“Fine.”
Grey had to forget Madelaine and what could happen and concentrate on what was about to occur. “What am I trying to learn about Constance?”
“Where she’s from and how old she is.”
“Simple.” Grey smiled grimly into the darkness.
“Not as simple as you might think. She’s unusually tight-lipped. It took me these last few days to find out where Constance is from and how old she is. If you fail to tell Pearson the answer when he arrives at the tavern, then it’s back to training for the both of us. With Pearson as our trainer.” Gravenhurst abruptly stopped and pulled up his jacket and shirt sleeve. “See this?”
Grey squinted in the dark night. “No.”
Gravenhurst grabbed Grey’s hand and shoved it against his arm. “Do you feel that scar?”
Running his fingers down the length of a raised, knotty line, Grey nodded. “What happened?”
“Pearson happened. The man is worse than both of us at not making dangerous contact with his dagger during training. He damn near killed me when he trained me. So, make sure your head is clear of all distractions.”
“I’m focused.”
“You’re sure?”
He was still worried about not making an appearance in his aunt’s apartments, but Gravenhurst was right. He had to block out all of the distractions. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “I’m ready.”
“Not to drag your thought back to Lady Madelaine, but have you carefully thought about what pursuing her means? Do you realize of six of us only one—your father—is married?”
He’d realized it. But he hadn’t thought much about it until now. “Madelaine’s father was married as well.”
“True enough. But he felt he had to marry for the sake of an heir. From what I’ve been told anyway. Her parents’ marriage wasn’t a love match. It was convenience and mutual respect. I don’t think the woman was ever a weakness for him.”
“Your point makes no sense. His enemies could have still gotten to him because of her.”
“True,” Gravenhurst agreed. “But it’s easier to think logically if love isn’t involved. He didn’t love his wife. But his daughter…”
Grey understood without Gravenhurst finishing. “Madelaine is his weakness.”
“I think so.” Gravenhurst bounded across the grass toward the stables. “He’s acted strange lately, and my theory is it’s her. He wants to marry her off, so if something should happen to him, she’s taken care of.”
Grey paused. What if something should happen to him, and he and Madelaine were married. She’d be left alone. Vulnerable to his enemies. No. He frowned. She’d be surrounded by his family. They’d protect her. Was it fair to drag her into this life he had chosen? Was this the cost of being a spy—living with guilt and fear for those you loved or living with loneliness? He’d just have to get used to constant guilt and fear. He didn’t think he could let her go to another, unless she didn’t want him. “If things should work out between the lady and me, I’m Stratmore’s perfect solution.”
After Grey and Gravenhurst mounted the horses the stable master had readied for them, Gravenhurst led them into the dark night. He turned in his saddle to look at Grey. “I don’t think Stratmore will consider you a solution. In fact, he might consider your interest in Lady Madelaine a problem. I know I would if I had a daughter.”
Grey gripped his reins. He thought he knew what Gravenhurst meant, but he had to know for certain. “What do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t want any daughter of mine marrying a man I knew to be a spy. I wouldn’t want her bound to someone engaged in life-threatening work, who would be forced to lie to her the rest of their lives. Would you?”
He tensed in his saddle, his fingers curling around his reins so tight, the leather of his gloves bit into his skin. No, he wouldn’t like or want a daughter of his to be married to a man who lied to her. But it was too late. He wanted Madelaine. He suspected he was beginning to truly care for her. And his father had made marriage work, so he could too.
He pushed the unwelcome doubts away and signaled his horse into a gallop. If they made excellent time, and he completed this latest assignment quickly, he could get back to catch Madelaine before she left his aunt’s apartments. The only problem he foresaw was coming up with a believable explanation for what had detained him. But if he ended up married to Madelaine, he would probably have to lie to her many times, so he needed to welcome the challenge, even if the idea of lying to her sat like a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach.
