by Anne Herries
If Sally insisted on coming to France with her she might not be able to evade her—and that would ruin the dreams Thomas harboured of having his own inn, for he could not hope to make a success in France when he did not speak the language.
Oh, why could things not be simpler? Feeling uncertain and in some distress, Madeline used the cold water left over from the night before to wash, dressed in the simple gown she’d worn on her journey here and went downstairs. She needed to walk in the fresh air for a while before she came to her final decision.
She paused for a moment to listen to a noisy dispute in the taproom, then went out into the yard. It was a cold crisp morning, but the sun was shining and she felt better away from the stale odours of the inn.
Was her life to be spent in inns or lodgings that could be no better than this, because she could not afford a higher rent? Was she making a terrible mistake? Perhaps she’d let a few careless words upset her too much. Did she really need to run away to France?
Was she such a spineless coward? Remembering the brave governess who was forced to stand on her own feet, Madeline was shamed. She would truly be a coward if she allowed Rochdale to ruin her life.
Suddenly, she found that she was no longer afraid. The marquis might try to ruin her, but what did it truly matter? She did not care what people thought of her—but she would not have Hal ruined. Her mind sought for a solution to her problems and the idea came to her slowly. She need not go to France; instead she would return to her late husband’s house in London, but she could not return to Ravenscar for she did not wish to bring shame on Jenny and Adam. She would discover the truth of her situation from the lawyers and, if she were the heir, she would arrange for the marquis to be paid. Then, if she had no other choice, she would go home to her father. Sally would no longer feel it necessary to remain with her and could follow her heart. As for Hal...perhaps in time he would forgive her, though it would be best if he forgot her and found a new life without her.
Madeline was not sure what might happen to her in the future, if she could bear to marry again, whether she would be penniless or left with a competence. She only knew that she must find the courage to face whatever came to her by returning to her old life.
It was the best solution for her friends and preferable to a life spent looking over her shoulder. She must stop running and face her enemy.
Lifting her head proudly, Madeline walked back to the inn. It was time she took charge of her own life—but as the lady she was rather than a seamstress. If Rochdale required to be paid, he must produce evidence and the lawyers would attend to it. Surely enough would be left from her husband’s estate to enable her to live independently, but if not she would seek help from her family.
* * *
‘Oh, I am glad you have given up the idea of becoming a seamstress, my lady,’ Sally said when Madeline returned to their room. ‘I would have come with you wherever you chose to go, but I must confess that Thomas was not truly happy about it, though for my sake he would follow you anywhere.’
‘Once I am settled, you must make your own plans for the future,’ Madeline told her. ‘I want my friends to be happy and I shall make you both a handsome present when you leave me.’
‘We do not need anything, my lady,’ Sally said. ‘Thomas has money enough to set up his inn—but I shall not leave you until you are comfortable.’
‘Your loyalty has been more than I could ever have expected,’ Madeline said. ‘If you will accept nothing more, I shall give you a wedding gift.’
‘I could not refuse that,’ Sally said, looking pleased. ‘Will you not have some breakfast? There are fresh rolls, butter and honey and I could send down for more tea, for I think this must have gone cold.’
‘I shall have honey and rolls and the fruit juice you brought,’ Madeline said. ‘Pray tell Thomas the news and ask him to engage us a chaise for London rather than Dover.’
‘Yes, my lady, at once.’
Sally went off with a new spring in her step, unable to hide her pleasure at Madeline’s change of plan. It was a sensible one and Madeline wondered why she had not thought of it at once. Until the lawyers had sorted out the business of the estate, Lethbridge’s property was at her disposal. It was likely that she would have some claim to the dower house at his country estate if nothing more...but there was little point in thinking too far ahead. Another day of travelling would bring them to London and the lawyers would soon give her the information she needed.
She felt better for having taken her life into her own hands. Rochdale would do his worst for the only person’s reputation to suffer would be her own and she cared nothing for it. Her friends would not bear the shame of her making—and Sally’s happiness was worth whatever it cost her. In London, Madeline would make plans for the future according to her situation.
* * *
She had finished her breakfast and was ready to go down when Sally returned to fetch the bags and tell her that the chaise was ready and waiting. Madeline carried her own bag, as she had when they arrived here. She did not intend to let her maid wait on her as she had in the old days. In future her life would be different for she would live more simply and not as the wife of a lord. Wherever she went and whatever she did, she had changed. For years she’d lived in fear of her husband and then the shadow of the marquis’s threats had overwhelmed her, but something had changed. She would not run away again, but face whatever the future brought with fresh courage.
As she left the inn, she saw that Thomas was speaking with the gentleman she’d seen in the inn the previous night. He saw her, shook hands with Captain Mardle and came to take her bags from her.
‘I hope you will not dislike it, my lady,’ Thomas said, ‘but Captain Mardle is riding to London and asked if you would care for his escort. I said that I thought you could not object... There have been tales of highwaymen on the Heath as you approach London. Two pistols are better than one.’
‘I have no objection to the gentleman’s company,’ Madeline said. ‘It was kind of him to offer—please thank him for me.’
