By Love Undone

by Suzanne Enoch

  The viscount looked at him assessingly. “You wish to make amends, then?”

  Dunfrey nearly smiled at Halverston’s hopeful tone. “Yes. Yes, I do. You know that I married after Maddie disappeared. My wife…Patricia was dear to me, but she has been gone for over a year now. And when I saw Maddie this morning—well, I realized that she has stolen back into my heart, Robert. Time heals all wounds, they say.”

  “So they do, Charles.”

  “I am to call on her tomorrow. I thought, though, that you would want to hear my news immediately. And I also wanted your permission to proceed.”

  “You still want to marry her, then? Even though you know nothing of her whereabouts for the past five years?”

  This was almost too easy. “My lord, of course I know I’m taking a risk with my reputation. I may very well be censured for my actions if I renew my offer to take Maddie as my wife. And the Lord knows, since Patricia’s death, things have not been easy.” He shrugged. “But I have come to believe that I owe Maddie another chance.”

  The viscount sat forward, his color returning. “You are a good and understanding man, Charles. I have always thought so.”

  “Thank you, Lord Halverston. It is my dearest hope that I shall be able to convince Maddie of the same.”

  “Where is she, then?” the viscount repeated.

  Dunfrey had hoped he would forget the question. That, he supposed, would have been too much to hope for. “I will tell you, but might I suggest a plan of action first? No one wants her to flee again, I’m certain.”

  “No, of course not,” the viscount agreed hastily. “What’s your idea, Dunfrey?”

  “Well, she has apparently won the favor of the Duchess of Highbarrow.”

  “Highbarrow? My goodness!” Lord Halverston looked stunned for the third time that evening. “The Duchess of Highbarrow?”

  “Yes. She admitted to me—reluctantly—that she was staying in the Bancroft household. That is where I’m to call on her tomorrow afternoon.”

  For the second time, Viscount Halverston looked hopeful. “That’s an exceedingly good sign, I would say. Please proceed, Charles.”

  “Of course,” Dunfrey agreed, stifling a triumphant smile. He had Halverston now. “I think you should repair to London, in the—”

  “Yes, at once,” the viscount said eagerly.

  “No, no…she would know that I had betrayed her trust. You must delay a week or two, and then come to London on some pretext or other. Then we can carefully arrange for you to come across her as if by accident…as I did.”

  The viscount was nodding. “I agree. We don’t want her upsetting the duchess and taking flight again.”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t wish to risk losing her again.” Or her dowry. That, though, could be negotiated later, once he had her safely in hand.

  Halverston took a breath. “Nor do I.”

  Dunfrey stood. “Splendid. I should get back to London posthaste. It would never do for me to miss calling on her.”

  “You have my deepest gratitude, Charles.”

  This time Dunfrey’s smile was genuine. “Thank you, Robert.”

  Maddie looked about at her newfound acquaintances. Quin continually reminded her that she was of noble birth, and that she had as much right to hold her head up as anyone else. Rare and appreciated as the compliment had been, he really had no idea what he was talking about.

  Even before she’d been ruined, she’d never moved in circles this golden. Daughters, wives, and sisters of this duke, that marquis, and a twelfth-generation viscount surrounded her, gossiping and nibbling daintily on pastries. She’d seen most of them during the short course of her debut Season but had never imagined actually being invited to luncheon with them. She stifled a grimace as a crumb fell from her peach pastry onto the floor. Even less had she thought to be the reason for such a luncheon.

  “He actually fell over?”

  Lady Margaret Penwide covered her mouth with her hand as she chuckled. “Oh, no. Mrs. Grady stopped his fall.”

  Eloise, seated beside Maddie, smiled at her and briefly squeezed her hand. The gesture was no doubt meant to be encouraging, but it caused another piece of pastry to break free. This one landed on Maddie’s foot.

  “She didn’t!”

  “I suppose it wasn’t her fault, for given her girth, she undoubtedly couldn’t get out of the way. But she ended up standing there in the middle of Hyde Park with Francis Henning hanging onto her bosom with both hands.”