The more Grey’s aunt and sister carried on about how unpardonably rude Grey was, the more Madelaine’s embarrassment grew. She pressed a gloved hand to her warm cheek. She had to get out of Helen’s apartments and escape to the privacy of her own bedchamber where she could wallow in self-pity. She would have inhaled a deep, calming breath, but her stays prohibited it. The minute she was alone she was going to rip them off and burn them in the fire. It was too bad she couldn’t get rid of Grey with the same efficiency. To think she’d dressed with extra care tonight to impress him. She hated stays. And never wore the dratted things, but she’d wanted to show her figure in the most pleasing light. What a silly fool she was.
Elizabeth touched Madelaine’s arm. “Maybe Grey’s equerry training detained him again. I didn’t see him at dinner.”
“No, it wasn’t that.” Madelaine forced herself to look up and prayed her misery didn’t show on her face. Helen and Elizabeth exchanged a quick look. So much for disguising her unhappiness. Her throat and nose burned with the unshed tears of humiliation. “When the queen switched the dinner seating tonight, I ended up by Lord Pearson. And when I didn’t see Grey at dinner, I inquired whether his equerry training was over. Lord Pearson said it better be because the last he’d seen Lord Grey and Lord Gravenhurst, they were headed to the Merry Tavern.”
Her throat felt too thick to continue talking, but she swallowed and stood. “He said nothing else to me, of course. But Lord Thorton, the wretched man, spoke so loudly to Lord Pearson I heard him say the Merry Tavern will indeed make a man merry with its abundance of mead and willing wenches.”
“Oh, dear.” Helen rose and wrapped her arm around Madelaine’s shoulder.
Madelaine’s nose tickled unmercifully. She wouldn’t cry. She refused to be a blithering child. She’d opened her heart to a known rake and he had trod on it. “I wish I didn’t have such excellent hearing. I heard every word.”
“It’s better to know than to be ignorant, dear. I am sorry.” Helen squeezed Madelaine’s shoulder. “I’d thought Grey seemed as if he was finally settling down, but I see now I was wrong. Small comfort this may be, but I guarantee you one day Grey will see you at Court, finely dressed with a brood of children and a handsome husband, and he’ll sorely regret having botched his chance with you.”
“I don’t know why I’m so upset.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I barely know him, but he made me feel hopeful. I know I’m an oddity, but he seemed to like that.” Gads. She’d not meant to expose herself so.
Helen’s eyes swam with pity. “Dear, oddballs often turn out to be what we refer to in the ton as an Incomparable.”
“I’ll never be an Incomparable. Mother always said I’d be lucky to find a man who would put up with my oddities.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “I was an oddball, you know. Too educated and too opinionated by half. And then I became fashionable because of my oddity.”
“That won’t happen for me. Mother warned I’d be my own downfall unless I changed.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I knew your mother very well from childhood to our time at Court together. She had a good heart, but tolerance for anyone who did not fit into a perfect mold was not her specialty.”
“You didn’t understand her,” Madelaine protested. It was one thing for her to have been irritated with her mother in life, but she was dead. And she’d not stand here and let anyone disparage her mother.
> “You’re wrong,” Helen said. “You see, I knew her before she was the perfect model of feminine accomplishments. Once, she loved to write, and I remember her saying that she wanted to be a writer someday.”
“I never knew she loved to write.”
“I daresay you wouldn’t have. Her mother was very strict and whipped your mother many times with a cane to rid her of her foolish notions. By the time we came to Court your mother scoffed at anyone who hadn’t perfected drawing, knitting, the pianoforte et cetera.”
“She wouldn’t have been so cruel!” Yet an inner voice whispered memories of all the times her mother had sneered at Madelaine for the things she enjoyed.
Helen offered a gentle smile. “Don’t get riled, dear. She didn’t mean to be cruel. But if you beat someone enough, they’ll gladly conform to the expectations of those around them. And in my experience someone changed from fear often becomes the loudest proponent of what they rebelled against in the first place.”
“I feel worse now.” Madelaine set down her cup. “I was terribly disobedient and willful. We weren’t close, you know. I imagine she hated who I was.”
