Wolf Who Loved Me

by Lydia Dare

  “I am so glad ye’ve come ta call,” Lady Eynsford said warmly. “I’ve already ordered some tea and biscuits, but in the meanwhile, I’d like ta ken how ye’re gettin’ along.”

  Maddie cleared her throat. “Castle Hythe is calm.” It was almost like a graveyard, but Maddie wouldn’t dare say such a thing. “If it isn’t too much to ask, Lady Eynsford, I should like very much to see my husband.”

  Sophie hand tightened on Maddie’s, and the smile vanished from Lady Eynsford’s face. “I am sorry,” the marchioness replied. “Weston is no’ in residence at the moment.”

  Maddie hadn’t known her heart could plummet even further, but it did. “Where is he?” she breathed, terrified of the answer. Had she made him so angry that he’d fled Kent to avoid her?

  “Working on some secretive business venture.” Sophie frowned.

  “Business venture?” the duchess barked.

  Lady Eynsford shrugged. “Alas, I really canna say any more than Sophia has. Weston has no’ confided his plans ta me.”

  Maddie closed her eyes, hoping for strength. She’d spent the entire previous evening planning what to say to her husband. She’d imagined his every response and her every counter. She hadn’t planned on him not being in residence. “Wh-when will he be back?” she asked, her voice small to her own ears.

  “I’m certain he’ll be back as soon as the time is right, Lady Madeline.”

  The duchess cleared her throat. Loudly. “Do you suppose, Caitrin, he could be compelled to return to attend my birthday ball a fortnight from now?”

  Maddie opened her eyes and stared at her grandmother. Birthday ball? What was she talking about?

  “I’m certain Eynsford could be compelled ta ask him ta return, Eugenia.”

  “Splendid.” The duchess’ cane tapped the floor in mild agitation. “As I’m finally inviting him into my home, I’ll expect him to be on time.”

  Lady Eynsford’s blue eyes twinkled. “I doona foresee any problems with punctuality.”

  The duchess harrumphed again.

  At that moment, the butler returned with a tea tray and Lady Eynsford directed him to place it on a table near the window. Then she turned her gaze on Maddie. “Will ye help me pour?”

  Maddie rose from her spot and crossed the parlor to the table where the tea service awaited. As the duchess began to question Sophie on her living arrangement at The Park, Maddie poured the first cup. But then Lady Eynsford stilled Maddie’s hand with her own. “Doona fret, my dear.”

  Maddie blinked back tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “I ken ye are aware of what Weston is,” the marchioness whispered. Then she tugged at the collar of her gown to reveal a crescent-shaped scar, the size of a man’s mouth, where her neck met her shoulder. If Maddie hadn’t been staring at the blemish, she wouldn’t have even noticed it. “There is nothin’ ta fear. Ye may trust me on that.”

  Maddie nearly dropped the silver teapot to the floor. With shaky hands, she somehow managed to return it to the tray without spilling a drop. “Lord Eynsford?” she asked quietly.

  Lady Eynsford nodded. “Aye. And it is wonderful, Madeline.”

  And from the dreamy expression on the marchioness’ face, Maddie believed her instantly. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she confessed.

  “Ye’ve both hurt each other, though I ken neither of ye meant ta do so. Neither of ye were placed in the best situation, but that’s all in the past. It’s the future we need ta look toward.”

  Maddie nodded. The future. But could she have a future with Wes? He’d fled Kent, for heaven’s sake.

  “I want ye ta ken, Madeline, ye can come ta me with anythin’. I ken a thing or two about these creatures and how ta best manage them.”

  Maddie swallowed nervously. “What if he won’t forgive me? What if he won’t have me?”

  “Ye are in charge of yer own destiny. I’m certain ye can think of somethin’ ye can do ta make him see reason.”

  But she’d tried all the way from Scotland. Maddie stared out the window before her, as though the answer would appear in the sky. What could she do to make Wes see reason? What could she do to make him see that she loved him? That she accepted him the way he was?

