunate he was to have such a beautiful wife and then perhaps he might forget his threat to punish her.
If only she’d run away with Hal the day he’d asked her...but her loyalty to her father had prevented her from seeking happiness then, just as it did now.
Yet only her memories of Hal sustained her when her life seemed too terrible to bear.
* * *
Standing up with Adam in church, as his best man, was a pleasure and helped to dispel the dark clouds that had hung over Hal since the murder of his cousin Mark. He, Mark, Paul and Adam had come through the war with Napoleon’s France together, only for his eldest cousin Mark to be shot down in cold blood by a rogue at his own home. Between them, Adam, Paul and Hallam had caught and punished Mark’s murderer, but it had left a shadow on their lives.
Adam’s wedding was the time for them to put the sadness of the recent past behind them. Lord Ravenscar had wanted it to happen, because he said it was what Mark would have wanted.
‘My son would not wish us to mourn him for month after month, even if we do so in our hearts,’ he’d told Adam when he offered to postpone the wedding until a year had passed. ‘You must marry, Adam. Miss Jenny Hastings is a beautiful young lady and I shall be glad if you will bring her to stay with me sometimes.’
Adam had promised he would when they returned from their honeymoon. After a stay in Scotland, they were to return to Ravenscar for a time before taking a long journey to France and then on to Italy, where Paul had gone in an effort to forget the pain and grief his brother’s death had caused him. Hallam suspected that there was more to Paul’s extreme distress...a little matter of being in love with Lucy Dawlish, the girl who had been expected to marry Mark Ravenscar.
Women could be the very devil, Hallam thought, his thoughts drifting away from the ceremony after he’d done his part and supplied the rings. He watched his cousin and Jenny approach the high altar for the private blessing they would share with the vicar before going off to sign their names. His mouth hardened, as he thought of the woman that he’d been so much in love with some four years previously. Maddie had married her count, and he’d seen how well she’d settled into her new life at Devenish’s ball. How beautiful she’d looked that evening, pale and lovely like a marble statue. The young vibrant girl he had known was nowhere to be seen.
The thought caught at his throat, restricting his breathing and causing him pain somewhere in the region of his heart. What a fool he was to care what Maddie might or might not be doing! Hallam had done his best to forget her in the arms of a mistress, but after the first flush of anger had passed, he had parted company from the very obliging married lady. He believed she was now enjoying a similar arrangement with another officer. Her husband had his heirs and was apparently content to allow his wife her pleasures providing she did not interfere with his; he’d married her for the fortune she brought him.
Hallam’s mouth curled at the notion of such an arrangement, though he knew that several of his friends had married either for money or land and were seemingly content in similar marriages. It would not do for Hallam. He would not have taken up with the obliging Lady Meadows had she not made it clear she was interested in an arrangement. In truth, it had brought him only physical relief, for his heart belonged to one woman—a woman he could never have.
What had Madeline done to him that he could not be interested in any other woman? Bitterness swept through him, because he wanted neither a marriage of convenience nor the caresses of a mistress. Even in the lady’s bed, he’d known a sick longing for the woman he could never have.
His frown increased as he watched Adam and Jenny walk arm in arm from the church, the happy smiles on their faces telling of their pleasure in each other. Why could he not find a woman to love so completely that she swept the memory of Madeline from his mind? Miss Carstairs would make someone a delightful wife, but not him. He was a man haunted by the past, unable to forget the torment that had begun when Madeline broke his heart.
Could a man ever put the past behind him so completely that his heart was no longer shadowed by an old love? For him it seemed impossible. He gave himself a mental shake.
He must forget his own problems. Hallam had duties as Adam’s groomsman and he pushed the worrying thoughts away, smiling as he looked about him at the guests. He must make certain that everyone had a carriage to convey them to the house, where the reception was being held.
As they left church, Adam and Jenny were showered with rose petals and rice, the guests laughing and cheering as the happy couple ran for their carriage. Hallam stood outside the church, greeting people and overseeing the carriages as they lined up to collect their passengers. Suddenly, his breath caught as he saw a woman in a pale-blue silk gown. She wore a lace fichu at her throat and carried a fine, lacy wool stole over her arms, a long ringlet of fair hair resting on one shoulder.
Obviously the wife of a rich man, her clothes and jewels of the finest money could buy, Maddie looked beautiful but cold. A proud beauty, heartless and carved of ice. Hallam’s heart felt as if someone had thrust a dagger into it.
She had noticed him. He saw her green eyes gleam suddenly and for one moment she seemed to come to life, the colour washing into her cheeks, but in the next she had turned to the man next to her and they moved away to their carriage. He watched as she was assisted inside the splendid equipage, but she did not turn her head to glance at him, though he knew that she had seen him.