‘Yes, my lady. I was sure you could not object for he is a respectable gentleman.’
Madeline smiled and nodded toward the obliging gentleman and he swept off his hat to her. Thomas helped her into the chaise and the order to move off was given. Thomas and Captain Mardle followed, riding together. She looked at Sally as she settled back against the squabs.
‘Was Thomas pleased?’
‘Oh, yes, my lady. He says he shall buy his inn in London for his brother knows of one by the river and no more than five miles from his own. It is exactly what Thomas wanted, though he would have changed his plans to please me.’
‘Well, now you may please yourselves,’ Madeline said. ‘We must have a pretty gown made for your wedding and I shall think of something nice to give you.’
‘I should like something in ivory, I think,’ Sally said ‘and a velvet bonnet trimmed with silk roses to wear with it.’
‘Oh, yes, that would be charming,’ Madeline said. ‘We shall go shopping together, Sally. You must let me buy your bride clothes for I owe you so much.’
Sally blushed and demurred, but did not refuse and they spent some happy minutes speaking of various things that a young bride needed when she married. Thomas had not spoken of taking his bride on a wedding trip and it was unlikely that she would need many smart gowns, but simple dresses for everyday, underclothes and linens for her home were essential.
Madeline was determined to make her a present of cloth and linen that she would find useful in her married life and also to give her various bits and pieces for her house, beside the coin she’d already decided on. It was wonderful to have a wedding to plan and Madeline managed to put all thought of the marquis from her mind.
Now and then thoughts of Hal made her heart ache, for she ought to have been planning her own
wedding soon, but she must be brave. Her letter had made her feelings clear and she doubted that Hal would pursue her. He would be hurt, but he would realise that their parting was for the best...although Madeline was no longer sure that it was. But he would receive her letter and then he would despise her for being a coward.
* * *
Hal cursed as he ran his hand over the horse’s left hind leg. It had gone lame and there was no way he could push on further now. He must lead the poor beast to the nearest inn and leave the chaise there—but perhaps he had pushed himself too hard. He was so tired that he hardly knew how to go on. His mind cast for the best solution and he recalled a posting inn he’d passed in the early light of the morning. It was perhaps half an hour behind him. Better to go back to a decent inn than go on not knowing how far he must lead the horse or what he would find there. He could breakfast there and rest for an hour before continuing his journey. It had been foolish to travel without a groom, for he could not leave the other horse and the chaise here in the road. Perhaps he could find help at the farm just ahead, for if he could leave the chaise and horses with a respectable man, he might arrange to borrow a hack and continue his journey.
Hal was debating what to do next when he saw a man riding towards him and shouted, hoping that the stranger might know of someone who could help him. Turning back to the lame horse, Hal began to release it from the traces as the man came up to him.
‘Thank God,’ a voice he knew said and he spun round to find himself facing Adam. ‘I thought you might be in London by now.’
‘Adam!’ Hal cried. ‘Your man found me and told me that Maddie has run off—whatever possessed her to do it?’
‘I fear she may have overheard us in the library. You remember I questioned your intentions...she must have thought I was against her for she left rather than bring shame on us.’
Hal swore loudly. ‘I was on my way back to Ravenscar,’ he said. ‘I thought you were searching for Madeline—what brought you this way?’
‘She hired a chaise to take her to Dover. I have asked at all the posting inns and this morning I discovered that she put up at the Hare and Hounds last night.’
‘Dover?’ Hal was puzzled. ‘Why on earth would she go there? She cannot be thinking of leaving England?’
‘I think she must have done it to put anyone off her scent,’ Adam said, ‘for I was told at the inn that the lady had left but had hired a chaise not for Dover but London.’
‘She deliberately tried to deceive us?’ Hal’s mouth set hard for this was deceitful. ‘I do not understand this, Adam. Something is not right. What can she intend?’
‘I think she is confused and distressed,’ Adam said. ‘Her letter to Jenny made it clear that she was leaving for our sakes.’
‘I must find her, Adam. She is in danger whether or not she realises it—and I must know why she has run away from me.’
‘Yes, of course. What has happened to your rig?’
‘The poor beast has gone lame. I must lead it to a posting house where it can be looked after until I can have it returned to its owner.’
‘Let me lead the lamed horse while you harness mine to the chaise and go on, Hal. I can arrange for this horse to be cared for and eventually returned to its owner—hire another horse at the posting house and leave my horse for me. I shall rest for a while and then return to Jenny, because I know she must be anxious.’
‘Are you sure?’ Hal looked doubtful for his cousin’s horse was a fine animal and unused to being between the shafts of a chaise.
‘Horace is well trained and will obey you, but treat him gently. Here, I’ll give you a hand.’
‘How far behind her were you?’ Hal asked as the cousins re-harnessed the horses. ‘I saw a chaise heading towards London some time back. Now I think about it, there were two men riding behind on horses, but I did not look at their faces for I was in too much hurry.’
‘It could not have been them for she took only her maid and Thomas.’
