At the Bride Hunt Ball

by Olivia Parker

  Charlotte gave Madelyn a little nudge with her elbow. “Do you know what I think?”

  Madelyn linked her arm with hers. “Hmm?”

  “I think his steamy looks and your shy glances have something to do with where you went off to after dinner last evening and where you were when we came looking for you just before we were due to the parterre.”

  Madelyn cringed. She wanted to confide in Charlotte. Just not now. Not here.

  “Could we turn up ahead, dear?” Madelyn asked, noticing Gabriel was heading toward them.

  “All right,” Charlotte muttered, her tone holding a trace of suspicion. “Say…are you trying to avoid His Grace?”

  “Ah…yes, quite frankly,” Madelyn replied. “Can we speed up, please?”

  “Of course.” Charlotte looked over her shoulder, as the duke was certainly behind them now. She turned back. “Are you sure this is what you want to do? I think he knows what you’re doing, and he doesn’t appear to be happy about it either.”

  “I don’t care,” Madelyn said lightly, with a tight, fake smile. “Keep moving.”

  “I think you do. Or you should. He looks like he wants to…to kiss you. Or toss you to the ground. Perhaps both.” Charlotte took another quick look over her shoulder. “He has turned.”

  “Good.” But her relief was short-lived for he turned directly onto an interlocking path to their right. Bumping into Gabriel was imminent.

  Well, she could turn back and make her way through the section of the maze she’d already been through. Though she imagined she’d need to jump the hedges like a thoroughbred to avoid him gaining on her. Madelyn sighed. That probably wouldn’t work and she’d look like a loon. Besides, she couldn’t avoid him forever.

  As he approached them, the friends came to a halt, but Gabriel only slowed. Trying to ignore the way her body thrummed at his nearness, Madelyn found a peculiar interest in the stones on the path.

  “Miss Greene,” he said in greeting.

  Charlotte gave a quick curtsy. “Your Grace.”

  And then, just as he passed them, he brushed his arm playfully against Madelyn’s but said not a word to her.

  Unable to stop herself, her mouth gaped open at his coolness. She wanted to lash out at him, but reminded herself she was the one who had been studiously trying to sidestep him. Apparently, he knew that and was letting her know he didn’t care for it one bit.

  Now it was her turn to glance over her shoulder at him. To her surprise, he was looking back at her as well—as if expecting her reaction. “Miss Haywood,” he drawled with a lopsided grin.

  “Your Grace,” she bit out, her eyes narrowing.

  He stopped and turned, giving her form a thorough sweep. “You’re looking fine this morning,” he fairly purred.

  “Likewise,” she said stiffly.

  He inclined his head politely. “You’ve a glow about you today. A glistening effervescence, if you will.”

  “Oh?”

  “Quite enchanting, really,” he intoned. “Whatever it was you did this morning that put such a healthy glow upon your skin, you must do it again and again.”

  She flushed crimson. “Never.”

  “Come now, Miss Haywood,” he drawled. “Was it that bad?”

  “On the contrary, it was magnificent. So much, in fact, that I fear to do it again might cleave my heart in two.”

  “Perhaps your heart is not in as much danger as you perceive.”

  “I have my reservations,” she said in a clipped tone. With that, she whipped back around and continued on with Charlotte. What a scoundrel! Adorable, but a scoundrel no less. She gave herself a mental shake.

  “So tell me,” she said to her friend, “the ball is in one more day. Has Lord—”

  “What in the world was that all about?” Charlotte asked, her eyes round with astonishment.

  “What?” Madelyn blinked innocently.

  “Don’t you dare feign indifference with me,” Charlotte chided. “I know flirting, and that was flirting. And what the devil were you two talking about anyway?”

  “Shh, someone will hear you.”

  “Fine. But you’ll not keep your secrets from me forever. Promise?”

  “Promise,” Madelyn dutifully replied, though Charlotte looked on with disbelief. “Now tell me, has Lord Tristan given any sort of clue as to who he’ll pick to be his bride?”