  ***

  Wes stared blankly at the invitation in his hand. The Duchess of Hythe was requesting his presence at her birthday ball? That could only mean one thing. The duke had been successful in his quest to annul the marriage. Dread washed over Wes and a pit formed in his stomach. He doubted he’d ever feel right for the rest of his days. He tried to shake off the feeling. This was what he’d asked for, after all. An opportunity for Madeline to get a fresh start, to pretend that their union had not occurred.

  “What are you doing?” Archer’s voice interrupted Wes’ thoughts.

  “Nothing.”

  His older brother scoffed as his fork scooped up a helping of baked eggs. “Nothing? You’re crumpling that invitation so much it won’t be recognizable. Who is it from, anyway?”

  Wes dropped into a seat at the breakfast table across from his brothers and tried to remember how to speak.

  “Wes?” Gray prodded. “I know it’s rare for us to receive invitations.” He grinned. “But we have received some a time or two.”

  Wes heaved a sigh, then looked across the table at his brothers. “It’s from the Duchess of Hythe.”

  Archer’s brow lifted and Gray sat a little straighter. “Well, we’ve never received one of those before,” his twin replied. “What does it say?”

  “That I’m to attend her birthday ball at the castle next week.”

  “If I was you, I wouldn’t step over that threshold. Robert’s likely to have a dueling pistol aimed at your heart.” Archer placed his fork back on the table.

  “He has to go,” Gray said. “I imagine Hythe wants to tell you in person…”

  “That he’s had my marriage annulled,” Wes added. “Yes, I know.” He tossed the invitation to the table and raked a hand through his hair. “What bad timing, since we’re so busy with architects and hiring laborers.”

  Gray snorted. “Don’t be a coward now. You’re the one who asked for this.”

  He had asked for it. But that didn’t mean the idea didn’t turn his stomach. “She’ll be better off now.”

  “And what about you?” Gray asked quietly. “Will you be better off now?”

  His brother knew the answer without asking, Wes well knew. Being twins, Gray could sense Wes’ heartache and suffering more than anyone in the world. “I want what’s best for her.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t really need to, do I?”

  Archer chuckled to himself. “I suppose you could always talk her into eloping again. I doubt even Hythe could have two marriages annulled.”

  Wes glared at his older brother. “You are a jackass.”

  Archer agreed with a nod. “Family trait.”

  Gray leaned forward and rested his elbows on the breakfast table. “He has a point, Wes. Not the eloping part, but she does care for you. All might not be lost.”

  Wes’ chair legs scraped against the floor as he quickly stood. “We’ve been over this, Grayson. Madeline doesn’t belong in our world. She’s…”

  “Too perfect?” Gray supplied with the roll of his eyes.

  “Unblemished,” Wes corrected. “Everything about who we are would destroy her. I won’t be a party to that.” Doing so would hurt just as badly as he was hurting now.

  Archer sighed. Loudly. Then he dropped his napkin to the table. “If we are through with this maudlin conversation, we have work to do today, gentlemen.”

  “Arch!” Gray complained.

  But their older brother rose from his seat. “Leave it alone, Grayson. He’s made his decision. He has to live with it.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Wes watched Madeline from across the room. One gentleman after another drew her into his arms for a dance, tou
ching her waist where his hand should have been. Looking into her eyes, where he only wanted his own gaze to land. Smelling her rosewater scent, which should have been his alone to devour. He swore beneath his breath.

  “Go ask her to dance,” Grayson grumbled beside him.

  “I’m going home,” Wes informed him.

  “You can’t. You haven’t spoken to Hythe yet.”

  “Hythe can go hang.” Wes raised a nasty-tasting orgeat to his lips and took a deep swallow. Being forced to watch Madeline was sheer torture. And he’d been doing it for what seemed like hours. “Wish I had some bloody whisky.”

  Archer stepped up beside them. “Did someone say ‘whisky’?” he asked beneath his breath.

  Gray gestured to Wes with his head.

  “How can you drink that?” Archer asked. “The punch is foul.”

