“I haven’t decided yet what to do about my future,” he finally answered.
Which was true. After Napoleon’s first defeat in 1814, his friend Will Stokes had turned to catching thieves and criminals and had recently suggested Rayne join him as a Runner. Yet working for Bow Street as a thief-taker didn’t hold quite the same allure as pitting his wits and skills against deadly French agents.
Still, this latest enterprise had given Rayne a glimmer of an idea for what he might do with his life. Foiling civilian plots might cure his ennui and restlessness and fill the hole that losing a career in British foreign intelligence had left.
Madeline continued to study him as she sipped her tea. “When you do decide about your future, I should like to know.”
“Of course.”
She didn’t seem satisfied. “Pray, just answer me this. If you are involved in any dangerous enterprises, should I be worried for your safety?”
“No, there is no need for you to worry about me at all.”
His answer seemed to frustrate her, judging from the annoyance and disappointment that swept fleetingly across her features. But Rayne wasn’t about to discuss the threat to the Prince Regent’s life. Even setting aside the question of Madeline’s motives, he didn’t want her prying into his business. Interference from an amateur could jeopardize the best of plans. Besides, Madeline would almost certainly ask to help.
Rayne shook his head at the irony. If he had wanted a meek, biddable wife who wouldn’t meddle in his affairs, he should not have chosen her. Perhaps he’d made a mistake in settling on Madeline. She had a clever, keen mind. If she wanted to uncover his secrets, she was in the perfect position to do so, living in his house with him. The past few days, however, had left Rayne wondering if she had crossed the line from simple wifely curiosity into something more sinister.
Either way, he could sense something was wrong, off-kilter somehow. Madeline obviously wanted something from him; he just wasn’t sure what it was.
Perhaps he was simply looking for reasons to push her away, Rayne reflected, yet he knew from hard-earned experience to listen to his instincts, a wisdom honed over many years dealing with secrets and lies and betrayals.
And even if his instincts were off the mark this time, eavesdropping on his visitors was certainly not the way to persuade him to trust her, nor was asking him probing questions about his future in the intelligence business.
* * *
From her perspective, Madeline was not the least surprised that Rayne wished to keep part of his life secret from her, even though she was now his wife. Old habits died hard, notwithstanding the fact that she had her own secrets to hide from him.
She’d seen the way Rayne had looked her over, measuring her, when she merely questioned his future ambitions. His suspicious nature was perhaps one reason he was so determined to resist her advances.
She wasn’t prying into his affairs, though. Fanny had counseled her to show an avid interest in her husband, and it was no pretense. Naturally she was interested in every detail of Rayne’s life and his expectations for his future. And of course she would worry about his safety if he had returned to the spy business.
But chiefly Madeline wanted to know what was keeping him from paying attention to her just now, so she could adjust her campaign for his seduction.
She knew that winning Rayne wouldn’t happen overnight. Even so, she was annoyed and frustrated at the slow pace of her progress. How was it possible that she felt so much while he was left totally unaffected? Just being near Rayne tested the limits of her willpower. She yearned for him with a physical ache. More important, she wanted to be inside his heart.
Fanny had been so certain that her methods would break through the defenses even of a man like Rayne, yet Madeline worried that they didn’t seem to be working.
She was also beginning to grow more worried about her brother, since she’d heard nothing from Gerard and received no response to her two letters. She didn’t even know if he and his new bride had arrived safely in Maidstone, Kent, at the cottage belonging to Lynette’s Dubonet cousin Claude.
At least Freddie Lunsford’s dilemma was apparently solved. Madeline received a brief, scrawled note from Freddie, reporting that Madame Sauville was seething but that he was free of her blackmail and still in his father’s good graces.
In another fortunate turn of events, Madeline managed to gain another friend and ally. Tess Blanchard, the other part-time teacher at the Freemantle Academy, returned home to Chiswick, having spent the past fortnight in Brighton at a house party.
