by Lydia Dare
“You didn’t harm him, did you?”
“Of course not. There’s not a malevolent bone in my body.” Then he tapped his hat toward the hired driver and said loudly, “Let’s be off, shall we?”
The driver nodded in agreement. “Of course, my lord.” And he opened the coach door wider.
They were going to take Weston’s traveling carriage? That might slow her husband down some.
“But first,” Lord Dovenby scowled at the coach, “we need to do one last thing.” He dropped Maddie’s arm and hefted the large carriage wheel that still remained on the top of the conveyance, the very one Weston had stolen from her father, and dropped it unceremoniously to the ground. Then he dusted his hands on his trousers. “Now we may depart.”
Wes would return to find a carriage wheel, an empty room, and that his coach had gone on without him, with his wife inside. How fitting.
Maddie climbed inside the carriage and settled against the squabs. Lord Dovenby was right behind her and sat on the opposite bench.
“You seemed a bit chilly, my lady. So I acquired a hot brick for your feet and a traveling blanket, if you would like it.” He retrieved a folded blanket from the bench beside him and handed it to her.
“Thank you, my lord.” Maddie took his offering gladly and tried not to think that in the few short minutes she’d spent with Lord Dovenby, he’d taken better care of her than her own husband had ever done. She choked down a sob, refusing to shed even one more tear over Weston Hadley.
“You might as well call me Dove, Madeline. I’m certain we will get to know each other remarkably well along this journey.”
As if on cue, the coach lurched forward and they were off, leaving Weston Hadley, Lucy Reed, and the quaint village of Gretna Green behind them.
“Thank you, sir, for everything.”
He sighed as though he was suddenly tired. Of course, he had been quite busy preparing for their departure. Then he closed his eyes as though he meant to go to sleep.
Well, that was fine with Maddie. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to be terribly social.
After several miles down the road, Dovenby broke the silence when he yawned, stretched his arms over his head, and sat up, looking much more rested. “How are you feeling?”
Still a little numb, not that she wanted to admit it. Maddie shrugged. “Better the farther we get from the border.”
He smirked as though he felt the same way. “Tell me something, how did you even get tangled up with Hadley in the first place, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She’d rather not think about her husband at the moment. And she’d rather not recount that awful night in the stables. But the earl had helped her. She could at least give him some answer to his question. “He’s a friend of my brother’s and…”
“Ah, yes, Robert Hayburn. I nearly forgot.”
Maddie nodded. “Yes, and well, Mr. Hadley and his brothers do spend an inordinate amount of time at Eynsford Park in Kent.”
“Of course, Eynsford. You are neighbors, are you not?”
“Yes.” She nodded again. “Though I didn’t know much about the marquess until the last few years. Before his father died, the pair was estranged and he never spent any time at The Park.”
“I was so furious that I hadn’t thought about actually having to deal with Eynsford on this,” Dovenby mumbled. “Though I suppose that can’t be helped now. What’s done is done.”
That didn’t make any sense at all. The marquess had nothing to do with this situation, other than the fact that he owned the carriage they were riding in. And she did intend to return it as soon as the earl took her home. “I don’t understand why Lord Eynsford needs to be brought into any of this.”
Dovenby shrugged. “You know what Hadley is.”
A werewolf. And so was Dovenby; she was certain of the fact. Maddie nodded.
“Well, we have certain orders that are to be maintained, rules that must be followed. You are essentially part of Eynsford’s pack, my dear. And he will see me as having absconded with his property.”
“I beg your pardon!” Maddie nearly sputtered. Property! Of all the ridiculous things to say. “I’m not anyone’s property!”
“I meant no offense, Madeline. It’s simply the way of things. You do belong to Weston Hadley and he belongs to Eynsford. It’s as simple as that.”
Weston belonged to Lord Eynsford? Maddie gaped at the man across from her. He might as well have grown two heads with all the nonsensical remarks he was making. “It doesn’t sound simple at all. I simply want to return to Castle Hythe and my family and forget I ever met any of you.” She immediately wanted to bite those words back when he looked offended. “I’m happy to have met you, of course. But you understand, my lord.”
