Deceived & Honoured--The Baron's Vexing Wife (#7 Love's Second Chance Series)

by Bree Wolf

  Never had Derek felt at ease in a large crowd, which was especially true when that crowd consisted solely of lords and ladies of the ton. However, right then and there, at Lord Kingsley’s ball, he felt something akin to pleasure.

  “It is truly wonderful to see you again,” the Duchess of Cromwell beamed as she embraced Tristan’s sister, Henrietta, warmly. Her dark red tresses swung forward, coming to rest next to Henrietta’s pale blond curls, as the two women held each other tightly. “It has been too long, Henrietta,” she added, suddenly standing back and gazing into her friend’s face. “A part of me feared, I would never lay eyes on you again when you all but ran off to Scotland.” The voice caught in her throat, and her eyes misted, prompting her husband, Edmond, to place a comforting hand on the small of her back.

  A booming laugh echoed to their ears, and Henrietta turned her head to glower at her own husband. “I fail to see how this is amusing,” she reproached him with feigned displeasure in her voice. Her eyes, however, shone with mirth.

  Connor Brunwood, the new Marquis of Rodridge and Henrietta’s Scottish husband, grinned at her, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled her into his arms, unimpressed by the hushed whispers his behaviour elicited from the rest of the guests in attendance. “If only ye had run off with me,” he teased her, utter devotion shining in his gaze. “However, I do remember ye were quite unwilling to even be civil with me.”

  Tristan’s sister shrugged. “You deserved it. After all, you went behind my back to secure my hand in marriage.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “Will ye never let me forget that?”

  “Not likely,” she whispered, smiling up at him sweetly. “After all, where would be the fun in that?”

  As Connor groaned, the rest of them broke out laughing, and Derek had to admit−at least to himself−that Tristan had been right. There were good people among the ton. Nothing was black and white. These people who stood here beside him that night were devoted and loyal friends.

  Friends who made mistakes.

  Friends who were led amiss.

  Friends who did not always do the right thing.

  And yet, when it mattered, they stood side by side and risked everything to save the other.

  Glancing from Tristan to his golden-haired wife, Beth, as she leaned into him, his arm gently wrapped around her, Derek smiled. Everything had turned out the way it ought to have. Despite Derek’s own disbelief, his friend had found true love, the one woman who completed him.

  “Anna, I admit I never thought I’d ever enjoy one of these events,” Henrietta stated, echoing Derek’s own thoughts, as she glanced from the Duchess of Cromwell to her brother. “A lot has changed in so little a time, and I truly wish we could stay longer.” A touch of sadness came to her eyes at the thought of their departure.

  Only two weeks ago, she and her husband had raced to London, pushing their horses beyond their limits, in a desperate attempt to save Tristan’s life.

  And they had.

  It had been Henrietta’s dagger that had taken down their devious uncle in the nick of time.

  Loyalty. Devotion. Derek thought. Traits so rare in today’s world.

  “I wish that as well,” Beth said, looking at her new sister-in-law. From what Derek had observed, the two women had grown quite close in so short a time, forever linked by their love for Tristan. “Promise that we will see each other again soon.”

  A deep smile came to Henrietta’s face as she nodded eagerly. “I would love it if you all would come visit us at Greyston Castle,” she said, glancing up at her husband, who nodded his head in agreement. “Maybe for Christmas. Connor says the Scottish hills look like a place out of a fairy tale when the snow begins to fall.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” Beth beamed, turning eager eyes to her husband.

  In answer, Tristan nodded, a large smile on his face. “We’ll be there. Nothing could keep us away.”

  “Us as well,” Edmond chimed in, gently squeezing his wife’s hand as she smiled up at him. “However, I must warn you, Lady Etta is quite a handful, not unlike her mother,” that earned him a jab in the ribs from Anna, which he chose to ignore, “and will most likely turn everything topsy-turvy in Greyston Castle.”

