by R. G. Winter
Madelaine tilted her head, thinking hard. Then she laughed too. “Oh yes! Her mother made her drink nothing but broth and unsweetened tea so she would be perfectly slim at her wedding…”
“And she passed out right as she started the march!”
“And her father called for someone to bring her a tea cake!”
They collapsed into laughter.
Victoria composed herself and said, “I do love you, you are a good sister, and I am glad you do not hate me.”
A lump formed on her throat. “I could never hate you Victoria. I only want you to be happy. I shall not ask if you are sure, because I know that you are. I saw today how much you love him, and how much he loves you as well.”
“And I saw how much the two of you love each other as well. Mama and Papa should be very content with how things have come out to be for us.”
She left and Madelaine wandered around the room, her restlessness returning. Her thoughts kept going back to Jonathan.
Her heart soared but so did her impatience. It seemed so foolish to have to wait but she could see the reasoning behind it.
Her whole being chafed at it however. It seemed so horrible to have to wait, to have to keep her feelings for him under so polite a cover!
There was a quite tap at the door. It opened and the very person she had bene thinking of slid inside, a grin on his face.
Jonathan!
Her hand flew to her breast. Beneath her palm her heart beat wildly, like a bird trying to escape a cage. “How did you…are you mad?”
He advanced upon her. “Absolutely. Ever since I met you I have been utterly mad.”
Her laugh was soft and low but she covered it quickly. She moved toward him, her aching body unable to resist being near his. He caught her up in a strong embrace. Their mouths met, the kiss fierce and deep. On his lips and tongue she tasted strong spirits, and she drank that in, her eyes closing as his hands traveled along the curve of her neck and to her hair.
Pins slid free and tumbled to the floor. Her gasp was sibilant and filled with a plea. His hands tightened their grip, fisted into her hair. His body collided with hers, the hardness of his manhood pressed into her lower belly and she thrust herself against him, grinding her hips in a desperate attempt to assuage that passion that had been cresting over her in pulsating waves all day.
Her breasts flattened against his chest and his hands traveled slowly along her back, along the upraised curve and column of her spine. Little shivers arced across her skin, making her knees weak and her breath grow even faster and more ragged.
A knock sounded. They broke apart. Madelaine gawked at the door and back at Jonathan. He gave her a roguish grin and headed for the armoire as another knock sounded and her mother’s voice came through the door.
“Madelaine? Are you in there?”
Jonathan closed the armoire door. Madelaine snatched the rest of the pins from her hair and let it tumble free, put what she hoped was a sleepy expression on her face and opened the door.
Lady de Winter frowned as she peered at her. “Whatever is the matter?”
Madelaine let her fingers go to her hair. “Oh! I had a frightful headache so I thought I should let my hair down and perhaps brush it. You’ve caught me.”
Lady de Winter swept into the room in a flutter of skirts and soft scent. “I see. Well, that does seem to be the best cure quite often.”
Madelaine turned toward the dressing table, giving the armoire a little peek as she did to make certain that the door was firmly closed. “Yes Mother.”
Lady de Winter waited until Madelaine sat then came closer. She took up the silver-backed brush from Madelaine’s table and began plying it through Madelaine’s thick dark hair. “Your father and I have just had a very long discussion.”
Her heart pounded furiously. The brush moved through her hair on long smooth strokes that normally would have soothed her but did nto at that moment. “Oh?”
“Yes. We have come to a decision on your wedding with Jonathan.”
Madelaine peered at her mother through the glass. Her face was set in concentrated lines and the brush moved again through Madelaine’s hair.
“I…that is to say, we—your father and I—have decided you must wed as soon as possible. You see, while we hope the wording of the invitations is enough it may not be, not to quell that gossip.
“The Duchess swears this is not her business yet we all know it is. You see her reputation could be quite besmirched as well. It is often up to women to ensure the reputations of ourselves and those we hold dear—and, unfortunately sometimes those we do not particularly care for—are not stained through the actions of ourselves or others within our family.”
Madelaine lifted a hand and placed it on her mother’s stilling the brush. “Are you saying you do not care for the Duchess?”
Lady de Winter’s lips curved upward. “We were rivals once, you know. Her first husband—the Duke, asked for my hand but…but I was already betrothed to your father. You see, my parents took the first good match that came along because the Duke—well he was a rather notorious rake. I hate to say it but it might be very well that he died while Reginald was very young and that the Duchess remarried such a…temperate man.”
Oh. Madelaine’s eyes went back to the armoire. Her heart beat so fast she was afraid that it showed above the material of her gown and her mother would see it. That Jonathan was in there was frightening and thrilling, but she hoped he did not hear all that her mother had just said.
Excitement crashed through her, and understanding. Her mother had once been in love with someone not her husband, and Madelaine was willing to wager that man was Reginald’s father.
Lady De Winter set the brush down and took a deep breath. “You must marry first. It is only right and proper. Also, you are marrying an earl, no small matter. However we cannot postpone Victoria’s wedding either. So we are in a bit of a mess.
