by Lydia Dare
An escape was most assuredly in order.
Hmm. Her dear friend Mrs. MacQuarrie had invited her to Edinburgh. She could borrow one of the ducal coaches and bolt north. What a fanciful notion. Maddie let the idea vanish as quickly as it had arrived. After all, her father would scour the ends of the earth to find her if she ran away. He’d gone to great lengths to parade a battalion of peers from London to Kent so she could look them over. No matter that she knew them all and had no desire to know them any better. Not a single one of them. Turning tail and bolting would only cause her father to pick a fellow of his choice. Besides, she couldn’t abandon Sophie, especially not with her degenerate brothers in residence.
She took a steadying breath before she entered the drawing room. It was going to be a very long house party.
***
Weston didn’t think he’d ever seen Castle Hythe’s drawing room so filled. One rarely experienced a crush in the country. Of course, usually when Wes was at the castle, it was to play a bit of cards with Rob. And he certainly wasn’t greeted in a room as grand as this one. He took a long look around the drawing room and shook his head at the plethora of gentlemen who’d come to vie for Lady Madeline’s pretty little hand. They certainly wouldn’t be playing cards tonight. Not only were Wes’ pockets empty, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit beneath the other guests.
He shook the errant thought away. It didn’t matter which of these bucks Lady Madeline chose. It wasn’t as though Wes was in the running, as Gray had less than eloquently reminded him. Still, as the lady in question entered the drawing room, he couldn’t help but stop and stare. He allowed his eyes to sweep from the top of her pretty little head to her dainty slippers.
Damn! She was more radiant every time he saw her. Flaxen curls framed her delicate face, and her green eyes, which always twinkled with intelligence, were an exact match to her simple but elegant gown. However, the smile that tugged at her lips was the worst farce he’d ever seen, if he read her expression correctly. Was she all right? Had something caused her distress? Wes would love to know. If only he could ask her. But to do that, she’d have to look at him with more than a passing glance.
She assumed a reasonably successful imitation of genteel happiness as she slid past her suitors and offered fellow after fellow a welcome to the castle. When she’d greeted everyone, she stepped up beside Robert and poked him in the shoulder, rather hard if Rob’s wince was any indication. Then she leaned closer to her brother, and though Wes strained to hear her words, they were nothing more than hushed whispers that he couldn’t hear even with his Lycan ears. Later, he’d get Rob to tell him what the interaction had been about, after he plied his friend with a bit of whisky to loosen his lips.
“Stop staring at the chit,” Archer hissed in his ear.
“I wasn’t staring.” Wes still couldn’t pull his gaze from Lady Madeline, so he whispered out the side of his mouth. “She looks sad, doesn’t she?”
“Wasn’t staring, indeed.” Archer nudged him in the shoulder, quite hard, and forced him to look in his direction. Archer’s amber eyes twinkled with mirth. “You’ve got a bit of drool on your chin, pup.”
“I do not,” Wes insisted, but he swiped a hand across his chin anyway. Blasted Archer was such a liar. “Jackass,” he grumbled.
Archer shrugged. “It’s your fault I’m here tonight. Don’t expect me to thank you for it.”
“Don’t tell me,” boomed Nathaniel Hayburn, the Marquess of Lavendon, as he clapped Archer on the back, “that you’ve joined the ranks of these Lotharios angling for Maddie’s hand.”
Archer smirked. “And marry into the Hayburn family? We Hadleys do have our standards, you know.”
Lavendon chuckled as he looked across the room. “Quite an assortment my father has marched down here, isn’t it?”
Archer nodded. “He did seem singularly intent on finding her a match back in Town.”
Lavendon shook his head. “Pointless. She’s too much like Grandmother. Stubborn and opinionated.”
Wes gaped at Lord Lavendon. In all the years since he’d first made Lady Madeline’s acquaintance, he would have never compared her with the duchess. Madeline was soft-spoken with a gentle countenance. Perfection personified.