  The orgeat was the least of Wes’ problems. At that moment, Lord Chilcombe led Madeline from the dance floor toward the refreshment table. “I can’t stay here anymore. Hythe can find me in the morning. I’m going home.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Archer growled. “Dash says I can’t leave until Lady Sophia says it’s time. So if I have to stay here, you have to accept the torture as well.” He grimaced as the orchestra began a new set. “I believe I’m partnered with the lady of my brother’s affection, myself, on the very next set.”

  Wes’ eyes shot back to his brother’s. “You’re dancing with Lady Madeline?” he croaked.

  Archer sighed. “The esteemed Lady Sophia arranged the dance cards herself, from what I hear. Apparently she asked all of her acquaintances from before her fall from grace to put the Hadleys on their dance cards. I’m not certain what hold she has over them, but they agreed.”

  “He’s right. I’m partnered with Miss Pritchard.” Gray shivered lightly.

  “Watch your toes. Her feet are a little unwieldy,” Archer warned.

  “If you had feet that big, they’d be a little unwieldy, too,” Gray laughed.

  “I haven’t been assigned any dances.” Wes looked across the room to where Lady Sophia was watching them beside Cait.

  “She must like you best then,” Archer complained.

  Wes was certain that had nothing to do with it. Archer had been assigned partners and so had Gray. But neither of them would frighten Lady Sophia’s delicate friends. Automatically, he touched a hand to his scar. Madeline, too, had been afraid of him once. “What’s the next dance?” he asked.

  “A quadrille, Lady Sophia says. Why?” Archer gazed at him with a curious glance.

  Gray smirked. “He doesn’t want you waltzing with Lady Madeline.”

  Damn his twin to hell. He always knew what Wes was feeling, which was bloody inconvenient sometimes. “Go to hell, Gray,” Wes snarled.

  “Already there, brother,” his twin replied, his voice droll and unconcerned as he gestured to the ballroom at large.

  Dash appeared at Archer’s side. “Are the three of you behaving yourselves?”

  “Yes, Dash,” they said in unison.

  “Good. Continue on then,” he said, shooting them each a heated glance before he crossed the room to claim Cait for a dance of his own.

  “How long do you think he’ll torture us with this training?” Gray asked with a heavy sigh.

  “Until you’re respectable,” Archer said as he punched Gray’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “So, get respectable quickly, gentlemen. I can only take so much.” Then he placed his glass on a tray as a servant walked by and tugged at his jacket. “My turn with Lady Madeline,” he said with a smirk.

  “If you touch her…” Wes began, stepping in front of him.

  “You gave her away, Wes,” Archer said playfully. “She’s fair pickings.” His brother let his gaze roam up and down Madeline’s body from across the room. “Quite fair, if I do say so myself.” He looked into Wes’ eyes. Wes was startled by the intensity he found there. “I think she’d like wearing my mark. More than she liked the idea of wearing yours.”

  “Arch,” Gray warned softly.

  “Don’t make me kill you,” Wes growled as he laid a hand on Archer’s chest to keep him from advancing toward Madeline, who was now looking around, as though waiting for her next dance partner. Then she looked down at the card dangling from her wrist and scowled.

  “What’s the matter? Too close to the full moon for you, Weston? Perhaps you should retreat with your tail between your legs.” He pushed Wes, who stumbled on the dance floor from the force of the shove.

  Wes righted himself and started toward Archer, fully ready to rip his brother’s head from his shoulders. But Gray’s arms wrapped around him and he hissed in his brother’s ear. “Don’t do it. You’re causing a stir.”

  Wes glanced around, and indeed, many gazes had swung in their direction. But, he didn’t particularly care. The thought of Archer touching Madeline had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He could barely see his older brother standing before him through the rage-red haze that clouded his vision.

  “What’s the matter, Wes?” Archer taunted. “You gave her away. You were content to let every other man here dance with her tonight. Am I not good enough for her, either?” He straightened his jacket again and looked over at Madeline, who was even now on her way across the ballroom toward the lot of them.

  Good God, Wes had done it again. He’d disgraced himself and hadn’t even planned to.