She had deliberately drawn her husband away so that she did not need to acknowledge him. Hallam felt the knife twist inside him. Had she become indifferent to him? He’d thought not when they met at the ball, but now he was unsure. She had deliberately avoided speaking to him at the supper party. He was the fool for carrying a torch—a memory that was sacred to him was less than nothing to her. She probably found it amusing.
Recalling himself to the task of making sure the guests were all on their way to the house, Hallam finally settled into the last carriage with some of the other ushers. He had by this time steeled himself for the inevitable meeting with Madeline. She would be at the reception and he would find a way of speaking to her. He wanted to know that she was well and happy and then he would forget her.
Yes, he truly would, he vowed. If Madeline told him that she was content in her life, he would make up his mind to find a good-humoured lady who would be happy with a home and children—perhaps a widow who had memories of her own and would not expect love. If he could put the past behind him, then he would be content with a comfortable arrangement—perhaps even the lady he’d enjoyed a relationship with in Spain, though he believed her to have another lover now.
* * *
Hallam was here! Madeline had felt such a rush of emotion as she saw him that she had known she could not—dare not—meet him in her husband’s company. Lethbridge had demanded to know the name of the lover he imagined she had—and if she betrayed a sign of her feelings for Hallam Ravenscar, he would immediately believe that it was he.
Oh, how she wished that it were true. Madeline would give much to be in Hallam’s arms, to be kissed and caressed with tenderness. She recalled the sweet meetings beneath the apple tree that summer when she’d first fallen in love with the handsome young man. He had been home on a visit to his uncle and swept her up in a whirlwind of romance, vowing that he would return as soon as he could to ask her father for her hand in marriage. She’d believed that everything would be wonderful when he had leave from his regiment and that she would spend her life travelling with him wherever he was sent—but then his father had lost so much money gambling, as had her own. By the time he’d been given leave again, everything had changed.
No, she must not think of all she had lost. She must control her feelings and be careful to show nothing if they were forced to speak with Hallam at the reception.
* * *
By the time they arrived at the house and joined the line waiting to greet the bride and groom, Madeline was much calmer. She was able to bestow a warm smile on the bride and groom and wish them happiness and was in turn thanked for the beautiful gifts they had received. As Lethbridge had neglected to tell her what he’d considered fitting for the daughter of his old friend, she had no idea what those gifts were, but murmured something appropriate.
Moving away from the happy couple, Madeline was offered a glass of champagne, which she accepted and sipped delicately. It was very good and she could see that a wonderful buffet was awaiting the guests, with all kinds of delicious foods. She had little appetite, but would make an effort to eat something later.
The guests were mingling as the queue gradually wound to an end, and Madeline’s smile felt frozen on her lips as she saw Hallam enter the hall. Now people were beginning to approach the buffet and select their preferences.
‘Go ahead and join your friends, Madeline,’ Lethbridge said. ‘I wish to speak with someone on a matter of business.’
He always had another reason for attending any social event. Madeline moved away; she was relieved to be dismissed from her duty. There were a few people she knew well socially, but no one she would call a particular friend. However, she had met Lucy Dawlish once or twice during a stay at Bath and went to stand beside her, glancing at the loaded table.
‘How nice to see you,’ Lucy said and smiled at her. ‘Jenny looks beautiful, does she not?’
‘Yes, lovely,’ Madeline said. ‘I believe you are particular friends?’
‘Yes, we are,’ Lucy said. ‘Jenny has been exceptionally good to me and I shall miss her, though Mama says we shall travel abroad next month.’
‘How pleasant to spend the winter away in warmer climes,’ Madeline said, a little sigh leaving her. ‘Such an array of wonderful food—how does one choose?’
‘I think the crab tartlets look delicious,’ Lucy said, ‘and I always love a syllabub, do you not, Lady Lethbridge?’
‘Oh please, call me Madeline. Yes, I am partial to a syllabub but I suppose one ought to eat something savoury first. Perhaps I will try a tartlet, though the prawn, not the crab, I think...’
‘May I help you to choose, Lady Lethbridge?’ A man’s voice made Madeline’s heart jerk and she turned her head sharply to look at Hallam, as Lucy Dawlish moved further down the table.
‘Thank you, but I think I prefer to help myself.’ She moved away from Hallam, but he followed her, looking puzzled. Madeline felt compelled to explain. ‘Please...my husband watches everything I do. You must not pay me any attention.’
‘How ridiculous,’ Hallam said, frowning. ‘What harm can there be in a few words exchanged at a wedding?’
