Even so, taking in Maddie’s ashen face, and bloodstained hands, he thought of another possibility. One that sent a chill through him.
“Madeline,” he said in a soft voice that the others would not be able to hear, “did Tinker press his attentions on you? Were you forced to defend yourself?” He slipped an arm around her shoulders as she sat shivering on the floor.
But Maddie shook her head. “I didn’t do it, Gresham,” she said, allowing him to lift her up from the floor. “He w-w-was like this when I came out of the … the … retiring room.”
Something in Christian’s chest unloosed. Thank God.
The crowd who had come in response to Maddie’s shriek had begun to press around them.
“Is he dead?” Lord Tretham asked, his normally sharp features flushed with fear.
“By Jove, I think he is,” George Vinson said with something like wonder.
“I was just playing vingt-et-un with the fellow,” Lord Fortenbury said, his voice cracking with fear, as if knives in the chest might be contagious.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please,” Mrs. Bailey said, her voice calm, “return to your play. There is nothing to be done here. I will send for the authorities and we will soon have this righted.”
There was grumbling but the gawkers began to disperse when Mrs. Bailey promised to offer refreshments to all of her guests.
“I will call the runners,” she told Christian before she returned to the front of the house, discreetly leaving the two of them alone.
When she was gone, Maddie hid her face in Christian’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind,” she said, in a voice more vulnerable than he had ever heard her use, “I should like to go home.”
“You’ll probably need to answer some questions,” he said gently. “But I suppose the runner can come to you at your father’s house tomorrow.”
“I would prefer that, yes,” Maddie said with a gulp. Her face was pale, and whatever bravado had propelled her into coming along with her brother tonight had dissipated. “Would you get James for me, please, so that he can take me home?”
Mrs. Bailey, who had returned with a sheet to cover the unfortunate Tinker, spoke up. “Oh, Lord Linton has already departed. He left as soon as you screamed. I thought he might have gone to fetch the runners but since they haven’t arrived yet, I suppose he didn’t.”
At the news Linton was gone, Christian frowned. So did Maddie.
“He left?” she asked, incredulous. “Why would he leave when he is my escort? How am I supposed to get home? He knows I’m here!”
Christian heard a thread of panic underlying Maddie’s tone and hurried to reassure her. “I’m sure he simply went to retrieve help as Mrs. Bailey suggested,” he said, taking her hand in his.
He had no idea if their hostess’s supposition was correct or not, however. There was no denying that Linton’s disappearance was suspicious. What reason would he have to flee the scene if he were not somehow involved? Christian had supposed that it was Tinker who belonged to the Citizen’s Liberation Society, but what if both Tinker and Linton were members? The possibility infuriated him mostly because Linton would then have knowingly brought his sister into the same quarters as traitors. The very idea made his blood boil.
Determined to see that Maddie was taken care of no matter what her brother’s involvement in tonight’s imbroglio, Christian took Maddie’s arm. “I will see you safely home, Lady Madeline. Have no fear.”
To his relief, Maddie, for once, did not argue, and allowed him to lead her out the back door of Mrs. Bailey’s house and to his waiting carriage in the mews beyond.
* * *
Gresham’s coach turned out to be a hackney he’d had one of Mrs. Bailey’s footmen call for him. Which was fine by Maddie. She was just glad to be out of that house. Though she’d gathered up quite a bit of detail and description to make the gaming hell scene in her novel convincing, it was the circumstances of Mr. Tinker’s death that would stay with her.
“Now we will see about getting you safely home,” Gresham said, a little too brightly, as he climbed into the carriage with her and rapped on the roof to indicate that they were ready to depart.
Though Maddie was somewhat numb from her experience, she appreciated Gresham’s attempt to bolster her mood. He could be kind like that, she thought, grateful that he had been the one to rescue her from the situation rather than someone less sensible like George Vinson.
Here in the closed confines of the carriage, she was painfully aware of him as a man. The interior was not so large that they were able to sit across from one another without touching. Indeed, his legs were long so that his knees brushed against hers every time the carriage drove over a bump.
They’d been in such a hurry to depart that there had been no time for the lamps within the carriage to be lit and moonlight limned the lines of Gresham’s face, making his already rugged looks seem harsher somehow. Maddie was reminded that despite his noble lineage, this man was a solider—had spent nearly a decade fighting against Napoleon—and for once he looked it. It was difficult to remember when he was recounting an amusing tale, or poking fun at himself, that he was a trained warrior.
“Thank you for seeing me home,” she murmured, the silence prompting her to say something, anything, to disperse the eerie quiet. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
“That’s what worries me,” her companion said. “What was your brother thinking to abandon you in such a place?”
Gresham’s tone was curt, unlike him. And for a moment Maddie wondered if his anger could all be over Linton’s hasty departure. Still, his implication that her brother had done the wrong thing set her back up. “He wouldn’t have gone off and left me there alone without good reason,” she said hotly. “I realize that Linton isn’t always the pattern card of respectability, but he doesn’t shirk his duty.”
