In a distracted corner of her mind, Madeline realized that Rayne had not entered the gardens from the Hall, but from a side gate that led from Riverwood. Crossing the grounds separating the two estates instead of taking the long way around the park would explain why he had arrived so quickly.
“There was nothing fortunate about it,” she exclaimed. “Not if your confrontation leads to one of you dying.” She took a deep breath, struggling to hold on to her composure. “I did not need you to play the white knight, Rayne. I could have handled Ackerby myself.”
“A fine job you were doing of it,” he retorted sardonically.
Madeline bit back her own retort. She was mortified that Rayne had seen the baron pawing her, but she was appalled to think of what might happen if they actually dueled. Rayne might be hurt or even killed. Even if he escaped unharmed, there could still be devastating consequences.
“Did you ever consider that you might lose a confrontation with him?”
“No,” he stated flatly. “I won’t lose.”
“And what happens if you win? You know dueling is illegal. If you kill him, you may be forced to flee the country to avoid arrest.”
His mouth curled. “Perhaps I won’t kill him. Just put a sizable hole in him.”
In frustration, Madeline reached out to grip Rayne’s arm again. “I will not have blood drawn on my account!”
“It is not your decision to make, sweeting.” Deliberately, Rayne pried her clutching fingers away. “My apologies for violating your fierce sense of independence, but that bastard has touched you for the last time.”
With that harsh pronouncement, Rayne also turned away and strode rapidly toward the manor house, not giving her a chance to reply.
Madeline stared after him, wanting to curse and scream in the same breath. How had events come to such a sorry pass in so short a time?
She raised a hand to her suddenly aching temple. She couldn’t let the duel proceed. Her first priority was to somehow stop it—and then she had to convince her reckless brother to return the baron’s property before he was caught red-handed and faced hanging.
Spurred into motion by her conclusions, Madeline abandoned her basket of flowers and hurried toward the house, a sense of urgency driving her on.
To her mind, persuading Ackerby to call off the duel was likely to be easier than convincing Rayne, who was too stubborn and too ruthlessly determined to champion her in place of her late father. Rayne was clearly a throwback to the feudal era, when wealthy powerful overlords protected the weak and defenseless. But while part of Madeline appreciated his gallantry, she was not weak or defenseless. Nor could she bear to see him suffer for her sake.
She could not, however, simply follow Lord Ackerby to London to plead with him, since she had to teach her class at the academy at eleven and she still had significant preparations to make beforehand.
Therefore, Madeline settled on writing to the baron at his home in Portman Square, swearing faithfully to see that his property was returned to him if he would forgo the duel. Meanwhile, she promised, she would speak to Lord Haviland and make him understand how mistaken he had been to issue the challenge in the first place.
And she fully intended to keep her word on that score. She would call on Rayne at Riverwood directly after her class, rationalizing that he might be more amenable to persuasion if she allowed time for his temper to cool. She would claim that she’d given Baron Ackerby permission to kiss her—without revealing the exact reason, since learning of the baron’s disgusting proposition would only increase Rayne’s wrath.
Madeline winced at the thought of lying to him and pretending that she’d willingly kissed a repellent libertine who normally made her shudder. But Rayne would never withdraw his challenge unless she convinced him that he’d misconstrued Ackerby’s embrace.
The second letter Madeline wrote to her brother, demanding to know if he’d stolen the precious heirloom, and if so, that he come to his senses and return the necklace immediately, adding that Ackerby had threatened dire consequences otherwise.
Tucked into the sealed letter, she included the draft for the reward money she had earned. A hundred pounds would give Gerard and Lynette a significant financial start to their married life together, or in the alternative, allow him to afford to buy a wedding gift of jewelry for his new bride that didn’t have the taint of being stolen.
She addressed Gerard’s letter to Lynette’s cousin in Maidstone, Kent. If her written plea brought no response, Madeline was resolved to travel there in person to confront her brother directly. But she disliked leaving Chiswick just now unless truly necessary, since abandoning a post she had barely begun would likely mean the end of her new teaching career.
