Still, as he began to take her again, sliding into her with long, slow strokes, he knew he was falling fast. This was where he wanted to be, for the rest of his life.
He held on to his release until she launched into hers. Then he let himself go as he never had. And as he spilled himself inside her, he prayed he’d given her a child. Their child. Then she’d have no choice but to marry him. Either way, she was his now, in body and spirit. If she thought he would let her go blithely on without him after this, she was mad.
It took some time for them to come to earth, but he was perfectly happy to lie there with her curled into his arms. He would lie there all night if not for the waning hour.
“Are you satisfied at last?” she whispered, after they’d caught their breaths.
With a faint laugh, he jerked his head down to his flaccid cock. “Do you really need to ask?”
“Not about that, you dolt,” she said, though she softened the insult with a tender smile. “Are you satisfied I can handle you and your ‘insatiable desires’?”
“Sweetheart,” he said with complete sincerity, “I begin to worry that I won’t be able to handle your insatiable desires. Not to mention your insatiable curiosity.”
She gave a mock sigh. “Oh dear, I feared as much.” Her eyes sparkled as she ran her hand up his arm. “It’s why I’ve never married, you know—I didn’t want to inflict my unruly curiosity on a husband.”
“Watch it, minx,” he warned, though he couldn’t restrain his smile at her parody of his earlier assertion. “When we’re married, I’ll expect a good deal less impudence and a good deal more respect from you.”
“Oh, you shall, shall you?” she taunted him. “Well, my lord, you may expect whatever you like—you’ll get whatever I choose to give you.”
He gave an exultant laugh. She hadn’t gainsaid his mention of marriage, which meant she intended to accept him. She might run him a merry dance, but he didn’t care. Indeed, he could hardly wait to begin.
With a glance at the window, he drew back from her. “Your father will be expecting you soon, if he isn’t already.”
Her expression grew shuttered. “Yes, I should go home.”
“I’ll take you.”
“No, you mustn’t.”
When she slipped from the bed and went into the other room to dress, his heart dropped into his stomach. He followed her, watching uneasily as she donned her drawers and her torn chemise. “Why not?”
“Because you’ll want to ask Papa for my hand. I can’t let you do that yet.”
Damn her and her stubbornness. “You have no choice,” he said as he, too, began to dress. “I’m not waiting another day to make you my wife.”
“For a man who rails against morality, you can be strangely rigid in your morals,” she grumbled. “But I won’t let you ruin everything for Tessa by marrying me too hastily.” She slid into her loosened corset, then presented her back to him in an unspoken request for help.
He caught the laces, but instead of tightening them, he used them to draw her up against him. “You have to trust me, dearest,” he murmured against her hair. “I can take care of you both somehow. You must leave the matter to me.”
“And if you fail? If you marry me, and she is lost to you as a result?”
He hesitated only a second, but apparently that was enough for her.
“You know it’s wiser to be cautious,” she continued. “We should stay apart until you’ve gained guardianship. Papa and I will be fine. And in the meantime, you and I have this place…I can come here and—”
“—whore for me?” he said harshly.
When she stiffened and pulled away, attempting to tighten the laces herself, he uttered a curse and brushed her hands away so he could take care of it. “Forgive me,” he said as he tightened them, “but the thought of your living in such a limbo is unbearable. You might as well resign yourself to my interference.”
She faced him with a scowl. “And what do you mean to do?”
“Speak to your father, for a start. I know he’s desperate, but he shouldn’t have relied so heavily on you to save him, letting you go to that party and—”
“He didn’t know about that. That was all my doing.”
“What?” he said, incredulous.
“I was the one who hoped that Sir Humphry might help us.” Her voice turned bitter. “Papa wouldn’t act, no matter how much I begged, and anytime I mentioned a way of bettering our circumstances, he lapsed further into his melancholy.” She thrust out her chin in defiance. “So I had to rely on myself.”
His gut knotted at the thought of all she’d risked in trying to protect the man. But that was Madeline, determined to protect the innocent. “Well, that’s going to stop. At the very least, your father must be made to see he can no longer wallow in his pain while you take such chances. I mean to tell him so myself.”
“You can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what he might do! You have to let me break it to him gently. I have to have time…”
“Good God,” he said in a hollow voice, “that’s why you won’t let me offer for you—because of your father. It has nothing to do with Tessa. You’re still trying to protect him.”
“That’s not true.” Wriggling into her gown, she fastened it with only a little help from him. “We shouldn’t marry until Tessa’s situation is settled, and you know it.” When he merely lifted an eyebrow, she added, “You don’t understand. Only two days ago Papa was talking about ending his life to make things easier for me. He won’t want to see your niece harmed, either. And if he thinks that his situation might help the Bickhams win her, he might—”
“—kill himself over it?” he said skeptically. “So you’re going to take upon yourself the responsibility of keeping him from that, too?” He scowled at her. “He had no right to speak of suicide to you, damn it, not after what you’ve done for him. It was just his way of getting you to keep catering to his sickness.”
