His cloudy gaze became alert and clear, his hands clutching her arms in a grip that made her wince. “Listen to me, Madelaine.” His voice reverberated off the stone walls. “Stay out of this. You’re but a mere woman. God help me, your mother was right and I was wrong. Act like a woman, not the creature I was raising you to be. Forget everything I ever taught you and leave this place as quickly as you can before they hang me, despite my innocence, and then perhaps turn an eye to punishing you for the crimes they’ve decided I committed.”
Madelaine scrambled to her feet wanting to escape the horror of what her father was saying, but her legs barely held her up from their trembling. She stumbled and then righted herself by pressing a hand against the slick wall. “Don’t speak as if you’re already dead. We will prove your innocence. I know you wouldn’t steal from the king and murder a man. You’re good.”
Her father rose and made his way to stand in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her, led her to his cot and sat them both down on the mattress. He pressed his mouth near her ear, his warm breath tickling her. “I’m not guilty of all they say, but I am guilty of some of it.” His words filled her head and poisoned her heart. She bit her lower lip on her cry, but she could not stop her sharp intake of breath. “Make your way home. I’ve hidden money in the wine cellar and the king’s paper in a green bottle on the fourth shelf. Get the paper to the prince. He’s the only one who can save me.”
The door slammed open, causing her to jump. She jerked away from her father. Grey’s face flickered in shadows. As he came closer, she could see the concern in his eyes. Grey clutched her arm and pulled her away from her father. “That’s all the time they’ll allow us, Madelaine.”
She didn’t have time to protest as she was tugged toward the door.
“Don’t trust anyone,” her father called to her back. She looked over her shoulder, and her father pointed at Grey. “Don’t forget. Trust no one. Least of all him.”
Before she could respond, she was yanked through the door, and Grey slammed it shut. With a soft click, he locked the door, and led them both away and toward the stairs. She trembled violently with shock. Her father was not guilty of murder, but he was guilty of treason. Why? Why would he do such a thing? And did it even matter? He was her father. She couldn’t let him hang if there was a chance to save him.
Grey pressed her against the damp, stone wall of the staircase. He trapped her legs between his thighs, and then he moved his arms to either side of her shoulders. His gaze searched hers. “What did he say? How can I help?”
She looked into his eyes and read yearning mixed with concern. Could she trust him? Her heart told her yes, but what if it was just because that’s what she wanted to believe? She couldn’t stake her father’s life on it. “He said he’s not guilty. He said to go home before they hang him because the truth matters little if he can’t prove it.”
Her low voice hitched on her partial lie. Warm tears filled her eyes. She didn’t hold them back, as she’d always done with her mother. She allowed them to flow down her face just as she allowed Grey to take her in his strong embrace. The knowledge that she was lying to him, that this would likely be the last time he ever held her made her tears come harder, until she was hiccupping as she cried. If she’d had any doubt she loved Grey, she was sure she did now, which made her betrayal and lies all the harder to bear.
When the clock in the servant’s hall struck ten, the upstairs chambermaids’ voices filled the halls as they made their way toward their sleeping quarters to end another long day serving in the castle. Madelaine hovered in an alcove―well aware she was taking a great risk of raising suspicion if the wrong person saw her. She couldn’t flee for home yet. She had to see her father first, and in order to do that she needed some help.
Grey’s brother had given her some shifty looks. He didn’t seem the type to trust or take chances. Likely, someone was watching her, thanks to him. With Elizabeth gone, Madelaine didn’t have a single friend to turn to, not that she could have been able to turn to Elizabeth anyway. Her chest ached with loneliness, her throat with unshed tears. Alone again. Would she forever be the outsider, the outcast?
Madelaine clenched the material of her dress and fought back the fears that threatened to render her helpless. Father was an admitted traitor, therefore soon he would either be dead or disgraced, and soon she would be disgraced too. And a traitor to the king. The thought sent icy tingles down her spine.
