His Wicked Wish (10 page)

He shifted his hands so as not to touch the jaunty cluster as he transferred the bonnet to the footman. “You've naught to fear, my lady. The staff shall take excellent care with your belongings.”

The young footman in his smart blue livery and formal white wig openly gawked at her before scurrying away down a long corridor. Maddy could only imagine the gossip that would ensue shortly in the servants' hall. Everyone would crowd around belowstairs to hear the lurid details of Lord Rowley's outrageous bride.

Would Gertie have the sense to hold her sharp tongue?

With any luck, the maid wouldn't have arrived just yet. After the wedding ceremony, she had gone to collect Maddy's belongings from the boardinghouse. Maddy would have to caution the woman later …

“Is my father at home?” Nathan asked the butler.

“The family is presently in the drawing room, taking tea. If you'll wait in the antechamber, I'll see if his lordship is still with them.”

“Pray don't tell him I've brought company,” Nathan ordered. He slid his arm around Maddy's waist and gave her the warm smile of a besotted lover. “I want my new wife to be a surprise.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

After making a deferential bow, Shawshank turned away and headed at a measured pace up the marble stairway. His posture was so ramrod straight he resembled a soldier on parade.

The moment he was out of earshot, Maddy pulled away from Nathan's staged embrace and scowled at him. “The
family
?” she whispered. “Do you mean to say there'll be others present besides your father?”

Nathan shrugged. “My grandmother, the dowager countess, lives here at Gilmore House. So does my brother's widow, Sophia, though I've never met the woman. And there's my sister, Emily. She'll be nineteen now and no longer in the nursery.”

The prospect of facing a trio of snooty aristocratic ladies unnerved Maddy. She felt unprepared for such an ordeal. “You never mentioned I'd be seeing anyone but the earl today.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So? You ought to feel right at home in front of an audience.”

“Perhaps, but…” Aside from her mother and Lady Milford, the few ladies she'd encountered had been haughty and condescending, scorning to speak to her. “You ought to have warned me I'd be performing to a group. Had I known, I'd never have agreed to wear this ghastly gown. It's designed for a stage production, not fashionable society!”

His appreciative gaze dipped to her near-naked bosom. “On the contrary, it's perfect for a scandalous actress. A woman should always show off her best assets.”

“My best asset is my mind.”

He chuckled. “Well, try not to act too intelligent today. As part of the ruse, of course.” Catching hold of her elbow, he tugged her toward the staircase. “Come along now.”

Maddy struggled to keep up with his long strides. “What are you doing? We're supposed to wait down here.”

“And let Gilmore refuse to see me? No. Absolutely not.”

Clutching her skirts while ascending the broad stairs, she slanted a glance up at Nathan, who was looking grim-faced again. “Surely he wouldn't be so rude. He hasn't seen you in ten years.”

“You don't know the Earl of Gilmore. Now, stop arguing. You're supposed to vex my father, not me!”

Reaching the top of the staircase, he propelled her down a wide corridor. Shell-shaped sconces for candles decorated the walls, while gilt chairs sat at intervals. Their feet made no sound on the thick carpet with its pattern of roses and ivy. To either side of her lay palatial rooms, one of them a dining chamber with a table longer than the stage at the Neptune Theater.

Maddy was hard-pressed not to gape in awe. The size and splendor of this house was as alien to her as the moon. Mama had grown up in such a palace. How had she ever adjusted to life with a troupe of actors, staying in a tiny caravan while they traveled from town to town? No wonder she had spoken wistfully of her past life—especially the father who'd coldly told her she was dead to him.

Maddy clenched her teeth. As Lady Rowley, she would enter high society. She would go to parties and balls and dinners, and at some point, she would encounter the almighty Duke of Houghton.

Her grandfather. The villain who had shunned Mama.

That was the one quality she and Nathan shared, Maddy reflected. They both craved revenge on a family member. But her husband must never learn of her connection to the nobility. Her true background must remain shrouded in secrecy until just the right moment.

Nathan brought her to a halt in the corridor just outside an arched doorway. Though she couldn't quite see inside, Maddy heard muffled voices emanate from within the room: the angry rumble of a man, then the higher-pitched, shocked tone of a woman.