“No! That’s not how Papa is. You don’t know him!”
“You won’t let me know him! You won’t even let me speak to him. You’re worse than I am about relinquishing control. Everything must be according to your plan, and you only confide what you think we can handle. I daresay even Mrs. Harris doesn’t know your situation.”
“That’s only because I didn’t want her to—”
“Dismiss you? Your employer fell over backwards this morning to keep me from ‘taking advantage’ of you. She cares about you. I care about you. Sometimes you have to give up control and allow the people who care about you to help you.”
For a moment, she looked defiant, and he thought she might argue more. Then she smoothed her features. “Fine. Take me home if you must, and talk to Papa. You won’t be satisfied until you do.”
“Damned right,” he muttered, relieved that she’d finally seen sense.
He finished dressing as she put the final touches to her attire. But as she went to put on her shoes, she paused. “Drat it, where are my stockings?”
“In the bed, probably. That’s where I took them off you.”
“Would you get them? I still have to find my gloves.”
“Certainly,” he murmured and headed back into the other room.
When the door closed behind him, it took a second for that to register, but by the time he rushed back, she’d already found a way to brace it closed.
“Madeline!” he roared, pounding his fists against the door. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry, Anthony!” she cried back. “I can’t let you ruin everything because of your misplaced sense of honor. Let me talk to Papa, see what he can handle right now. I swear I’ll return here tomorrow evening, no matter what he says. By then we’ll both have a better idea of what’s the right thing to do.”
“My idea of what to do is fine, damn it!” He kicked at the door, then let out a howl as he realized he hadn’t put his boots on yet.
“Anthony, my love?” she said, just on
the other side. “Are you all right?”
Her concern and calling him my love didn’t mollify him a bit. “What do you care?” he growled as he nursed his foot. “You’re running off—again, I might add—because you think me an impulsive idiot who will bungle this for you and your father and Tessa.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she said through the door. “I think you’re impassioned. And right now, impassioned is the last thing that’s needed.”
“Says you!” He drove his fist into the door, then realized he was reinforcing her argument. “Good God, do you mean to leave me here until tomorrow?”
“I’ll send someone to release you as soon as I’ve got my hackney.”
A hackney. He relaxed against the door. Thank God for small favors. The little fool didn’t realize he knew every hackney driver working this section of town, another remnant from his days of wild living. Once the coach returned from taking her home, he would simply find out where she lived, then go after her.
He hurried to the window to watch futilely as she climbed into a hackney, called a boy over, gave him a coin, then pointed up to the window. Ignoring Anthony’s black scowl, she set off, but not before Anthony took note of the driver.
Ten minutes later, her paid urchin rescued him, but as he paced and waited for the hackney’s return, his mind replayed their conversation.
Impassioned. Misplaced sense of honor. She talked about him as if he were a reckless fool, which was clearly how she thought of him, too.
Now that his temper was passing, he could examine that idea with less ire. Could he really blame her for being uncertain of his ability to take care of her and Tessa both? What had he done in his life to prove himself worthy of her respect?
He’d thumbed his nose at the world, angered by the injustices he’d suffered as a boy. What good had that done him? Yes, he’d amassed funds for himself, but instead of using it for a good purpose, he’d wasted it on profligate living. Madeline might be reluctant to trust people with her secrets, but he was worse. He didn’t trust them with his true self. Instead, he’d spent his life hiding behind witty retorts.
Then Madeline had slipped beneath his armor. She hadn’t balked at what she saw there or chided him for how he was; she’d simply given him her heart even when he’d been too much a coward to give her his.
Now his niece’s future lay in the balance and it was Madeline, not he, who kept Tessa’s well-being constantly in her thoughts, even though Madeline had unimaginable responsibilities of her own to handle.
He dropped into a chair. Instead of agreeing to be cautious, as she’d wanted, he’d selfishly tried to keep her for himself. Yes, he’d had her best interests at heart—as well as those of her father—but she was right. He didn’t know her father. It wasn’t his place to barge in on the man, making demands, until he did.
And despite what he’d told her, he knew Madeline’s reluctance was largely due to concern for Tessa. He’d witnessed her compassion toward her girls. It would plague her to marry him if it came at Tessa’s expense.
He’d loftily proclaimed that it didn’t, but she’d seen through his blustering. Because the truth was, she might very well be right about that, too. Marriage might not improve their tangle. If he saved her father, the Bickhams would almost certainly retaliate by convincing the courts to let them keep Tessa.
A frustrated curse escaped him. What he needed was the facts of her father’s situation, which she couldn’t give him since she only knew her father’s side. But questioning her father would almost certainly distress the man. And then Anthony would have betrayed his interest in the matter, which would necessitate declaring his intentions, and that would distress her.
That left only one way to find out everything. He must question the vicar and whoever else could give him information. He should probably even talk to the local magistrate. But to do all that, he’d have to go to Telford.