  The rest of luncheon went like that, with someone revealing an embarrassing piece of gossip about a mutual acquaintance, and everyone else laughing over it. For Maddie the barbs seemed a little too familiar to be amusing. At the same time, five years ago she hadn’t been all that different from Eloise and her friends. She had been a fool.

  “Miss Willits?”

  She looked up, surprised, as a dark-haired lady sat beside her: Beatrice Densen, she vaguely remembered, a refined lady several years older than Maddie, with a reputation—at least five years ago—for giving elegant salon parties. “Miss Densen,” she replied.

  “Excuse me a moment, my dear,” Eloise said from her other side, and stood. “I need to see to the desserts.”

  “Of course.”

  “Miss Willits, if I may be so bold, I have always thought society treated you very cruelly,” Beatrice said, taking Maddie’s hand.

  The abrupt intimacy left her feeling rather uneasy, but she smiled. At least someone was bothering to talk to her instead of simply staring, or worse yet, watching out of the corner of their eye. “Thank you.”

  “My brother, Gaylord, and I were planning a quiet evening tonight. Could I entice you to join us? Gaylord is a fair whist player.”

  Maddie smiled. Quin probably wouldn’t approve, because it wasn’t part of his carefully laid-out plan. “I would love to,” she answered.

  Beatrice smiled back at her. “I will come around for you myself, at seven, then.”

  “Thank you.”

  At half past two, the Warefield coach clattered onto the Stokesleys’ short drive to bring her back to Bancroft House. Maddie looked at the red and yellow crest emblazoned on the carriage door in disgust. For someone trying to repair her reputation, Quin certainly had an odd way of going about it.

  She’d heard the speculation, carefully out of Eloise’s hearing, over why the marquis might be staying with his parents rather than his own perfectly lovely Whiting House. And then she heard her own name as the possible reason.

  Still, she decided as she climbed into Quin’s coach, at least they had all been kind and polite to her face. She hadn’t expected even that much courtesy from them. And she’d handled herself rather well. She hadn’t spilled any more than a few crumbs, which she had managed to hide beneath her skirts, and she’d been invited to a dinner. Altogether, she supposed she’d won some sort of victory.

  When the coach entered the Bancroft House drive, though, she changed her mind. Charles Dunfrey’s carriage stood there already, waiting. A flutter of nervousness quaked through her. Luncheon had been the easy part.

  “Miss Willits, you have a caller,” the butler informed her.

  “Yes. Thank you, Beeks,” she said, her fingers shaking as she removed her hat and shawl, handing them over to his care.

  The butler nodded. “You will find him in the drawing room.” He hesitated. “Best of luck, Miss Maddie.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “Thank you.”

  Her heart pounding, Maddie slowly climbed the stairs. With each step she tried to convince herself that whatever Charles said or thought about her didn’t matter. He’d broken off their engagement, and she’d made a life for herself completely independent of him and her parents.

  At the top of the stairs, she stopped. Quin stood in the doorway of the library, an open book resting in his hands. He glanced up at her, jade flashing beneath long, black lashes, and then went back to his reading.

  “How was luncheon?” he said to the book as
she passed by.

  “No one called me any terrible names,” she returned.

  “Did anyone speak to you?”

  “It is none of your affair.”

  “I think it is,” he said with more heat, lifting his head again to look at her.

  “Then you are wrong.”

  Before he could reply to that, she opened the drawing room door and stepped inside.

  Charles stood as soon as she entered. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt, which actually left her a little more at ease. “Mr. Dunfrey,” she said, in as calm a voice as she could manage. “Good afternoon.”

  “Must we begin with such formality?” he asked. “Please call me Charles.”

  She nodded. “Very well…Charles. Shall I ring for tea?”

  He looked at her for another moment, then visibly shook himself and motioned for her to take a seat. “Yes, please.”

  They were both silent as a footman entered with a tea tray, then vanished again through the open door. Maddie dearly hoped that Quin was not still standing in the library doorway, where he would be able to hear clearly everything that was said. But even if he was, she didn’t dare close the door. Here, she most especially needed to behave with propriety. Unnecessary and pointless as she had decided Charles’s apology would be, she wanted to prove to him that he had been wrong about her.