‘Please, leave me,’ Madeline said. ‘I beg you, do not continue with this...’
She moved away, putting tasty morsels on her plate without seeing what she was choosing. Hallam did not follow her and she found a place at a table with several other ladies, who were laughing and eating, clearly enjoying themselves. Madeline bit into a tart, but found it difficult to swallow the soft flaky pastry, which at any other time would have been delightful. What little appetite she’d had had quite vanished.
She sat silently, listening to the conversation flow around her, and sipping her wine now and then when the toasts were made, but her throat was tight with misery and her smile felt frozen. When Hallam called everyone to attention and began his speech as the groom’s best man, she could no longer bear it and excused herself, saying that she needed a little air, then got up and walked from the room.
She was aware that her progress was remarked and knew it was rude of her to leave during Hallam’s speech, but could not bear to stay another moment, for if she did not escape she would weep. She left the house through a side door and went out into the garden. She needed to be alone for a time, because she was so desperately unhappy. Seeing Hallam, speaking to him, had brought home her misery and she had rebuffed him more out of fear of giving into her tears than for fear of her husband. After all, what more could he do to her?
Walking swiftly, Madeline sought out a secret arbour amongst the roses and sat down, staring unseeingly at the beauty all around her. Her eyes filled with tears, which began to spill over as she realised how very much she had lost. She ought to have been braver, to have stood up to her father’s blandishments, and refused to marry the count. Yet if she had chosen happiness for herself, her family must have faced ruin. It was all too late. Regrets would not help her now.
She bowed her head, covering her face with her hands. How Hallam must hate her now—and she loved him still.
* * *
Hallam was feeling angry. He had meant to offer Madeline the courtesy any gentleman would offer a lady and she had rebuffed him in the coldest manner—and then she had left the room while he was making his speech. Had she meant to be deliberately rude? Yet she’d seemed agitated, even frightened. What had she said about her husband watching her every move?
Did Lethbridge mistreat his wife? Anger curled inside Hallam at the thought and he balled his fists at his sides. There was little he could do for the moment, because he did not wish to cause a scandal at his cousin’s wedding, but if he knew Maddie was being bullied or actually harmed he would kill Lethbridge with his bare hands!
Hearing the count laugh at something a rather grand lady was saying to him, Hallam knew that he could not bear to be in the same room with him. He must go out for a breath of air or he might explode. His hands itched to land a facer on the vile fellow and he turned away, walking swiftly from the room and out into the gardens.
He had been wandering for some minutes, his mind seething with anger and bitterness as he tried to come to terms with the tormented feelings inside him, when he heard the sound of a woman crying. Following the sound, he saw her sitting alone in a secluded rose arbour and his heart caught with pain.
‘Maddie,’ he said and walked swiftly to her side. ‘Please, you must tell me what is wrong. Does that devil hurt you? I swear I’ll kill him if he has harmed you.’
Madeline had risen to her feet at his approach. She looked about her anxiously, as if fearing that someone might see them. Her gloved hands held before her, she moved them restlessly, clearly in distress.
‘Hal, you should not have come,’ she said on a sob. ‘I know you mean to help me, but if he should see you he will think the worst. I...I cannot explain, but he imagines I have a lover and has demanded the man’s name. If he thought...’ Hallam reached out for her restless hands, catching them in his. ‘Oh, you must not...’ Her voice broke and a tear slid down her pale cheek.
‘Tell me, does he beat you?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said quickly, but in her agitation her stole had slipped and he saw the dark bruises on her upper arms. He exclaimed wrathfully and touched one gently with his finger, his mouth hardening as she flinched. ‘He did not beat me. He...pinches me when he is...frustrated.’
‘The evil brute!’ Hallam bent his head to kiss the bruise. ‘My sweet Maddie. I shall call him out and kill him.’
‘You must not,’ she said, her eyes wide with fear. ‘They would arrest you—and you might be tried for murder, even if he did not kill you first.’
‘Then I will force him to call me out,’ Hallam said. ‘Or you may run away with me, Maddie. You cannot wish to stay with such a brute?’
‘I never wanted to wed him,’ she confessed. ‘He holds my father’s notes and if I tried to leave him he would ruin my family. I cannot bring shame on my mother and sister. My father would bear it, but my family...where would they live? How would my sister ever find a suitor?’
‘It is unfair that you should sacrifice everything for them,’ Hallam said, staring at her in despair. ‘So you had no choice—you sent me away for their sakes? You do love me, Maddie. I know you do.’
‘No, you must not think it. You must forget me,’ she whispered, throat catching with emotion. ‘I am desperately unhappy, Hal, but I am caught fast in a trap and I cannot escape.’