“Therefore your father is posting the bans today. Tonight, at the ball, you and Jonathan shall be presented as betrothed as shall Victoria and Reginald. You shall marry the day before your sister does in a small and quiet ceremony and we are going to put it about that you and your betrothed had no wish to take away the rightfully splendid thing that Victoria’s marriage shall be, as her betrothed is, in fact, the nephew of the king himself. Your father is trying to reach your betrothed as we speak but it seems he has vanished into thin air.”
Madelaine’s lips quirked upward. “Oh I am sure he is somewhere very nearby.”
There was a faint sound from the armoire. Alarm raced through her. Lady de Winter nodded briskly, “Oh I am certain that he is. Now, I must go attend to any number of other things.”
She turned to leave but paused at the door, “Oh, and Madelaine. Remove your beloved from that armoire as discreetly as possible. Also, have him leave this house the same way.”
Madelaine went scarlet. She gawked at her mother, who gave her an impish grin then swished out of the room in a flurry of rustling skirts.
The armoire door opened. Jonathan, looking rather sheepish, exited the tall piece of furniture. Madelaine stifled her laughter long enough to hiss, “So—we shall marry sooner than we expected!”
He pulled her to him again. Their lips met in another fierce kiss. He whispered, “I shall have to skulk out of here like a common thief I suppose.”
“You should have thought about that before you crept into my bedchamber.” Her grin was equally mischievous.
“How did she know, do you think?”
Madelaine shrugged, “I have no idea. I suppose mothers just do. Either that or that laugh you let out gave you away.”
He grimaced, kissed her again and tiptoed across the room in such an exaggerated way that she convulsed with laughter. He gave her a cheerful wave and vanished into the hallway.
Madelaine gathered her hair pins up from the floor and went back to her dressing table. Her reflection greeted her. Her face was flushed with happiness and her hair hung
to her knees in a lovely sweep of waves and curls.
She looked at the clock. It was late in the afternoon and she would be expected to take a nap, and in truth she was exhausted. The emotion and unrequited desire and the relief at having her wedding to Reginald called off was so great she was left limp.
She rang for a maid to help her into a light sleeping gown and then into bed. Once she was alone again she clutched at her sheets and stared at the ceiling, her eyes closing and opening again as thoughts drifted in and out of her head.
A happy smile curved her mouth upward. Just yesterday afternoon everything had seemed lost. Now it was all wonderful!
Well, expect for Winston and Clare.
She would have to endeavor to do something about that.
Her eyes closed and she drifted away into sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
The sun had settled into the far corner of the room when Madelaine awoke. She stretched and sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes as the door opened and a maid came in, bearing a tray.
“Her Ladyship said you’re to have this, and to eat well as there will be no dinner until late this evening, at the ball.”
The maid set the tray carefully across Madelaine’s knees as she spoke. “I am also given to tell you that the one who does your hair will be in at six and that you must be ready for it to be dressed then. Also, would you care for a bath this evening?”
“I would, very much.” Madelaine surveyed the tray. There was a thick slice of beef, glazed carrots, a tiny cup of hearty vegetable soup, and a small dish of creamed potatoes setting there. Under another lid rested a few tiny cakes made of white sugar and clever pastry, very light and not at all filling. The tea pot, still scalding hot, sat alongside.
The maid left her to her early dinner and Madelaine ate it all as the tub was brought in and set up and then the maid reappeared with cans of heated water.
When the tub was filled she slid out of bed and allowed herself to be undressed and helped into the tub. The water was deliciously warm and thin pools of scented oil shimmered across the top of it, giving off the smell of lavender and lilac.
It was early enough for her to wash her hair as well and Madelaine did, using the fine milled soap that smelled like spring flowers to lather the heavy mass before soaping the rest of her body then rinsing well with the rest of the water in the cans beside the tub.
The maid helped her out, wrapping in her thick towels that she also used to briskly dry Madelaine’s hair. The breeze flying through the windows was quite brisk but Madelaine told the maid to leave them open so she could let the wind help to dry the long and heavy mass of her hair.
She quickly put on fresh underwear and a thin, soft chemise embroidered at the bottom with delicate little flowers in a pretty rose color. Then slid her arms into a dressing gown, belting it tightly around her waist. She brushed her hair until it dried, going to the windows that overlooked the back garden as she did so, hoping to ensure that all of the length of her hair would dry faster as a result.
Anticipation kept growing within her with every stroke of the brush.
Everything she had ever wanted was hers now.
Jonathan and she would not have the life that Victoria and Reginald did and she knew that while they had both grown up much in the last weeks they still had that thirst for adventure and that love for shucking off society’s expectations.
Life with him would be a grand adventure filled with travel and laughter and, yes, the occasional argument. They would love each other wildly, passionately, and with every fiber of their beings!
They knew each other already, something most in their positions who married could not truly say.
That anticipation continued to grow as the maid arrived to help her dress.
Her skin was rubbed with more of the oil that had been in her bath, and the result was a glowing tone to her flesh and a lovely aroma drifting upward from her body. Layers of fine and delicate petticoats were placed and then she stepped into her dreaded and hated corset, holding her breath as the stays were tightly yanked and then pulled yet again and again until she felt she could scarcely breathe for the constriction.