  “I cannot get over how beautiful you’ve become,” he said into the silence, and she jumped. “And you were a rose among thorns before.”

  “Thank you. You haven’t changed, I don’t think.”

  He chuckled. “You are very kind, my dear.”

  The mantel clock softly chimed the hour, while Maddie sipped her too hot tea and tried desperately to think of something to say. “I heard that you married,” she finally ventured.

  “Yes, yes. Patricia Giles. She was several years older than you, I believe. From a good family, though.”

  “I was sorry to learn of her passing.”

  Charles nodded. “Thank you. You have a good heart, Maddie. I don’t know if I could be so generous, were our positions reversed.” He bowed his dark head for a moment. “Maddie, I broke with Spenser the night you…I…I saw the two of you. He—”

  “Charles, I—”

  “No, please,” he cut across her interruption. “Let me say this. He wrote me several months ago, confessing that he’d been drinking and that his attentions to you had been unwelcome.”

  Maddie looked at him for a long moment, a thousand thoughts tumbling through her mind. “So you know the truth.”

  “Yes. Actually, I think I realized it quite a long time ago. When I first saw the two of you, I was so angry…jealous and hurt, I think. I wanted to be the only man you’d ever kissed.”

  An image of Quin jumped into her head. His warm lips, the light in his eyes when he looked into hers…“I wanted that as well, Charles. But that is an impossibility, and I will not dwell on it.”

  He sat forward, taking the teacup and saucer from her hands, and grasping her fingers. “I do not want you to dwell on it,” he said earnestly, holding her eyes. “You have suffered, away from your family and friends, for five years. And not because of your own actions, but because of mine.”

  “Charles….”

  He knelt at her feet. “Maddie, do you think, with your generous heart, that you might perhaps—not right away, of course—but do you think eventually you might be able to forgive me?”

  She’d dreamed of this, in the first few months after she’d fled London—dreamed of everyone who’d been so awful to her, coming and begging on their hands and knees for her forgiveness. And even five years later, it still felt quite…satisfying. “Yes, Charles. I think I might be able to forgive you.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, Maddie.”

  “I—damn it!”

  Maddie jumped again, pulling her hands free while Charles swiftly stood. Rafael stumbled into the drawing room with none of his usual grace.

  “Rafe, what—”

  “Beg pardon, Maddie. Tripped, or something.” He turned his attention to Charles. “I say, you’re Dunfrey, aren’t you?” Rafe strode forward and clasped her former betrothed’s hand. “Rafael Bancroft.”

  Charles looked at him somewhat warily as he retrieved his hand. “I’m pleased to finally meet you, Captain. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  “Only the good parts are true.” Rafe grinned and winked at Maddie. “That your barouche out front?”

  “Yes, yes it is. I hope—”

  “Fine pair of bays you have there. Wouldn’t be interested in selling ‘em, would you?”

  “My—well—I really hadn’t thought about it.”

  Rafe clapped him on the back, leading him toward the door. “Well, think about it, Dunfrey. I might be willing to part with as much as a hundred quid for the pair, if they’re sound.”

  “A hundred….” Charles looked over his shoulder at Maddie, who sat watching the men’s departure with a mixture of relief, disbelief, and amusement. “Maddie—Miss Willits—might I call on you again?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  They disappeared down the hallway. Maddie took a deep breath, and sinking back in the well-cushioned chair, slowly let it out again and closed her eyes. Charles Dunfrey still liked her. Handsome, witty Charles Dunfrey had apologized, and he wished to call on her again.

  “The rat’s gone, is he?”

  Maddie opened one eye to regard the tall, lean figure in the doorway. “As if you didn’t know.”

  “And what do you mean by that, pray tell?” Quin folded his arms across his chest.

  The other eye opened as well. “You practically threw poor Rafe in here on his head.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Well, I really don’t care, one way or the other. Miss Densen invited me to dinner with her and her brother.” She stood.

  “Having dinner with the Densens is not part of the plan,” he said, straightening to block her exit from the room.