He moved closer, looking down at her for a moment before he bent his head to kiss her lips. They parted beneath his and for a moment she allowed his kiss, but then, as his hand slid into the hair at her nape, she froze and moved away, turning her back to him as her shoulders shook.
‘I cannot...please, do not waste your life loving me. I can never be the wife you deserve.’ A sob broke from her then, ‘I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me, Hal. I was forced to wed him and I cannot leave him no matter how I feel...’
‘I shall find a way to set you free of him somehow,’ Hallam said. He was reaching out to touch her cheek, but she flinched away when they heard someone call her name and the colour left her face.
‘I must go,’ she said and tears stood in her eyes. ‘Please forget me, forget what I just said. You cannot help me. Lethbridge would ruin my family and kill you. Honour demands that I keep the vows I made when I married. I beg you, forget me.’
Hallam tried to hold her, but she slipped away and walked from the rose arbour into the open garden. He heard the sound of voices and knew that she was speaking to her husband. The count’s voice was harsh and it took all Hallam’s will-power to stop himself from rushing out to confront him, but Maddie had begged him not to and he could not make a scene here.
He must seek Lethbridge out another day and see what could be done to help Maddie. If she would go with him, he would take her away to France or Italy. He had little fortune and she had none, but he would find a way of supporting them both somehow. His estate might be sold and perhaps he could become a soldier of fortune, offering his sword to any that would pay.
Yet she’d spoken of honour and her family’s ruin. It was foolish of her to think of honour when her husband was so cruel to her, but her family’s ruin was another matter. He could do little for them and he knew that she would never walk away from her unhappy marriage if it meant their downfall.
The only way was to force a quarrel on Lethbridge. If the count would call him out it would be an affair of honour, and though he might be brought before the magistrate and even imprisoned for a time, he would not hang for it. He thought that he would bear even that if necessary to free Maddie from what must be a living hell for her.
If the count would not call him out, he must be the one to do it and would probably have to flee to France until the storm blew over. His mind busy with his thoughts of revenge on the evil count, Hallam waited until he was sure he would not be seen leaving the rose arbour before returning to the reception. He did not wish Maddie to be punished for meeting him, for if her husband had seen them together he must have thought the worst.
Taking great care not to follow too close on the count and Madeline, he did not notice the servant lingering in the shrubbery, watching.
His mind with Madeline, Hallam could only pray that Lethbridge would not harm her again. Somehow, he must find a way to set her free. He would not think of his own future or the happiness he hoped to gain one day, but only of Maddie.
As a widow she would be safe and perhaps one day she would allow him to take care of her.
* * *
‘Who were you talking to?’ Lethbridge demanded, as he took his wife by the arm, pushing her in the direction of the courtyard where his coach was awaiting them. ‘I told you what I would do to you if you saw your lover again—and I shall thrash him.’
‘There is no one else,’ Maddie said, lifting her head defiantly. ‘You are foolish to be jealous, sir. I do not have a lover.’
‘Lying bitch,’ he muttered as he thrust her towards the coach. ‘Get inside. I’ll teach you to behave when I get you home.’
‘May I not say farewell to my friends?’
‘You chose to leave the reception and I am ready to leave,’ he said looking at her coldly. ‘I have made your goodbyes. I was forced to say you were feeling unwell.’
‘You did not lie, sir. It was because I had a terrible headache that I left the reception. I swear to you on my mama’s life that I did not go to meet anyone.’
Lethbridge glared at her. ‘You swear that you did not meet a lover, madam?’
‘I swear it,’ she said, but could not look at him.
He grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him. ‘Swear it on your mother’s life or I shall thrash you when we get home.’
Madeline felt a surge of anger. Lifting her head, she looked him in the eyes. ‘I swear in on my own life, my mother’s—and anyone else’s you care to name. I did not meet my lover for I have no lover.’
Lethbridge stared at her for a moment, then inclined his head. ‘Very well, I shall accept your word—but if I discover you have lied to me you will be very sorry, madam.’
Madeline turned her face from him, the tears stinging her eyes, but she refused to weep or beg. He was a brute and she hated him. He had made her life intolerable and she would almost rather be dead than married to him. Yet if she took her own life, he would seek revenge from her family.
Her throat was tight with tears, for she could discover no way of escape. All she could do was to try to block out her unhappiness...and perhaps to allow her thoughts to drift back to the time when Hallam had made love to her so sweetly beneath the apple tree.
Yet even that memory was ruined for when Hallam kissed her, she’d known that something inside her had flinched away. How could it be that she could not welcome Hallam’s kisses when they had always been so sweet to her? Had her husband’s cruelty made it impossible for her to accept even the touch of the man she loved?
