by Olivia Drake
When she had visited Gilmore’s bedchamber earlier in the morning, Nathan had been there, looking grim-faced and weary. His manner had been remote, so unlike the warm, affectionate husband of the past weeks that she felt utterly dispirited.
“I shall have to have a word with him later,” Lady Milford said firmly. “But I still don’t see how any of this is your fault.”
“I went to the earl yesterday and begged his help. I … spoke to him quite frankly about how unfairly he’d treated Nathan in the past. Unfortunately, Nathan came upon us, and he accused Gilmore and me of conspiring behind his back. Then he told Gilmore he’d never have returned to England had he known the earl was still alive.”
Lady Milford pursed her lips. “Ah, yes, that letter. You cannot imagine how many times I’ve wished that I’d refrained from sending it. The news that his father lay on his deathbed was premature. Gilmore recovered, and the smallpox spread to Nathan’s brother and sister. So I wrote a second letter, but apparently he never received it.”
Maddy tried to look on the bright side. “Well, he ought to have come back to England anyway. And he should stay now, too. I’ve told him so, but he refuses to listen.”
“Now, now, you mustn’t fret, my dear. It truly isn’t your fault. One could just as easily blame it on the letter that I sent. And Nathan should never have uttered such a dreadful remark to his father.”
But the earl wasn’t his father, or least they couldn’t be certain. Maddy kept silent about that part. She felt honor-bound by her vow to Gilmore to guard the secret of Nathan’s parentage.
“I mustn’t keep you,” Lady Milford said, rising to her feet. “I shall return in a day or so. If Nathan attempts to leave London, pray tell him he is not to do so without speaking to me first.”
“Of course, my lady.”
As Maddy stood up, she remembered the blue velvet bag in her lap. It contained the garnet dancing slippers. She handed the bag to Lady Milford. “I nearly forgot. You lent these shoes to me when we first met. I thought it best I returned them.”
A mysterious gleam entered Lady Milford’s violet eyes. “I’m pleased you were able to make good use of them. And never fear, all will be well soon, you’ll see.”
Maddy smiled wanly, though she knew all would not be well. She had returned the shoes because she’d come to a decision. She would not be going to any more parties or balls. If the earl recovered, and if there was any hope of Nathan making amends with him, then she must not be a thorn in their sides.
It was time that she left Gilmore House—not Nathan.
* * *
The combination of an overcast day and the closed draperies rendered the sickroom dim and shadowed. On the bedside table, a single candle cast a meager light on the man lying beneath the bedcovers. His pitted features were pale, and if not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Nate would have thought him dead.
Pacing the floor, he kept a watch on the earl. Gilmore lay unmoving, as he’d been all night and into the afternoon. It was unclear yet if he’d been rendered insensible by the attack of apoplexy, or if it was from the purplish knot on his forehead from his fall. The doctor had left to tend to other patients, with instructions to summon him if there was any change. Nate was here alone; he’d sent his grandmother and sister to rest since they’d all lost sleep the previous night.
Nate himself had dozed in the chair by the fire. He hadn’t left this room except to change his rumpled clothing and to send a message to the docks. He’d felt strangely compelled to remain at his father’s side.
His father.
His steps faltered. Strange, how he still caught himself thinking of Gilmore as his father, even though he’d sworn not to do so. Strange, too, that he could feel dread in his gut at the possibility of the man’s demise. It wasn’t just guilt over his own harsh words, either. Somehow, in the past few weeks, without knowing quite how it had happened, Nate had arrived at an uneasy truce with the earl.
Perhaps it had been Madelyn’s influence, but as the season progressed, he and his father had behaved civilly toward one another. They had ceased shouting at each other—at least until yesterday when Nate’s angry tirade had caused the earl’s collapse.
