His Wicked Wish (35 page)

She stepped back to allow him entry, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and placing the hat on a chair. He hungrily watched her graceful movements as she smoothed her hair and then turned to face him, her fingers clasped at her waist.

“Has the earl spoken to you yet?” she asked in a formal tone.

“Just now. That's why I came here.” All of his muddled thoughts returned. “I don't know quite what to think about what he said to me. You see, he admitted that even though my mother had affairs, he has no absolute proof that he isn't my father. Do you realize what that means, Madelyn? I could actually
be
his son.”

The revelation shook Nate. It still hadn't quite sunk in. He felt too numb to sort out if he should be elated or angry.

She smiled slightly. “I'm glad to hear it. I hope he apologized for treating you so coldly as a child.”

“Yes, he did.” Nate trudged back and forth, feeling not quite so burdened anymore by all those years of pain and unhappiness. “He said … I'd reminded him of my mother, and he didn't want me to turn out like her. He also confessed to taking out his anger at her on me. The trouble is, I don't see how I can forget the past with a snap of the fingers.”

“You'll have to give it time. I imagine it will be hard for the earl, too. He has to live with the memory of what he did to you.”

Nate wasn't ready yet to forgive Gilmore. How much time would it take? If he stayed in London for a while, could he resolve his differences with Madelyn, too? Perhaps right now …

“Forgive me for going on,” he said. “You wished to speak to me?”

She glanced away, her secretive gaze going to the bed, as if she were remembering the many happy hours they'd spent there, wrapped in each other's arms. Heat tightened his groin. Did she mean to beseech him again to restore their marriage? To propose that they make love?

By God, he didn't think he could resist her this time. And why should he? After the talk with Gilmore today, the notion of denying him a grandson no longer seemed of such vital importance.

She returned her gaze to him. “Nathan, I've decided it's best that
I
leave Gilmore House, not you.”

Her statement struck like a blow to his gut. It knocked the breath right out of him. He couldn't speak, he could only gawk at her in shock.

“That way,” she continued, “you'll be able to remain here for a time and settle things with your father. You don't love me, and my presence would only serve as a reminder that you used me to take revenge on him.”

You don't love me.
Nate wanted to deny her statement, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn't believe in love. It was an invention of poets and playwrights to put a pretty gloss on raw sexual passion.

Nevertheless, he didn't want Madelyn to go. This house wouldn't be the same without her. He liked talking to her over the breakfast table, escorting her to parties, visiting her bedchamber at night. Yet they'd made a business arrangement. They'd agreed to part company once she'd fulfilled her purpose of being an embarrassment to his father.

“Where would you go?” he asked hoarsely. “To your grandfather?”

“No. Perhaps … back to the theater.”

“The theater?”
Disbelief pierced him, and he took an angry step toward her. “Absolutely not. My wife will not perform on a public stage. It's out of the question. I'll contact my banker in the morning. He'll arrange for you to collect your stipend.”

“I won't accept it,” she said quietly. “I don't want your money anymore, Nathan. I should never have entered into this devil's bargain in the first place.” She tugged the diamond ring off her finger and held it out to him. “Here. You may have this back, too.”

“What the devil—That ring was your wedding gift. It belongs to you!”

“I'm not taking it.” Gliding to the bedside table, she placed it there, the square-cut gemstone glinting in the light from the window. “I won't take anything of value.”

Staring at her, he rubbed the back of his neck. She'd gone stark, raving mad. He'd never seen her this way—except perhaps on the night they'd met when she'd been adamant about not considering his bid in the auction. “Madelyn, this is absurd. How will you live? What about your shop? You'll need the funds to open it.”

“I'll work and save by myself.” She made a harsh sound in her throat. “But I don't expect you to understand that. The duke, too, thinks my affections can be bought with the promise of an inheritance.”

Nate frowned in surprise. “Houghton is adding you to his will?”

She nodded stiffly. “I'm to be given an amount equal to that of my cousins. I tried to refuse the duke, but he wouldn't listen. You nobles are all alike, using money to control people.” With that, Madelyn turned away to stare out the window. “I think you had better go now.”