If that were the case, there was no help for her.
Chapter Three
Hallam looked at the invitation tucked into the gilt-framed mirror in the front parlour of his lodgings. He’d taken a small house in town for a time, though he was not certain what had made him decide to come up—but a chance remark from one of his friends had told him that Lethbridge and Madeline were in London for a few weeks. The invitation was to a prestigious ball and he was almost certain that Madeline and her husband would be there. Somehow, he must find a way to talk to her. Since speaking to her in the garden of Lord Ravenscar’s home, he had not been able to rest for thinking of her unhappiness.
Try as he might, Hallam had been unable to discover a solution to their problem. If it were not for her father’s debts to Lethbridge, he would have carried Maddie off with him, but he knew that she would not snatch at happiness for herself while condemning her family to ruin. Had Hallam the money, he would have paid her father’s debts, but he could not pay those his own father had left, without disposing of most of his estate. It seemed that the count had them in a cleft stick and there was no escape—but there must be! Lethbridge must have a chink in his armour. Hallam would just have to discover what it was and plan his strategy accordingly. If there were no other way, he must kill him. Yet he would prefer to get his hands on the notes Sir Matthew Morris had lost to the count and then force him to let Maddie go.
Hallam had never taken life in cold blood, and it would be his last resort, but if it was the only way...
Lethbridge was a gambler. It was possible that Hallam might contrive to win the notes from him. But would he part with them? Perhaps only if he were entirely ruined.
Somehow Hallam did not think it likely the count would gamble away his whole fortune just to please him. Yet gambling was the way to get close to him, he was sure. If Lethbridge should be at the ball, he would most likely spend much of his time in the card room. Hallam decided that he would attend. If he were fortunate, he would be able to speak to Maddie or perhaps, make an arrangement to meet in private...and if he could find the count at the tables he would find a way of making his acquaintance.
Yes, he would go to the ball that evening and discover what he could of the man who was causing Maddie so much unhappiness.
* * *
‘You look lovely, my lady,’ Sally said as she finished pinning Madeline’s fair hair into a knot of curls high on her head. One ringlet fell on to her shoulder and she wore a collar of magnificent diamonds about her throat, together with huge teardrop earbobs. Her gown was white, the bodice encrusted with tiny sparkling diamanté, which sprayed out like a stem of flowers over the skirt. Her shoes were white satin and the heels were also studded with crystals that caught the light whenever her skirt moved to reveal them.
‘You have done well,’ Madeline said and smiled at her. Sally had applied the merest touch of rouge to her cheeks after powdering her face and neck. Her bruises had faded since the wedding, because for some reason known better to himself, her husband had not come near her for the past ten days. ‘Thank you, Sally. I do not know what I should do without you.’
‘You know I would do anything for you, my lady.’ Sally would have said more, but at that moment the door from the count’s dressing room was thrown open and he entered his wife’s bedchamber. Madeline stood up and turned to face him. Inside, she was trembling, but she gave no outward sign of the fear and revulsion he aroused.
‘You look beautiful, madam,’ Lethbridge said. ‘That gown was worth its price. I am pleased you have made an effort, for I wish you to do something for me this evening.’
‘You may go, Sally.’ Madeline dismissed her maid and then looked at her husband. ‘How may I be of service, sir?’
‘I wish you to charm someone—a gentleman, a marquis. He is necessary to a scheme I have in mind. It will be of some considerable financial benefit to me if you can twist him around your little finger. I intend to ask him to dine here, but he has been evasive. If you smile on him, he will be eager to visit us.’
‘Are you asking me to encourage this gentleman to pay me compliments, to dangle after me?’ She was incredulous, for he had always been angry if she spoke more than a few words to another man.
‘To put it crudely, madam, I want you to make him mad with lust for you—if you can manage it? I find you too cold, but some men love a challenge and I’ve been told Rochdale cannot resist a woman who is not easily won.’
‘And if he should ask me to dance, or to walk outside in the air?’ She was trembling with indignation that he should ask such a thing of her but managed to hold her disgust inside.
‘Anything within reason. You will not allow him to bed you, Madeline, but if he imagines you might so much the better.’
‘I find your suggestion insulting, sir.’
‘Indeed?’ Lethbridge moved closer, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘You know how to smile and charm, Madeline. You deceived me into believing you warm and loving before we were wed. Now I ask you to do the same to the marquis.’
Anger raged inside her as she said impulsively, ‘And if I do—what will you give me?’
His mouth tightened. ‘Do I not already give you sufficient, madam?’
‘I want nothing for myself, but I would have my father’s notes. You promised them when we married, but you reneged on your bargain. I ask for no more than my rights. My father lives in fear of you. Give me the notes and I shall do as you ask.’