  Everyone laughed, and Henrietta assured the duke and duchess that their little daughter was more than welcome. After all, Christmastide was never as magical as when seen through the eyes of a child.

  Before long, the three couples drifted away onto the dance floor, leaving Derek behind with a sense of accomplishment. After all, he had spent the past years watching over Tristan as his friend had fought the demons of his past. Now, finally, they had achieved victory, thus liberating Derek from his obligation. Finally, he would be able to return home.

  Home?

  It was a strange word, and admittedly, it did not yet apply to Huntington House. After all, he himself had barely set foot on the estate since being granted it after returning from the war. However, his family was there, and he had not seen them in a long time.

  It was time for him to go home.

  Maybe, it was home after all.

  Watching his friends twirl around the dance floor to the notes of a waltz, Derek’s gaze fell on a familiar face, and his heart tightened in his chest.

  Not since that night four months ago at the masked ball had he laid eyes on her. Occasionally, his thoughts had strayed to her, but he had been able to convince himself that her allure had been founded in his imagination.

  A spur of the moment.

  A short-lived infatuation.

  Nothing more.

  Oh, how wrong he had been!

  Seeing her now, her dark green eyes aglow like the candles in the chandeliers above, he had to fight the urge to stride forward and sweep her into his arms. The muscles in his legs ached with the need to move, to cover the ground between them, but he would not let them. After all, it was not his heart that controlled him.

  To allow so would be beyond foolish, and so he reminded himself that Lady Madeline would never deem him worthy of her presence, much less of her hand in marriage.

  Marriage? He frowned, wondering where that thought had come from.

  Unable to keep still, he ventured over to the refreshment table and procured himself a drink. However, as though he had no control over his eyes after all, his gaze immediately returned to the raven-haired beauty that haunted his dreams.

  Her dark green eyes were fixed on the gentleman holding her in his arms, and her lips curled up into a seductive smile.

  Derek cringed. The thought that Lady Madeline had finally made her choice and now eagerly awaited a marriage proposal twisted his insides painfully and sent red hot jealousy burning through his veins. And yet, he could not avert his gaze, willing the gentleman who held her to turn so that he could see with his own eyes to whom he did not measure up.

  He needed to know.

  Or this question would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  Then, he could walk away for good.

  A moment later, the heat in his veins turned to ice, freezing his heart and the breath in his lungs.

  For the man who held Lady Madeline in his arms, the man who would see his marriage proposal accepted, the man to whom he could never measure up …

  …was no other than Lord Townsend.

  For long moments, all Derek felt was shock.

  Empty.

  Void.

  Uncomprehending.

  With his fingers clenched around the drink in his hand, he stared as Townsend led Lady Madeline off the dance floor, the way they were looking at each other saying more than a thousand words.

  However, just as Townsend was about to offer her his arm, a matronly lady bustled between them, rather unceremoniously elbowing the ruffled lord out of the way, her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. Then she turned to Lady Madeline and spoke in hushed tones. In answer, Lady Madeline’s lips thinned, and her eyes grew hard. She shook her head, and then after casting another meaningful gl
ance at Townsend, turned and walked away, vanishing through an arched doorway that led to the ladies’ powder room.

  The white-haired lady turned a dark gaze on Townsend before she bustled away once more, leaving him uncharacteristically flustered as he straightened his cravat. Swallowing, his gaze swept over the large ballroom before it settled on the doorway through which Lady Madeline had left.

  Understanding Townsend’s intention and before he had even formed a conscious thought, Derek suddenly found himself rounding a rather large group of ladies−most of whom gazed at Townsend longingly. Heading straight for the man he despised like no other, Derek dimly asked himself what he intended to accomplish when they suddenly collided, his drink soaking the man’s clothes.

  Muttering a curse, Townsend stepped back, brushing a hand over the wet fabric, his eyes hard as he glared at Derek.

  “I do apologise, my lord,” Derek mumbled, unable to keep the seething hatred from showing in his voice. “It would appear fortune does not smile on you tonight.”