The marquess noted his look and grinned. “Oh, she’s less abrasive than Grandmother, but once Maddie’s made her mind up about something, it’s set. No hope of changing it. Ever.” Then a devious smile lit his face. “Speaking of stubborn chits…”
“Beg your pardon?” Archer asked.
Lavendon shook his head, though his eyes remained fixed on the door. “My, how the mighty have fallen. Do excuse me, will you?” Without waiting for a response, the marquess pushed his way through the crowd and bowed before a pretty girl with sable locks.
“Who do you think that is?” Wes asked.
Archer shrugged. “Nathaniel’s next conquest, I’d say.” He glanced down at his watch fob as though wishing the evening away.
Whoever the chit was, Lavendon was leading her in their direction. Quite a pretty thing, really. Grey eyes. Nice figure. “She seems to be looking at you, Arch.”
Archer snapped his eyes back up and smiled at the pair as they approached. “Ah, Lavendon, back so soon, are you? And with such a lovely guest.”
“It was the lady’s request.” The marquess glanced at the pretty girl on his arm. “Lady Sophia Cole, allow me to introduce Viscount Radbourne and his brother Mr. Weston Hadley.”
The color drained from Archer’s face and his lips thinned. “Pleasure. Do excuse me. I believe Lady Eynsford is signaling me.”
But Cait wasn’t even in view. Wes watched as his brother pushed his way through the crowd. What the devil was that about? Did Archer know this Lady Sophia? Wes had never even heard the chit’s name before. And there hadn’t been any recognition in his brother’s eyes when he’d first looked at the lady across the room.
Wes smiled at the lady in question. “Please forgive my brother. He can be quite a beast at times.”
She cocked her head to one side and frowned a bit. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing that. But it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hadley.”
“And yours as well,” Wes remarked absently. What had that remark meant? “Do you know my brother?”
She pursed her lips. “Only by reputation,” she said. She seemed quite unable to draw her eyes from Archer’s back, which was quite solidly turned in her direction. For some reason, Archer was avoiding her entirely. There was a story there, Wes was certain. But would the lovely lady be willing to share it with him? Did he even want to know?
Wes was too curious not to question the lady, but first he’d have to dispense with the marquess. “I believe your grandmother is now signaling you, Lavendon.”
The marquess closed his eyes tightly and said, “Duty calls.” He looked at Lady Sophia with way too much familiarity. “I will see you later?” he asked casually.
Wes thought it sounded like she mumbled, “Not if I see you first,” beneath her breath as Lavendon looked down the bodice of her gown. Then he drew himself to attention and begged Lady Sophia’s pardon. He walked toward his grandmother as though he faced the gallows.
“Lady Sophia,” Wes began slowly and carefully. “Is something troubling you?”
“Aside from your brother’s very existence?” she quipped.
“Beg your pardon?” Certainly he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Has he done something to offend you?”
“He’s breathing,” she said. This time, Wes had to smother a chuckle in his fist. For some reason, he was quite sure laughing at the lady wouldn’t help her countenance a bit.
Wes nodded slowly. “Terrible habit he has. That breathing. We’ve been trying to get him to stop for years.”
“I could help you with that. And would do so with a glad heart.” Wes looked down at her and finally saw a twinkle in her eye.
“I might take you up on your offer,” Wes said. “I’d love to hear more about
how you’d plan it. Would you make it terribly painful?” What an absurd conversation to have in the duchess’ drawing room. But it was honestly the most sport he’d had all day.
She shrugged her delicate little shoulders. “Slow. Painful. Quick. Pleasant. I don’t particularly care.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your brother is a lucky fellow, isn’t he?”
“With your plot to dismember him, I’d say not,” Wes replied. In fact, he’d warn Archer about the lady’s animosity at the first opportunity.
She inhaled happily and laid a hand on her chest. A huge smile curved her lips. “Oh, dismemberment!” she cried with a giggle. “I hadn’t even thought of that! What a wonderful idea!”
