A Lady Betrayed (16 page)

“Our favorite rosebush is blooming, my love, and every time I see a new blossom, I remember how carefully you trimmed it, and now your care is being rewarded. In just the same way, I know my heart is safe in your loving hands.”

How sweet, Maddie thought. She had not known that her father had ever been interested in the garden; he had not shown much concern for flowers or ornamental bushes in recent years. Perhaps after her mother died, he had lost his inclination.

She tucked the letter back into the pile, and, with a look at the sunlight and how the morning had advanced, realized she should go back to help Bess with the luncheon.

When the meal was on the table, and the men had left their chessboard behind and joined her in the dining room, she managed to work a question about the garden into the conversation.

“Did my mother have a favorite rosebush, Papa, that you remember?”

“Eh?” He paused with a slice of venison on his knife, and looked as if he were trying to recall. “Really, my dear, your mother liked all the flowers. She was quite a hand with the garden, always out working with the plants. I'm afraid it's never looked quite the same since she left us.” He sighed, and Maddie found she hadn't the heart to ask him any more.

Perhaps it was as she'd thought; he simply had lost his zest for horticulture without her mother there to share his interests.

She let the conversation swirl back to other topics, but when they rose from the table and her father retired for his afternoon rest, she and the viscount wandered outside once more, and this time, hand in hand, they headed for the weathered bench at the far end of the garden.

Adrian sat, and she moved to sit close beside him. Remembering the passion of the night before, she leaned against his body, delighting in the firmness of his torso, the strength of his arms and legs.

“My love,” he murmured, putting one arm around her shoulders. “What a joy you are!”

She slid across the bench until she was almost sitting in his lap. He pulled her even closer and scooped her up until she was indeed sitting on top of him—and, oh my, she could feel him suddenly hard against the underside of her legs.

“Do you think we dare?” he murmured.

She glanced around, not sure how much someone could see. But the hedge protected them from view, and she knew that Thomas was inside the house having his meal in the kitchen. How could she be sensible with the blood racing through her veins? She leaned into his kiss and threw her arms about his shoulders.

He shifted so that she could lift and rearrange her skirts—Maddie found she was becoming shockingly profligate at this business of lovemaking—and if they could not quite complete the act, it was still most pleasurable to feel him hard against the tender skin between her legs. She found she could rock slightly back and forth and bring forth exquisitely delightful sensations. She was not the only one who had to bite back moans. It was the viscount who made small sounds deep in his throat, now.

“Sweet girl, what you are doing to me—”

“Should I stop?” she paused for a moment.

“Good lord, no!” he said hastily.

She resumed her back and forth motion, and again, the sensations induced were deeply gratifying.

In a moment Adrian slipped one hand beneath her body. He inserted two fingers inside her, and the intensity of her pleasure grew once more. She gasped, and almost rose to her tiptoes, but he pulled her back down.

“Now, now,” he said very low. “We must keep up appearances. Or lie low with them.”

This struck Maddie as funny and she would have laughed if she had not been so consumed with feelings of pure physical fervor. She thought she might melt away as he continued to stroke and pulsate her soft inner folds in just the right places, and her response grew greater and greater till she thought that the shivers of delight that ran through her might literally turn her inside out. The feelings grew and circled and exploded outward.

At last she gave a soft cry, stretched upward once more, then fell into his arms. Adrian held her tightly and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, and even the top of her head.

For a few minutes she lay in his arms with her eyes shut, totally sated, limp, and happy. She discovered that there were tears on her cheeks—tears of total physical and emotional completion. It was an amazing feeling, yet she felt rather selfish.

When she opened her eyes at last, she looked at him with concern. “But what about you?” she whispered.

“I'm all right, my sweet. Another time, when we have a more private space,” he told her, grinning ruefully. “At least I could make you happy.”

He seemed sincere, so she put away her concern. It hadn't occurred to her that it could be done like this. So many things to learn, Maddie thought. She wished that they could have years together to teach them to each other.

Afraid that Thomas might come out of the house, she reluctantly sat back beside the viscount, and he sat with his arm about her. They talked in low voices.

“Do you also enjoy the garden, as your mother did?” Adrian asked her, as they gazed over the late-flowering plants.

She looked over the flower beds. “I'm afraid I lack time to give them the care they deserve. They are not what they once where, as my father pointed out.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers gently. “I know that you work very hard, Madeline, and you could not put more effort into aiding your father, inside and outside the house. You are a dutiful daughter.”

Feeling a sudden rush of renewed anxiety, Maddie stared up into his face. “You do understand why I feel I cannot leave him, Adrian? He could not cope on his own, and with only two elderly servants to aid him. But even if there were more, I could not leave him to suffer a lonely existence with only servants around him.”

“I know,” the viscount said, his voice tender as he looked down at her. “You have a very kind heart, my dear, and also a spirit—and a body—meant for love. I honor you for it.”

“But the more I know you and the more time we spend together…” she tried to tell him. “I wish that we—that I…” If we had had a chance for a real marriage, she thought as she held his hand tightly. If you were not already cursed…

She could not go, and he could not stay. How could they find a way to keep their love alive, to have time to nurture it, to have the time to delight in it?

“I don't want to lose you,” she murmured. He tightened his grip on her hand, but didn't answer.

The air was cool but pleasant, and with his arm around her shoulders, the familiar feel of the bench beneath them, the bronze and gold and white of the autumn flowers and the glory of the last leaves on the trees making a pleasing show all around them, and the gilded rays of the sunlight, it was a golden hour, and she wished she could hold on to it forever.