Helen shook her head. “Who you are. And I imagine she was envious that you were strong enough not to be cowed.”
“She never beat me with a cane.” Madelaine didn’t want Helen to think her mother could have been that cruel. Her mother had spanked her with her hand and on occasion a belt, but only when she’d deserved it.
Helen arched a thin eyebrow. “Never with a cane you say?”
“No, never.”
“How fortunate for you. Though I daresay a hand and other things such as a leather strap could cause their own fair amount of pain.”
Madelaine’s pulse beat a furious tempo. She wanted to move away from this topic. “I wonder if Father knows about her past.”
“I doubt it. I only knew because we grew up together.”
It was all so much to take in. The desire to be alone grew stronger until she was fairly itching to flee. “I’d better be going. I received word my father would be here early in the morning, and I’ve not seen him in months.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Elizabeth said.
Madelaine had almost forgotten her friend’s presence because of her unusual quietness. When she looked at Elizabeth, she blinked in shock. Her friend’s normally bright eyes appeared dull and tinged yellow. But worse was Elizabeth’s complexion. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead and left her usually rosy skin looking pasty. Madelaine grabbed Elizabeth’s arm as her friend swayed. “Are you unwell?”
“I must have eaten something bad. Perhaps the fish?” Elizabeth clutched Madelaine’s hand, and she had to force herself not to recoil at the clammy touch.
Helen swooped toward them and took Elizabeth’s other arm. “You need to get to bed. Louisa!”
Louisa came rushing into the room and bobbed a curtsy. “Milady?”
“Help Madelaine get Elizabeth to her bedchamber. Then hurry back. I’ll send a note to my doctor and one to the queen imploring that Elizabeth be excused from service tomorrow.”
Not long after, Madelaine and Louisa had Elizabeth tucked into her bed. Madelaine sat beside her friend and pressed a cool rag to her head. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head, the damp ringlets clinging to her skin didn’t move. “I’ll be fine in the morning. I’m sure of it.”
Madelaine hesitated a moment. She hated to leave Elizabeth alone but perhaps her friend would rest easier undisturbed. “I’ll check on you in the morning before I go to see my father.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth’s eyes were closed but a small smile came to her lips.
Madelaine crept toward the door and opened it slowly, not wanting to disturb the slumber that seemed to already be taking hold of Elizabeth.
“Madelaine,” came Elizabeth’s soft voice from within the darkened room.
She rushed back to her friend’s bed and leaned down. “What is it? Do you need something?”
Elizabeth’s eyes slowly opened as if the task was a difficult one. “Talk to Grey.”
“Shh,” Madelaine said instead of certainly not. She’d been humiliated quite enough. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just get some rest.”
By the time Madelaine climbed into her own bed she felt certain she was so exhausted she’d fall promptly asleep and not have to think about Grey. But sleep evaded her. Worry, on the other hand, kept her close company and caused her to toss and turn in bed for some time.
Had she been a challenge for Grey because she hadn’t fallen into his bed as many women must? Clearly, whatever she’d been, he’d tired quickly enough of her. She squeezed her eyes closed, determined not to think of him any longer. Dwelling on Grey wouldn’t change the fact that instead of coming to his aunt’s apartments to see her, he’d gone off with his friend to a tavern known for its willing wenches. A dull ache strummed in her chest.
Was she judging him too quickly? After all, the ladies of the Court and the queen had judged her and never given her a chance. What if he had a logical explanation? She snorted. She doubted he did. She was just indulging in wishful thinking. If on the slightest chance he did and he approached her and begged to speak with her, she would possibly listen.
But until she heard his explanation and judged for herself whether it was true she would proceed as if he was a rake after all. Her heart twisted. This was the way it had to be no matter how it hurt. She needed to put him in her past and focus on her future. Her most pressing concern now was really her father. No doubt in the morning he’d want an accounting of how her husband hunting was coming. He was going to be disappointed with her, and the notion of disappointing him made her chest tighten. Starting tomorrow, she’d force herself to master all respectable feminine accomplishments, and do her best to be the daughter her father deserved.