Nate felt the powerful urge to take her by the arms and shake the sense back into her. No, he wanted to coax her into bed and persuade her out of this irrational scheme. He wanted to plant his child in her and bind her to him forever.

But he had sworn not to do that. He was supposed to be angry with her for lying to him about her noble blood. Dammit, he didn't know what he felt anymore. Except that he desperately wanted her to stay.

Caught up in painful turmoil, he stalked out of her bedchamber. How bitterly ironic that the tables had been turned. She was doing to him what he'd intended to do to her—walk away from their marriage without a backward glance. And he didn't know how to stop her.

*   *   *

Maddy ordered a dinner tray in her bedchamber. With such pain in her heart, she preferred not to see anyone. Even Gertie had detected her gloomy mood and wisely left her alone to brood.

Sitting at a table by the window and gazing out at the pink streaks of dusk in the evening sky, Maddy trailed the tines of her fork through the remains of her roast beef and potatoes. She told herself to be happy for Nathan. He and his father had taken the first important step toward making amends. It appeared as though their lifelong rift finally might have a chance to heal.

Unlike the rift between her and her husband.

Her hand slipped downward to cradle her womb. She would have to tell Nathan about the baby eventually. But not until after she'd moved away from here. He would only use their unborn child as leverage to force her to remain under his control until
he
decided to leave.

She could not bear to live at Gilmore House so long as he was here. Nathan didn't love her. To him, she was nothing more than a possession purchased at auction. That was why she'd refused his stipend.

In retrospect, though, Maddy knew she would have to accept a small sum of money, perhaps from her grandfather or from the earl. Nathan was right; it was impossible for her to return to the stage. That life was behind her. She couldn't bring shame down on his family when she'd come to love them. Nor would it be fair to raise her child in poverty. If it was a boy, he would be the Earl of Gilmore someday.

She forced herself to face reality. Yes, it would be selfish and prideful to deny her son or daughter the benefits of living at Gilmore House. But she still couldn't remain here at the moment. She would leave for now and then return only after her husband left England.

A knock sounded on the door. Her heart tripped over a beat. Could it be Nathan again?

Abandoning her half-eaten dinner, Maddy arose from the table. She smoothed back her hair and brushed a few crumbs from her skirt. Then she opened the door.

To her relief or disappointment—she couldn't decide which—a footman stood there holding a silver salver. On it lay a folded note. “For you, my lady.”

Surprised, she picked it up. Only her first name was written on the outside—and it was misspelled. “Madeline.”

She thanked the servant, then closed the door. Breaking the unmarked red seal, she unfolded the paper and read the message. “You must come outside to the square at once. I can't find my necklace. I must have lost it on my walk with Theo this afternoon. Pray don't tell anyone, for Nathan will be angry at my carelessness. Please hurry! Emily.”

Maddy frowned. Why hadn't Emily come here herself on her way outside? Why take the time to pen a note? Unless she had written it downstairs in a hurry. Whatever the reason, the girl should not have ventured outside by herself when it was nearly nighttime. Even in Mayfair, footpads and other ruffians could be lurking in the shadows.

Maddy dropped the note on the bed. She threw a fringed paisley shawl over her shoulders and grabbed a small candle lamp, the flame flickering inside its glass chimney. Then she hastened out the door.

The house was silent as she went down the long corridor. The dowager and Lady Sophia, along with Nathan, were likely visiting Lord Gilmore in his chambers. A wretched despondency tugged at Maddy. How she longed to be in there with the family. She had grown especially fond of the earl, for beneath his gruff exterior, he had proven himself to be a good man who could admit when he was wrong.

Her footsteps echoed as she descended the grand staircase to the entrance hall. Because the hour was late and the family was at home, no footman stood on duty. She opened the door and slipped outside.