He glared at her, reached for her wrist as if he would subdue her, then changed his mind. ‘Very well. Charm Rochdale into accepting an invitation to dine at our house and I will give you the notes.’
‘I do not trust you. Give them to me now and I swear I will do as you ask.’
‘You deserve that I should teach you a lesson,’ he threatened. ‘However, I need you to look at your best this evening. I will give you some of the notes now and the rest when you have finished your work.’
Madeline held out her hand. ‘Give me my father’s notes and I shall make every effort to charm this man for you.’
Lethbridge swore under his breath and went into the dressing room and through to his own chamber. Madeline could hardly believe that she had won and held her breath until he returned. He was carrying a bundle of notes, which he thrust at her.
Madeline glanced through them. Her father’s signature was scrawled on a dozen notes of sums from five hundred guineas to two thousand. Her fingers closed over them and she felt a thrill of triumph.
‘Is this all of them?’
‘Most,’ he said, clearly furious, but with a look in his eyes that told her he was lying. He held many more notes, she was certain, but she had recovered at least a part of her father’s debt. ‘You will get the rest when you’ve done as I wish.’
‘Thank you. You will not be angry if you see me dancing this evening, sir? I must make this gentleman a little jealous if you wish him to fall in love with me.’
‘Do whatever you need to bring him into my house and I shall do the rest.’
‘Very well,’ Madeline said, raising her head proudly. She had no idea why her husband was so eager to have the marquis dine with them, but she would find it a small price to pay if she could free her father from the shadow that had hung over him for so long. ‘Just one moment...’ She walked to the fireplace and cast the notes into the fire, watching with a smile as the flames consumed them. Had she left them in her drawer her husband might recover them by force or stealth. ‘I am ready now.’
Walking from the bedchamber with her husband close behind her, Madeline’s thoughts were racing. If she could but obtain the remainder of her father’s notes, she would be free. Money and jewels meant little to her. If her family were safe, she would leave her husband and go away somewhere quiet. She was not sure how she would live, but perhaps she could earn her living with her sewing needle.
* * *
Hallam saw Madeline almost as soon as he entered the ballroom. She was the centre of a small group of gentlemen, laughing as if she had not a care in the world. A picture of loveliness in white silk and lace embroidered with beads that sparkled like diamonds, she was magnificent, so far removed from the pale shadow of the girl he loved that he’d seen at Adam’s wedding that he could scarce believe his eyes. She’d wept and told him that she feared her husband’s jealousy if he saw her speaking to Hallam and yet now she was flirting with the men that clustered about her. Had she deceived him to the true nature of her life?
Just what kind of a woman was she—and could he trust anything she said?
He stood for several minutes just watching her laughing and teasing one of the men in particular—by his elaborate clothes and exquisite laces, he was a wealthy nobleman. Hallam had never met the gentleman, but his jewels flashed in the light of the candelabra and his clothes were fashioned by the best tailors, though in Hallam’s eyes his cravat was too high, his collars too wide for taste. He was one of the dandy set. Hallam’s lips curled in disgust as he saw the man carried a fan and, still worse, wore rouge on his cheeks—a fashion that had long since been discarded by most men in England. He was a man of middle years, thin with a cruel mouth, and he wore a powdered wig. Another fashion Hallam scorned as being foppish.
He preferred the clean, plain look that Mr Brummell had brought into fashion before he’d fallen so deep into debt and been forced to flee abroad, leaving an unpaid gambling debt—something no gentleman would ever do unless forced. Society had turned against Brummell, though Alvanly and some others were known to speak of him kindly and to send him money in his exile in France.
Why was Madeline looking up at that fop in such a coquettish manner? He had never seen her flirt with anyone so outrageously. As a girl she’d had shy pretty manners that had touched his heart, but now...he hardly knew her. If her husband were truly the brute she’d described to him, how dare she behave so recklessly?
A glance around the ballroom told Hallam that Lethbridge was not in the room to witness his wife flirting with the fop. Frowning, Hallam watched as she gave her hand to one of the other gentlemen and was whisked off to the dance floor. Her ardent suitor seemed annoyed—or perhaps frustrated. He had the look of a hunter intent on cornering his prey.
‘How are you, Ravenscar?’ The voice at his elbow distracted Hallam. He turned to look at the gentleman, a fellow officer who had seen service in France with him. ‘She is a beauty, isn’t she? But off limits unless you wish Lethbridge to call you out. I’ve heard he is like a dog with a bone over his wife as a rule.’
‘Good to see you, Mainwaring. Who is the wealthy fop?’ Hallam nodded in the direction of the frustrated suitor. ‘He looks dangerous.’