According to the doctor, the bout with smallpox had weakened Gilmore’s heart. Nate had had no inkling his father was anything but hale and fit. Or perhaps that wasn’t quite true. On the day he had returned here with Madelyn as his bride, Grandmamma had alluded to the earl’s ill health. But at the time, Nate hadn’t paid much heed. He’d been too intent on his revenge.
He paced to the bedside table and flattened his hands on the surface, squeezing his eyes shut. Yesterday, he had gone to the library for the purpose of informing Gilmore of his departure. Then he’d spied Madelyn talking earnestly with the earl.
Nate had come unhinged at the notion of the two of them joining forces. Seeing them chatting like friends illustrated everything that had gone wrong with his plan. She was supposed to be his vehicle for vengeance, but overnight she had become an acceptable confidante to his father. And Nate had not been able to contain his fury …
Had I known you were still alive, I would never have returned.
Those words had been corrosive, juvenile, and utterly needless. There had been no real reason to tell Gilmore about Lady Milford’s letter. Nate already had decided to deny the man a grandson. Yet that hadn’t been enough to satisfy his driving need to punish the man.
How had he become so bitter? So callous? He had never felt more chained by the shackles of the past. On top of that, he’d felt betrayed to think that Madelyn had shifted her loyalty from him to his father.
I love you—enough for both of us.
His chest tightened at the memory of her speaking those words, even though he didn’t believe them. After her deception about her noble background, he couldn’t trust anything she said. If she truly loved him, she wouldn’t have lied …
A small rustling noise interrupted his morbid thoughts. Then a low moan came from the bed.
He whipped up his head. Jolted, he realized that Gilmore was awake, his eyes halfway open. His fingers grasped convulsively at the gold-embroidered coverlet.
Nate leaned over him, bracing his hands on the mattress. “Can you speak, Father? Do you know me?”
The earl frowned, his eyelids straining as if he were trying to focus. His lips parted. In a dry, guttural tone, he whispered, “Na … than.”
He was thirsty. Of course he would be thirsty after being unconscious for nearly twenty-four hours. “Would you like a drink?”
Without waiting for an answer, Nate grabbed the pitcher on the bedside table and sloshed water into a glass. He wasn’t usually so clumsy. How absurd that his hands should be trembling.
He slid his arm beneath his father’s upper back and helped him sit up to take a few sips. Some of it dribbled down his chin. After a moment, Gilmore weakly waved away the glass.
Nate laid him back down on the pillows. “I’ll notify the doctor that you’ve awakened. He’ll want to know straightaway.”
Gilmore grabbed hold of his hand. “Don’t … go.”
His father’s grip was weak. Nate could have easily pulled away. But he didn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time the earl had held his hand. If ever. “I’ll be right back. It will only take a moment.”
“I meant … don’t leave … England. We have to … talk. I’m sorry … I’ve been wrong…” Gilmore stopped, breathing heavily, as if the effort had exhausted him.
Nate stood transfixed. Gilmore had always ruled this house with an iron fist. He’d never apologized for anything. And what did he mean by “wrong”?
Nate burned to know. At the same time, it could be dangerous to overtire the man. “Quiet now,” he said. “We can talk tomorrow if you’re feeling better.”
Gilmore gave a slight nod, then closed his eyes again. His fingers relaxed and fell back onto the coverlet. Though his hand was now free, Nate remained standing at the bedside, gazing down at
his father as Madelyn’s words of the previous day sprang into his mind.
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.
Those words had infuriated him, and they still rankled now. She had labeled him a coward for wanting to live his life free of his father’s poison. She didn’t understand—she couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up under this man’s thumb. Leaving England to pursue his business interests didn’t constitute running away.
Or did it?
Blast it, he didn’t see how he could make peace with his father after all these years. Too much had happened. The past could not be changed. He had never known any affection from this man. Nor did he desire any.
To prove Madelyn wrong, however, he would give Gilmore a chance to speak his mind. Tomorrow. He could delay his departure for a few more days until he was certain of the earl’s recovery.
But he had no intention of remaining in London any longer than necessary.
