by Anne Gracie
“No, she couldn’t join us tonight. Poor little Patrick has a touch of the colic tonight and of course she had to stay with him.”
Lady Helen turned and gave the butler some rapid instructions.
“Tibby is Mrs. Delaney,” Nash explained. “Patrick is her infant son.”
“Six months old and such a bonny boy,” said Lady Helen overhearing. “You’ll meet him and my own little Torie tomorrow.” She smiled at the children. “Now, who are all these lovely children? Nash, introduce us, if you please.”
Jane and Susan made beautiful curtsies. Maddy felt so proud of them. Then Lucy tried to curtsy, got stuck, and almost fell over. Before Maddy could move, Nash quietly caught her and helped the little girl to rise with a minimum of fuss. Maddy noticed Lady Helen observe him thoughtfully. She glanced at Maddy, a speculative look in her eyes, but said nothing.
When John and Henry made their bows, she commented on their bright rosy cheeks. “Have you been out in the cold air, boys?”
Henry burst out excitedly, “Yes, we sat up with the driver all the way, and helped drive the carriage. He let us hold the reins and everything.”
“Did you indeed?” she said warmly. “It is a very exciting thing to do, is it not? I remember when I first learned to handle the ribbons, I was only a little older than you.”
“You, ma’am?” Jane said in surprise.
Lady Helen laughed. “Yes, I was a terrible hoyden and utterly horse mad.” She winked. “I still am. Do you like dogs? I hope you do because I can hear one coming now.”
The clacking of claws sounded on the well-polished parquetry floor and an amiable-looking brown-spotted white springer spaniel came trotting up, wagging her tail and wiggling with joy at the sight of the visitors.
“This is my dog, Freckles,” Lady Helen told them. “I hope you will all be great friends.”
The children clustered around the dog, letting themselves be sniffed, patting her, and making friends.
“They’ve always wanted a dog,” Maddy told Lady Helen. “But we could never afford to feed one.” She wasn’t going to pretend she was anything other than she was.
Lady Helen touched Maddy’s arm sympathetically. “Oh, my dear, I understand. There was a time when all I had in the world was Freckles and she was such a comfort.”
Maddy looked at her in surprise. All she had in the world? But Nash had said this house had been in her family for generations.
Lady Helen continued, “Let me show you to your room. Nash will have his usual bedchamber, but I think we’ll put you near the children, yes? You won’t mind an extra flight of stairs? They’ll be a little nervous in a new place, I’m sure, and you’ll want to be on hand for them.”
Maddy nodded. “That would be very kind, thank you. The children are used to sharing a bed . . .”
“Of course, so much more cozy.” She turned to a gray-haired motherly looking woman standing quietly in the background. “Aggie, will you take the children to the nursery and help them wash their hands and faces? I think an early night is warranted, so supper on trays upstairs and then bed?” She glanced at Maddy for confirmation and added, “Aggie—Mrs. Deane—is my old nurse so they couldn’t be in better hands.”
Maddy nodded. “That would be perfect, thank you. Go with Mrs. Deane, children, and I’ll be up to tuck you into bed, as usual.”
“Can Freckles come with us, please?” Lucy asked. The little girl had her arms around the dog’s neck, hugging her. Freckles thumped her tail, not seeming to mind being hugged in the least.
Lady Helen laughed. “Of course. Freckles goes everywhere.” The children went off with Aggie Deane and Freckles.
Lady Helen linked her arm through Maddy’s. “Now, Miss Woodford—and Lizzie, is it?” She smiled at Lizzie, who had been hanging back shyly. “I’ll send my own maid, Cooper, to show you around, Lizzie, after you and your mistress have had time to wash and tidy up after your journey. Miss Woodford, you mustn’t mind my nonsense about balancing numbers at dinner. If you’re too tired to join us, you’re very welcome to have supper on a tray in your room, or with the children if you prefer.”
For one cowardly moment, Maddy thought about eating with the children. It was tempting, but she really shouldn’t put off the moment.
“She’ll dine with us,” Nash said before Maddy could answer. “I should perhaps have mentioned this at the outset—Miss Woodford is my betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” Lady Helen gasped.