“Dove,” the earl reminded her. “And I’m afraid taking you home will be out of the question, Madeline. Eynsford will be none too happy with me. And I aim to put off that confrontation for as long as I can.”
So Eynsford’s realm extended to more places than just Maddie’s existence within it? She glared at the beast. “Well, then you can put me on a mail coach and I’ll be out of your hair and find my own way to Kent. You can return the carriage at your convenience.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that sounds like a very well-thought-out plan either. Perhaps it would be best to take you home with me instead.”
Maddie could only gape at the wolfish earl. Take her home with him? She wasn’t quite certain what he meant by that, but it didn’t sound good. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that whatever he had planned for her wouldn’t be in her best interest. And she suddenly felt like a pawn very much like Helen of Troy. Only instead of legions of Greek and Spartan warriors, she had the bad fortune to be dealing with English werewolves. And Lord Dovenby didn’t remind her of Prince Paris in the least. Helen had been a willing prisoner, after all. “You can’t possibly mean that,” she choked out. “You’re going to take me to my father.”
Dovenby scratched his chin. “I’ve given that a great deal of thought. And I don’t think it’s what’s best.”
“And you think abducting me is the right choice?”
He tsked at her. “‘Abducting’ is such a harsh word. Borrowing is more appropriate, don’t you think? You did come with me of your own free will.”
Maddie sat forward. “Unless you plan to take me to my father, you can let me out right this instant.” Weston would do the right thing and take her home, even after the spectacle he’d made of his relationship with Miss Reed that very morning. Wouldn’t he? Oh, dear, this wasn’t a good plan at all.
“I have a bit of a score to settle with Hadley, Lady Madeline. I’m very sorry to say it, but I believe I’ll use you to get to him, just as he used Lucy to get to me.” He shrugged and settled deeper into his seat.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” And she didn’t. Not at all. Was he mad? She hadn’t thought so until now.
“Lucy Reed was mine,” he drawled slowly, as though he was mulling over what he wanted to say. “And I don’t take kindly to people who interfere with what’s mine.”
Maddie had informed Dovenby herself about Lucy and Weston’s kiss that very morning. Now he wanted revenge? Oh, dear, she’d thrust herself right into the line of fire.
“Lucy doesn’t seem like the sort of lady who wants to marry,” Maddie began.
But Dovenby cut her off. “I’ve no intention of marrying her,” he scoffed. “I would never make her any such proposal.”
Then what was he talking about? A man didn’t usually go around saying a woman was his unless he intended to give the woman his name. “But you said…”
He silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Let’s just say that Hadley and I have a history of competition. We’ve been competing with each other over one thing or another since we were boys in school. The Lycanian Society seeks to match Lycan boys with other Lycan boys when we go off to school, so we have someone to bond with when the mo
on is full. So, Hadley and I got thrust together more often than either of us ever enjoyed.” His face took on a wistful expression. “That’s how we met. It’s also why Hadley hates the very ground that I walk on.”
“I don’t understand,” she began again.
“And you very likely won’t,” he said quickly.
Maddie folded her arms across her breasts and tried to think of a way out of this mess. “Wes will find me,” she finally tossed out, using her most haughty duke’s daughter voice. She’d been raised to look down her nose at people. She just didn’t like doing it. Not until now.
“He will find a trail of oranges. Oranges that match the scent of a patron we both smelled last night.” He pointed to the top of his head. “Did you see the woman with the ostrich plumes on her hat?”
Maddie shook her head. She didn’t recall much from the previous evening. She recalled Weston taking her innocence. She recalled the look of utter devastation on her father’s face. And she recalled a much more intimate interlude with her husband in the middle of the night. But she didn’t remember any woman with ostrich feathers.