A shiver passed through him. Telford, a place he’d avoided for over twenty years. Telford, where the Bickhams lived, where he’d suffered countless humiliations…where he’d learned to close his heart off. Telford held the answers. And the thought of going there sent a shudder along his spine.
He stared bleakly ahead. No wonder she couldn’t trust him to take care of anyone, when the very name of a town could reduce him to a shivering boy again.
Well, no more, he thought, a grim determination settling into his bones. He was tired of hiding from what had happened, tired of letting it govern his life. Madeline loved him, and Tessa was counting on him to save her, too. The least he could do was brave his past to get some answers.
Then perhaps he could finally earn Madeline’s respect. And his own.
Chapter Twenty-five
Dear Charlotte,
After all these years, you can sometimes be naive. Do as you please in the matter of Lord Norcourt and Miss Prescott. From now on, I will keep my concern to myself, though I pray, for your sake, that nothing terrible comes of your teacher’s involvement with a rakehell.
Your disinterested cousin,
Michael
Madeline fumed all the way back to Richmond. How dared Anthony blame her for this mess! Apparently he thought she should have gone about willy-nilly begging people for help with Papa. And to accuse her of delaying their marriage only for Papa’s sake! He didn’t understand, drat it!
You won’t let me.
She winced. That was true. Had she done the wrong thing by once again delaying him from meeting Papa? By not letting him handle the situation as he wished? By trying to consider his niece’s needs as well as their own?
His account of his childhood at the Bickhams’ rose in her mind again. She’d taught other places than at Mrs. Harris’s school, so she knew how easily girls could be misused by their guardians. He blamed his “wicked” nature for the severe treatment, but she put the blame squarely where it belonged—on the Bickhams.
Yes, she’d done the right thing. Once he considered it, he would realize that.
You’re worse than I am about relinquishing control. Everything must be according to your plan.
No matter how hard she tried to ignore the accusation, the words rankled. Because they, too, had a ring of truth. But what did he expect? Her world had been crumbling even before Papa’s fall from grace. She’d been trying to hold things together ever since Mama’s death, and that required some control, drat it!
Now she had another problem. They were fast approaching the cottage in Richmond. Without money to pay the hackney driver, her only choice was to get his fee from inside. Which meant alerting Papa to what was going on.
She sighed. Or perhaps not. These days he was so oblivious to her activities he might not even notice.
That hope was dashed, however, upon her arrival at the cottage a few minutes later. Before she could even descend, Papa rushed out to greet her. And Mrs. Jenkins was right behind him.
“Where the devil have you been?” he growled as he jerked open the hackney door. “We’ve been sick with worry! I sent Mrs. Jenkins to the school for you this afternoon, and Mrs. Harris said that you left there at noon. It’s nearly seven now!”
Oh, dear, she hadn’t counted on anyone going in search of her. “Let me pay the man, Papa, and then I’ll explain.”
The words barely left her mouth before her father took out the purse he hadn’t carried in months and thrust some shillings at the driver. When the hackney driver raised an eyebrow, she added more to match what they’d agreed upon.
“Good God!” her father cried as he saw the amount. “How far did you go?”
“I had to pay a call in town.” It was partly true, after all.
But when his skin turned to ash, she realized she shouldn’t even have said that. With a grim frown, he hurried her inside. Mrs. Jenkins came, too, concern written in her aging features.
As soon as he’d shut the door, her father faced her. “You went to Sir Humphry’s, didn’t you?”
Shocked that he knew even tha
t much, she glanced at Mrs. Jenkins.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the woman murmured, “but he plagued me until I told him all—”
“Damned right I plagued her,” her father interrupted. “What else was I supposed to do when I found her cleaning your evening gown? I knew you hadn’t gone to an assembly this weekend. And then she tells me you’ve been up to all manner of shenanigans on my behalf. You had no right!”
Fury boiled up inside her. “You had no right to give up!”
Despite his flinch, she couldn’t prevent words from pouring out of her, the sum of her long-repressed anxieties. “For months I’ve begged you to do something to change our situation, yet you could only bemoan what happened to Mrs. Crosby. What about what happened to me, Papa? I lost my home and my life in one instant when she died on your table. I’m sorry for your pain, but I have pain, too!”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she scarcely heeded them. How dared he play the father now, after months of not caring?
His stricken expression melted into remorse. “Maddie-girl, please…” he murmured as he reached for her.
“Don’t call me that ever again!” She batted his hand away, her anger nowhere close to being spent. “You hadn’t said it in months until two days ago, directly after threatening to take your own life. And you can speak to me of rights?” She swiped tears furiously away. “You are the one who had no right, Papa. You!”
She merely echoed Anthony’s words to her earlier, but only because she’d recognized their veracity the moment he’d said them. She just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. And now that she did, she couldn’t seem to stop crying.
Her father laid his arm about her shoulder and led her to a chair. “There, there now,” he said soothingly, “come sit down.”
As she complied, still sobbing and unable even to resist his attempts at comfort, he glanced at Mrs. Jenkins. “Fetch my girl some wine, will you?”
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