Her fear for Gerard was tempered by the knowledge that she could possibly apply to Rayne for help in saving her brother from Ackerby’s retribution. But then she would have to confess the theft, which might only make Rayne think less of her.
Madeline bit her lip as she acknowledged her own selfish motives at keeping the whole sordid matter a secret from him. Just now Rayne thought her qualified to be his wife, but she doubted he would want to wed the sister of a thief who faced prison or hanging. And if she mired his grandmother and sisters in a cloud of scandal, it would be just one more reason he might never love her.
Maman, is it wrong to hold out hope that I might someday win his heart? Madeline wondered wistfully as she sanded and sealed both letters.
Shrugging off her foolish thoughts, she put away her writing implements and went in search of Simpkin.
She found the elderly butler in the Danvers Hall ballroom, supervising the wax removal and cleaning of the chandeliers and replacing burned-out candles with fresh ones.
When she asked him to post the letters for her in Chiswick at once, he readily agreed.
“However, Miss Ellis,” Simpkin suggested, “Lord Haviland will surely frank these for you.”
Giving a faint smile, Madeline shook her head. It would spare the recipients the cost of postage if her mail bore a peer’s stamp, but naturally she didn’t want Rayne knowing about either letter.
“Perhaps so, but I don’t wish to be any more indebted to his lordship than I already am,” Madeline hedged. “And there may not be time to request his frank. I truly need these letters to go out immediately.”
Simpkin pulled his watch from his coat pocket to check the hour. “I will see to it myself. If I leave now, I will reach the posting inn in time to catch the mail coach.”
“Thank you, Simpkin. I greatly appreciate your kindness,” Madeline said earnestly before turning away and heading upstairs to change her gown for her class.
Yet with the threat of the duel hanging over her head like a sword, she knew she would be unable to keep her mind on her lesson or her pupils.
As she reached her bedchamber, Madeline shook her head again, this time in disbelief. It strained credulity, having two noblemen fighting over her after years of being utterly ignored by the male sex. The irony would even have made her laugh if the situation weren’t so perilous.
But instead of laughing, Madeline knew she would be struggling to calm her gnawing fear and counting down the hours until she could visit Rayne and do her utmost to convince him to call off the duel.
Rayne could scarcely believe he’d acted so impulsively in challenging the baron to pistols at dawn. Normally he was not only even-tempered, he was particularly cool-headed where women were concerned. He never allowed his emotions to become involved over a woman, not after the heartache Camille’s betrayal had caused him a decade ago.
Calling Ackerby out had been decidedly irrational, Rayne knew. And he would be hard-pressed to explain the rage that had overcome him upon seeing that bastard assaulting Madeline Ellis. If it were any other man but himself, he would ascribe his actions to sheer male jealousy.
Yet it couldn’t be jealousy driving him, his conscience argued. For jealousy, his feelings would have to be engaged, and whatever tender feelings he h
eld for Madeline derived from his friendship and admiration for her late father, not ardor for her as a lover.
No, more likely his fierce response stemmed from simple protectiveness of the gentler sex, in addition to possessiveness because he’d asked her to be his wife. Those, and the knowledge that he was morally responsible for Madeline’s welfare, made him determined to save her from the baron’s lecherous attentions.
To Rayne’s surprise, however, Madeline hadn’t appreciated his intervention in the least. In fact, she had turned on him, taking him to task for daring to come to her rescue.
Yet he had no regrets, Rayne reflected grimly as he set in motion the steps required of dueling, beginning with writing to the man he would ask to be his second and sending a footman to London to deliver the missive. Ackerby needed to clearly understand that Madeline had a protector and champion now, and if he refused to make a suitable apology, he would be taught restraint at the point of a gun muzzle.