Chapter 24
The following afternoon, Nate was relieved to see that Gilmore felt able to sit up in bed. The dowager spooned broth into him, coaxing him to take more, and Nate found it somewhat amusing to see his grandmother scold her middle-aged son as if he were a wayward child. Then Gilmore sent his mother out of the room so that he and Nate could have a brief, though extremely startling, talk.
Afterward, Nate left the sickroom and walked aimlessly down the corridor. He needed time alone to think, to absorb the revelations he’d just heard. Gilmore had admitted he couldn’t be absolutely certain that Nate was not his son, even though Nate’s mother had been caught in bed with one of the footmen.
Nate felt stunned, his thoughts in a jumble. He had adored his free-spirited mother. But now, as a married man himself, he could see her through Gilmore’s eyes, a wayward wife who’d flirted with so many men that her husband had had reason to doubt the paternity of her three children.
David and Emily had resembled the earl’s side of the family. Only Nate had taken after his mother. Since he had been the child most like her, rebellious and wild, he had borne the brunt of the earl’s wrath. For that, Gilmore had apologized. He’d expressed regret for having failed as a father. Judging by the tears in his eyes, his remorse had been sincere.
It was too much for Nate to take in all at once.
Nevertheless, he understood his father’s anger now. He himself had experienced the choking tentacles of jealousy. The thought of Madelyn with another man made him livid. He could no longer fool himself, either, that it was due to the fact that he’d paid her to marry him. Rather, they had become close friends as well as lovers.
Was it any wonder that her lie still stung?
Trying to sort through the tangled state of his emotions, he found himself standing outside Madelyn’s bedchamber. He could hear muffled voices inside. An instinctive impulse had brought him here. He felt the urge to tell her about the conversation, to ask her opinion on those earth-shaking disclosures.
But he was supposed to stay away from his wife. For all intents and purposes, their marriage was over. They would go their separate ways very soon. It was best to make a clean break and not put himself through the torture of seeing her again.
As he was turning away, however, the door opened. His sister walked partway out, then stopped. Clad in a leaf-green gown with a matching hat, she wore the jade dragon necklace he’d given to her.
Her face glowed with a smile. Her skin had been made up skillfully so that her pockmarks were barely visible. “Nathan! I’m so glad to see you. How is Papa?”
“Much better today.” Nate looked beyond her and his heart lurched at the sight of Madelyn, her eyes very blue and solemn inside the frame of a straw bonnet. “Though I believe he intends to take a nap. Were you going out?”
“Lord Theo invited me on a walk around the square, and Madelyn is coming along as chaperone.” Emily paused, her face falling. “But perhaps you wish to speak to her?”
Nate hid his disappointment. “It’s quite all right. It can wait until another time.”
“Actually,” Madelyn said, stepping forward, “I’ve a matter of some importance to discuss with you, Nathan. Emily, I’m sure it would be fine for you to go on your walk with Theo. Just stay in the square and don’t go anywhere else. I’ll join you shortly.”
Emily beamed. “Thank you!”
As his sister scurried down the corridor, Nate turned his gaze to his wife. Her beauty erased all other thought from his mind. She looked delectable in a sky-blue gown with a form-fitting bodice that hugged her bosom and waist. He felt a powerful desire to wrap her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her lips. The painful craving clutched at his insides. But her air of cool reserve held him at bay.
She stepped back to allow him entry, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and placing the hat on a chair. He hungrily watched her graceful movements as she smoothed her hair and then turned to face him, her fingers clasped at her waist.
“Has the earl spoken to you yet?” she asked in a formal tone.
“Just now. That’s why I came here.” All of his muddled thoughts returned. “I don’t know quite what to think about what he said to me. You see, he admitted that even though my mother had affairs, he has no absolute proof that he isn’t my father. Do you realize what that means, Madelyn? I could actually be his son.”
The revelation shook Nate. It still hadn’t quite sunk in. He felt too numb to sort out if he should be elated or angry.