  Charlotte bit her lip. “Though he has not named anyone…he did tell me during dinner that he quite liked my eyes…”

  Oh dear.

  “…and that if he were my beloved, he should think he’d never tire of my company,” Charlotte finished with a small smile.

  Madelyn looked to where Lord Tristan ambled through the path, Harriet Beauchamp’s arm threaded with his.

  “If I were you, dear Lottie, I wouldn’t put much credence in his adulations. Though you do have fine eyes and I do so love your company.”

  “I know I shouldn’t believe him,” Charlotte said as they neared the exit of the parterre. “It’s just that…there’s something about the way he looks at me sometimes. It’s as if he…likes me.”

  “Believe me,” Madelyn intoned, “I think it’s a trait Devine males are born with, and we shouldn’t flatter ourselves thinking we are the soul recipients of their adoring stares.”

  Madelyn’s heart jumped into her throat as she looked ahead and saw that Gabriel waited at the end of the maze.

  He seemed to be waiting for something.

  She hoped to God it wasn’t for her.

  To their left was a towering castle wall covered with ivy, and to their right an alluring pergola, the sides and arches of its trellis heavy with honeysuckle vines yet to bloom. Madelyn pursed her lips in thought. It would seem the only option was to walk past Gabriel. Either that, she mused with a cringe, or burst through the latticework and constricting vines of the pergola.

  She frowned as she approached, thinking foolishly that her expression of irritation might dissuade him.

  He waited for Charlotte to pass and be intercepted by his brother before blocking Madelyn’s path. She glanced down as he took her arm and linked it with his own.

  “If you fail to come with me now,” he said, his steely tone causing a ripple of warning to run through her, “then I shall have no choice but to drag you off like a savage.”

  Taking a deep breath, she looked into his cool blue eyes and knew without a doubt that he wasn’t bluffing. He’d do it.

  Relinquishing, she gave him a small nod and permitted him to guide her away from the others who were exiting the maze and wandering off to take tea underneath a towering willow tree. If anyone saw them go off alone together, no one said a word. Yet.

  His arm unrelenting against hers, Gabriel ushered Madelyn inside the privacy of the pergola. The honeysuckle vines choked the long tunnel of latticework on both sides and above their heads, letting in only a wink of sunlight here and there.

  A lump grew in Madelyn’s throat. It was a perfectly romantic setting, enclosed as they were outdoors. Birds twittered merrily on the outside of the pergola, while the faint humming of bees said they were heartily impatient for the blooms to open. Yes, a perfectly lovely day, no threat of rain, plenty of sunshine, just the sort of day one would remember with fondness in the upcoming winter months.

  She shifted her foot in the gravel of the path, making a circle with her toe while Gabriel fumbled in his jacket for something or other.

  Oh, for goodness sake, Gabriel, just ask me and break my heart already.

  The air was cool against her skin, and she longed to be enveloped in the heat she’d find in his embrace. He wouldn’t deny her, she knew, but pushed the urge away. She straightened her spine, determined to mask her feelings behind a cool facade. Yes, this might be an ideal spot for a marriage proposal. But it was a perfectly horrid spot for a broken heart. Which is what she’d have as soon as Gabriel found whatever he was looking for and opened his mouth to speak.

  To her surprise, he pulled her l
ace glove off her left hand with one smooth tug. She didn’t even have time for a gasp. Bending over her hand, he kissed her knuckles, then the backs of her fingers.

  For whatever reason, Madelyn was instantly reminded of that evening in his garden when Gabriel had knelt before her, offering to assess the injury to her bruised knees.

  He cleared his throat. Blinking up at him, she frowned at his expression. He looked nervous. There was tick in his cheek and a dash of uncertainty flashed in his crystal blue eyes. And in that instant, she thought that he looked more like a boy than a man. She stared at him in wonder as a lock of ink-black hair shifted then coiled over one eye. In a gesture of irritation, he raked his hand through his hair in order to get it out of the way, but it only fell back.