Therefore, it gave Rayne a measure of concern when barely an hour later Simpkin was announced at Riverwood. He had told the aging butler to look out for Madeline and to alert him if the baron dared to show his face again at Danvers Hall.
“Ackerby did not return to harass Miss Ellis, did he?” Rayne demanded as Simpkin entered his study and offered a brief bow.
The butler’s brow creased in a troubled frown. “No, my lord. And yet I thought you might wish to know … shortly after you left, Miss Ellis directed me to post a letter to Baron Ackerby.”
“Did she now?” Rayne asked sharply, troubled himself by the revelation.
“Yes, my lord. And it seemed urgent to her that her correspondence be sent at once. I posted a second letter for her, as well. That one was addressed to a Mr. Gerard Ellis.”
“Her brother,” Rayne murmured, deep in thought.
“I dislike betraying her confidence,” Simpkin explained, “but you asked me to look out after Miss Ellis and to inform you if Lord Ackerby posed a threat to her in any way. And after what you revealed to me about him, I confess it worries me that she felt compelled to write to him.”
“You did well to tell me, Simpkin,” Rayne assured him. “I will take the matter from here.”
He thanked the butler and dismissed him, then stood frowning as he gazed out over the grounds of Riverwood in the direction of Danvers Hall. The news that Madeline had written Ackerby was inexplicably disturbing and caused a myriad of long-buried feelings to surge through Rayne. Suspicion and doubt were foremost, along with uneasiness.
He couldn’t help but question Madeline’s motives in writing to Ackerby. Why would she send an urgent communication to a nobleman she claimed to despise?
Something else struck Rayne just then as he recalled Madeline’s expression when he’d struck down her assaulter: Her eyes were dark with outrage. At the time, he’d thought her wrath directed at the baron for forcing her against her will.
But had he misinterpreted her response? Rayne wondered. Was it possible she was furious at him because he had challenged her lover?
Rayne ran a hand raggedly through his hair as he fought his conflicting emotions. He’d trusted Madeline because she was her father’s daughter, but he didn’t really know her. Had he been too gullible in taking her word about her predicament?
Something was wrong, he could sense it. Ferreting out traitors was his business after all. And for a moment there, Madeline had looked … guilty. As if she were hiding secrets from him.
Rayne muttered a low curse under his breath. He’d been down this same path once before—a woman hiding secrets from him. And just now all his instincts were screaming out in silent warning that he was about to repeat history.
Questions flowed rapidly in his mind, particularly the chief one: Was there more to Madeline’s relationship with the baron than she claimed?
He’d been determined to protect her from a libertine, but perhaps she had not actually needed protecting. Perhaps he’d even interrupted a lover’s tiff at the inn several days ago, the first time he saw her with the baron.
And in the garden a short while ago, Madeline could have been embracing Ackerby willingly. Perhaps when he’d fondled her breast, her muted cry had been a groan of pleasure. Some women liked rough treatment, even welcomed it.
Rayne’s jaw muscles went taut. Surely he was overreacting. Simply because he’d had one bitter experience with a woman’s betrayal was no reason to be suspicious of Madeline.
Yet she was hiding something from him, that much was certain. And it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she was writing secret letters to her lover. Just as in your past, when the deceptive woman you loved already had a lover who owned her heart.
There was no reason to think Madeline was as devious as Camille Juzet. According to Freddie, Madeline intended to send her reward money to her brother Gerard because he needed the funds more than she did. Camille had wanted to help her own brother and other family members flee the local authorities, yet that didn’t mean the similarities between the two women extended any further.
He wouldn’t leap to conclusions, Rayne decided. There might be a logical explanation for why Madeline had written to both the baron and her brother at the same time, and for now, he would give her the benefit of the doubt.
Meanwhile, however, he would take care to crush any tenderness he was beginning to feel for Madeline. And he would give Ackerby a lesson in honor and manners that he would not soon forget.