Her friendship with Elizabeth had to be over for Elizabeth’s sake, just as Madelaine’s hope for a future with Grey was over. She had no choice but to help her father, but that didn’t mean she’d let Grey put his own neck in danger for her.
She rubbed the back of her hand over her tickling nose. Her stomach turned and knotted as she went over her plan once again. Where the blazes was Constance? With her flaming red hair, she should be easy to spot among the other chambermaids. Madelaine had heard enough castle gossip to know Constance would do anything for a bit of coin, so hopefully she would be so glad not to have to earn her extra money on her back that she’d ask no questions.
Madelaine pressed further into the dark shadows as the maids passed by her. Finally, a woman with red hair walked down the passageway. And alone! Finally, a blessing. Madelaine stepped from the shadows. “Constance.”
The chambermaid’s eyes narrowed and then her mouth dropped open. “Lady Madelaine, whatever are you doing below stairs?”
“Where’s your room?”
Constance pointed down the hall.
Madelaine pulled up her hood and motioned forward. “Take me there, please. I need your help.”
“My lady―”
Before the chambermaid could finish her sentence Madelaine pulled out the heavy bag of coins under her cloak. “Consider this the first installment for your troubles.” She handed the jingling pouch to the maid and watched Constance’s mouth turn up with a slight smile. “There’ll be more of this to come if you keep your silence.”
“This way,” Constance said and rushed toward her room.
Once the door was softly shut and Madelaine spared a glance for the barren room to ensure no one else was in there, she focused on Constance. “I need you to help me with something.”
GREY LEANED AGAINST THE COLD, stone wall of the alleyway by the river Thames with his eyes shut and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Deep tiredness settled into his bones. The town could burn around him and he’d not be able to move a muscle, but still sleep evaded him. It wasn’t the cold or the draft off the water keeping him awake, nor was it Edward who kept annoyingly tapping his foot as he watched for Madelaine. It was worry for Madelaine.
She was settled safely in her room. He’d stayed outside her door for well over an hour listening to her soft crying. When she had fallen silent, he’d crept away. His worry wasn’t for her safety at this moment, but for her safety tomorrow, and the next day and a year from now. If her father was going to be hung, Grey would marry her to protect her from those at Court who would harm her, but he could not get past his growing fear that he would be endangering her by marrying her.
What else could he do? He could find someone else to marry her. Surely with enough gold―he shoved the thought away as he envisioned the sort of unworthy man who would marry a woman tainted by a treasonous father. Madelaine’s life could very well end up a living hell married to such a greedy bastard.
She could give her life to the Church, but somehow he didn’t think she’d willingly do that, and deep within himself he wouldn’t want her to. He was scum. No, he was greedy scum. He wanted to marry her. He loved her. There was no sense denying it. He wasn’t happy with her father’s predicament. Far from it. Grey hated it. But he couldn’t deny there was a part of him relieved that the only choice seemed marriage. And since that’s the way it was, he wished the damned guilt would go away.
But it gnawed at him. She was innocent and good and pure, and he was none of those things. She deserved better than him, but fate
had dealt her a bad turn. He stood and vowed to do everything in his power to protect her always from his enemies. Protecting her started now. He’d not indulge his brother for one more minute. Madelaine was not an accomplice as Edward suggested. She would not be fleeing in the middle of the night to meet the French spy Edward believed her father must be working with. “I’m going upstairs to my warm, soft bed.” Grey bent to retrieve his satchel. “Madelaine won’t be sneaking out because she’s innocent.”
“Don’t be fooled,” Edward said.
Grey flung his satchel on his back and walked toward his brother. “You’re the fool to waste your time out here.”
Edward pointed toward the river. “Who’s the fool? Look there, brother. And never forget this moment in case you foolishly let your heart rule your head again. Our little pigeon has flown her coop, exactly as I predicted.”