Maddy paused on the curbstone and scanned the large square. At just past nine o'clock, the park was deserted. Although a few last feathers of pink brushed the horizon, dense shadows gathered beneath the plane trees. The deep gloom prevented her from spotting Emily.

Where was she?

Perhaps she'd gone to the far side of the square, where clumps of overgrown rhododendrons crouched like sentinels. She might be bending down, searching the ground for the necklace. But there was barely enough light left to see. Had the foolish girl not brought a candle?

A cold breeze snaked down her spine and Maddy shivered. The night air was chilly. She started across the street, vowing to give her sister-in-law a sound scolding for taking such a risk.

From out of nowhere, a black carriage rattled toward her, the clip-clopping of the horses loud on the cobblestones. She scurried quickly toward the square. Even as she reached the other side of the street, the vehicle veered straight at her.

Gripping the lamp, she backed up to the low iron railing that surrounded the little park. The closed carriage drew to a stop just ahead of her. A burly coachman clad in black sat hunched on the high seat. If it was a visitor for a neighbor, why hadn't he drawn up closer to the houses?

The carriage door opened. A man in a hooded cloak stepped out. She frowned at him, realizing in alarm that a demimask obscured his upper face.

He sprang straight at her.

Terror leaped inside her. Even as she parted her lips to scream, his hand clamped a cloth over her mouth. A sickeningly sweet smell filled her senses. In an instant, the world melted away into darkness.

 

Chapter 25

Nate had been reading to his father by the light from a branch of candles. He quietly put down the copy of Alexander Pope's translation of the
Odyssey.
The earl had fallen asleep, his chest rising and falling beneath the coverlet. Aside from the knot on his forehead, he looked much better tonight, with natural color in his face rather than that ghastly paleness.

Nearby, Emily sat on a hassock, absently fingering the jade dragon of her necklace as she watched their father. A warm softness squeezed Nathan's heart. He liked knowing that she might very well be his full-fledged sister. Maybe it shouldn't matter—yet it did.

Her lips parted in a yawn that she tried to stifle with her hand.

“You're tired,” Nathan whispered. “It must be all that fresh air from your walk with Theo. Go to bed before you keel over.”

Emily smiled, but before she could reply, a light rapping sounded in the room. He glanced up sharply to see the door opening. It was past ten by the mantel clock and the dowager had already retired for the night, as had Sophia.

Could it be Madelyn? He hoped so. He'd botched their earlier talk. He should have been more persuasive in convincing her to stay. He should have coaxed her …

But it was Madelyn's stout maidservant who stepped into the bedchamber. Gertie beckoned urgently to him. It was such an odd gesture for a servant that he knew at once something was amiss.

He followed her out into the corridor. “What is it?”

Her plain features were taut with worry. “'Tis me mistress—oh, milord, I fear she's gone.”

Shock jolted him. He hadn't expected Madelyn to depart so swiftly. “What do you mean, gone?”

“This was on her bed just now. Maybe I shouldn'ta read it, but 'tis glad I am that I did.”

Gertie held out a paper, and Nate grabbed it. Scanning the brief message, he felt an icy chill seep into his bones. Emily couldn't have written this note. She'd kept vigil in the sickroom with him for the past several hours.

Still, he had to make certain.

He stepped back into the earl's bedchamber and motioned to his sister. She trudged out, her hazel eyes impish. “All right, all right. I'll go to bed. You needn't be so dictatorial—”

“Did you write this?” he demanded.

She read the note he thrust at her, and her smile vanished. “No! I never lost my necklace. I'm wearing it.” Her hand went to the jade dragon at her throat. “And this isn't even my penmanship. What is the meaning of this?”

Nate didn't want her fretting. Nor did he wish to raise a hue and cry that could be damaging to Madelyn. “Never you mind. It's likely just a prank. You'll leave the matter to me.”

With that, he went striding down the staircase, his quick steps sharp and echoing in the entrance hall. Horrible images of her possible fate tormented him. Had Madelyn been attacked out in the square? If she'd been struck over the head, she might be lying in the shadows somewhere, hidden from the view of any passersby.