‘No, I dare say you are right,’ Hal said. ‘I shall return to the post house that I passed some time back. I think I shall hire a groom to drive me this time, for otherwise I may fall asleep. You should rest there before you return home, Adam.’ He clasped his cousin’s hand. ‘I am sorry Madeline has caused distress. I think she did not mean to upset anyone.’
‘I blame myself, Hal. If she heard what I said to you, she may have felt I did not welcome her in my house. I should have been kinder, but I could not forget the pain she had caused you in the past. Now I realise I was wrong to doubt her. Do not think ill of her for what she has done—go after her and tell her you care for her. It is all she needs to know, surely?’
Hal thanked him and they parted, Adam preparing to lead the horse as Hal set off at a more measured pace than before. At least he knew where Madeline was headed now. Before, he had been uncertain what had happened, but now it seemed that she meant to return to London—perhaps to her late husband’s home? She had every right to do so, of course, but she had told him she wanted nothing more than her settlement so that she could find a home of her own.
Why had she decided to return there? Hal could make nothing of her flight for it appeared to contradict all he’d believed. Adam seemed to imagine that Madeline was uncertain of Hal’s feelings, but she could not have thought he cared a jot for the marquis’s spite—could she?
He was torn between hope and anger. His cousins had taken her in and given her a comfortable place to live while she sorted out her life—why could she not have accepted their kindness instead of causing distress? Why had she chosen to run away as soon as Hal’s back was turned?
Was it possible that she cared nothing for him—that she preferred to return to her old life as Lethbridge’s widow?
Madeline must know that Hal loved her more than his life. How could she have done this knowing what distress it must cause?
Adam had reminded him that she had chosen to marry the count when she knew it would break Hal’s heart. He had dismissed the warning, excusing her and telling himself that she’d had no choice. But supposing he was wrong?
Supposing she was a cold-hearted selfish woman who thought only of herself?
No, she could not be. She was tender and warm and loving. But then why had she run away when she must know it would break his heart to lose her all over again?
Hal shook his head, feeling relieved as he saw the posting house just ahead of him. He would discover the answers to his questions only when he caught up with Madeline, but he could drive no further without resting. He would pause at the inn, change horses and eat something, and he would hire a groom to drive him so that he could sleep for a while.
He could not be that far behind Madeline if she had come from the Hare and Hounds. Half an hour to change the horses and eat, then they would be off again. With luck they could not be much more than an hour or so behind.
* * *
‘What? Damn you, Joseph. Are you certain?’ Rochdale looked at his servant hard. ‘You are sure she was bound for London and not for Dover?’
‘Quite certain, my lord. I heard her servant tell the post boys of a change of plans. They are headed for London—and for a house in Grosvenor Square—and she has a gentleman’s escort as well as her servants. He looked a military man to me.’
‘She is returning to her husband’s house?’ Rochdale cursed beneath his breath. He’d thought her alone apart from the servants and therefore defenceless. But if she had an escort, Ravenscar must have joined them on the road, which meant she was now well defended. They must have decided to dismiss his threats as worthless, and indeed, though he might cause them some trouble, there was very little he could really do other than strip them of as much of Lethbridge’s wealth as he dared. If he dropped hints that she was no better than a whore, a few eyebrows would be raised, but with Lethbridge’s reputation most la
dies would simply titter behind their fans and think that in Madeline’s place they might have done the same.
It seemed he’d missed his chance to snatch her. Unless he could somehow pass them—and lie in wait for their chaise on the road. He was driving a sporting curricle and could make better speed than a hired chaise. If he could dispose of Ravenscar and the footman, he would have her at his mercy. Rochdale had heard the rumours of highwaymen on the Heath. Madeline was certain to stop for nuncheon to break her journey. If he drove at all speed he could pass them and then... A smile touched his lips. Masked, he could take advantage of the rumours and kill both Ravenscar and the footman. Their deaths would be laid at the door of the highwayman. Madeline would be truly alone then and he would have her.
‘Put my horses to,’ Rochdale ordered. ‘I shall be on my way as soon as I’ve paid my shot here.’
‘What would you wish me to do, my lord?’
‘You are going to assist me in holding up a chaise and capturing its passenger. I’ve had enough of chasing after the wench. I’ll take what I want and she shall learn to know her master.’
Joseph blenched, but did not dare to answer back. He’d known that his master was a wicked man, for he knew all the marquis’s secrets—but never before had he been asked to take part in such a desperate act. His throat felt tight with fear, for he could end at the hangman’s noose for such work as this—but if he refused his master might kill him in a rage.
There was nothing he could do but do as he was told, but he would leave the marquis’s employ and seek another master as soon as he could.
Chapter Twelve
Madeline smiled at her companion. It was late in the afternoon and they had made good time, stopping for only half an hour to eat their nuncheon while the horses were changed. Dusk was falling as they began to cross the Heath at Hampstead, but it was not yet dark and she did not think they needed to fear the highwayman who was said to haunt this place. When the shots rang out and the chaise was brought to a shuddering halt it took her so much by surprise that she was flung across the carriage into Sally’s arms.