The butler must have just announced Lord Rowley's arrival.

She glanced up. Nathan's face was a hard mask, and it seemed for a moment that he'd forgotten her presence. The whalebone corset beneath the tawdry gown squeezed her rib cage. If only she could read his thoughts …

His fingers tightened around her arm. As he guided her toward the doorway, his eyes glinted with the hardness of emeralds. “Smile, darling,” he hissed. “The show is about to begin.”

 

Chapter 8

They stepped into an immense, long chamber with gold brocade draperies on the many tall windows. Enormous tapestries hung on the walls. Formal groupings of chaises and chairs provided places for family and visitors to sit. The numerous side tables displayed an array of curios that Maddy would have liked to examine more closely had Nathan not steered her toward the far end of the chamber.

Several people clustered near a marble fireplace where flames danced on the hearth to ward off the chill of the early spring afternoon. A silver tea service rested upon a trolley, and a slender brunette lady stood with the pot in hand, filling a cup. Nearby, a middle-aged gentleman and an elderly woman sat in a pair of thronelike chairs.

Their attention was trained on the butler.

Shawshank bowed, then started to walk away. He stopped upon seeing Maddy and Nathan coming toward the group. “Lord Rowley!” The hapless butler glanced back at the seated gentleman. “Pardon me, your lordship. I did ask him to wait downstairs.”

As one, the three aristocrats turned to stare at the newcomers. The younger woman frowned—no, they
all
frowned.

No one uttered a word of greeting. Nor did anyone smile or exclaim joyfully or open their arms to welcome Nathan home.

The older man set aside his teacup and rose from his chair. His build somewhat burly, his thinning auburn hair sprinkled with gray, he wore a tailored black suit with a crisp white cravat. His lips were compressed, his eyes dark brown, his cheeks pitted with a few pockmarks. He exuded the hostile contempt that one might direct at a bill collector—not a long-lost son and heir.

He must be Nathan's father, the Earl of Gilmore.

Maddy's stomach clenched. As Shawshank exited the drawing room, she wanted to go with the butler. But she'd committed herself to this ruse in exchange for a lavish stipend and a place in society. There was no turning back now.

Arm in arm, Nathan strolled with Maddy to join the gathering. He bowed to the two ladies in turn, then gave a sardonic nod to the earl.

“Hullo, Father. I trust you've told Shawshank to kill the fatted calf in honor of the prodigal son's return.”

Gilmore's nostrils flared. He stood rigidly still, his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “You would dare to make jests after vanishing for an entire decade. Where the deuce have you been these past ten years?”

“Traveling through the Far East. And you may congratulate me. I've become quite the wealthy businessman.”

“An Atwood, in trade?” the senior woman said with disapproval. The gnarled claws of one hand wrapped around the gold knob of a cane; she had hazel eyes that squinted from a mass of wrinkles on her face. “I cannot believe even
you
would stoop so low, Nathan.”

He favored her with a cool smile. “Ah, but it's true, Grandmamma. I deal in tea, silk, spices, whatever goods can be used to turn a profit. I've been selling briskly to European markets, and I'm looking to expand into England.”

“Well! We will speak of this matter later.” Looking none too pleased by his success, his grandmother turned her sour attention to Maddy. She lifted the quizzing glass pinned to her bodice and held the gold-rimmed lens to one eye. “But first, who is this tawdry creature?”

“That's no way to describe the newest member of our family.” Nathan slipped his arm around Maddy's waist, drawing her close to his side in the manner of a love-struck bridegroom. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Madelyn. As of today, she is Lady Rowley.”

An audible gasp swept the gathering. The earl's face turned ghastly pale, making his pockmarks more prominent. The dowager clutched a lace handkerchief to her mouth, while the pretty brunette lady wilted onto the nearest chair in a rustle of dove-gray silk.

Maddy recognized her cue.

She rushed straight to the Earl of Gilmore and threw her arms around him, planting a loud smack on his pitted cheek. He smelled of starch and expensive cologne. “'Tis a pleasure to meet such a grand personage as yourself, milord.” She affected a girlish giggle. “But I needn't address you as ‘milord,' eh? After all, you're
my
father now, too, and 'twould be only right and proper for me to call you ‘Papa.'”