Tess was a stunning beauty with luxurious sable hair and a carriage that boasted unmistakable gentility. She appeared to be slightly younger than Madeline, about Roslyn’s age of two and twenty. Tess’s flawless complexion and figure, too, lit an irrepressible spark of envy in Madeline’s breast. Yet her smile was kindness itself when Madeline first met her at the academy between classes.
“Please let me know if I may help you in any way, Lady Haviland,” Tess said at once. “I am in your debt, since you assumed my teaching responsibilities while I was away.”
“I was glad for the opportunity,” Madeline responded, drawn in by the beauty’s warmth, “but I wish you would call me Madeline. I am not at all accustomed to being addressed by formal titles.”
“I will,” she agreed readily, “if you will call me Tess. As I was saying, I am grateful to you, since your arrival allowed me to spend time with my cousin Damon, Lord Wrexham. Damon recently wed Lord Danvers’s younger sister Eleanor, and I am his only remaining close family.”
“So I heard. Actually, Arabella and Jane have told me a great deal about you.” Madeline had heard most about the charities that Tess had devoted herself to since losing her beloved betrothed in the Battle of Waterloo two years ago. “Your charitable endeavors are so very admirable.”
Tess flashed another warm smile. “Your husband has contributed generously in the past, but now that you are here, perhaps I might persuade you to become involved and utilize your role as Countess of Haviland. It is amazing how influential an aristocratic title can be when soliciting charitable donations.”
“Yes, indeed. I would like that very much.”
Tess paused, giving her a considering look. “Arabella mentioned that Fanny Irwin has been advising you. Pray don’t be alarmed,” she said when Madeline looked taken aback. “Belle didn’t betray your confidences. It is just that she has been pressing me to ask Fanny for help with my own situation.”
“Your situation?” Madeline asked curiously.
“My unmarried state.” Tess uttered a rueful laugh. “Arabella is so enamored of her own wedded bliss that she wants me to find the same happiness. I have known Fanny for several years now, but I never thought to enlist her help in plotting affairs of the heart. It was clever of you, Madeline.”
“It was Arabella’s idea,” she admitted.
Tess lowered her voice to a confidential undertone. “If it is not too forward of me to ask, have any of Fanny’s method’s worked?”
“It is too early to tell just yet,” Madeline answered truthfully, “but I still have high hopes. And there is no doubt that Fanny improved my confidence immeasurably—which was no small feat, given how impossibly naïve I was when it came to dealing with the male sex.”
“Thank you,” Tess said earnestly. “I am out of mourning now and determined to move on with my life, so employing Fanny’s expertise seems a wise plan.”
Since Jane Caruthers joined them, Madeline had no more chance for conversation with Tess just then, but she was greatly looking forward to becoming better acquainted with her intriguing fellow teacher.
On another front entirely, Madeline had to deal with two other members of Rayne’s family. It came as a bit of a surprise when his two sisters called at Riverwood the following afternoon without any advance warning.
They were there to inspect her and take her measure, Madeline suspected, regretting that once again Rayne was absent, ha
ving left for London that morning.
As she made her way to the drawing room where Bramsley had ushered the ladies to wait for her, Madeline tried to recall what she’d learned about them in the past week of her marriage. Penelope was older than Rayne by two years, Daphne younger by about the same. The sisters had each married baronets, which made Penelope, Lady Tewksbury, and Daphne, Lady Livermore.
They were both handsome women, Madeline saw upon entering, with raven hair and blue eyes like their brother, although not nearly as tall. Both were perched stiffly on their chairs, as if reluctant to settle in for too long. And at first glance they looked as haughty and imperious as their grandmother, the dowager Countess of Haviland.
They also appeared unwilling to welcome Madeline with any more enthusiasm than had their noble relative. Judging from their chill greetings, their grandmother had not relented in her opposition to her, Madeline realized with a sinking heart; she simply was not considered good enough to be admitted into the family.
