by Olivia Drake
He’d hoped to see his brother again, to make amends. Instead, David was gone. Forever.
Nate rubbed his stinging eyes and told himself not to dwell on the past. He could not change the chain of events. He could only try to do what was right in the here and now.
He folded the note and put it back inside the small box, closing the lid. Gripping it in his hands, he headed out of the bedchamber. This time, he would take these few mementos with him because he wasn’t planning to return. Perhaps he’d add something of Madelyn’s …
No. It was best to forget his wife. Already, the prospect of parting from her twisted in his gut. He had to go before he succumbed again to her powerful allure. He had to recoup what he could of his revenge.
He’d be damned if he gave Gilmore a blue-blooded grandson.
* * *
Maddy hesitated by the connecting door in her bedchamber. She had returned from the duke’s house a short while ago. The shocking interview with her grandfather still resonated in her mind. He intended for her to inherit an equal share of his wealth along with her two cousins. She had no inkling as to the exact amount, but judging by the magnificence of his house and the outraged reaction of her cousin Alfred, it must be a staggering sum, indeed.
She didn’t want a farthing from the Duke of Houghton. It would feel like blood money, a bribe to compensate for the mistreatment of her mother. Not even a king’s ransom could make up for the pain Mama had suffered in being cut off from her family.
To calm herself, Maddy took a deep breath. She must not allow herself to become overwrought. For the moment there was nothing to be done on the matter. But she could try to reconcile with Nathan. Gertie had said he was back home now from wherever he’d gone.
Maddy rapped on the white-painted panel. When there was no answer, she cautiously opened the connecting door. In all the weeks of their marriage, Nathan had always come to her bedchamber. How odd to think she had never even set foot in his.
Stepping inside, she found herself in a large dressing room with a number of masculine accoutrements on display. On top of the clothes press lay a stack of linen cravats, another of folded shirts, and yet another of trousers. Boots and shoes stood in a neat line against one wall. A mound of coats and waistcoats sat on a dressing table. Even the pitcher and basin on the washstand had been moved aside to allow space for a pile of stockings and undergarments.
Why was everything pulled out of the cabinets? Had there been an infestation of mice? Or was a spring cleaning under way?
Then she noticed an open trunk. It was an oversized traveling trunk made of leather with brass fittings.
Cold apprehension swept down her spine. Dear God. Nathan couldn’t be preparing to depart already … could he? It was only mid-May and he’d promised to stay until the end of June.
She hurried through an open doorway and into his bedchamber. The spacious room was similar to her own in size, with a canopied bed bedecked in shades of blue and an assortment of mahogany furnishings. A clock on the mantel chimed the half hour. In the aftermath, the silence felt heavy, ominous.
Nathan wasn’t here. Could he have left already, giving instructions to his valet to pack the trunk and deliver it to the docks?
She trembled, her hand moving to cup her flat belly. He couldn’t go just yet. It was too soon. He didn’t even know about their baby.
But of course that news wouldn’t keep him in London. He didn’t want their child. The previous evening, he had made his opinion on the matter perfectly clear. I’ve no wish to give Gilmore a grandson—not anymore. Then he truly would win.
Maddy was trying to decide whether to wait here for Nathan or to go look for him when the door latch rattled and he strode into the bedchamber. He spied her standing near the dressing room and stopped dead in his tracks.
For a long moment, they stared at one another. Her heart leaped with untimely yearning. From their very first meeting, she had admired his broad shoulders in his tailored coat, the unfashionably long hair drawn back at his nape, the strength and confidence that he exuded. She’d loved his green eyes with the flecks of gold and the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.
He wasn’t smiling now.
He shut the door, then strode to the bedside table and set down a small, rectangular wooden box. The care with which he handled the box caught her attention. She’d hadn’t even noticed him holding it.
“What is in that box?” she asked.