A thunderous flush replaced the whiteness of shock on his proud features. But before he could condemn her brazen behavior, Maddy turned her back on him and swooped toward the seated dowager.

The landscape of wrinkles on the woman's face was truly remarkable. Maddy would have liked to have used them as a model when she'd disguised herself as a crone. “And you must be dear old Granny,” she said, projecting her voice as if on stage. “Why, I've never had a real grandmother before. I can't wait for us to become better acquainted. Just think of all the cozy chats we can have.”

As Maddy leaned down to hug the woman, Lady Gilmore recoiled, thrusting up her cane as a shield. “Keep your distance, girl! You're far too impertinent!”

Maddy strove for a bewildered look. “Have I done something wrong, milady? Pardon me, but it's just that I'm so excited to become one of the Quality. Who would've thought a poor girl from Covent Garden would be married to an earl's heir? And to become the granddaughter of a countess!” Cocking her head, she tapped her chin with her forefinger. “Or perhaps I am your
step
-granddaughter. I fear I don't know what the nobs would call our connection. Do you?”

“Deplorable, that's what,” Lady Gilmore hissed. Her poisonous gaze shifted from Maddy to Nathan and then to her son, the earl. Gilmore looked furious enough to spit nails.

Maddy wasn't finished. She whirled toward the younger lady in the next chair. But the chirpy greeting died on her lips as she realized the gray silk of the woman's gown indicated half-mourning. According to Nathan, his elder brother had died a little more than a year ago, and Maddy felt reluctant to play the strident harpy with his widow.

Nevertheless, she pasted on a bright smile. “And you, milady, who might you be? Perhaps you're my husband's sister, Emily? Or his sister-in-law, the one he said he's never met?”

“She's David's widow, I presume,” Nathan said. He came forward to soberly kiss the woman's hand. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Sophia. May I present Lady Rowley to you? Pray accept our deepest condolences on your bereavement.”

Lady Sophia yanked back her hand. She jutted out her small chin, and her china-blue eyes stared resentfully from a peaches-and-cream complexion. “
I'm
still Lady Rowley. And how dare you introduce me to this … this trollop!”

The room fell silent except for the crackle of the fire.
Trollop.
The ugly slur hung in the air.

“Now, now,” Nathan chided, “that's no way to speak of my dear wife.” Saying nothing more in Maddy's defense, he stepped back to stand by the fireplace, resting his elbow on the marble chimneypiece, a faint smirk on his handsome features.

The rat was enjoying this.

Maddy fought to maintain a frivolous smile. She resented the injustice of being called a trollop, though the malice of these aristocrats came as no surprise. She
was
behaving badly; that was the whole point of the charade, to make them despise her. Any vitriol they spewed only meant that her acting had been a success.

“But
I
am Lady Rowley,” she said in feigned bewilderment. “Yet you say
you
are Lady Rowley, as well. How very peculiar! Will there be two of us with the same name, then?”

“Yes, Sophia retains her title,” Lady Gilmore confirmed in a clipped tone. “
She
is well deserving of it.”

Implying, of course, that Nathan's bride was
not
worthy.

Maddy let the nasty insinuation sail right over her head. She might as well play the chatterbox that Nathan said the earl abhorred.

She clapped her hands. “Oh, splendid! We'll be just like twins, then! I've always wanted a sister.” She beamed at an appalled Lady Sophia, then rattled on. “Perhaps we can visit the shops together, milady. I love to try on hats and gloves and other pretty things, don't you? Do you like my gown, by the by? It's very elegant, isn't it?”

She twirled around the tea trolley so that the crimson skirt billowed out in an indecorous manner.

Lady Sophia's gaze raked over the tight-fitting gown with its indecently low neckline. “I doubt you know the meaning of the word ‘elegant'.”

“Well, Nathan thinks it's beautiful. He picked it out especially for me. Didn't you, darling?” Since the ruse was his invention, Maddy deemed it time to direct the attention back to him. Her hips swaying, she sauntered over to him by the fireplace. “He has excellent taste. Only look at how handsome he is in his wedding clothes.”