“What’s this I hear about dismemberment?” Gray said from beside his shoulder. He looked down at Lady Sophia and bowed slowly.
“Have you met?” Wes asked, his eyes searching for Lady Madeline again. She was thronged by men of means. He hated that the situation bothered him so much.
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Gray said as he took the lady’s gloved hand.
“Just hope the lady doesn’t feel as strongly about you as she does about Archer,” Wes mumbled to Gray.
“Yes, I heard a little,” Gray confided with a grin at Lady Sophia. “It’s the most interesting conversation in the entire room. Do tell what he did to deserve the lady’s derision.”
“He knows what he did,” she said slowly, still shooting daggers at Archer. “Excuse me,” she remarked absently as she glided away.
“What was that about?” Gray mumbled.
“No idea,” Wes replied. “He’s a cad, but it’s not every day that a lady vows so vehemently to do him harm. I believe she’d have him drawn and quartered if she was able.”
“You don’t think he made an improper advance toward her, do you?” Gray looked puzzled. And when Gray was puzzled, he wouldn’t stop until he got to the meat of the matter.
“Archer?” Wes shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past him. But, if he did, I’d think he’d be willing to talk to the chit instead of turning tail and running the way he did. He’s pretending like she doesn’t even exist. There’s something odd, there. Who is she? Have you any idea?”
“A good friend of Lady Madeline’s,” Gray replied.
The mere mention of her name made Wes search for her in the room again. She looked positively miserable sandwiched on the settee between two of the most boring peers he’d ever had the occasion to meet. One of them leaned a little too close to her to talk. And the other touched her. He touched her hand. How dare he touch her hand?
“Don’t do it,” Gray hissed.
“Don’t do what?” Wes said from between clenched teeth.
“Don’t cause a scene,” Gray hissed back. “We’re in enough trouble as it is. Cait will never forgive us if we make problems for her here.”
“So, I’m supposed to just sit here and let him grope her?”
“For God’s sake, he touched her hand.”
“First her hand, and then on to other areas,” Wes growled back at him. “I’ll have to kill him.”
“Ask Lady Sophia for advice on the most painful method. For some reason, I think she has probably researched it. She might even like practice before she takes on Archer.” Gray nudged his side. “See, there.” Wes watched as Lady Madeline excused herself and swept gracefully from the room. “She extricated herself from his clutches quite nicely all on her own.”
But then Wes saw Lord Chilcombe slink out of the room behind her. Blast and damn. He’d be in trouble before the night was over.
Four
Maddie stifled a shiver as she left the drawing room. Over the past three years, she’d dealt with simpering fops who thought much more of her fortune than they did her mind. But now that they’d been invited to formally vie for her hand, some of them seemed like they would stop at nothing to win. In just the short while she’d been in the drawing room, some of them had even forsaken the bounds of propriety and dared to become much too familiar with her person. She shivered again as she thought of the way the Earl of Chilcombe had just pressed his leg against hers and touched her hand. Of course, he’d done it when her family wasn’t looking. So, she couldn’t even complain.
Rumor had it that Lord Chilcombe had more than one mistress in Town, at least according to Robert. And on the subject of mistresses, Maddie found Robert to be quite the reliable source. If the Earl of Chilcombe thought he could use Maddie’s fortune to support his doxies, he was even more addled than she’d originally suspected. Besides, the earl had already lost one fortune at the gaming tables, and if he thought he’d get his hands on hers, he was sorely mistaken. The very thought of his thin little lips pressed against hers made her want to cast up her accounts.
“Lady Madeline,” a voice called from behind her. She stopped in her tracks, took in a deep breath, and turned to face the interloper. Of course, he would have followed her. “Are you unwell?” Lord Chilcombe asked and raked a hand through his reddish hair.
“No, I just forgot my shawl,” she remarked.
“May I escort you to retrieve it?” he asked, his lips turned in what may have been a nice smile on any other man.