She smiled slightly. “I’m glad to hear it. I hope he apologized for treating you so coldly as a child.”
“Yes, he did.” Nate trudged back and forth, feeling not quite so burdened anymore by all those years of pain and unhappiness. “He said … I’d reminded him of my mother, and he didn’t want me to turn out like her. He also confessed to taking out his anger at her on me. The trouble is, I don’t see how I can forget the past with a snap of the fingers.”
“You’ll have to give it time. I imagine it will be hard for the earl, too. He has to live with the memory of what he did to you.”
Nate wasn’t ready yet to forgive Gilmore. How much time would it take? If he stayed in London for a while, could he resolve his differences with Madelyn, too? Perhaps right now …
“Forgive me for going on,” he said. “You wished to speak to me?”
She glanced away, her secretive gaze going to the bed, as if she were remembering the many happy hours they’d spent there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Heat tightened his groin. Did she mean to beseech him again to restore their marriage? To propose that they make love?
By God, he didn’t think he could resist her this time. And why should he? After the talk with Gilmore today, the notion of denying him a grandson no longer seemed of such vital importance.
She returned her gaze to him. “Nathan, I’ve decided it’s best that I leave Gilmore House, not you.”
Her statement struck like a blow to his gut. It knocked the breath right out of him. He couldn’t speak, he could only gawk at her in shock.
“That way,” she continued, “you’ll be able to remain here for a time and settle things with your father. You don’t love me, and my presence would only serve as a reminder that you used me to take revenge on him.”
You don’t love me. Nate wanted to deny her statement, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t believe in love. It was an invention of poets and playwrights to put a pretty gloss on raw sexual passion.
Nevertheless, he didn’t want Madelyn to go. This house wouldn’t be the same without her. He liked talking to her over the breakfast table, escorting her to parties, visiting her bedchamber at night. Yet they’d made a business arrangement. They’d agreed to part company once she’d fulfilled her purpose of being an embarrassment to his father.
“Where would you go?” he asked hoarsely. “To your grandfather?”
“No. Perhaps … back t
o the theater.”
“The theater?” Disbelief pierced him, and he took an angry step toward her. “Absolutely not. My wife will not perform on a public stage. It’s out of the question. I’ll contact my banker in the morning. He’ll arrange for you to collect your stipend.”
“I won’t accept it,” she said quietly. “I don’t want your money anymore, Nathan. I should never have entered into this devil’s bargain in the first place.” She tugged the diamond ring off her finger and held it out to him. “Here. You may have this back, too.”
“What the devil—That ring was your wedding gift. It belongs to you!”
“I’m not taking it.” Gliding to the bedside table, she placed it there, the square-cut gemstone glinting in the light from the window. “I won’t take anything of value.”
Staring at her, he rubbed the back of his neck. She’d gone stark, raving mad. He’d never seen her this way—except perhaps on the night they’d met when she’d been adamant about not considering his bid in the auction. “Madelyn, this is absurd. How will you live? What about your shop? You’ll need the funds to open it.”
“I’ll work and save by myself.” She made a harsh sound in her throat. “But I don’t expect you to understand that. The duke, too, thinks my affections can be bought with the promise of an inheritance.”
Nate frowned in surprise. “Houghton is adding you to his will?”
She nodded stiffly. “I’m to be given an amount equal to that of my cousins. I tried to refuse the duke, but he wouldn’t listen. You nobles are all alike, using money to control people.” With that, Madelyn turned away to stare out the window. “I think you had better go now.”
Nate felt the powerful urge to take her by the arms and shake the sense back into her. No, he wanted to coax her into bed and persuade her out of this irrational scheme. He wanted to plant his child in her and bind her to him forever.
But he had sworn not to do that. He was supposed to be angry with her for lying to him about her noble blood. Dammit, he didn’t know what he felt anymore. Except that he desperately wanted her to stay.