The next morning Madelaine went to check in on Elizabeth. She looked worse rather than better, but the doctor was on his way, so Madelaine regretfully left to hurry to the king’s Audience Chamber to greet her father before she had to tend to the queen. Halfway up the stairs, her step faltered and her heartbeat raced. Grey stood at the top of the steps. Was he looking for her to explain? She needed to be detached, unless he gave her a reason to be otherwise. She straightened her back and lifted her chin.
“Madelaine!” He bounded down the steps to meet her.
“Good day, Lord Grey.” She forced her leaden feet to climb the steps. Her treacherous heart skipped when he fell into step beside her. She glanced at him and wished she hadn’t. There’d probably never been a man who looked as fine as Grey did in a deep, blue coat. The color matched the stormy hue of his eyes. Forgiving him would be so easy, but she couldn’t be foolish, unless he had a sound, solid explanation.
He nudged her arm. “You’re cross.”
“Why ever would I be angry?” Did he expect her to do all the work for him? He needed to grovel and beg and explain. “My father is here for a visit, so my heart is light.”
“Your heart may be light, but your eyes are heavy with daggers.”
She snorted. “Such a witty tongue you have. Did the women last night find you clever?” Blast. She was a miserable failure at pretending she didn’t care.
“See—” He grabbed her hand and tugged her into an alcove at the top of the stairs. “You are upset. I’m pleased I’m already learning to read your moods.”
She snatched her hand away. Gads! If only she’d not let her emotions overcome her, she would have chosen her words more carefully. His fingers grazed the sleeve of her dress and curled around her elbow. An involuntary shiver went through her at the warmth of his hand seeping through her silk to singe her skin.
“Please, Madelaine. Give me a moment.”
Was this more seduction or the accounting she longed for? “I used all my spare moments last night waiting on you. I’ve none left. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She looked pointedly at her elbow. If he had nothing to say to def
end himself, she had to make herself go.
Dropping his hand, he sighed. “You’ve every right to be angry, but I can explain.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Now they were getting somewhere. “Let me guess, more equerry training?”
“Yes!” He raked a hand through his hair. The motion drew her notice to the utterly disheveled mess. Frowning, she swept her gaze over the rest of him. His clothes were fresh and pressed, but his hair hadn’t been combed, a hint of dark stubble graced his face, and—she discreetly sniffed.
“You smell of whiskey, smoke and—” She sniffed again. The unmistakable spicy scent of a woman’s perfume lingered on him. Anger swelled inside of her. He dared seek her out to continue his game after spending the night with another woman. Did he think her dull-witted? Expect her to believe his pathetic excuse of more equerry training? She tilted her head back. “Did you just get in?”
“Not long ago, but—”
She held up a palm, glad for the anger that pushed her sadness away. “Did you spend the night with a woman from the Merry Tavern?”
“Certainly not. I spent the night passed out on the floor of the tavern.”
She arched her brow. “I feel so much better knowing that.”
“You confound me.” He cleared his throat. “For once I’m trying to properly court a woman, and what do I find?”
He looked so forlorn that she couldn’t help but ask, “What?”
“It’s much more bloody difficult than I ever imagined.”
“Then quit bothering. You’re doing an awful job of wooing me anyway.”
He leaned away. “I feared as much. I’ll just have to try harder.”
“Don’t.” Her heart lurched at his pronouncement. If he tried harder, she might succumb again. He’d not given a good enough explanation. He wasn’t to be counted on.
“I’m afraid I’m rather mule-headed when set on a course. I know you don’t believe me, but I was forced to go to the tavern against my will.”
“You’re right,” she snapped. “I don’t believe you.” Not wanting to listen to anymore of his lies, she bounded away from the alcove and ran smack into an oncoming person. The collision took her breath away, but she managed to maintain her footing. Constance was not so lucky. The chambermaid fell backwards onto her bottom, the laden silver tray she’d been carrying clanked to the floor with enough noise to make Madelaine wince.
Lords of the Kingdom Page 53