Nash grinned. “We’re to be married on Friday week in Maddy’s parish church.”
“Nash, you rascal, why did you not say so in the first place? Here I am treating the poor girl like a stranger.”
“But I am a str—”
“Nonsense, you’re to be my sister.” Lady Helen hugged her. “Congratulations, Miss Woodf—what is your first name? I cannot call you Miss Woodford if you’re to be my sister. And you must call me Nell. Oh, I’m so pleased. I liked you from the moment we met.”
Maddy blinked and hugged her back, a little overwhelmed by the warmth of her reception. And immensely relieved. She’d also liked Lady Helen—Nell—from the beginning.
“I am Maddy, short for Madeleine.”
“Oh, what a pretty name. I am so glad I married a man with plenty of brothers, for I grew up as an only child and I always longed for sisters. I would have married my darling Harry if he’d been a lone orphan, of course, but it is nice to become part of a big family.”
Nash gave a crack of laughter. “Lord, Nell, if you think we’re a family—”
“We are becoming one,” Nell said airily. “The rifts are healing. All we need now is for you and Marcus to be married and—”
“Better to find Luke a wife. You’ll have no luck with Marcus.”
Nell frowned. “Well, we have been, but Luke is . . . slippery.” She explained to Maddy, “Luke is the handsomest of all of them—he has the face of a fallen angel, you will see. Ladies fall at his feet in droves, but will he give the least bit of encouragement to anyone? His mother and sisters are almost in despair, for he is the only son, and though he has recently come into a title, he shows no interest in marriage.” She glanced at Nash and added in a lowered tone, “And it’s not that he isn’t interested in women, for I wormed it out of Harry that he is.”
She took a deep breath and smiled at Nash. “Still, I thought you might never marry, too, and here you are betrothed to this beautiful girl, so there’s hope for Luke and Marcus yet. However, I’ve given up matchmaking—Luke told Harry this is one of the few places left where he can relax in the surety that we will not fling eligible young women at his head, poor boy, so I’ll leave him in peace. Now, I’d better stop gossiping and give you time to get ready, for dinner will be served in half an hour.”
Candlelight was kind to women and faded dresses, Maddy told herself as she took one last, critical glance in the looking glass. She wasn’t sure if they’d dressed for dinner, but she’d put on her best gown, regardless. Not that it would measure up. “The hair, at least, is wonderful, thank you, Lizzie.”
There was a knock on the door. Lizzie answered it, and after a quiet exchange, came back with a shawl draped over her hands. “Lady Helen’s maid brought this for you to wear, Miss Maddy. She said it can get cold in this house, but oh, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in me life. I think it might be silk or summat like that.”
The shawl was exquisite, a soft, creamy fabric with a wide, silk-embroidered border of red, blue, and green. “It’s a cashmere shawl,” Maddy said, examining it. “They cost a fortune.” Mama had owned one once. Maddy had sold it long ago.
Lizzie draped it around Maddy’s shoulders. It fell in soft folds around her, reaching almost to her knees. Swathed in the beautiful, luxurious garment, the faded fabric of her gown wouldn’t be so noticeable. And Maddy wouldn’t feel so much like the beggar at the feast.
Maybe Lady Helen did understand what it was like to have nothing.
Nash arrived to escort her d
ownstairs. His eyes ran over her and warmed with approval. “You look beautiful,” he said softly. “Like a glowing candle.”
She felt herself blushing. He’d never said anything like that to her before. He was looking very nice himself, and had changed his clothes, but . . . “Why are you wearing riding dress? Is it some custom here?”
He laughed. “No, but it’s very informal tonight.”
“So am I overdressed?”
“Not in the least.”
“Then why did you change into riding breeches?”
“Because I’m leaving after dinner to rejoin Marcus.”
She stopped halfway down the stairs and stared at him. “You mean you’re riding back to my cottage tonight?”
“That’s right. Come on, they’ve already set dinner back half an hour for us.” He tugged her gently.
She withdrew her arm from his grasp. “You’ve brought me here to a houseful of strangers—in a rush and under the pretense we were expected, I might add—and now you’re going to abandon me?”