“Well, you can rest assured that Hadley did.” He touched his own nose. “She was hard to miss. Absolutely reeked of oranges. Like a Spanish orchard in the summertime.” Dovenby appraised his fingernails. “By the time Weston realizes that you’re the oranges, we’ll be too far ahead for him to catch up.” He sat up straight and fanned the coach air toward her. “That citrus is perfectly hideous, by the way. When this is over, I hope you stick with your rosewater. It’s much more becoming.”
Thunder boomed in the distance, and Dovenby smiled broadly. “Brilliant. Rain will help to mask the scent even more. Not to worry, Madeline. You are perfectly safe from Weston Hadley catching up to us.”
Fabulous. So, now she stank, she was once again being abducted, and her new husband had already been unfaithful less than one day after marrying her. Or she didn’t have him. At this point, she didn’t know if having him was better or worse than not having him. She buried her head in her hands and groaned loudly. It was a horrible sound, and nothing like any sound she’d ever made before. In fact, she’d been raised not to make noise. Or get dirty. And now look at her. She was sullied in more ways than one.
Dovenby kept talking, chattering like a magpie as though they were having tea instead of being jostled around inside a racing carriage as they fled from her soon-to-be angry husband. “It could have been mud. Mud is a great masker of scents. But I thought you’d enjoy the oranges so much more.”
Fantastic. So nice of him to think of her comfort as he planned to abscond with her. “Oranges are better than mud,” she grumbled.
“I knew you’d think so.” He reached over and patted her knee, grinning at her like the idiot he was.
Oranges were not better than mud. What would have been better than mud would have been for her to have forgone her curiosity and stayed inside on that full moon night, rather than having to stick her nose in where it didn’t belong. If she hadn’t let her curiosity overrule her common sense, she’d be tucked snugly in her bed with a maid to bring her hot tea in the morning. And her father would still love her. And she’d never have had to disgrace herself by marrying Weston Hadley. And he’d never have had an opportunity to break her heart.
Maddie had always known that any husband she married would probably be unfaithful. Most men were, weren’t they? But she hadn’t thought it of Weston. Why did it have to hurt so much? Tears pricked at the backs of her eyelids. However, she refused to cry. Absolutely refused to cry. No. She would not do it. If she did, they would win. So, instead, she settled back against the squabs and began to plot her escape.
Twenty-One
“How much did he give you?” Lucy asked as she nearly skipped beside Wes on their way to the dress shop a stableboy had pointed out.
“I haven’t counted it.”
“Give it to me and I’ll count it.”
If he gave the satchel, he’d never see it again. “I think I’ll just hold on to it.”
Her lower lip thrust outward. “You don’t trust me.”
He never really had. “We are to get Madeline something to wear.”
“I don’t have a traveling valise with me either, you know. Besides, I can’t see your high and mighty wife wearing something ready-made. She must have her own personal modiste whose entire life revolves around the lady’s wants and needs.”
Wes rolled his eyes. “There is no modiste locked away in the Hythe dungeon and only let out to cater to Madeline’s whims.”
Lucy snorted. “I’m certain nothing less than the finest Indian silk has ever touched her skin. She won’t wear anything less. You should just let me pick out something for myself.”
“You can work your wiles on Dovenby, Luce. You’ll find I’m immune to your charms.” Wes opened the door to the small dress shop, and a bell tinkled overhead. “Or have you turned your attention to someone else since we arrived in Scotland? Dove seemed annoyed with you this morning, almost jealous.”
Lucy scowled. “If either of us has a right to be jealous, it’s me. He’s the one marrying some featherbrained twit with more hair than sense. All I want is a little security.”
All she wanted was to be set up like a queen, but Wes held his tongue. He gestured to the interior of the shop. “After you, my dear.”
Lucy stepped over the threshold and graced the shopkeeper with her most winning smile, the one she’d wear on stage to convince the audience of her sweetness and sincerity. “Good morning,” she chirped.
“Good mornin’,” a plump woman replied, dropping a clump of tangled ribbons on the counter. “Can I help ye?”
Wes cleared his throat. “I need to purchase a few things for my wife.”
The shopkeeper grinned. “Just eloped, did ye?”