  “Do you still want her, Weston? Or do you want to let someone else have her? Because if you don’t want her, I’ll give her a go myself. Maybe I can take her back to the duke afterward and he’ll accept her back into the family fold.” Once again, Archer’s lascivious gaze dragged up and down Madeline’s body. “It would probably be worth it.” Then he looked into Wes’ eyes. “Was it worth it, Wes? Having her and then giving her away?”

  “You’re going too far, Archer.” Wes heard Gray on the periphery, once again warning their brother.

  But the eldest Hadley paid him no heed. “Oh, but I plan to go farther still,” Archer said with a smirk. Then he started toward Madeline.

  “Archer!” Wes yelled to his retreating back. The orchestra stopped and all the movement in the room came to a quick halt. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were suddenly focused in their direction.

  Archer looked over his shoulder at Wes, still smirking. Wes would take great pride in wiping that look off his brother’s face with his fist.

  Archer turned around to face him, his voice rising. “What’s the matter, Weston? If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.”

  It wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be anyone else. Not while Wes lived, breathed, and loved that lady. No one else would have her. No matter what he’d said to Hythe. He couldn’t bear it if she chose another.

  The crowed twittered, nervous women whispering behind their fans and men making crass remarks under their breath. Wes heard it all. He scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration, wishing it was possible to tamp down the beast inside him.

  “Gentlemen,” a quiet voice came from beside Wes’ shoulder. He looked down to find Lady Sophia scowling at them all. “What’s going on?” she hissed.

  “It appears as though you have failed, my lady,” Archer taunted. “Once again, the Hadley brothers breach the bounds of propriety.” He bowed sarcastically in her direction. “You have outdone yourself in our training, sweetheart.”

  Dash stormed across the room, looking like a great avenging beast bent on destruction. He outpaced Lady Madeline, who was still walking slowly in their direction. Only the fools headed toward them. The rest pulled back so that they had a wide circle of open space around them. Madeline stood on the outside of the circle and watched them with a curious stare.

  Dash stormed into the circle, looking like he was ready to shake the whole lot of them by the scruffs of their necks. “Out,” he snarled, nodding toward the door.

  “Can’t,” Archer said with a quick shake of his head. “I have a lovely lady waiting for my attention.” H
e turned toward Madeline and bowed lower than Wes had ever seen. His nose would hit the floor if he dropped any lower.

  “This is not amusing,” Dash snarled.

  “No, it’s not amusing at all,” a quiet voice said from the edge of the crowd. Madeline. Madeline had spoken. He hadn’t heard her voice in almost three weeks. And there she was, her dulcet tones stroking across his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Madeline,” Wes said. “We were just leaving.”

  “The devil we were,” Archer chuckled. “I plan to dance with the lady.” He tilted his head at Madeline. “If she’ll have me.”

  She smiled softly at Archer. “Why not? Your brother doesn’t want me.”

  Wes choked. That couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted her more than he wanted air. More than he wanted sunshine. More than he wanted anything. More than his own life.

  Dash wrapped a strong arm around Wes’ shoulders. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.

  With more strength than Wes knew he possessed, he disentangled himself from Dash’s grasp. He bowed at Lady Madeline. “I’m sorry to have disgraced myself once again.” Then he turned to leave. He would walk out under his own power, if it was the last thing he ever did.

  But as he slipped into the throng of people, he heard her call out. “Weston Hadley,” she said crisply. He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut again because he couldn’t look at her. “Wes, please don’t walk away from me,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word. His eyes flew open and he spun to face her. Tears brimmed over her beautiful lashes, threatening to fall.

  “Lady Madeline,” Wes began.

  “Is that who I am to you now? That’s not what you called me when you held me in your arms,” she said, her voice ringing out in the quiet of the room like the bells at St. George’s. “That’s not what you called me when you were inside my…” Her voice trailed off as she laid a hand over her chest, smiled, and said, “heart.”

  The ladies in the room began whispering behind their fans. Wes didn’t know what to do. She’d ruin herself. She’d ruin her future. She’d ruin her life. Wes looked at the Duke of Hythe who suddenly stood beside his daughter, his hand on her elbow. Thank God. His Grace would keep her from doing irreparable damage to herself.