  “Madelyn…”

  Here it comes, she mused with something akin to panic. How would she tell him no? What should she say so as not to insult him, even though his question would insult her? Why in the world should she care? Should she smile politely? Cry? Oh, she had no doubt about that, she’d definitely weep like a teething babe. But hopefully in the privacy of her bedchamber.

  “Madelyn, would you…” He cleared his throat again. “…would you be my bride?”

  Stunned, she could only blink at the square cut diamond ring he revealed in his open palm. The facets picked up a stray wink of sunlight and it glimmered with sparkling reflections.

  “I hope you like it,” he said. “It was my mother’s and her mother’s before her. An heirloom.”

  “B-Bride?” Madelyn swayed where she stood.

  “Say something,” he implored, a nervous laugh in his command.

  “Bride?”

  He stood, then smiled, all lopsided, and her insides melted. “Say something else.”

  “I was wrong,” she replied softly, still wondrously baffled. “I—I thought you were going to ask me to be your mistress.” She didn’t think it was possible, but her heart sped up even faster. It felt as if it would burst out of her chest.

  Gabriel shook his head and smiled down at her in that adoring fashion now so familiar to her—like he thought her the dearest, most lovable creature on earth. “Why?” he asked, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

  When she didn’t answer, he first closed his eyes, then slowly opened them, giving her the impression that he’d come to his own conclusion and didn’t like it. “You thought I’d take your virginity without thinking to take a vow? You thought it was only lust that spurred my notice of you?”

  Her mouth could only open and shut. His words bewildered her.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “If that was all it was, I could have bedded anyone to slake my desires.”

  “I—I thought I was merely convenient.”

  “You thought wrong,” he replied sternly. He shook his head in bemusement. “My mistress? Do you not think you deserve more? I want to share my life with you, Madelyn, by my side, not just in my bed.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “Be my wife.”

  Her eyes welled with tears and her voice did an odd little cracking sound when she said, “But I’ll make you a horrible duchess.”

  He nodded, smiling. “I’ve thought of that, of course, and it’s nothing we cannot fix.”

  Her trembling lips stilled. Inside, somewhere around her heart, something deflated. “Fix?” she squeaked out.

  “The first thing we’ll do, of course, is have you measured for some new gowns. Since I’m not accustomed to the peculiarities of ladies’ fashion, we can leave that up to Rosalind, of course.”

  His every word was a crumbling brick, and her fragile, newfound joy came tumbling down. “Of course,” she spat.

  “And we’ll have an instructor brought in to—”

  “Instruct me in the proper comportment and manner befitting my new, elevated station?”

  “Quite,” he said, eyeing her warily as she withdrew her hand from his hold. “Charming as I find you, we cannot have the new Duchess of Wolverest falling into lily ponds across the countryside…”

  For a mere second she thought he might be teasing her. His words sounded so ridiculous to her ears, but he went on and on, shattering her heart into pieces.

  “…the way I look at it, we’ll have you ready for your first introduction into society as a duchess no later then next Season.”

  “My, your sanguinity is flattering,” she replied, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

  It was not missed by him. “Madelyn, you cannot pretend that you would blend in without a hitch in this superior level of society.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want to ‘blend in,’” she ground out, hating the way her voice shook.

  His jaw tightened. “You cannot fault me for wanting you to feel comfortable in your new surroundings. I was raised amongst these people. The ton will not find your clumsy manner charming or your penchant for saying and doing just what you feel as refreshing as I do. They’ll pick you apart. Find every fault until you are bared, defenseless under their unsympathetic gazes.”

  Gritting her teeth, she snatched her glove from his hand. “I don’t care what they think,” she said through her teeth. “And I will not marry you. So you can cease all your concerns right this instant, Gabriel.”

  “You are being impractical,” he snapped.

  “You want to fix me. Make me better.” She tugged her glove back on with short jerks. She was trembling with hurt, with anger, she couldn’t even calm herself enough to speak.