“How did you know?” Wes asked.
“Most of my business is from couples who left England with little more than the clothes on their backs.” She glanced to Lucy and grinned. “What are ye lookin’ for, lass?”
“Well, I’d like a new dress that isn’t travel worn. And new gloves. And do ye have any bonnets? My hair has been a mess ever since…” Lucy began.
Wes coughed. Loudly. “She is not my wife. She has come to help me pick out something for my wife as a surprise.”
The shopkeeper frowned. “I see.”
What was the frown for? Wes shook his head. “My wife is a tiny thing, but I need to get her a dress to travel in, some drawers, a chemise…”
“A tiara,” Lucy put in with a feigned smile.
Wes glared at the actress. “I don’t even know why Dove insisted you come along. I can handle this all on my own.”
“Oh, you’re doing fine. Don’t mind me.” Lucy stepped away from him to run her fingers along a rack of dresses a few feet from her.
Wes turned his attention back to the shopkeeper. “And a night rail, if you have any.” Though he preferred Maddie with nothing on, she’d probably like something soft against her skin. And he might enjoy removing it.
The woman frowned in Lucy’s direction, then turned her old eyes on Wes. “Let me see what I can find, sir.” She gestured to the rack of ready-made gowns Lucy was perusing. “The only dresses I have are over there. See if ye think somethin’ will work for yer wife, and I’ll retrieve some unmentionables from the back.”
“Thank you.” Wes crossed the small room to rifle through the selection of dresses as the shopkeeper disappeared into a room off the back of the store.
“She won’t wear any of these,” Lucy said matter-of-factly, peering around his arm. “I just looked.”
Somehow Wes managed not to grind his teeth. “Mind if I take a glance?”
The actress grandly gestured to the dresses before them. “By all means. I’ll save my ‘I told you so’ until you’ve finished.”
Wes ignored her and began to look at the dresses one by one. Truthfully, none of them looked like Madeline. The dresses were mostly serviceable an
d the material was far from the finest quality, but anything had to be better than what she had been wearing for days on end. He selected a light-blue muslin and held it up for better inspection. The bodice was delicate and the dress felt soft enough. Not as soft as Maddie, but it was better than the others.
“That will swallow her up,” Lucy declared. “Look how long it is.”
It could be long enough for an Amazon warrior for all Wes cared. It wasn’t as though Maddie would be walking anywhere. She would be riding and if she needed him to carry her over more than one threshold, he was happy to do the honors. “Thank you for your opinion.”
She turned her nose regally in the air. “That is why Dove sent me. He said you were clueless.”
Wes had thought that about Dovenby a time or two in the past, so he brushed off the insult. “Did you find something you wanted, Luce?” Perhaps if he got her something, she’d leave him in peace.
The actress shrugged. “I might be interested in a ribbon or two, but even I wouldn’t wear any of this, and I don’t have a modiste locked in my dungeon, waiting to tend to my every need.”
Wes growled low in his throat. “Go look at the ribbons, by all means. Just keep your opinions to yourself, will you?”
She rolled her eyes, but she did cross the shop floor to peruse the pile of ribbons the shopkeeper had been sorting when they walked in.
Wes lifted the blue muslin higher. There was nothing wrong with the dress. True, it wasn’t as ornate as the gowns Maddie normally wore, but he could still imagine her in it. And he could imagine taking her out of it. The dress would suit their purposes until they reached Kent.
A moment later, the shopkeeper returned from the back room, carrying a small package wrapped in paper. “The smallest chemise I’ve got. A night rail. Drawers. And I tossed in a pair of gloves.”
“Thank you.” Wes smiled at the woman and offered her the blue muslin. “And I’ll take this as well.”
After paying for his purchases and a couple of ribbons Lucy couldn’t seem to live without, Wes started back for the inn, Lucy at his side. For once in his life, Wes wished he didn’t have perfect hearing. If he could just block out Lucy’s whining and chattering, he’d be a happy man. And if he could get back to the inn and to his wife, he’d be a very happy man.