  For a moment, Townsend’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to understand. “It is of little consequence,” he replied in a clipped voice that spoke of annoyance rather than hatred.

  He does not know who I am, Derek thought, not surprised in the least, and yet, oddly tempted to throw the man’s deeds in his face in front of the whole world. However, it would do little good. On the contrary, he expected as the ton took care of their own, and he was only the lowly son of a farmer, his title not handed down through the generations.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Townsend muttered, jarring Derek out of his thoughts.

  Before Derek could think of a way to stop him once more, Townsend headed toward the arched doorway.

  Panic spread through Derek’s chest. What was he to do? Short of tackling the man to the ground, his mind could not conjure any kind of solution.

  To Derek’s relief, fortune smiled on him as the group of ladies he had passed before rushed forward, their eager hands dabbing handkerchiefs to Townsend’s soaked front. Annoyed, the man tried to disentangle himself from them, however, to no avail.

  A pleased grin spread over Derek’s face as he stepped back and then quickly turned. Measured strides carried him toward the back of the ballroom, and with a last glance at Townsend, he stepped through the doorway in pursuit of Lady Madeline.

  He had to warn her.

  After all, whatever her faults, he was certain she deserved better than a man like Townsend.

  Chapter Two − A Hope Dashed

  After stopping at the ladies’ powder room to ensure that not a single curl had escaped her coiffure, Madeline stepped back into the dimly lit hallway. However, instead of turning left and returning to the crowded ballroom, she headed down the other side, slipping through an open door and into a small drawing room.

  Would he come? She wondered as she stepped up to the tall window, gazing at the silvery moon casting a magical glow over the room as well as the gardens below. Had he understood her meaning? Or had Aunt Odelia frightened him off?

  Madeline inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves, as she cursed her father’s sister for her meddlesome tendencies. That woman truly needed to find a charity or pastime to which she could devote her copious amounts of time she had on her hands.

  Often, her aunt had argued in favour of or against one gentleman or another as she seemed to think that not Madeline but rather she knew best who would be her niece’s perfect match. However, Madeline had been steadfast in her endeavour, politely but firmly informing Aunt Odelia that she knew exactly what kind of man she was looking for.

  And it had taken her a long time to find him.

  But finally, she had been successful.

  After all, Lord Townsend fulfilled all her expectations. Not only was he handsome and much sought after by the young−and not so young−ladies of the ton, but more importantly, he held the title of an earl, had inherited a tremendous fortune upon the death of his father and could look back on a long line of respectable ancestors, all of whom had been upstanding members of society.

  Indeed, he was her perfect match.

  He would give her the life she wanted.

  The life she deserved.

  After all, procuring his attention while sidestepping one potential scandal after another orchestrated to trap her into marriage was truly a most heroic feat.

  As the only daughter of an equally well-respected earl and heiress to a large fortune, Madeline had been sought after by gentlemen ever since she could remember. In addition, she had inherited her late mother’s grace and dark beauty, which seemed to increase her appeal even more. Whenever she appeared in society, men would swarm to her side like moths to a flame. Certainly, they had their appeal as they almost tripped over one another to endear themselves to her. However, after her first season, she had soon realised the burden that came with their obsession.

  Nothing was secret.

  Nothing remained private.

  And yet, no one saw her. Not truly.

  But tonight, all that would change. Tonight, Lord Townsend would ask for her hand, and she would accept him, finally ending the chase. And soon, she would be a married woman, a countess.

  Biting her lower lip, Madeline felt the corners of her mouth tug up. Would he kiss her? She wondered. For all her experience with a myriad of suitors−or maybe because of it−she had never even been kissed.

  Such an action would have been much too dangerous as most men would have seen it as an acceptance of their proposal; therefore, Madeline had always taken great care to ensure that she had never ventured anywhere alone, always bringing along a chaperone.

  After all, she would be the one to choose.

  Not the other way around.

  And now, she had chosen, eliminating the need for a chaperone.