At least not when he can help it, she thought. In truth she was annoyed with her brother herself. She had known him to be reckless in the past, but never had he simply vanished when she needed him as she had tonight. It was unlike him. But worse, it reminded her that his behavior, which had been on a downward spiral in the past year or so, was getting worse.
“He certainly did abandon you tonight,” Gresham said in a clipped tone. “Though I suppose he knew well enough that I’d look after you if it came to that.”
“You make it sound as if I am a child in leading strings in need of a nanny,” Maddie objected, disliking the idea she needed a keeper. “I am perfectly able to care for myself, thank you. Indeed, if you will just let me out in the next street, I will see myself home.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Gresham said with a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t trying to insult your independence. The truth of the matter is that the streets of London are not safe for a young lady of gentle breeding. They are damned unsafe for every sort of person at one time or another.”
Knowing he was right, Maddie still could not bring herself to back down from the issue. She folded her arms over her bosom, in a protective gesture. “I don’t see you requesting an escort every time you venture out of an evening,” she said sullenly.
“You don’t see me every night,” he said. “I could be requesting Winterson to see me from place to place every evening for all you know.”
The mental picture of Winterson escorting a cowering Gresham from entertainment to entertainment surprised a giggle from her. As he must have intended, for he looked quite pleased with himself.
“I don’t meant to be pettish about such things,” she said carefully, her anger gone for the moment. “It’s just that you can have no notion how frustrating it is to be unable to go about on one’s own or make descisions for oneself.”
“You forget that I spent the past decade in the military. I think I can understand the drawbacks of following orders,” he said with a smile. “Though I did have some freedom, since I was an officer. I do understand your frustration. But the rules are no
t there arbitrarily.” At her scoff, he amended, “Well, not entirely arbitrarily.”
“I do understand the safety issues,” she said. “It makes perfect sense. The only strictures that truly anger me are the ones that exist solely to keep ladies in their place. Like that ridiculous stricture against being seen at Mrs. Bailey’s. For the most part it was not much more scandalous than many a ton ball. But because men have decided it’s shocking for unmarried ladies to be exposed to gaming, I was forced to risk my reputation to go there tonight.”
“But don’t forget what happened there,” he said, his eyes serious. “Mr. Tinker’s death was precisely the type of occurrence that makes Mrs. Bailey’s the sort of place where ladies should not go.” Before she could object, he raised his hand. “No, hear me out, Lady Madeline.”
When she had nodded for him to continue, he said, “The reason that Mrs. Bailey’s is off limits is not, as you suppose, because men wish to keep young ladies away from gambling. If that were the case then card rooms at balls would be outlawed. The reason that Mrs. Bailey’s is off limits is because gaming—especially at high stakes—raises tempers and makes it likely that violence will erupt as a result. That’s all. Nothing more and nothing less.”
Maddie considered his words. It made some sense, she supposed. “But I still don’t agree that young ladies should be shielded from gaming. How are we to know what to avoid if we are never exposed to it and allowed to reject it in the first place?”
Gresham nodded. “I, for one,” he went on, “am relieved that we can agree on something at least.”
Deciding that their accord warranted a change of subject, Maddie said, “Do you … did you know anything about Mr. Tinker? I admit to not knowing him very well, but I can think of no one who would wish to see him dead.”
“No,” Gresham said after a brief pause. “I’ve met him socially before, of course, but I was hardly well acquainted with the man. I’ll look into his background more closely tomorrow. Perhaps see if there is something to be done for his family.”
“That would be…” Maddie paused, searching for the right word. “Kind.”
There was a lull in the conversation, both of them lost in their own thoughts as the carriage bumped along through the darkened streets of the city.
“Are you well?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of compassion in it that Maddie hadn’t even known he was capable of. “Regarding what you witnessed, I mean. It can be shocking to the system to see something like that. Even for a young lady as self-assured as you.”
And suddenly she was there again, kneeling in the hallway of Mrs. Bailey’s house, cradling a dying man in her arms as he breathed his last. She saw the pallor of his face, the burble of blood coming from his mouth, the knife protruding like something out of a nightmare from his chest. And she began to tremble.
Wordlessly, Gresham shifted to her side of the carriage and gathered her in his arms and held her as she wept. Maddie could do nothing to stop the tears. Her chest burned with them as she tried and failed to bring herself under control. She was aware of the sweep of Gresham’s hands over her back, his touch oddly gentle. He said nothing, and neither did she. She couldn’t. She was too overcome with horror for what she’d seen and felt earlier in the evening.
And then, just as wordlessly, it was over. The sobs that racked her body abated, and silently he handed her his handkerchief and she set about repairing the damage her tears had caused to her complexion. She gave silent thanks for the dimness of the carriage that would prevent him from seeing the worst of it.
Though Gresham no longer held her, he didn’t move back to his side of the carriage, either.
