“I believe he has redeeming qualities,” Charlotte defended.
“Stop,” Madelyn said, holding up a hand. “Your sensibilities are fragile at present and I will hear no more of this foolishness.”
Charlotte straightened her spine, her voice yet altered by her stuffed nose. “He’s an earl, he’s handsome, he has thirty thousand a year, and it’s no secret he’s been looking for a bride since last Season. I hardly think setting my cap for him makes me a candidate for Bedlam.”
“But Rothbury? He’s worse than Lord Tristan.”
Charlotte sighed.
“I guess I’m just going to have to trust you to use good judgment,” Madelyn said.
“Yes, you must. After all, I can handle it…er, handle him, that is. I think.” Smiling, Charlotte pushed off the window seat and stretched. “Does he know you love him?”
“Who?” Taken by surprise by the sudden change of subject, Madelyn studied her fingernails, masking her expression with what she hoped looked like disinterest.
“Oh bother! Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about.”
Madelyn sighed—she was certainly doing a lot of that this evening. “I don’t suppose I ever told him,” she said wistfully.
“Has he ever told you?”
“No.”
“Do you think he loves you?” Charlotte asked softly.
“Unfortunately, I think he did, only I went ahead and ruined things as usual.”
Early the following afternoon, Madelyn sat upon the settee in the morning room of Wolverest Castle. The walls of the richly furnished room were of pale yellow and white, which gave it a cheery, blithe atmosphere, serving only to magnify her somber mood.
After she had dressed that morning, she requested an audience with Gabriel. However, the butler politely informed her that the duke was no longer at home. This could have meant two things. That Gabriel was still here—and didn’t wish to speak with her ever again—or he had left—because he didn’t wish to speak with her ever again. She sighed. Wherever he was, she pondered with a heavy heart, the outcome was still the same. He so very obviously didn’t want to be bothered with her. And that was the way it should be, she supposed. He would only marry her if she agreed to “fix” herself. And she refused to live the rest of her life scampering to catch up to another person’s expectations.
From down the hall the shrill voice of Bernadette Fairbourne echoed loudly as she scolded a footman who had mistakenly packed one of her numerous valises in someone else’s carriage.
With hands on hips, Priscilla tapped her foot in cadence with Bernadette’s chattering. “Just what are we supposed to do while he argues with that shrew? The Greenes ordered their carriage an hour ago and still we wait.”
Madelyn brushed at the folds of her lavender carriage dress with hands covered in straw-colored gloves that matched her wide-brimmed bonnet. “I should point out that neither Charlotte nor her mother have come down yet.”
“Yes, that’s very clear,” Priscilla said angrily. “That’s the trouble with traveling with others. No one is ever ready to depart at the same time.” She threw her hands up in agitation. “There’s no sense standing waiting here now. If we’re ever to leave, I’d better see what’s delaying our departure myself.” And with that her stepmother swept from the room in a rustle of gray bombazine.
Standing, Madelyn was just about to stride over to the French doors overlooking a small garden and lily pond when the sound of swishing fabric came from the hall.
“Good afternoon, Madelyn,” Rosalind said, her round blue eyes filled with guarded concern. Looking beautiful in a pink muslin dress and matching velvet bonnet, Gabriel’s sister crossed the room and took Madelyn’s hands into her own.
“Good afternoon,” Madelyn replied.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Rosalind searched her gaze for a moment, then said, “It’s none of my business to know what happened between you and Gabriel, but I do so hope your disagreement is quickly resolved and feelings are mended.”
Hesitating, Madelyn pressed her lips together for a moment, then said, “I asked to speak with him this morning, but was told he wasn’t at home.”
Rosalind only nodded in response, which squelched Madelyn’s hope that his sister might expound on his whereabouts.
“I was wondering…” Rosalind’s eyes took on a sharpness Madelyn hadn’t seen since their quick little chat in the orangery. “Are you not going to visit Willowbrooke before heading back to London?”