“A few odds and ends, things I intend to take with me.” He turned to face her, his expression cool and remote. “I’m leaving, Madelyn. I’m going back to the Far East. I went to the docks today and made the arrangements. My ship sails at dawn.”
His announcement stabbed into her heart. For a moment she couldn’t breathe for the pain. Did he truly care so little about her that he could walk away from their marriage—just like that?
She folded her arms and sought refuge in sarcasm. “Yes, I noticed your trunk in the dressing room. Were you intending to tell me if I hadn’t come in here? Or would you have just disappeared?”
“Of course I intended to tell you. You were gone this afternoon, visiting your grandfather.” His face hardened. “Have you made up with Houghton, then? Has he accepted you into the family fold?”
“Never mind the duke.” Her momentary show of pluck drained away and she mourned the lack of warmth in his expression. She knew the situation was her own fault, at least in part. “Oh, Nathan, I’m so very sorry for what happened last night. I truly regret deceiving you. Can’t you at least stay until the end of the season as you promised?”
He prowled back and forth, his narrowed gaze on her. “May I remind you, Madelyn, you broke our agreement. You lied to me. You led me to believe that you were common. Had I known the truth, I wouldn’t have married you.”
His words hurt. But he had concealed his own explosive secret. He had not told her why it was so important that his wife be a scandalous actress, purchased at auction. So how could she have guessed that the earl had cruelly scorned Nathan all his life for being fathered by a footman?
Yet pointing that out now only seemed futile. He was too caught up in the poison of vengeance.
Nevertheless, Maddy couldn’t just let him walk away. The prospect of never seeing him again was too dreadful to contemplate. She needed him in her life—and he needed her, too. They were two halves of a whole, though his hatred for the earl had blinded him to that fact.
She went to him, stopping in his path and forcing him to cease pacing. “I understand why revenge has ruled your life for so long, Nathan. But it isn’t good for you. I do think you ought to try to make peace with Gilmore instead of running away again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
Determined, she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hands. “If you won’t do that, then at least stay in England. We could move out of this house, you and I. We could make our own home somewhere else. You needn’t ever see him again—and we could be together. I love you—enough for both of us.”
Something flickered in his eyes as he stared down at her. Something hot and hungry. Then abruptly, he took hold of her arms and put her aside. “No. It’s over, Madelyn. I’m sorry.”
He stepped away to the window and gazed out, his broad back turned to her. His manner could not have been colder or more hostile.
Tears blurred her eyes. So much for opening her heart to him. Half of her wanted to sink into a weeping puddle at his feet. The other half wanted to rail at him, to pound her fists on his chest and demand that he see reason.
Turning, she walked out of his bedchamber. She couldn’t forget that brief flash of need in his eyes. It gave her a tiny crumb of hope. And an idea for one last desperate campaign to change his mind.
* * *
A short while later, after Maddy had dried her tears, she went down to the library to seek out the Earl of Gilmore. She paused in the doorway and spied him at his desk by one of the windows.
He didn’t notice her at first. He
was concentrating on the notebook that lay open before him. He had a quill in his hand, and as she watched, he dipped the nib into a silver inkwell and made several notations on one of the pages.
She blinked in surprise. It had to be a miracle that she’d come in at this particular moment, for his actions jarred a memory in her mind of watching Nathan signing papers at his warehouse.
Was it possible—
She weaved a hasty path through the tapestry of tables and chairs. All the while, her mind turned the half-formed notion over and over. She had to find out the truth. And if she was wrong, then she’d do as she’d originally intended; she would somehow convince Gilmore to make the first move toward reconciliation.
He looked up at her approach. A slight smile easing his stern features, he waved at a chair with his quill. “Ah, Madelyn. Do sit down. You’ve returned from your tea with the duke. How did it go? Is His Grace still intent on welcoming you into his family?”
“Yes, Papa,” Maddy said, seating herself. “But that isn’t why I came here. I apologize for my abruptness, but I thought you should know. Nathan has decided to leave England tomorrow morning.”