‘Yes, I dare say he might be. I’ve heard he is a crack shot and even more deadly with the sword. He was in France with us, though a line regiment, has some French relations, I understand. Rich, they say...some whisper he absconded with jewels, objets d’art and pictures that belonged to Napoleon in the last days of his reign. They also say his relations worked for the secret police in the time of the Terror and became rich by robbing the wretches condemned to be guillotined. Marquis of Rochdale...the third of his line, I believe.’
‘A pretty fellow, by all accounts, and old enough to be the countess’s father.’
‘Perhaps she likes them that way. Lethbridge must be twelve years her senior.’
‘She married to save her family from ruin,’ Hallam replied, stung to defend Madeline, even though he felt annoyed with her for flirting so openly—and for spinning him that tale at the wedding.
Yet she had been crying when he discovered her in the rose arbour. Something was wrong, but he could not decide what to believe.
Moving on, Hallam greeted friends and danced with a couple of ladies—wives of his particular friends—and his hostess, but most of the first part of the evening he spent watching Maddie. She danced several times, twice with the Marquis of Rochdale. He began to notice that she behaved far more demurely with her other partners, actually seeming a little reserved, but let down her guard whenever she was speaking with the marquis.
What on earth did she think she was doing? Did she not realise that to flirt so dashingly with a man like that was to play with fire? Unless, of course, she wished him to think her available. The girl he remembered would not be so fast or so foolish.
It came to Hallam in a blinding flash. She was deliberately leading Rochdale on! What on earth had got into her? Did she not know that Rochdale was dangerous? The marquis was not a man to be trifled with—surely she must sense that she was in danger of being seduced by the man?
* * *
At the supper interval he saw her seated at a table with two other ladies and a little cluster of gentlemen. He’d hoped that perhaps he might have an opportunity of speaking with her, but the men vied with each other to fetch her drinks and delicate trifles and she was never alone.
Annoyed and frustrated, he decided to take a walk in the gardens and smoke a cheroot. He’d come to the ball to speak to Madeline before deciding on a course of action, but now it seemed that perhaps she did not need rescuing from her husband. Perhaps her tears had been the result of a quarrel and meant little.
He was wasting his time here, he decided. Having finished his small cigar, he threw the butt into the flowerbeds. Walking towards the house, he had made up his mind to take his leave of his hostess when he heard a cry from behind one of the shrubs.
‘No, sir! I did not give you leave to molest me—’
‘You have been leading me on all evening, madame. Am I to understand that you did so without the intention of responding to my ardour?’
‘You go too fast, sir,’ the voice Hallam knew as Maddie’s replied. ‘A little flirtation does not mean—’ There was a little cry of alarm and the sound of a struggle. ‘No, no!’
Striding towards the scene, Hallam saw the marquis trying to force Maddie to lie back on a bench in a small summerhouse at the far edge of the lawns. His intention was all too obvious; he was bent on having his way with her. She might have brought it on herself by flirting so outrageously, but Hallam could see that she was trying to throw the fellow off and he strode towards them, grabbing the marquis by his coat collar and hauling him off her.
‘How dare you?’ the marquis spluttered as he was bodily flung away and landed on his knees. As he rose, the grass stain on his satin knee breeches was evident. ‘You will meet me for this, sir.’
‘Willingly, sir, but then all London will know that you are a damned rogue. No gentleman would try to force a lady when she says no.’
‘She was willing enough earlier,’ the marquis snapped. ‘She has been inviting me to seduce her all evening.’
‘Flirting is one thing—forceful seduction is another,’ Hallam said. ‘Will you choose swords or pistols?’
‘Neither,’ the marquis said, dusting himself off. ‘I have decided that the whore is not worth the effort. I bid you goodnight, sir.’
‘You will not so insult a lady—’ Hallam bristled, but Maddie tugged at his sleeve.
‘Let him go, Hallam. It would only cause a scandal—and it was my fault. I flirted with him and allowed him to bring me out for some air. I should have known what he would expect.’
‘Why did you do it?’ he demanded, his own anger coming to the fore now the marquis was dismissed.
‘Lethbridge promised to give me my father’s notes if I intrigued the marquis sufficiently to get him to accept a dinner invitation.’
‘Your husband told you to flirt with him?’ Hallam looked at her in disbelief. ‘Does he not know of the man’s reputation? He is a dangerous rake, Maddie.’
‘Yes, someone warned me earlier, but what could I do?’ Madeline’s hand trembled she put it to her mouth. ‘Lethbridge will not be pleased with me. I made him give me some of the notes and then I burned them—now I have failed him. Rochdale will never accept that invitation now.’