The gown she was to wear that night was a froth of velvet and lace with a square bodice and a very full skirt that belled out from below her tightly corseted and tiny waist.
Her hair was swept up and back so that it could be rolled into an intricate and lovely twist, just a few strands were allowed to hang around her face, curling naturally there.
In all she looked quite lovely and very adult.
She was an adult.
That thought struck her hard.
She had run away a child but she had returned as a full-fledged woman.
A woman who was going to spend the rest of her life with the man she had met under the oddest of circumstances, a man who was her perfect match in every way.
CHAPTER FIVE
The house where the ball was being held was lit up. Victoria, seated between Madelaine and their mother, let out a low, appreciative gasp. Madelaine gave her an indulgent glance.
Tonight would be the night that society discovered that Victoria was to wed Reginald. She had known the gravity of that, and had dressed appropriately, and very cleverly as well.
Her hair was up and held up by diamond combs. Her gown was a solid-white, trimmed with only the slightest amount of lace. The stark cut of the gown was made far less severe by the richness of the fabric, and the single diamond glowing from the pendant around her neck.
Madelaine said, “I suppose it is a good thing Reginald escorted us both everywhere and never showed me much more than a brotherly affection—otherwise we would have much to explain!”
Victoria smiled but her worry showed in her face. “I shall have to remember my manners at every step.”
Lord de Winter grunted, “But of course you will!”
Lady de Winter tapped his knee with her fan, “Oh do not take on so. Victoria, you have always had such lovely manners and they shall not fail you tonight. Just remember to curtsey as low as possible when you are presented to His Highness!”
Excitement filled the carriage. The ball was so jealously sought after because it was, indeed, one of the few that Crown Prince attended. He was, of course, cousin to Reginald, and his being there made the night even more important. If anyone protested Reginald’s marriage it would be him.
But Reginald and his cousin were quite close and Victoria had told them that he was also sympathetic to their plight. That he showed tacit approval was necessary to still any gossip or outrage at Victoria’s age.
Madelaine too had to remember her manners, a fact she knew far too well. Her heart gave a crazy leap as they pulled into the line of carriages and she saw Jonathan’s conveyance sitting there under the portico.
“Oh look at the finery mama!”
Victoria’s words were a mere whisper.
Lady de Winter patted her knee. “Remember this my darling. From now forward you must conduct yourself like royalty, for you are. You are ot marry the nephew of the king, cousin to the prince. You are young and if you would gain approval you must behave as if you are not. Do not gawk at anything. You may comment on how lovely a gown is—but do not gush!”
Victoria nodded and took a long breath. “Yes Mama.”
Madelaine patted Victoria’s arm. “You shall do fine. This is what you want, just remember that and nothing else. This is everything you have ever wanted. You have already gained it and no matter what anyone says they cannot take that from you.
“All you have to do now is conduct yourself as if you were already wed to Reginald. Be the good reflection of him that you shall be as his wife and nobody will be able to find a single fault with you.”
Victoria’s courage flooded back and it showed. Her slender shoulders lifted, Her golden head lifted and she smiled, a true and brave smile. “yes, you are correct. How wise of you to say Madelaine!”
They were handed down from the carriage by liveried footmen a
nd escorted to the door by equally sumptuously-attired servants. The door was opened for them and they found themselves in a long receiving line.
Madelaine glimpsed Jonathan far ahead, talking to a few other men who were also in line with him.
Tonight he looked exactly the part!
His wardrobe was impeccable. His breeches and waistcoat, the undershirt and highly polished boots were all perfect. His dark hair had been perfectly barbered and combed and when he saw her and smiled toward her his white teeth flashed brightly in his face.
The line moved onward.
They greeted their hostess and host then the prince. Victoria’s curtsey was so low she looked like a lovely little swan collapsing into its own wings. Madelaine, who hated to curtsey and wanted very much to give the impression that she was far unsuited for the position of Reginald’s wife, managed a deep albeit clumsy curtsey.
They headed into the ballroom, which was abuzz with laughter, light from the massive chandeliers filled with hundreds of candles that sent a lovely golden warmth broken by the prisms of the chandelier into little rainbow-like prisms onto the heads and shoulders of the guests.
Uniformed servants circulated, bearing trays of delicacies and flutes of chilled champagne.
Madelaine got a glass of champagne for herself and Victoria. The two girls smiled at each other as the prince came into the room and took his pace near the front, where he was joined by Reginald. The guests all turned, bowing and curtseying again. Reginald spoke in deep tones.
“Your Grace, I would like you to meet my betrothed.”
All eyes went to Madelaine. She smiled but stayed immobile. Gasps broke out as Victoria moved forward, her white gown setting her apart from the other female guests in their colorful gowns.
She was beyond lovely and Madelaine heard some whispers of approval as Madelaine, knowing full well that she was being presented not just to the prince, yet again, but to society as a woman, made an even deeper curtsey.
Reginald extended a hand and she moved gracefully to her feet again. There was a spontaneous round of applause. Victoria managed not to blush. She stood, quiet and composed and undeniably beautiful at Reginald’s side until a slow waltz began and then they whirled onto the floor.