by James, Syrie
Lord Saunders stepped back. “It is Woodson.”
Madeleine stifled a gasp. What did Woodson want with her? What would he think, to find her and Lord Saunders alone together like this?
Lord Saunders grabbed his hat, then handed Madeleine the novel she’d been reading, signaling with his eyes toward the sofa. She quickly sat and opened the book. Without another word, he deliberately crossed the room, disappearing via a far door seconds before Woodson glanced in through a closer opening.
“Miss Atherton!” Woodson gave a relieved sigh and entered. “I have been searching high and low for you.”
Madeleine struggled to even her respiration as she glanced up from her book. “What is it, Woodson?”
“A summons has come from Polperran House. Dr. Hancock is needed, and your presence is also requested.”
Madeleine leapt to her feet. “Why? What has happened?”
“The Countess of Longford is in labor.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Madeleine grabbed a shawl in haste and departed with Dr. Hancock in his carriage. The doctor insisted that there was no time to change out of their costumes or say good-bye.
“I thought the baby wasn’t due for two more weeks,” Madeleine said anxiously as the coach took off at a brisk clip.
“It isn’t.” Hancock’s lips were tight with concern. “It is not uncommon for a woman to go into labor early, but your sister’s blood pressure has been high the past few weeks. There might be complications for both mother and child.”
Madeleine was too alarmed to reply. Alexandra hadn’t mentioned anything about her blood pressure in her recent letters, probably so as not to worry her. She wished that she hadn’t been away all this time, that she had stayed at Polperran House as she had originally intended.
They rode in tense silence for most of the journey. Upon arrival, they were both immediately ushered upstairs to the master bedchamber. Alexandra was in bed, her face red and beaded with perspiration. Several maids attended her and Thomas was hovering anxiously.
“Doctor, thank God you’ve come,” Thomas said.
“Lexie!” Madeleine rushed to the bedside. “I’m here.”
“Maddie. Oh, Maddie. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
Madeleine saw fear in her sister’s eyes. “You’re going to be all right, Lexie.” She prayed it would be true.
Dr. Hancock quickly took charge, divesting himself of his costume jacket and rolling up his sleeves. It was an action Madeleine found oddly comforting. Rolling up one’s sleeves was what men did when they were about to plunge into important work. And nothing could be more important than helping Alexandra bring her child safely into the world.
Dr. Hancock banished Thomas from the bedchamber and suggested that Madeleine leave as well. But Alexandra grabbed Madeleine’s hand and said, “No, Doctor. Please let my sister stay.”
He allowed it. Anxiety held Madeleine in its grip but she ignored it, insisting: “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll get through this, Lexie. We’ll get through it together.”
All through the long night, Madeleine encouraged her sister through the labor pains, and lovingly wiped her brow. It was the first time Madeleine had ever attended a birth. There were brief, quiet moments, when the sisters were both able to breathe normally, and Alexandra noticed and commented on the shocking neckline of Madeleine’s Regency gown, making them both laugh. There were moments of great anxiety as well, when Dr. Hancock worried that Alexandra’s blood pressure was too high or things were not progressing as they should. But Madeleine bit back her fear and concentrated on presenting her sister with only the most positive energy and outlook.
Finally, just as the faint light of dawn began to streak the sky, Alexandra gave the final push that brought her baby into the world.
“It’s a little boy!” Dr. Hancock smiled as he placed the newborn infant, wrapped in a blanket, into his mother’s arms.
“Oh! He’s beautiful.” Tears of joy filled Alexandra’s eyes. “Is he all right, doctor?”
“He’s perfect,” the doctor assured her.
“He certainly is.” Madeleine sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around her sister and the baby with intense relief.
“Thank you.” Alexandra breathed out a long sigh as she rested her head against Madeleine’s. “I’m so grateful you were here.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”
Alexandra took Madeleine’s hand again. In that simple, silent gesture, Madeleine felt the deep bond of love that existed between them, and the satisfaction of having come through this experience together. They sat like that for several minutes, silently gazing with adoring eyes at the new baby, who seemed like a miracle from heaven.
Thomas was soon ushered into the room. Madeleine didn’t think she’d ever seen a man look more relieved or proud. Leaving the mother and father to moon over their newborn son, Madeleine fell into bed in her own room for some badly needed sleep.
When she awoke later that day, Madeleine learned that her trunks had been delivered with all the clothes she’d left behind in her haste to leave Trevelyan Manor. To her dismay, however, her manuscript wasn’t included with her belongings. She realized it must still be where she’d hidden it, in the bottom drawer of the bureau in her room at Trevelyan Manor.
Madeleine considered sending a note, asking for the manuscript to be sent over. But she’d never told anyone about the book except Lord Saunders, and didn’t want to call attention to it. What if someone read it? It was just a first draft. Better to leave it there for now, she decided. She’d ride over and retrieve it when she could.
The next few days were given over to the adjustments required by the addition of a newborn to a household. The baby was named Thomas after his father, with the agreement that he would go by the nickname Tommy.