The earl’s face paled. He threw down his quill without a care for placing it neatly in its holder. “What? That can’t be. I passed him in the corridor early this morning, and he never spoke a word of it.”
“Nevertheless, it’s true. His trunk is being packed. He has arranged for passage at dawn.” Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her skirt. “I realize this is my fault for lying to him about my background. But I need your help to stop him.”
Gilmore pursed his lips. “I’m afraid it has been quite a long time since I was able to prevent Nathan from doing as he wished.”
“Please, you have to try. He’s your heir.” She lowered her voice. “Even if he isn’t of your blood.”
His nostrils flared. She was afraid she’d overstepped her bounds. Especially when he scowled at her with flinty brown eyes. Under his breath, he bit out, “What exactly did he tell you?”
She kept her tone as hushed as his. “That on his twenty-first birthday, you were angry about having to pay off his gaming debts. That you attributed his depravity to his bad blood. And you revealed that … he’d been sired by a footman.”
Closing his eyes, Gilmore pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Half a minute ticked past. When he looked at her again, his expression was bleak. “Good God. I hope you haven’t repeated that to anyone.”
“No! Of course not. I would never tell a living soul.”
He gave her a measuring look. “I suppose you have proven your ability to keep a secret. It would behoove you to continue to do so. If word were to slip out, it would harm this family—and Emily’s chance of making a good marriage.”
“Yes. I believe that’s why Nathan has never told anyone, either. He does love his sister.” She swallowed, then added, “My lord, forgive me for asking, but … is there any possibility that you might be wrong about Nathan’s parentage? That you might indeed be his father?”
His expression turned thunderous. “That is most impertinent.”
She would not let herself be intimidated. There was too much at stake. “I only ask because when I came in here just now, I noticed you were writing with your left hand. Nathan is left-handed, as well. Is that not an inherited trait? I believe it’s rather rare, and to have two of you in one family … well, it does make me wonder.”
He stared at her. Then he turned his gaze downward, picked up the quill, and stared at it as if lost in thought. Maddy tensely watched him, wondering what he was thinking, if he was at least considering the possibility. It would change everything. If she could soften his rigid convictions about Nathan, there might be a chance …
“He looks nothing like me,” he growled as if to himself. Then he looked up at her. “It can’t be true.”
“Does he resemble his mother, then? Or … this footman?”
“From birth, Nathan was the image of Camellia, the black hair, the green eyes. Behaved like her, too, cheeky and insolent—” He broke off abruptly. “Why am I telling you this? You have no right to interfere.”
“Yes I do. Nathan is my husband. I love him, and I don’t want him to leave England. Surely you don’t, either.”
“As I’ve already said, I cannot stop him.”
She leaned forward, her elbows on the hard surface of the desk. “Will you give up so easily, then? Nathan is still hurting from events that happened in the past. This estrangement between the two of you goes back to his childhood. From what little he’s told me, you treated him with a coldness and cruelty that you never showed his elder brother.”
Pausing, she braced herself for a rebuke. But when he merely stared at her, she went on, “Besides, even if Nathan is not your son by blood, the circumstances of his birth were never his fault. You should have been a loving father to him regardless. He was just a child. He did not deserve to feel the brunt of your hatred.”
Maddy fell silent. She tried not to hope too much. The Earl of Gilmore was a proud man who did not suffer intrusions into his private life. He would not be amenable to heeding the frank opinions of an outspoken daughter-in-law. And he would be loath to admit his mistakes.
Yet, to her amazement, a sheen of tears glossed his eyes. He lowered his head into his hands and gave a sigh. He said heavily, “It is difficult for me to say this. But perhaps I have wronged him. And I would like to mend fences—if it isn’t too late.”
Relief bathed her heart. She could scarcely believe he’d yielded to her pleading. “It’s never too late. If you could speak to him, extend a hand of reconciliation, then perhaps he might be persuaded to—”
“What is this?” Nathan’s caustic voice interrupted her from the doorway. “A conspiracy?”