Keeping a pretense of composure throughout her class was nearly impossible for Madeline. Her anxiety over the impending duel was simply too great. Hence, the moment she was able to take her leave from the academy, she drove the Danvers gig, which Arabella had graciously loaned her, to Riverwood.
To her dismay, Rayne was not at home, or so his majordomo claimed. Worse, Bramsley refused to say where Lord Haviland could be found, although Madeline suspected he knew very well.
Thankfully, Freddie was still at Riverwood. And yet that gentleman did not look particularly overjoyed to see her when she was shown into the billiard parlor where he was playing a solitary game.
“Can you tell me where I might find Haviland?” Madeline asked him at once. “All Bramsley would say was that he is not here.”
“He left for London an hour ago,” Freddie replied rather reluctantly.
“Blast it,” Madeline muttered, gnawing her lower lip. “I hoped to speak to him and convince him to call off this absurd duel.”
“He cannot call it off,” Freddie asserted, looking somewhat startled.
“Why not?”
“Because it is a matter of honor. Ackerby went too far this time. You cannot expect Rayne to sit idly by while that rake besmirched you.”
“But he did not besmirch me,” Madeline replied, raising her eyes to the ceiling. “The entire situation was misconstrued.”
Freddie frowned. “Well, it is too late now.”
“No, it is not. I will just have to go to London myself to speak with Rayne.”
“Miss Ellis,” he said hurriedly, “you cannot interfere in his business. It simply isn’t done. And even if you were to speak with Rayne until you were blue, you won’t succeed. I know him. He won’t change his mind if he believes he is in the right.”
She ignored Freddie’s exasperated protest. “I presume he means to spend the night at his house in town?”
Freddie grimaced at her stubborn persistence. “That was where he was headed. He had to collect his dueling pistols and meet with his second. And he knew he would have to rise early tomorrow morning.”
It was Madeline’s turn to frown. “He didn’t ask you to stand as second for him?”
“No.” Freddie gave her sheepish look. “I am not the best of shots, and Rayne didn’t want me to get hurt in the event I had to step in for him.”
“At least he was concerned for your welfare if not his own,” Madeline said sardonically. “So who will be his second?”
“He intended to ask Will Stokes.”
&nb
sp; “Who is Will Stokes?”
“A longtime friend. They knew each other as lads and served together in the Foreign Office.”
Stokes must be Rayne’s childhood bread thief, Madeline realized, but it was of little importance. What mattered was that she stop the duel before someone got hurt.
But perhaps Freddie was right. Talking to Rayne would likely have little impact. She might have to take more drastic measures to make him see reason.
“Do you know where the duel will be held?” she asked. “Ackerby said they would meet at the ‘usual place,’ and Rayne seemed to know what he meant.”
Freddie’s brow furrowed. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just do.” When he hesitated, Madeline snapped impatiently, “You might as well tell me, Freddie. I can discover the location on my own, but you will save me the trouble of having to search all of London. Either way, I mean to find out.”
His protest grew more vocal. “Miss Ellis … Madeline, you cannot interfere in a matter of gentleman’s honor!”
“Since I am not a gentleman, I am not bound by your codes of honor.”
She meant to prevent the duel somehow, even if she had to persuade the duelers at gunpoint. She still had her pistol with her, Madeline remembered, and she was not about to risk letting Rayne get shot or suffer for killing Ackerby on her behalf.
When she kept her level stare fixed on Freddie, he finally gave a sigh of disgust. “I suppose they mean Rudley Commons. It is a field on the outskirts of London where duels often are held.”
“Thank you,” Madeline said, relieved that he had given in so she didn’t have to spend interminable hours trying to discover the information on her own. “Then will you be kind enough to escort me there tomorrow morning before the duel begins at dawn?”
The strangled sound Freddie made was practically a yelp. “I most certainly will not escort you there! Rayne would slay me if I dared do any such thing.”
“I will slay you if you don’t.”
To Tame a Dangerous Lord Page 15