The nurse brought the infant to Alexandra whenever he awoke. Julia and Lillie reveled in their roles as aunts. Alexandra, in a continual state of bliss, dictated a telegram to their mother in Paris, informing her that she was a grandmother.
One morning, Madeleine went to her sister’s room and paused in the doorway. Thomas was sitting beside Alexandra on the bed, gazing down at her as she held the baby. Their eyes met with an expression so full of love that Madeleine actually felt a small pang of jealousy. That one glance made clear how deeply and dearly they adored each other.
This was the way marriage was supposed to work. Husbands and wives were supposed to adore each other. Madeleine suddenly realized what she hadn’t been able to fully admit to herself until that moment. This was how she felt about Lord Saunders.
When she was with him, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. When they were apart, he was all she thought about. She and Lord Saunders met on an intellectual level that was both challenging and stimulating. He understood who she was, championed what mattered to her. Just looking at him was enough to set her blood on fire. And whenever they had touched, dear God, when they had kissed, she’d felt as if she might melt into the floor.
She loved him.
She had fallen in love with Lord Saunders. Madly, hopelessly in love with him.
And he was going to marry someone else.
Acknowledging this, along with the futility of her feelings, was like a stab through the heart. Tears studded Madeleine’s eyes. It wasn’t as though Saunders’s intentions were a surprise. He had made his commitment to Sophie clear from the start. Oh, if only she hadn’t gone back to Trevelyan Manor that second time! Now, those memories would haunt her always, lingering in her mind and heart to torment her.
“Why are you standing in the doorway?” Thomas said. “Come in.”
Madeleine glanced up to discover Thomas and her sister studying her.
“What’s wrong?” Alexandra asked. “Why are you crying?”
“Because you three look so beautiful,” Madeleine replied, wiped away her tears as she entered the room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You haven’t.
I was just about to go.” Thomas kissed his wife and son, then rose and kissed Madeleine on the cheek. “I will see you later.” He took his leave.
Madeleine crawled up onto the bed beside Alexandra, both of them leaning against the headboard. She asked if she could hold the infant. Alexandra was happy to oblige.
“Hey, little man,” Madeleine cooed, cradling Tommy in her arms and gazing down into the lovely brown eyes that matched his father’s. “Did you know you’re the eighth Earl of Longford? I am so happy to finally meet you.”
Alexandra smiled. “You’re so good with him, Maddie.”
“I love babies,” Madeleine admitted. “Especially this one.”
“Someday, you’ll have a baby of your own. Perhaps in the not-too-distant future.” Alexandra gave her a meaningful look.
It was a question that, on any other day, might have made Madeleine blush. But not today. Her heart was too heavy. Fresh tears studded her eyes, unbidden. She blinked them away.
Alexandra looked at her, troubled. After a pause, in which she seemed to be carefully weighing her words, she said, “In your letters the past few weeks, you wrote mainly about the fancy dress party and about Lady Sophie. You hardly said anything about Lord Saunders.”
Madeleine had anticipated this line of questioning, knew there was no way of avoiding it. “Oh, Lexie,” she replied softly. “I wanted to write to you about him, but every time I tried, it felt so wrong to put my feelings into words, I threw the letter away.”
At that moment, the nurse came in to retrieve the infant. Tommy was treated to volleys of gentle kisses from his aunt and mother before being swept from the room.
Alone together now, Alexandra took Madeleine’s hands in hers. “What happened, Maddie? I can tell that something has affected you deeply.”
Struggling against the tears that continued to threaten, Madeleine told her sister about her discovery of Lord Saunders’s workshop and the valuable work he was doing there. She told her about their late-night encounter in the kitchen. And the kiss. And the dance in the library. “I’m in love with him, Lexie. That’s what you wanted me to find out, and now I have. I’m hopelessly in love with him, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Why, Maddie? It sounds like he’s in love with you.”
“No, he’s not.” Madeleine shook her head. “He said he admires me, that he thinks me remarkable, but nothing more. He gave his father his word that he would marry Sophie. And Sophie is depending on him to keep that promise.” Madeleine burst into tears.
“Oh, Maddie.” Alexandra wrapped Madeleine in her arms. “Are you absolutely sure he’s going to marry her?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Sophie told me she was expecting him to propose the night of Lady Trevelyan’s ball.”
“Did he ask her?”
“I don’t know. When he sought me out and danced with me, he certainly wasn’t acting like a man who’d just asked someone else to marry him. But then I left to come to you. Who knows what happened after that?”
Madeleine retrieved a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress, unfolded it, and used it to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. To her dismay, she realized it was the handkerchief Sophie had embroidered for her, which brought a fresh spate of tears. “How could I have allowed myself to grow so attached to him? He is Sophie’s. He’s always been Sophie’s. To him, I’m probably just one more wicked American woman distracting him from his duty. He used the reminder word, after all.”
“The reminder word?”
“Don’t you remember? The word Mother gave us when we were little, whenever we did something out of line?”
Alexandra looked at her. “Pineapple? You told Lord Saunders about pineapple?”
Madeleine nodded, drying her eyes. “So we wouldn’t do something we’d regret.”
“And he said it?”