Startled, Maddy turned in her chair to face her husband. He strode purposefully into the library, coming to a stop a short distance from her, his suspicious gaze shifting from her to the earl.
He went on, “I came here looking for Gilmore and who do I find but you, Madelyn, no doubt tattling about my departure. How quickly you’ve shifted your allegiance, now that you’re one of the nobility.”
Frowning, the earl rose to his feet. “Don’t speak to your wife with such disrespect.”
“I learned it from you, Father. I grew up hearing your contempt whenever you addressed my mother.”
Afraid the exchange would turn into a shouting match, Maddy jumped up from her chair. “Nathan, there’s no need to quarrel. He’s willing to make peace with you. If only you’ll let him.”
“Peace on his terms? Absolutely not.”
“Please, if you’ll just listen to him—”
“It would please me if this is the last time he and I ever come face-to-face.” A muscle worked in Nathan’s jaw. “In fact, I came back to England only because I thought he was dead.”
The earl frowned. “Dead? What do you mean?”
“Lady Milford wrote to me that you lay on your deathbed from the smallpox. She sent a second letter a week later, but I never received it. So you see, I came back with the intent of visiting my brother and sister. Had I known you were still alive, I would never have returned.”
His coldness made Maddy shiver. It had been many weeks since she’d seen him display such viciousness toward Gilmore. Nathan’s revelation appalled her, and she could only imagine its effect on the earl.
Gilmore’s face had turned ashen. His breathing harsh and shallow, he stared at Nathan. His lips parted as if he intended to say something.
He suddenly clutched at his chest. While Maddy watched in horror, he uttered a low moan and swayed on his feet. Nathan took a quick step toward him. Too late.
The earl lost his balance. He struck his head with a thud on the edge of the desk and landed in a heap on the floor.
Chapter 23
The following morning, Maddy stepped into the drawing room to receive a visitor. Lady Milford stood by one of the tall windows, gazing o
ut upon the square through the rain-spattered glass. Elegant in a lilac gown and crimped bonnet with ostrich feathers, she turned toward Maddy with a somber expression.
“My dear, I do hope you don’t mind the intrusion so early,” she said, coming forward to greet Maddy. “I came as soon as I heard the news. How is Lord Gilmore?”
“He’s still unresponsive, I’m afraid. He suffered an apoplexy and then hit his head as he fell. The doctor was with him all night. We won’t know until the earl awakens if there is any permanent damage.”
If indeed he did awaken.
Maddy shuddered. She relived the awful nightmare of seeing her father-in-law collapse. She’d hurried for help, then Nathan and a footman had carried the earl upstairs to his bedchamber. The household had come running. The dowager had needed smelling salts, Emily had cried brokenly, and Lady Sophia had given Maddy an accusatory look as if she had triggered the attack.
Maddy drew a breath that ended in a choked sob. Her fingers dug into the blue velvet bag that she’d brought from her bedchamber. Perhaps she was guilty. Perhaps she shouldn’t have troubled Lord Gilmore by stirring up the past. Perhaps if she’d never sought the earl’s counsel, Nathan would never have said such cutting things to him …
A comforting arm settled around her back. Lady Milford led her to a chaise. “There, there, my dear. Shall I send for tea?”
Maddy sank down and wiped away a tear. “No, thank you, I’ll be all right. It’s just that … I’m afraid this whole mess may be my fault.”
Lady Milford sat down beside her, taking hold of her hand and patting it. “Why, what do you mean?”
The story came pouring out. “It all started when Nathan learned that I’d lied to him about my past. He didn’t know that I was related to the Duke of Houghton, and he was furious to find out the truth. He’d married me to anger his father, you see … Well, anyway, he made arrangements to leave England this morning—”
“Leave! Has he gone, then?”
Maddy shook her head. “He was forced to delay his departure due to the earl’s illness. Though I don’t know for how long.”