  The tears that had gathered in her eyes threatened to spill. She turned abruptly and headed for the end of the pergola opposite to where the others were still gathered for tea. The steady crunch of gravel coming from behind her, however, told her that Gabriel was following her step for step.

  “Madelyn,” he called out. “Where are you going?”

  “To my chamber and then home…or at least back to London anyway.”

  “You’re only running and hiding again,” he said gravely. “See reason, and be with me, Madelyn.”

  “I will not,” she stated flatly, not bothering to turn around. “I cannot.”

  And with that Gabriel’s footsteps stalled. She kept walking, feeling his gaze upon her retreating back. Must she ever be acutely aware of his notice, of his presence? Not being able to stand it any longer, she hitched up her skirts and broke into a run.

  Tears spilling down her face, she thought of all the years and all the borrowed frocks that Priscilla had scrunched her into, trying to force her body to be slim and straight. She thought of all the soirees where she was ordered to say as little possible so as not to embarrass her stepmother by uttering a less than witty phrase. She thought of all the times she longed to dance, but hid by the wall with Charlotte, fearful of a misstep and of disappointing her stepmother once again.

  And she thought of all the times she reached for acceptance and came away with empty hands.

  Chapter 18

  A wide, shallow puddle sheltered from the sun by a towering yew hedge blocked Madelyn’s path. Without hesitation she sloshed through the puddle, thinking only of gaining the sanctuary of her guest bedchamber. Rounding the corner, she slammed into the solid wall of a man’s chest.

  She nearly bounced backward from the force of the contact. He barely moved, only reaching out to catch at her back, steadying her and keeping her from falling down.

  “My lord,” Madelyn said, blinking up in surprise at Rothbury’s golden gaze. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I imagine you couldn’t. Not while clipping along at such a fast pace as you were.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said hurriedly, not wanting the earl to notice she had been crying. Too late, his relaxed, slightly amused expression changed into hardened male concern.

  “Something has happened. What is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” she replied with a smile, though his countenance wobbled through the sheen of her tears.

  Rothbury pulled an embroidered
handkerchief from his pocket. She took it and blew her nose. After she’d finished and folded it, Madelyn went to hand it back to him, but he declined, shaking his head and looking at the square of linen as if it contained the plague.

  He sized her up with a sweep of his exacting gaze. “Well, now that you’ve…cleared yourself up, tell me what I can do to help.”

  She gave a sad little laugh. “You cannot help, sir.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that aloof duke that refuses to allow me to court his sister?”

  She nodded then hiccupped.

  “Bloody hell,” he said on a sigh. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged, not willing to delve into her personal feelings with the man who proposed to her last year only to offer her an invitation to his bed at her refusal.

  “Dash it all, thought I still had a chance.” He shook his head grimly. “Stubborn fool, is what he is,” Rothbury muttered while straightening her bonnet ribbon under her quavering chin. “Doesn’t appreciate your spirit, your spontaneity, I imagine. Well, don’t you worry, my dear.”

  She paused in the act of wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands. “What do you mean ‘do not worry’?”

  “All the old wolf needs is a little push in the right direction,” Rothbury offered with a sly grin and a wink.

  “I do not know what you mean and I do not think you should become involved, my lord.” She stepped past him. “But thank you,” she said over her shoulder. “Good day.”

  “Good day,” he returned, a calculating note in his voice. “And don’t fret, sweetmeat. If I play my cards right, you’ll have him begging for your hand in marriage by tomorrow evening.”

  “Don’t count on it,” she muttered, knowing well enough that the earl couldn’t hear her reply.

  Suddenly weary, Madelyn shook her head. No, she could never marry Gabriel. She would only disappoint him and frustrate herself. Contrary to how everyone else seemed to feel about her, she liked herself just as she was. She’d dance a jig on a slippery rooftop before she’d alter herself to fit someone’s ideal. Even for the man she loved.