She smiled politely, however, and kept her own tone amiable as she welcomed the sisters to Riverwood and expressed pleasure in meeting them.
When she asked if they would care for refreshments, Penelope responded tersely. “Thank you, no. We will not be staying. We merely wished to see what sort of female our brother chose to wed.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “I confess you are a surprise.”
“Oh, how so?”
“You are significantly older, for one thing.”
Madeline kept her lips closed to keep herself from retorting.
“We supposed Haviland knew what was due his family name, but unfortunately we were mistaken.”
Daphne spoke up then. “It is also because Rayne is not the marrying kind, and we didn’t think he would ever succumb, despite our grandmother’s most persuasive efforts. Penelope and I both wed shortly after our comeouts, as expected of young ladies, but Rayne has resisted matrimony all these years.”
“I did not have a comeout,” Madeline admitted pointedly, “so I had little opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen.”
Penelope’s expression was close to a sneer. “So we heard. We understand you were employed as a companion.”
“I was indeed.”
“At least it is a relief to discover you are not quite beyond the pale. We feared you would prove an utter embarrassment.” Penelope eyed Madeline’s fashionable round gown. “Grandmama led us to believe you had regrettable taste in attire. But that gown you are wearing is unexceptionable.”
“Lady Danvers has been advising me on purchasing my bride clothes,” Madeline said, persuaded that a little name-dropping would not hurt with her two judges.
Penelope ignored her mention of her noble neighbor. “You made a serious error challenging our grandmother. You have made an enemy of her.”
“It certainly was not my intent.”
“She means to cut you dead.”
“A fate worse than death,” Madeline murmured mostly under her breath.
Penelope’s gaze sharpened. “I don’t believe you comprehend what is in store for you. You will be shunned by society. You will not be received in any of the best homes. Tell me, have you received any cards of invitation since your marriage, other than those from your provincial neighbors?”
Madeline felt her hackles rising but schooled her features to blandness so as not to appear defensive. “I would hardly call the Countess of Danvers and the Duchess of Arden provincial,” she answered sweetly. “I am gratified to name both ladies as friends.”
Daphne broke in. “She has a point, Penny.”
“Hush, Daphne.” The elder sister turned her attention back to Madeline. “If you are garnering attention, it is because you are a novelty for people who want to view Haviland’s new countess.”
“Perhaps so,” she agreed. “But truthfully, it doesn’t concern me much. Moreover, Rayne has handled our correspondence thus far, so I am unfamiliar with what cards we may have received.”
Penelope’s sneer deepened. “I would not put it past Rayne to toss them away. He never has paid proper attention to correct manners.”
Madeline flashed a cool smile at her. “No, he was more concerned with lowbrow affairs such as ridding the world of a tyrant.”
Daphne was eyeing her with growing wonder. “You are as blunt and outspoken as Grandmama described you.”
Her smile turned wry. “I imagine Lady Haviland had stronger words than that to describe me.”
“Don’t you care at all that you have earned her wrath?” Daphne asked curiously.
Madeline sobered. “I care that my husband not suffer because of me. I never wanted to come between him and his family. But I cannot change my birth or breeding.” She slanted a glance at Penelope. “Just so you know, I received a genteel education, and I am aware of the correct way to use a knife and fork, among other things.”
Penelope responded to her provocation. “But can you host a dinner to honor a diplomat or give a ball for four hundred guests?”
“Not at present, but I am a quick study, and I have friends who are generous enough to teach me what I need to know.”
She didn’t point out that Rayne’s sisters should rightfully be helping her make her way through the treacherous waters of the ton.
“I think you might do for Rayne after all,” Daphne said slowly.
Madeline felt a measure of surprise. Perhaps Rayne’s younger sister was prepared to be a bit more forgiving than the elder. “Why do you say so?”