“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for, Maddie. Nothing,” he said quietly, fiercely. “It changes a person, seeing something like that. I don’t see how you can help it doing so. It’s a monumental thing to see the life seep out of a person. And when that person dies by another’s hand? Well, let’s just say that I’ve seen war-hardened soldiers respond with less dignity than you just did. So do not apologize. Your reaction was honest. And real.”
Unable to formulate a response that would do justice to his eloquence, she simply nodded.
When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the Earl of Essex’s town house, Gresham opened the carriage door and leaped down, handing Maddie out himself rather than making her wait for the driver. “Do you wish me to come inside with you? Explain to your parents what happened?”
“Good God, no!” That was all she needed, for her mother to learn that she’d ridden home in a closed carriage with Gresham on top of the fact that she’d gone to a private gaming house. One or the other would be shocking enough to her parents. Both together would likely give either or both of them an apoplexy. “That is, no, thank you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
The glint in his eye told her that he knew exactly why she was refusing his offer. But rather than push the matter, he gave her a brisk nod. And bowed very correctly over her hand as if they were in a drawing room.
“If you need to talk about … things,” he said, his gaze meeting hers briefly, “you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, suddenly feeling a wave of gratitude that he’d come to her rescue tonight. “I do.”
“Good night, then,” he said, bowing slightly once again. As if he were unsure of what to do. Which wasn’t really like Gresham at all, Maddie thought. Odd, that.
“Good night, my lord,” she said, before hurrying up the walk toward her father’s house. When she reached the steps, she turned and watched the carriage drive away. Her rescuer gone, she bolted up the steps to the entry door, grateful that her father’s servants were elderly and did not keep a close watch on the front walk at night.
It was not until she was safely inside her bedchamber that she realized she still held the earl’s handkerchief clutched in her hand.
Four
The next morning, his mind still occupied by the events of the evening before, Christian went in search of Winterson. He found his friend reading the papers and drinking coffee at White’s.
Since the other man’s marriage earlier in the season, he’d become a bit annoying in his blissful contentment. It wasn’t that Christian begrudged his friend his contentment. After all, Winterson had done his bit for king and country, and had come home with a bad leg to show for it. And after that ugly business with his brother’s murder, Winterson deserved some happiness. It was just that he was so bloody smug about it all.
“Morning, Gresham,” the duke said, setting his newspaper aside to greet his friend. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite his friend. Nodding to a nearby waiter, he indicated that he would also like coffee.
Winterson lifted his brows. Christian almost never drank coffee. “Late night?”
“You’ve not heard about the goings-on at Mrs. Bailey’s last night, then,” Christian said. It was a statement, and not a question.
Winterson shook his head. “Enlighten me.”
In some detail, Christian related to his friend what had gone on at the gaming hell the evening before. Though he stopped short of telling him about Maddie’s involvement beyond her finding of the dying Tinker.
The duke gave a low whistle. “Not what you expected to happen when the operative met his contact last night, I’ll wager.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “So what had Lady Madeline to say of all this? I have difficulty believing she stood aside quietly while you questioned the witnesses.”
Christian snorted. “Hardly.” He thought back to her response to the goings-on last night, and sobered as he remembered her distress in the carriage after they’d left the scene. “She was shaken, of course. More than I had expected from her, I’ll admit. I had been given to think that she was entirely fearless.”
“One thing to remember about Lady Madeline,” Wi
nterson said, “is that she feels things deeply. She is so determined because she cares.” He sipped his coffee. “Or so Cecily has given me to believe. They are alike in that, I think.”
Not a bad assessment, Christian thought. “She did care very much when her brother disappeared as soon as she alerted the rest of us to Tinker’s stabbing.”
Winterson sat up straighter. “What? I knew Linton was a scapegrace, but I hadn’t realized he was so far gone he’d leave his sister behind at a gaming hell, for God’s sake. It’s bad enough he took her there in the first place—I assume that’s what happened. Maddie is headstrong but she’s not foolish enough to visit a gambling den, even one that borders on respectable, by herself.”
“No,” Christian agreed, returning his coffee cup to the table, and toying with the handle. “She’s not that foolish, though she was very determined to visit Mrs. Bailey’s. I don’t know what she used to force him to bring her, but he did not strike me as having acquiesced to taking her there willingly. Which makes it odd that he disappeared so soon after Tinker was found. She was holding the dead man in her arms, for God’s sake, and he was gone.”
“I know that his family has been worried about Linton for some time now,” Winterson said with a sigh. “It would appear that he needs more than concern at this point. I have little doubt that his father will cut off his allowance after this debacle. Possibly more.”
“One can only hope that it will do some good. As it was, I was forced to escort Lady Madeline home in a hackney. I am grateful that we weren’t noticed.” He waited for his friend’s inevitable chastisement.
Winterson gave him a look.
“What?” Though Christian knew full well what.
“You took Lady Madeline home in a closed carriage?”
“Yes, what’s so odd about that?” Other than the fact that it’s damned scandalous?
“Aside from the fact that it’s damned scandalous?” Winterson asked, as if talking to a small child.
“You exaggerate,” Christian bit out.
How to Entice an Earl Page 4