He frowned. “I can’t very well leave Marcus there on his own, can I? Don’t you want to catch the Bloody Abbot?”
“Of course I do.” She took a few breaths, trying to marshal her thoughts. “It’s the lack of consultation I’m not happy about. And being lied to,” she told him. “The Bloody Abbot is my problem, but you’ve allowed me no say in this.”
“But I’m only trying to protect—”
“I know, and I know I ought to be grateful, but I don’t feel grateful. Well, I do a bit,” she admitted. “But I have a score to settle with him, and I hate being made to feel redundant and helpless. And I don’t want to be abandoned here in a place where I know nobody—and, yes, Lady Helen has been more than kind and I’m sure your brother and his friends will be just as welcoming, but that’s not the point.”
Actually, she wasn’t at all sure of his brother’s welcome. Nash’s older brother had already made his disapproval of her more than clear. No doubt the rest of Nash’s family would agree with the earl, that Nash was making a mésalliance. She was going to do her damnedest to prove them wrong, but at the moment, she would much rather face the Bloody Abbot bare-handed than spend a week alone with his family and friends.
“I am not a—a parcel to be moved about the country at your whim and dumped on people’s doorsteps. I have opinions and ideas, and this is about me, so I will be listened to, Nash, do you understand?”
“I am listening,” he said stiffly.
She sighed. He was offended. “The thing is,” she explained in a softer voice, “I’m not like the young, sheltered, biddable girls your aunt would have found for you. I’m not used to having a man take over and make decisions for me. Papa left me and Mama in France with Grand-mère when I was nine, and he didn’t send for me until I was nineteen. All that time I lived with Grand-mère, and she was . . . not always able to grasp how the world had changed, so I made most of the decisions. And then, not long after I returned to England, Papa had his accident, and there I was, in charge of him and the children. So I am used to deciding for myself, and not having things decided for me.”
“Most women like it.”
“I like it about as much as you would if I decided what was best for you all the time.”
He stared at her for a long time, his eyes unreadable. “Have you changed your mind about this marriage?”
Maddy bit her lip and looked away. Oh, God, was he asking to be released from the promise? Having second thoughts now he’d learned what a hurly-burly, argumentative female she really was? “No.”
He let out his breath in a rush, as if he’d been holding it. “Good.” He took her arm again. “Now come on, dinner will be getting cold.”
He hadn’t conceded a thing, but Maddy took his arm and continued down the stairs. She would have preferred to finish the argument but she didn’t want to keep everyone waiting. It would keep.
He would learn to listen to her, she was determined on it.
Three men rose to their feet when she entered the dining room on Nash’s arm. They almost took her breath away. As Lady Helen had said, they were all extraordinarily attractive.
She knew at once who each man was, even before Nash introduced them: the Renfrew family resemblance was very strong. Harry looked tough and hard—his years as a soldier, she supposed. His hair was much the same color as Nash’s, but his eyes were lighter, gray, like Marcus’s, as cold looking as Marcus was.
He glanced at his wife. Ah, but the coldness softened then, Maddy saw, as they exchanged a swift, light glance that warmed the room. He loved her.
Harry came forward and bowed over her hand. He murmured a greeting but said nothing else. Reserving judgment? Or the habitual taciturnity Nash had mentioned?
Next was Lord Ripton. If ever a man could be called beautiful, it was he, she thought. A fallen angel, with brooding dark eyes, cheekbones molded by a master sculptor, and thick, tumbled black hair.
She had no trouble imagining ladies following him about . . . Perhaps he was simply spoilt for choice.
Ethan Delaney kissed her hand with a flourish. Built like a bruiser, tall, and with a deep barrel chest, he could not be called handsome with his scarred and battered face, crooked nose, and an ear that looked . . . chewed? But when he smiled at her, a brilliant, lopsided slash of white in his tanned face, and greeted her in a soft Irish brogue, she instantly felt the appeal Lady Helen had mentioned. A ladies’ man. She wondered what his wife was like.
Conversation over the soup course was general—about horses, mainly, and the exchange of news. Apart from answering the few polite questions directed at her, Maddy didn’t say much.