If she concentrated, could she keep them inside this bubble of time—stop the clock's clicking hand? Keep all evils away?

But most of the leaves had already fallen; the flowers were already dropping their petals, one by one. It seemed to Maddie that she could almost see one white petal detach itself and drift away in the breeze.

How could she slow—no, stop—time?

She did not want him to leave—she did not wish for Adrian to go away—she knew suddenly that he had captured her heart—she had no doubt at all.

Adrian had taught her not just passion, but love. She had fallen in love when she had least expected it. The convenient marriage, the contract for the sake of propriety, had transformed into an emotion that stirred her to the depths of her soul, and the sudden illness that had trapped her in the middle of a stormy night might turn out to be the dearest blessing of her life.

She lay her head against his chest where she could hear the comforting beat of his heart—his vigor, his vitality, the reassurance that he was here, now—and felt him wrap his arms about her.

Stay, she thought, stay. Dear Lord, ward off all ills.

If only they possessed some old wizardry—a magic wand, or a fairy godmother who would grant a deepest wish—anything that would guarantee a boon.

But the sunlight was already changing its angle. The air was cooling, and she heard a call as someone came up the path in front of the house. It was Felicity, come to chaperone as they had another dinner party to attend tonight.

Maddie raised her head, and they had to slip apart.

“I begin to see the many advantages of marriage,” the viscount muttered. “Oh, for the privilege of the shut door and the right to place all the world outside!”

She gave him a reluctant grin, then went to welcome their guest.

That night when they were ready to leave, Felicity wore
her remade lavender gown and carried her new reticule and an Italian fan and looked very fine; even Maddie's papa commented, which made their guest turn pink.

Maddie was delighted to see how pleased her friend was to have a new outfit to enjoy. She found that her own new gowns from the dressmaker in Ripon were a great lift to her spirits, especially when with every dinner party, she felt as if she faced another gauntlet to run.

She admitted as much to the viscount when she met him on the landing upstairs before they went down.

“Then say no,” he told her at once. “Send your excuses. We do not have to indulge these provincial hostesses who think they are so lofty in their entertaining. I would not have you be distressed, Madeline!”

“But I will not have them thinking they have bested me, either, Adrian,” she pointed out, her tone even. “They are only a minor annoyance, really.” Which was not quite true, but they were and would continue to be neighbors, and she would have to live here after the viscount had departed again, which was too painful to discuss out loud. At least her father did not know how she was distressed by some of her more vindictive neighbors' petty attacks.

To her chagrin, the first person she saw when they walked into the hostess's home tonight was her least favorite neighbor, Mrs. Masham. Maddie knew just who would lead the charge of belittling observations, disguised as they might be as kindly inquiries.

The matron didn't even wait till the ladies were alone to start her commentary. “I'm so glad you are quite recovered, Miss Applegate,” Mrs. Masham said, in her usual sharp tones. “Since you were too ill to come to
my
dinner party last week.”

“We are all happy that Miss Applegate has recovered,” the viscount agreed, his tone amiable. “She had another of her headaches, which as you know, make her totally unable to function.”

“As
you
know, at least, since it led to the two of you spending the night alone in the woods—but, dear me, how clumsy of me to bring up such a subject,” Mrs. Masham retorted, fanning herself as if disconcerted, though her eyes looked as hard as always.

Adrian met her suggestive stare with an innocent look of his own. “Just so.”

Maddie had to swallow a slightly hysterical giggle.

“All of Miss Applegate's friends are distressed by her sad tendency toward these unfortunate headaches, and her inability to control their timing,” Felicity added. “Tell us how your dinner party went, Mrs. Masham. I'm sure you are a notable hostess?”

She allowed her remark to end on just a hint of a question mark, and that prompted the other woman to plunge into an indignant description of her party and how delicious were her many dishes and how lively her dinner conversation and how spirited her playing at the pianoforte when she entertained her guests afterwards (which made Maddie reflect that missing such a “treat” was almost worth her suffering).

“I suppose it's just as well that the two of you will be married soon. This coming Sunday will be the third reading of the banns, if I am counting correctly, will it not?” their inquisitioner demanded.

“I believe your counting skills are quite adequate,” Adrian murmured.

This time Maddie did giggle.

“What was that?”

“Ah,” their current hostess, a plump, good-natured lady, Mrs. Fritzwell, jumped courageously into the fray. “I remember when my own banns were read. That excited, I was, and a bit worried, too, that we would not get my wedding dress finished in time. I supposed you are sewing madly, Miss Applegate?”

“Oh, yes,” Maddie agreed. “Although we have made a trip into Ripon to a dressmaker there, which will aid in the effort considerably.”

“Indeed.” Their hostess looked impressed. “Now that is good news. You will not be so anxious. I used to dream that skeins of thread and bolts of silk were chasing me around the bed. Not the best way to start off one's married life, I can tell you.” She turned quite innocently to gaze toward the viscount, who had suddenly put on a blank expression.

Maddie was trying hard not to laugh once more. “No, indeed, how unfortunate.”

“No, however, dear Mr. Fritzwell assured me that he would wed me in my petticoat, if necessary, didn't you, my dear?” Their hostess looked fondly at her husband.

He had been discussing last week's shooting with a couple of male guests and glanced up with an absent expression. “Right you are, old thing.” He turned back to the men. “A splendid rack, twelve points, at the least.”