Grey pushed Edward out of the way to get a good view of the river embankment where the boatman they’d employed was docked. There was no denying that a slight woman, with Madelaine’s exact build, slipped into the boat. And even if Grey wanted to deny it was her, when her brown cloak parted and revealed the same blue dress she’d been wearing earlier, the truth was undeniable. “Goddamn it.” He couldn’t say more. He watched her pay their man and the boat headed down the river and away from the castle. His mind reeled with disbelief. This was Madelaine, his sweet, innocent Madelaine. He shoved the doubts away. “There has to be an explanation.”
Edward tugged Grey toward the river where they had another boat waiting. “Oh, to be sure,” he said snidely. “The word traitor explains it all, if you ask me. Now, untie the boat,” Edward demanded as he got on.
Grey undid the rope as fast as he could and climbed aboard. The boat dipped as he stepped on and glared at Edward.
“She’s no traitor.” His steely tone dared his brother to argue.
“I’ll not stand here arguing with you, Grey. We’ll follow her and see which one of us is right.” Edward stared at him across the space. “But mark my words, she’s hiding something.”
Grey shook off his initial shock. “Shut up. She might just be afraid. I’d be, if I were her. Think of it. Her father could be hung as soon as tomorrow if the king appears and says it’s to be so. She thinks she has no one. Maybe she’s trying to get home where at least she may have a loyal friend.”
Edward shook his head. “I don’t agree. Why not leave in the morning instead of like a conspirator stealing away in the night? Besides, you can’t be trusted when it comes to her. She’s gotten under your skin.”
Grey gritted his teeth. He’d not deny the statement, but Edward was wrong on one account. “My first loyalty is to the king. If Madelaine is guilty of helping her father, I’ll stop her. Mark my words.”
“I need no words, just actions.”
Up ahead, Madelaine stood at the helm of the boat. Where the hell was she going? For a good quarter of an hour, they followed her, until the boat maneuvered to the side of the river bank and Madelaine got out with the boatman’s help. As she started walking toward the dark woods, Grey spoke. “That’s the way to her home.” He didn’t bother to hide a triumphant smile. When Edward didn’t answer, but pulled their boat beside the other, Grey spoke again. “I told you.”
“We’ll see,” Edward said. “Granger,” he called to the boatman of Madelaine’s boat. “Who was the lady and where’s she going?”
Grey didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He scrambled out of the boat; his boots crunching twigs and leaves as he landed on dry ground. Without a backward glance, he raced toward Madelaine’s departing figure. At the moment, he didn’t care about anything but being with her and protecting her. If she wanted to go home, he’d take her there, let her have a few days to mourn her loss and then he’d marry her. He wanted to make her his wife before her father was dead. That way no one could stop them and no one would dare to publicly lay any blame or suspicion at her feet since she would be part of his family.
He strode forward and when he was within range where he thought she’d hear, he called out, “Madelaine!” She kept walking into the woods. He frowned. Had she not heard him? “Madelaine!” He doubled his steps. Her steps quickened in time with his, each crunch of her boot against the dry leaves coming faster than before until she was running.
“Madelaine, for God’s sake! Stop!” He broke out into a run, shoving branches out of the path as he did. Dry limbs snagged on his coat and scraped his face as he ran. He raced forward, determined to reach her. Within a few strides, he grabbed her arm.
He whipped her around to face him, whatever soothing words he thought to say died. Constance glared back at him. His mind reeled and then fear for Madelaine surged through his veins. He gripped Constance’s arms harder than he’d normally ever handle any lady. “Why the devil do you have on Lady Madelaine’s dress? Where is she? What have you done?”
Constance wrenched her arm from his grip. “The lady paid me to pretend I was her. As to where she is, I couldn’t say. As to what I’ve done―” Constance shrugged. “―no more than any other dirt poor servant. I took good money offered for a job that harmed no one. You’d do the same if you had as many mouths to feed and bodies to keep warm as I do.” Constance leveled him with a scathing look of hatred. “Then again, I doubt you understand how hunger can gnaw at the belly, and how you can be so cold you doubt you’ll ever feel warm again.”