She was too interested in watching Nash with his brother. The family resemblance was very obvious, but Harry was more strongly built than Nash and a shade shorter, with wider shoulders. Nash was the taller, loose-limbed and elegant, and in her eyes, the handsomest of the three brothers she’d met.
It was a hearty country-style meal; after the soup came steak and kidney pie, baked ham, creamed potatoes, and mushrooms.
Maddy hadn’t seen so much food on a table in years.
“So, Nash, lost your luggage, eh?” Luke asked.
Nash looked up from the pie, which he was enjoying as much as Maddy. “No, I sent it ahead with Phelps when I left Bath nearly a fortnight ago. Why?”
Luke raised his brows. “Riding clothes? At dinner? Not like you.”
Nash glanced at Maddy before he responded. “I’d planned to ride back to Maddy’s cottage tonight.”
“Good Lord, why?”
Nash explained the problems Maddy had experienced with the man who dressed up as the Bloody Abbot. “And two nights ago, he destroyed her vegetable garden and burned all her beehives. Marcus is there now, with a groom, ready to waylay the ruffian if he comes back.”
Harry gave a sharp laugh. “Marcus? Lurking in a cottage? I wish I might see it!”
“How did you arrange that?” Luke asked.
Nash gave a wry grin. “I, er, talked him into it.”
The others laughed. “Talked him into it? Press-ganged him, I’ll wager,” Harry said.
Ethan shook his head. “I’ve said it before, the lad’s part Irish, there’s no other accounting for it. He can talk anyone into anything.”
Nash glanced at Maddy with a rueful smile. “Not quite. Anyway, I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going. Marcus will have to manage on his own.”
He wasn’t going? He’d listened to her after all? Maddy was shocked. She’d spent half the dinner silently marshaling arguments to convince him. She caught his eye, and he winked, and a small bubble of happiness rose in her.
He’d listened. He cared about her opinions.
“Well, of course, you’re not going,” Lady Helen spoke up. “You can’t just abandon Miss Woodford like that and ride off on some adventure.”
To Maddy’s amazement, the other men agreed. “I’d be in it like a shot,” Ethan admitted, “but with young Patrick fr
etful with the colic, I’ll not leave Tibby.”
“Don’t look at me,” was all Harry said, but the look he gave to Nell almost took Maddy’s breath away. The gray eyes she’d first thought so cold and hard blazed with love and pride.
Nell hid a smile but her face glowed, too, with secret pride, and suddenly Maddy knew what they weren’t saying—Nell was increasing. That’s why Harry wouldn’t leave her.
Oh, to be on the receiving end of a look like that . . .
“Well, I’m free to go, and I wouldn’t mind a bit of adventure,” Luke declared. “Life’s wretchedly tame at the moment, and it’s worse now, since all you fellows have turned into staid married men. But if you give me the directions, I’ll happily join Marcus and catch this villain for Miss Woodford.”
“Excellent,” Nash said. “Thanks, Luke, much appreciated.”
The evening broke up soon afterward as Nash and Harry went off to see Luke on his way, Ethan returned to Tibby and the baby, and Maddy and Nell went upstairs to check on the children.
“Torie’s been asleep for hours,” Nell told Maddy as they reached the nursery level. “Still, I always check on her before I go to bed. Would you like to come in and see her?”
Maddy nodded. The nursery area took up almost half of the top floor of the house and was one big room, with a number of smaller rooms, presumably bedchambers, coming off it. Clearly at one stage this house had been filled with children.
Like many of the rooms in the house, it was spotlessly clean and well cared for, but well worn and comfortably shabby. “We’re slowly fixing up the house,” Nell explained. “But we’re very busy with the horses.”
“It’s a wonderful place,” Maddy assured her. “The children will love it.” And they would, she knew. There were shelves and shelves of books and toys, an old dollhouse, a battered rocking horse, even a scarred old pianoforte—everything to delight a child. The floors were polished wood, scattered with old Turkish rugs. Along one side were dozens of windows and a long window seat, padded with squashy-looking, faded crimson cushions.