  Maybe tonight she would not only receive a marriage proposal, but also her first kiss.

  As though in answer to her thoughts, she heard the faint sound of footsteps as they proceeded down the hall and then stopped just outside the room. The door she had left ajar, almost silently swung open, before slightly louder footsteps crossed the threshold.

  Taking a deep breath to calm her fluttering heart, Madeline smiled, then turned to the man she would marry. “Lord Townsend, I must say you−”

  As her eyes found his face, half-hidden in the nebulous shadows of the room, her heart stilled in shock and the rest of her words lodged in her throat…for the man standing in the doorway was not Lord Townsend.

  “I’m afraid I must disappoint you, my lady,” the man said, his voice harsh with a touch of anger, as he ran a hand through his pitch-black hair.

  Had he not spoken, Madeline would have thought him a shadow. Dressed in black from head to toe, the white of his shirt more like a reflection of the moon outside, his dark eyes lay almost hidden in the mask that covered the upper half of his face. He seemed like an apparition, a phantom, the shadow of a memory. As he approached, she found herself watching him, strangely fascinated with the smooth movements that carried him across the floor as though his feet never even touched the ground.

  The moment he stepped into the glow of the moonlight, Madeline sucked in a breath for the look on his face sent chills down her back. Without a doubt, she knew that this man was dangerous, his gaze hard and focused like that of a hunter, his tall, muscular frame towering over her, forcing her to tilt up her head. In the dim light, his eyes seemed almost black, and yet, they glowed eerily as they reflected the moonlight, …

  …and they held hers with a power so forceful she did not dare look away.

  And then he blinked, and the spell was broken.

  Swallowing, Madeline drew in a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. “Who are you?” she demanded, craning her neck to see behind him. “What are you doing here?” Instantly, fear crawled up her spine. “We must not be seen alone together.”

  For a moment, he remained silent, his lips thinning into a hard line as his eyes narrowed, an o
pen accusation resting in them. “You had no such scruples regarding Townsend.”

  Madeline almost flinched. Had he been watching her? Where was Lord Townsend? Had he harmed him? Her thoughts ran rampant as they stared at one another, trying to determine what they saw. “Where is he?” Madeline finally demanded. If this man in front of her indeed was a lunatic, then it would not serve her to appear weak.

  A snort escaped him. “Back in the ballroom, a clowder of debutantes fawning over him.”

  At his words, Madeline felt her muscles tense. Of course, she was aware of her future husband’s reputation. She was not a dimwit and always had an ear out to the gossips. Hell, she was one of them. However, she knew just as well that gossip was never equal to the truth. More than once she had taken note of rumours about herself, which had been far from the truth as well. Therefore, she had always counselled herself not to base her decisions on rumours, on gossip, on the falsehoods of society.

  And yet, there and then, in that moment, all her principles failed her. Never in her life had she experienced jealousy. Never had she had any reason to. Never had a man chosen another woman over her.

  Never.

  “You lie,” she hissed, her nostrils flaring as she stared at him, willing him to reveal his words to be a falsehood. “He would not abandon me.”

  A wry grin touched his lips. “He had help.”

  Frowning, Madeline took a step forward. She’d be damned if she let this stranger intimidate her! “Yours?” she pressed, daring him to reveal his own involvement.

  Holding her gaze without flinching, without the slightest sign of hesitation or uncertainty, he lowered his head toward hers. “Yes,” was all he said, and the look in his eyes dared her to attack him with all the anger she felt.

  Lips pressed together, Madeline inhaled deeply through her nose, seeking to steady her shaking hands. Lashing out at him would serve no one. It would only draw unwanted attention.

  Above all else, she had to get rid of this man, and then see to Lord Townsend, ensure his well-being. “Leave. Now,” she hissed, jerking her chin toward the door.

  He swallowed then, and for a moment, she thought he would comply. However, instead of retreating, he took another step toward her, the look in his eyes faintly softened by something resembling honest concern.