‘If you fear your husband, come away with me now,’ Hallam said. ‘I will hide you from him and find a way to make him release you from the promise you were forced to give.’
‘If only I could,’ she said and her eyelashes were wet with tears. ‘I feel so ashamed. That horrible man has been pawing me all night and now...it was all for nothing. But you must not risk your life for me. I am not worth it. I am soiled...not worth your notice.’
‘It is not your fault if the man is a rogue,’ Hallam said. ‘Do not tell Lethbridge what happened out here. He need only know that you did as he asked. It is not your fault if the marquis refuses your husband’s invitation.’
Hallam took his clean white kerchief and wiped her cheeks with it. He smiled down at her, then gave her his hand and helped her to rise.
‘Thank you. You are so kind to me and I do not deserve it.’
‘You deserve far more, but I am not sure how much I can do—other than to call Lethbridge out.’
‘If I had succeeded in getting all my father’s notes, I should have left him,’ she said. ‘He will be so angry when he realises I have not done what he asked.’
‘I will do what I can. If I could win the notes back in a card game, would you leave him?’
‘He would never stake them. Besides, he is very lucky. He wins far more than he loses.’
‘Does he, indeed? Do you think he wanted the marquis to dine at your house so that they might play cards?’
‘Lethbridge often has his friends to dine. I am his hostess at dinner—but when they play cards I retire for I am not allowed to gamble more than a few shillings at the loo table.’
‘Do you wish to?’
‘No, not at all, but neither do I wish to watch others gamble. I believe Lethbridge and his friends play deep at times.’
Hallam nodded. He had heard that the marquis was wealthy and perhaps that was why Lethbridge hoped to lure him into one of his card games. Perhaps it would be better to watch the count and his friends at play before taking a hand himself.
‘May I take you home, Madeline?’
‘Thank you, I shall go alone—if you would send for my carriage for me, please?’
‘Yes, of course. Go up and put on your cloak. I will make your excuses to your husband...tell him that you felt a little faint and decided to leave.’
‘Thank you. He will be angry, but perhaps he will wait until tomorrow before venting his anger on me. And I truly have the headache.’
Hallam smiled at her, then bent his head to kiss her hand. They parted, he to order her carriage brought round and she to put on her cloak.
* * *
When she came downstairs, Hallam escorted her out to her carriage and assisted her inside. He held her hand a moment longer.
‘I should like to meet somewhere—do you walk or ride?’
‘Sometimes I walk with my maid in Hyde Park on fine afternoons.’
‘Can you trust her?’
‘Yes, with my life.’
‘Then meet me one day this week—perhaps tomorrow.’
‘I am not sure. Perhaps the following day?’
‘I will visit the park every day between two and three,’ he said. ‘Do not despair, Madeline. I will find a way to free you from Lethbridge.’
She smiled, but said nothing, sitting back in her carriage. Hallam told the man to drive on and then went back into the house.
It was time to seek out Lethbridge and discover what kind of a man he was—and why he was so fortunate at the card tables.
* * *
Hal had rescued her from the marquis. She trembled as she recalled the way he’d looked at her. At first he’d blamed her for her shocking behaviour, but he’d understood once she’d told him that her husband had forced her to flirt with the marquis. He’d asked her to run away with him...he must still care for her a little, if only sufficiently to protect her from her husband’s spite.
If only she dared to run away. And yet could she ever find happiness after the pain Lethbridge had inflicted on her? There were times when she thought she had been scarred too deeply. He had done such things to her...things that shamed her and made her feel unworthy of a good man’s love.
Madeline lay in bed for some time, wondering whether her husband would come to her in a rage, and, when in the early hours of the morning, she heard him enter the house, she tensed to receive the onslaught. However, he did not enter her room and after half an hour or so she fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
It was morning when her maid drew back the curtains and presented her with a tray of hot chocolate and sweet rolls.
‘Did you sleep well, my lady?’ Sally asked.
‘Yes, I did eventually.’ Madeline sat up and smiled at her. ‘Has my husband asked for me?’
‘No, I do not think so, ma’am.’
‘Very well. I shall get up when I’ve eaten my breakfast. Is it a nice day?’
‘A little wet this morning,’ Sally replied, ‘but Cook says it will clear this afternoon.’
‘We might go walking this afternoon,’ Madeline said. ‘I shall decide later.’
Sally nodded and left her to the enjoyment of her hot chocolate. She was just finishing her rolls and honey when the door to the dressing room opened and Lethbridge entered her room. Madeline put her tray to one side and waited, expecting the tirade to begin. She was surprised when her husband looked at her with a wry smile.
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