“Because you don’t back down from confrontation. Rayne is exactly that way, too, so you must be well-matched.” The smile Daphne offered her was full of charm with a hint of devilry. “Rayne was named by our father, after the Norse word, Raynor—did you know?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“It means ‘warrior from the gods,’ actually. Papa fancied himself a Greek scholar, but in between his Greek phases, he studied the Norsemen.”
“Daphne, pray don’t let your tongue run on,” her sister commanded.
Daphne, however, refused to comply with the order. “Penny and I gave our children plain, old-fashioned English names, though. Hers are named Michael and Peter, mine are Francis and Henry.”
“That is quite enough, Daphne,” Penelope said more insistently.
“Rayne told me his oldest nephew is twelve and the youngest is four,” Madeline observed, disregarding the tension between the two sisters.
“Yes,” was Penelope’s brusque answer, but Daphne unbent even further, going so far as to laugh. “Trust me, Lady Haviland, you don’t want to encourage me to discuss my children unless you have all day. I can sing their praises endlessly.”
“You sound very fond of them.”
“I am indeed, and so is Penny, to be truthful—”
Cutting her sister off abruptly, Penelope focused her haughty gaze on Madeline. “Mention of our sons brings us to the point of our visit.”
“And what is that?” Madeline asked more politely.
“Shall we deal in plain speaking?”
“By all means.”
“It is our hope,” Penelope said, looking uncomfortable for the first time, “that you will not cause a rift in our family that can never be mended.”
“Yes,” Daphne chimed in. “It would not be fair to Rayne if Grandmama disowned him, but it would be even more unfair to our sons. Although we might be pleased if she were to leave her immense fortune to us, our sons would not be permitted to see their Uncle Rayne then, and they are excessively fond of him.”
Madeline’s brow furrowed. “You allow your grandmother to rule all your lives?”
Daphne wrinkled her nose. “I fear so. Grandmama controls the purse strings, you see, and we don’t want to deprive our sons of their rightful inheritance, so we dance to her tune.”
Madeline paused a long moment before replying. “So what is it you wish from me?”
“Well …” Daphne grimaced. “I am not certain there is anything to be done at this
point, even if you could bring yourself to beg Grandmama’s forgiveness for standing up to her. I doubt that even an abject apology would work.”
“Did your grandmother sanction your coming here?”
“No, she doesn’t know. But Rayne is our brother after all, and we are concerned for his welfare, as well as that of our sons. Besides, we wanted to see what manner of bride Rayne had chosen.”
“I am surprised Lady Haviland did not forbid you outright.”
“Oh, she did. She was extremely upset to learn of his marriage—livid is the word. She positively raged about the way you spoke to her.”
“I suppose I did not show her proper obeisance,” Madeline remarked lightly.
“You most certainly did not,” Penelope interjected as she rose to her feet. “Come, Daphne, this visit is at an end.”
“I suppose we should go,” Daphne agreed rather irreverently, “since we have stayed longer than the requisite fifteen minutes.”
It seemed irrational that they had traveled all the way from London only to stay for such a short time, Madeline mused, but then they had never intended their visit to be an offer of friendship, even though they were her sisters by marriage now.
“Good day,” Penelope said in that same cold tone, confirming Madeline’s assumption.
Penelope was striding purposefully toward the drawing room door when Daphne lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “To be honest, Penny refused to call on you until I convinced her I was coming with or without her. She dislikes it immensely when I can lord it over her.”
Daphne started to follow her sister when she suddenly paused. “By the by, has Rayne given you the Haviland jewels yet?”
The question caught Madeline off guard, since she wasn’t aware of such a thing. “Not yet, no.”
“You should ask him for the jewels. It hardly seems fair that they will go to you,” she added good-naturedly, “since Pen and I have more right to them. But they are entailed along with the title. That is another reason Grandmama is so furious at you. She will be loath to give them up.”
“She may keep them as far as I am concerned.”
To Tame a Dangerous Lord Page 25