“I don’t think that will be possible. My stepmother and I are minutes from departing—”
“Whyever not?” Rosalind prodded. “You’re right here in Yorkshire. When are you ever again going to have such an opportunity?”
“I’m afraid the point would be for naught.” She shrugged. “It’s out of my hands now…or rather, my stepmother’s hands. She sold the property just the other day.”
Rosalind’s mouth gaped open with exaggerated shock. “How simply dreadful! Well, that’s settles it, then. You’re coming with me.” Grabbing Madelyn’s hand in hers, she tugged her along, heading for the French doors that led outside.
Madelyn had no choice but to follow. “Come with you? Where?”
Opening one of the doors with her free hand, Rosalind made a sound that was half sigh, half groan of frustration. “To Willowbrooke Cottage. I’d just ordered the barouche to be brought around for a ride. It’s such a fine, unusually warm day, is it not?”
“Er…quite,” Madelyn said, stumbling behind an almost running Rosalind.
“And now,” Rosalind continued, rounding the lily pond, “I have a reason to be about.”
Madelyn didn’t miss how Rosalind’s grip tightened on her hand. No doubt the duke’s sister feared she would fall in. “But we can’t just barge in, unannounced.”
Rosalind only shrugged. “It’s quite possible the new owners aren’t even there yet, and if so, I’m sure they won’t mind us having a look inside once we explain our case to the housekeeper. Wouldn’t you like that, Madelyn?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Madelyn bit her bottom lip, trying to tamp down a sudden surge of nervousness. “But what of my stepmother? She’ll be looking for me.”
Rosalind waved away her worry as they rounded a bend that led them to the front drive. “The maid will cover for me.” Her footing faltered, then picked up again. “Ah…what I meant was…was that the baroness will be far too busy waking up Mrs. Greene,” she said quickly. “Charlotte’s mother seems to prefer frequent naps and is in the midst of quite a heavy one, I’m afraid. Don’t you worry. It will all be just fine.”
Madelyn wasn’t so sure. Coming around to the front of the castle, a shiny carriage with the top folded down awaited them. With the help of a liveried footman, the women were handed up into the fancy barouche and sat facing one another.
“See? No worries,” Rosalind chirped.
Madelyn smiled politely, casting a fretful glance at the tall rows of mullioned windows. She wondered if Gabriel was watching them. It all seemed very odd to her as the well-sprung carriage lurched into motion and rolled over the cobbled drive worn smooth by time.
As they rambled down the inner courtyard and through the two-story gatehouse, a strange feeling toyed with her mind. She couldn’t place her finger on it, though, and so shrugged the feeling away.
Rosalind grabbed a thick blue blanket, whipped it open and spread it across their legs. “There now,” she said with a wide smile. “Let us sit back and enjoy the ride. We’ll be there sooner than you think.”
After some time, Madelyn took her eyes off the passing countryside and very cautiously looked at Rosalind. The duke’s sister sat leaning comfortably back on the brown leather seat, a secret, satisfied smile curling her lips while her light eyes took in the view of rolling, green velvet fields alternately bracketed by long hedges or low stone walls.
Madelyn tried forcing herself to relax, or at least to appear to be enjoying herself. Admittedly, she apprec
iated Rosalind’s kindness and willingness to assist her in visiting Willowbrooke Cottage. It was something she was unable to do by herself. Priscilla wouldn’t allow her, and she knew she couldn’t very well have gone off alone. But now…she was so close. And after all, what did she stand to lose?
Priscilla was well and truly dissatisfied with the past fortnight’s outcome and would most likely continue to make her life miserable. In truth, all she had to look forward to was for Priscilla to finally surrender her marriage ambitions and send her off to live with aging female relatives as a companion. And it couldn’t be that bad of a life, she guessed. She would spend her days reading aloud, fetching blankets, chatting while perfecting her needlework…and pining for Gabriel and the life she might have had with him if she wasn’t so blasted stubborn.