“To stop himself from kissing me.”
Alexandra nodded slowly, frowning. “Well, he is a man of honor. After all, he stood by Elise Townsend, even when he didn’t love her. But from what you just told me about the ball, I don’t think he was about to propose to someone else.”
“Well, one thing was clear. He knew that kissing me was wrong. And so did I.” Madeleine leaned back against the headboard again. “It’s hopeless, Lexie. Just as I feared it would be.”
“I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I’m the one who insisted you should go back to Trevelyan Manor.”
“Don’t blame yourself.” Madeleine sighed. “You may have encouraged me, but I chose to go. And I am responsible for everything that happened once I got there.”
Silence reigned for a long moment. “What are you doing to do about Lord Oakley?” Alexandra asked finally.
Madeleine shrugged. “I have no idea. To be honest, I haven’t thought about him in quite a while.”
“That’s understandable,” Alexandra said. “You’ll need time to heal from this. And you will heal, I promise. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. And when you’re ready to think and talk about the future, I’m here for that as well.”
Charles pulled the chariot to a stop in front of the ancient barn that served as his workshop.
“What are we doing here again, Charles?” Sophie asked from the seat beside him.
“It is a place I have been wanting to show you.”
Three days had passed since Miss Atherton’s departure. Three days in which Charles’s mind had whirled with confusion, trying to sort through the minefield of his feelings. It was killing him to be away from her.
By day, he could not concentrate on his work. At night, he continued to dream of her.
Only last night, he had dreamt again that they were in each other’s arms. She was attired, as he had seen her once before, in nothing but a thin nightdress, which he had ripped off to expose her perfect body. He had lowered her to the floor and taken her breasts in his mouth, his fingers finding and stroking the feminine heart of her between her thighs. In his dream, she had gasped and cried out as he pleasured her and then thrust inside her, completing the union of their bodies, a union he already felt between their souls. Just as he was on the verge of his own climax, he had awakened, hard as steel and filled with a wanting so deep it couldn’t be assuaged, even with the work of his hand.
He knew it was wrong to dream of her this way. She was a high-born woman, not a randy actress, widow, or chambermaid. She was—he would put money on it—a virgin. He would not dream of taking advantage of her innocence.
To make love to her, he would have to marry her.
And there was no way that could happen. Not with Oakley and Sophie and the promise he had made standing between them.
Were he to break that promise, his father—God forbid—might well have another seizure, and it would be his fault. As the future Marquess of Trevelyan, he had obligations to fulfill. He had allowed his mother and Sophie to cherish certain expectations. He owed them his allegiance; he could not let them down.
No matter how much he longed to be with Miss Atherton, he could not have her. It was impossible. Which meant that all these carnal dreams and all this ridiculous longing must stop, once and for all.
Charles had finally concluded that his only course of action, the only way to make this right, was to bolster his relationship with Sophie, to include her more in his life. To try to create the kind of closeness with her that he had felt with Miss Atherton.
Hence today’s outing.
Sophie had been more quiet than usual during the ride over, apparently lost in her own thoughts. Which was just as well, since he was so distracted himself.
Charles jumped down from the conveyance, moved to the opposite side, and helped Sophie to alight. “I have been coming here for a quite a while now.”
“Coming here? To this old barn? Whatever for?”
“You shall see.” Charles led the way to the door, unlocked it, and bade her wait a moment while he dashed inside and lit a few lamps. “All right. Come in.” He had ta
ken care, before bringing her here, to put away his French postcards. That collection was something Sophie would surely never understand.
Sophie hesitantly entered the building and stopped, wrinkling her nose. “What is that smell?”
“Machine oil, I expect. And the smell of old barn.” He chuckled nervously.
She looked around, confused. “What is all this, Charles?”
“It is my shop.” He gestured at his works in progress. “The place where I build and invent things.”
“Invent things? But I thought you gave all that up years ago.”
“As it happens, I did not give it up.”’
She looked at him. “But you gave your father your word. You never break your word.”
Charles winced, feeling the weight behind that declaration, a not-so-subtle reminder of his unspoken obligation to her. “I told Father what he wished to hear, Sophie.” He willed her to understand. “But don’t you see? Inventing things is in my blood.”
Sophie seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Those hairpins I gave you and my mother and sisters? I didn’t buy them in town. I made them.”
“Did you? Oh.” She looked surprised, and added matter-of-factly, without a smile, “They are lovely hairpins.”
“Let me show you what else I am working on.”
He gave her a tour. Although Sophie tried hard to muster enthusiasm, Charles could tell she was not really interested in the things he was showing her.
“It is all very impressive,” Sophie said at last.
“Do you mean that?” he replied woodenly.
She hesitated. “Well. I can see that this is important to you. But to be honest, I do not understand why. What would you do with that lamp thing, Charles, if you did get it to work? You could not sell it.”
“No. But I could invest in a company that would manufacture it. Think what a difference it would make in the mining industry. It could save lives.”
She took that in. “Still. This environment, it is so dirty and messy. Surely this kind of thing is better left to people in the trades?”
“Why? Why should I not pursue what interests me?”