  “You’re just angry because perhaps you’re not quite so necessary anymore, Warefield,” she shot back at him, shoving against his hard chest with her palm and stalking past him.

  Quin looked after her, his eyes narrowed. “‘Not quite so necessary,’” he mimicked darkly. “Ungrateful chit.”

  Chapter 12

  “Quin, I have to admit, your little project is marvelous.” Eloise hid the words behind her fine ivory fan. “There’s nothing like a diversion to liven up the Season. And you were right, of course: Maddie is actually quite nice, if a bit quiet.”

  “‘Quiet?’” Grateful for the darkened opera house, Quin lifted an eyebrow in keen curiosity. “How so?”

  “Well, perhaps ‘quiet’ isn’t precisely the right word. But you really can’t blame her for being reserved. I would be a bit timid myself, not knowing how anyone would react to my presence. I practically had to tie Lady Anne Jeffries to a chair to convince her not to cut poor Madeleine and actually leave the luncheon.”

  “Maddie seemed to think it went fairly well,” Quin said in a low voice. At least the opera below was fairly energetic, so no one was likely to overhear the conversation. “She spoke of a dinner invitation this evening.” Actually, she’d thrown it in his face, but he didn’t care to go into that.

  “Yes. I advised her against it, but I think she was just grateful to have been invited.”

  Quin straightened. “What do you mean, you ‘advised her against it’? Miss Densen is a good friend of yours, is she not?”

  “Beatrice is, yes—if a little…eccentric. But I would not vouch for Gaylord and his cronies. They—”

  “‘They’?” Quin repeated sharply, suddenly and absurdly alarmed. “Maddie said it was to be a private dinner, with just the Densens.”

  Eloise rapped him on the arm with her fan. “You need to spend more time in London.”

  “So enlighten me.”

  She sighed. “Gaylord has been holding mixed-gender card parties at his home for better than a y
ear. They began quite modestly—I even attended one myself. But lately—well, very few virtuous ladies attend any longer.” She shrugged. “As I said, I tried discreetly to warn her. But Maddie’s…obstinate nature is what got her into such trouble before, no doubt.”

  Densen’s mansion was only ten minutes or so from the opera house. Quin stood. “I should go get her.”

  “Don’t you dare leave me here to go chasing after Maddie Willits,” Eloise protested. “You’ve already gone far beyond settling any debt. And I have listened to enough rumors about why the Bancrofts have been so helpful and generous to a little social insignificant like her.”

  Slowly Quin retook his seat. “I beg your pardon?” he murmured angrily, even though she was clearly correct.

  She reached out to put a hand on his arm. “It’s what everyone is saying, Quin. I wanted you to hear it. Don’t be blinded by your wish to do a good deed.”

  “I’m not blinded by anything,” he returned firmly, if not absolutely truthfully.

  She sat back and looked at him. “Very well. I am only concerned. Your first duty is to your family.”

  Angrier still at her censure, he took a breath, flexing his shoulders to try to release some of the tension. “I am aware of that, Eloise.”

  “We must remain friends, Quin,” Eloise said. “I know you are fond of Maddie—you’ve always taken pity on poor, lost creatures. I only ask that you keep your obligation to help her in perspective.”

  She was right—again—and he still didn’t like hearing it. He still wanted to rush off and rescue Maddie from her own poor judgment. As Eloise had said, though, Maddie’s obstinacy in going her own way had likely caused all her troubles in the first place. And he had his own troubles—obligations—to take care of.

  “Eloise, might I escort you to Bond Street tomorrow?” he said, by way of answer. “I believe we have something of mutual interest to discuss.”

  She smiled. “It would be my pleasure, Quin.”

  Assuming a stolidly stone-faced expression, Maddie stepped past Beeks into Bancroft House’s main hallway. They knew only that she’d gone to dinner with the Densens. There was no need for anyone to hear anything further, nor any explanation as to why it had taken her so long to return to her temporary haven. Especially Quin: she’d never hear the end of it if he learned that she’d been to a raucous card party and practically had to bribe the butler to find her a hack so she could leave.