Squinting up to the sky, she noted that the bright azure hue was painfully akin to the very shade of Gabriel’s eyes when he smiled down at her. A sudden sob tore at her throat and her stomach felt queasy. How in the world was she ever going to forget him? And, God forbid, how in the world was she to survive if she ran into him in town?
With her mind a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions, Madelyn tried to extinguish Gabriel from her thoughts and settle down. Truly, she tried to enjoy the warm sunshine and the sweet smell of a freshly clipped lawn, only her heart still gave a wrenching twist, as he remained in the forefront of her mind.
The road to Willowbrooke was surprisingly free of ruts and mud puddles. Even more surprising was how quickly they got there.
At the first sight of the moderately sized two-story stone building, her heart leapt to her throat. Memories of her youth, of her healthy mother, came flooding in…and so did her tears.
Rosalind reached forward, grasping her hands and giving them a squeeze. “Happy or sad?” she asked quietly.
“Both,” Madelyn answered.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the front gate, which now hung askew between the low stone wall. In too much of a state, Madelyn didn’t bother waiting to be helped down and just hopped down by herself.
A familiar sound reached her ears and she smiled. On a field in the distance, sheep scuttled uphill, bleating and crowding together at the top.
A twitch of black caught her eye, and she noticed a horse grazing in a fenced yard adjacent to the now dilapidated stable. The beautiful beast must belong to the caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. White, she thought, or to the new owners.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” she said in wonder. Smiling, she turned back to Rosalind, who still remained seated in the barouche.
And then it hit her, that odd feeling she had when they departed Wolverest for the cottage.
“You never told the driver where we were going,” Madelyn said, her words shaky. “You knew before you even came to fetch me that you were going to take me here. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Clasping her hands together on her lap, Rosalind acknowledged her gentle accusations with a firm nod. “And I have another confession to make.” She took a deep breath. “It was me.”
“What was you?”
“The shoes, the posset, the letter, locking you in.”
“What?” Madelyn blinked in surprise. “Why?”
Rosalind’s delicately winged brows knitted with worry. “They were all designed to get you into Gabriel’s company one way or another. I had hoped you would think it was one of the other ladies seeking to undermine your chances, and that you would take your problem to Gabriel. I thought once you both were in each other’s company, trying to ferret out the culprit, you wouldn’t be able to deny your attraction for one another.” Her expression softened. “Madelyn, I think you both fell in love the second your eyes met in that garden. You belong together.” She smiled then and gave a quick laugh. “You’re both so very different, but complement one another. Like a pair of puzzle pieces.”
“Together, we are complete,” Madelyn murmured. She turned back to the house. Distractedly, she noted that the roof needed thatching and two of the upstairs windows were broken. The cottage was a mess, indeed.
Just then there was a loud crash, followed by what sounded like the shout of a man. The horse in the field picked up its head, flicking its ears. Seconds later a rolling cloud of dust puffed out of one of the broken upstairs windows.
“What in the world?” Madelyn pushed through the gate, ignoring the sharp jab on her thumb from a piece of splintered wood. She dashed toward the front door. Upon reaching it, the rumbling of a carriage sounded behind her. She turned just in time to see Rosalind’s barouche hug the bend in the road and disappear.
She’d left her. Rosalind had left her here with no way back and all alone…well, all alone except for whoever was fumbling around upstairs.
Hitching up her skirts, Madelyn stepped inside the small front hall and looked to the left, to the first room that opened up. The familiar, almost forgotten sight of the front parlor made her feel like she was in a dream, an awful dream where her existence was wiped clean. For the room was completely empty. Gone were the cozy rugs, the paintings, the furniture, and her mother’s collection of porcelain dancing figures that had stood frozen in motion on the mantelpiece.
Her heart beating wildly, she forged on, her footsteps sounding hollow as she continued down the hall, past the empty breakfast room, past her father’s tiny office. It all seemed so much smaller than she’d remembered. Of course, the last time she’d stood within these walls she was much younger.