Escort her to the library where she’d last seen her shawl? Where they would be utterly alone? Not very likely. “I believe I can find my way,” she replied. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“I’ll wait for you here then,” he said as he glanced at his pocket fob.
“If you insist,” she murmured, moving as quickly down the corridor as she could.
How nice it would be to have a moment’s reprieve from this nonsense. However, it could only be a moment, as anything longer didn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maddie breezed into the library and sank heavily into an overstuffed leather chair and closed her eyes. However would she manage weeks on end with this lot?
The door creaked as it opened behind her, and Maddie’s eyes flew open. The Earl of Chilcombe would need to be dealt with, but in the shadows of the room, it took only a moment for her to realize his lordship hadn’t followed her. But the gentleman who did approach made her even more uneasy. “Mr. Hadley,” she said as she jumped to her feet.
“Lady Madeline,” he said in response, his voice tiptoeing across her skin and making her hair stand on end.
It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation. She shivered lightly. Heavens, what did Weston Hadley want with her? “Did you follow me?”
He looked a bit chagrined, even with his face enclosed by the shadows the low lighting cast. “I must admit that I did. And I hope you don’t mind that I waylaid several of your more ardent suitors along the way.”
“Waylaid?” Why did the very thought make her want to smile? Perhaps it was the image of the dangerous Mr. Hadley frightening off the feckless peers with just his scowl.
“Chilcombe was lurking in the corridor,” he continued, “And Dewsbury was skulking behind a palm. He was a little more tenacious, so I told him that you were upset about something and looked as though you might cry at any moment. He went very quickly in the other direction.” His lips lifted in a slow grin. “I hope you don’t mind. But I detest that man.” He motioned back toward her chair. “Sit?” he suggested.
She sank slowly into the chair. On one hand, she was increasingly happy for the offer of respite. But on the other, she wasn’t quite certain she relished the idea of sharing it with him. Her emotions warred within her. One part of her wanted to be afraid of him, just because of who he was, but another part of her wouldn’t allow it. She sighed heavily, attempting to take control of her errant breaths.
Mr. Hadley hitched one hip onto the corner of a large table and regarded her quietly. But, whereas the other men at the castle had an agenda, which seemed to involve trapping her in marriage, Mr. Hadley had none. Not that she was aware of, anyway.
“You’re wondering why I followed you,” he stated.
“I was curious,” she replied. She was more than curious. She was intrigued.
“I h
ave nothing but the best of intentions, I assure you.” For some reason, she didn’t quite believe him, as his eyes swept down her body. He looked a bit chagrined when she sent him a reproving look, but she really didn’t want to thwart his hot gazes. What did that say about her?
He continued, “I wanted to speak with you about your friend, Lady Sophia.”
Maddie’s heart fell. Of course, he wanted to talk about Sophie. To find out how much of a scandalous offer he could make to her very dearest friend in the world. Just like every other man in residence. His agenda wasn’t so different after all.
“So you can try to make her your mistress?” Maddie asked, realizing how acerbic her words were the moment they left her lips. They tasted like vinegar and she was immediately remorseful.
Mr. Hadley choked. His face reddened and his breath left him in huge rasping gasps. “Beg your pardon?” he croaked.
Maddie jumped to her feet and crossed to the sideboard, where she poured a glass of whatever her father kept there. She passed it to the gentleman, and he took a healthy swallow of some amber liquid. But that seemed to take his breath away just as much as her words had done. He coughed and sputtered into his open palm. He turned away from her for a moment as his face reddened, and then he composed himself.
“Oh, dear,” she cried. She reached out a hand to touch his arm. “Are you all right?”
He coughed once more and then stilled. “Thank you for the whisky,” he rasped, with one hand lying on his chest as he turned back to face her.
“Oh, was that what that was?” But what was she to offer him? She didn’t have any water within reach.
“It was,” he remarked dryly. “And no, I have no ambitions toward your friend. I simply wanted to question you about her animosity toward my brother.”