He didn’t know, and he felt the fool standing there harassing a woman who was only trying to keep her family from starving and freezing to death.
Panicked determination swept across Constance’s face as shoved her hands on her hips. “Can I go now? I do believe my job’s finished.”
He nodded mutely. Madelaine’s possible betrayal cut like a sharp knife across his heart. He stood, listening to the departing sounds of the woman’s footsteps, and then a burning anger with himself started deep in his belly and boiled to the surface propelling him into motion. He swung around and almost ran smack into Edward. “So help me God, if you say a word I’ll lay you low with a single blow.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Have it your way. But you’ll see soon that I’m right.”
“I refuse to believe the worst of her unless I have definite proof the worst is true.”
“Grey―”
“No,” Grey interrupted. He’d not spill his guts here and tell his brother how alone he’d always felt because he’d chosen to believe his own father didn’t love him. He’d not spin a sorry tale about how he’d learned the truth about Father, and until Madelaine had come into his life he’d thought he was unworthy of being loved, even though the tale was true. All Edward need know was that Grey would not abandon Madelaine unless he had absolute proof of her guilt. “I’ll stand her protector until I’m certain of her guilt.”
Edward nodded. “Fine. Then let us hurry and catch her yet and get to the bottom of everything. But when we do catch her, brother, you need to be prepared. If I’m right and you’re wrong, you will still need her to think you love her if she’s to confide in you.”
Grey nodded. It wouldn’t be hard to play the part of the besotted fool. He was besotted. He loved her with an ache that stunned him. What would be hard would be to trap her if and when he learned she was betraying the king. He wasn’t sure how he would separate duty from love, but if she was guilty he would have to.
Madelaine rapped softly on the door to her father’s cell. “Father,” she whispered. Nerves were making her jumpy. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure she didn’t see the flickering light of a torch guiding the guard downstairs. She doubted she had more than ten minutes before he returned to his post with the blanket she’d demanded and realized he’d been duped. And then what? Would he immediately check the dungeon?
She knocked a little harder as cold sweat trickled down her back and dampened her underarms. “Father!” She was more worried now the guard would return before she was back than being overheard.
The sound of shuffling
feet reached her from under the door. She slumped against the wood. Inhaling a deep breath, she forced herself to straighten and clutched tightly around the dagger she’d stolen.
“Madelaine?” Her father’s face appeared at the small, barred window. His dark eyes locked on her. I told you to make your way home, girl.”
“Why did you betray the king?” She blinked at the useless tears filling her eyes. “I’ll gladly give my life to save you, Father, but I deserve to know why I might die.”
“Silly, girl.” His voice was low and soothing. “Come closer.”
She pressed her cheek to the bar where he stretched his fingers between the iron railings. He traced softly over her cheek before cupping her chin. “You’re not going to die and neither am I, as long as you do what I say. Do you believe me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Good. Have you heard any whispers at Court about the king?”
Despite knowing they were alone, she scanned the shadows and dark corners. “I’ve heard he has dark spells where he forgets himself, who he is. Some say he’s going mad. Just gossip.”
Her father curled his fingers tighter around her chin.
She jerked away. “You hurt me,” she accused, rubbing at her skin.
“I’m sorry.” He gripped the bars. “It’s not gossip. The king is going mad.”
“You’ve seen it?” She couldn’t repress the shiver that raced across her skin.
“Several times. The paper the king accused me of stealing was one where not only did he write that an angel came to him and told him he needed to execute his cabinet because they’re trying to overthrow him, but he also wrote things he planned for the army to do against Napoleon. If that paper ever fell into the wrong hands it could be England’s downfall. England’s enemies are constantly sending people into our midst to steal our secrets. The king is sick. He’s a danger to England. I stole his paper when he refused to burn it. I knew then someone had to stop him, and none of the other fools who surround him are willing to risk his wrath.”
What A Rogue Wants Page 20