She reached the base of the narrow staircase, hesitating to ascend them. The floor creaked above her head and she looked up.
“Mrs. White?” she called out. “Mr. White?”
There was no answer, only more footsteps from above, but this time those creaks were moving to the head of the staircase. In a minute she’d find out who was upstairs.
A tall shadow shifted above, and then Gabriel—a very disheveled Gabriel—stood at the top of the stairs. His ink-black hair looked almost white with dust. Wearing only a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a pair of buckskin breeches and boots, he looked adorable and kissable and…
“What took you so long?” he asked, scowling down at her. “I almost got myself killed.”
“What are you doing here?” she questioned in return, blinking up at him. The sight of this glorious man, this man whom she loved, standing in her childhood home was almost more than she could take. She had never counted herself as someone who swooned, but she certainly felt that way presently.
He smiled, all lopsided and breathtaking, and held out his hand to her. “Come up,” he said lightly. “I’ve something to show you.”
As if suddenly bound to him by an invisible chain, Madelyn slinked up the steps. At the top, he didn’t budge an inch, and she was forced to brush up next to him. His bright gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and went back up again.
The cottage suddenly felt overly warm. She looked at his dusty hair, noting that whatever was in it was all over his shoulders as well.
“What is all this stuff on you?” she asked.
“The ceiling.”
“No…” she gasped, drawing out the o in disbelief.
“Yes,” he stressed with a grin. “I was hunting around in the attic when I quite suddenly fell through.”
So that was the crash she’d heard when they first arrived. “Oh, my,” she said, then tried to cover her smile with her hand.
“Go ahead, laugh if you will,” he replied in mock offense. “Just know that I almost died without ever telling you that I love you.”
Madelyn’s smile wavered, then fell, then rose up again with a brilliance that nearly made her cheeks hurt. “You do?”
His hooded eyes sparkled with blue flame. “I do.”
“You do?” she repeated in wonder.
“I do,” he gently repeated with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I love you, Madelyn.”
Overcome with emotion, she stood on her tiptoes and went in for a kiss. But he backed away until the
wall was at his back. Madelyn found herself leaning provocatively against him to keep from falling. Befuddled by his declaration, she missed the teasing light in his gaze.
She reached up for another kiss, this time holding both of his lean bristled cheeks in her hands. Closing her eyes, she pressed her soft lips to his. He didn’t respond at all. Slowly, she opened her eyes while keeping her mouth inches from his own. He hadn’t even closed his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, whispering.
“Madelyn, we are alone.”
“I know,” she said, going in for another attempt.
He turned his head, deftly evading her kiss. “It isn’t at all proper.”
Unable to stop herself, she started unbuttoning his shirt. Slipping her hands inside, she caressed his flat stomach and warm chest. “So now you’re a master of propriety?”
Sweet Lord, how badly he desired this woman. She was driving him mad with her delicate touch, but they had much to discuss, to resolve, before they went any further. Besides, there was still the subject of Rothbury to cover.
“You belong to another,” he stated, knowing it wasn’t true, but wanting to hear what she’d say.
“No, Gabriel,” she said softly. “It was awful of me, I know, but I didn’t promise anything to him.”
“I know,” he replied with a cheeky grin.
“You knew?” She swatted his shoulder. “And you let me believe otherwise?”
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I wanted to hear it from your lips.”
“I behaved childishly and said it only to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Finally he touched her, placing his large hands at her waist, and Madelyn’s entire body rejoiced.
“No. I’m sorry,” he intoned. Taking her chin delicately in his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her face so he could look more intensely into her eyes. “You have captivated me from the very beginning, my love. How could I have ever thought to change you? Forgive me.”
“I understand now,” she explained matter-of-factly. “I could stand to use some instruction. I am clumsy, and graceless, and—”
At the Bride Hunt Ball Page 27
