Regency Wagers

by Diane Gaston

  Folly! She knew not the first thing about making bread, nor how to cook a meal.

  Devlin entered the kitchen, carrying a big wooden box. ‘Maddy, is the kitchen well supplied?’

  She opened a cupboard. ‘There are things in here. Do you suppose it is adequate?’

  Devlin stood next to her and peered in the open cupboard. ‘Hmm. Well, Bart will know.’ He set the box down on the table and walked out.

  Much later, the five of them sat around that rough wooden table, having finished a hastily prepared meal of bread from the nearby bakery and hard cheese. Devlin poured each of them another glass of wine, giving Linette, seated on his lap, a small sip from his own glass. The little girl puckered her lips at the taste, and he laughed.

  Madeleine gazed at all of them. She pretended they were a family, without a care, sharing a simple meal and pleasant conversation. The thought made her smile.

  Devlin caught her eye and winked at her. ‘I propose a toast.’ He raised his glass.

  ‘I want toast,’ Linette said.

  ‘To our new abode,’ Devlin said.

  ‘New ’bode,’ Linette parroted.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Bart responded.

  ‘It is a lovely place.’ Madeleine sipped her wine and swept her gaze from corner to corner.

  Devlin gave her a smile. He’d had no idea that pleasing her would make him feel mellow and strangely content. He raised his glass again while Bart sliced a piece of cheese and handed it to Sophie. Little Linette banged on the table with both hands.

  The mellow feeling returned. ‘Tomorrow, ladies, we shall visit the mantua maker. Outfit you properly.’

  Panic came over the shy Sophie’s face. ‘Oh, no, my lord.’

  Devlin at last saw an opportunity to befriend the skittish young woman. ‘Would you not like a pretty dress or two?’

  Sophie shook her head and dared to glance up at him for a moment. ‘No pretty dress. Nothing pretty. A bit of fabric will do, if it is not too dear. I do not presume to ask, my lord.’

  ‘Sophie, you are part of our household. You deserve decent clothing.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ She slid off her stool and cleared the dishes.

  Devlin rolled his eyes and caught Bart’s disapproving look before the man followed Sophie out of the room.

  ‘Do not mind her, Devlin,’ Madeleine said. ‘She does not want presents, I think.’

  He took a gulp of his wine. Linette relaxed against his chest, still at last.

  ‘She is afraid of you.’

  He gave a dry laugh. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘It is because you are a man.’

  He ran a finger through Linette’s hair, brushing it off the child’s forehead. ‘Bart is a man, I’ve noticed.’

  ‘True.’ She looked quizzical.

  ‘Well, Maddy, shall you and I visit the modiste or do you choose to be your own dressmaker, too?’

  He meant to be good-tempered, but she responded with a wounded look.

  ‘I cannot sew.’

  Lord, women were difficult.

  ‘It is of no consequence,’ he said, hoping to return to her good graces. ‘I’m sure we can find a skilful mantua maker. I would be pleased to see you in a pretty new dress.’

  Her countenance changed, as if he had said something of great importance that had never occurred to her before. ‘Of course. I understand perfectly.’

  He wished he understood. Devlin poured himself more wine and drained the entire contents of his glass. It was easier to evade the musket balls of an entire French battalion than to navigate a simple conversation with a female.

  ‘Linette is falling asleep. I need to make her ready for bed.’ Madeleine rose from her chair.

  ‘I’ll carry her.’ Devlin lifted Linette, and the little girl relaxed against him, a warm bundle more than comfortable against his shoulder.

  He followed Madeleine into the bedchamber where they had set up Linette’s bed. A connecting door joined the two upstairs bedchambers. He wanted to think of Madeleine knocking softly on that door and coming to him in the night, but, after the morning’s débâcle, he was sure she would not do so.

  Madeleine pulled out a tiny nightdress from the bureau. Linette’s meagre supply of clothing barely filled half a drawer, and Devlin vowed to ensure the child, as well as the mother, had a pretty new wardrobe.

  ‘Place her on the bed, please.’

  He did so as gently as he could. ‘Toast,’ Linette murmured, opening her eyes momentarily.

  Madeleine glanced at Devlin and smiled. How pleasant it felt. He had no idea domesticity could be so comfortable.

  After she settled the child into bed and kissed the soft pink forehead, Devlin wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. ‘She’s a fine child, Maddy.’

  ‘She is everything to me.’ Her voice shook with emotion.

  Madeleine leaned her head against Devlin’s shoulder. His strong arm felt so comfortable, she could almost imagine he belonged to her and they were gazing upon their own—

  No, she must not lapse into that particular fantasy. She must remember that Devlin wished to see her in pretty dresses, just as Farley had. She must remember that she owed him for his kindness.

  ‘Shall I ready myself for bed as well, sir?’ She modulated her voice as she had been used to doing for these last years.

  He placed her away from him and looked into her face. Madeleine knew how to control her expression. She smiled, half-demurely, half-seductively. She gently caressed his neck, leaning forward so when he glanced down, a peek of the rounded shape of her breasts was clearly visible. She led him to the connecting door, pulled him into the other room, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Shall I kiss you?’ she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. Not waiting for his answer, she stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his.

  Yes, she could do this, she thought, keeping her body in firm control. She could indeed pleasure Devlin and repay his kindness without ever pleasuring herself.

  Devlin wound his arms around her and pressed her against him. Desire flared inside him, and he deepened the kiss. She reached her hands around to loosen the already loose strings of her dress. It fell to the floor, leaving only her corset and shift. He ran his hands across her bare shoulders.

  So lovely. So soft. Like honey. He wanted her. Wanted to plunge into her, join himself to her and not feel so alone.

  ‘Shall we go to the bed, my lord?’

  The words echoed in his mind, from long ago.

  He released her, watching as she moved toward the bed. She tossed a seductive glance over her shoulder.

  She climbed onto the bed and turned to face him. ‘Come, let me remove your clothing.’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. And stood his ground.

  ‘Come,’ she purred, reaching her arms above her head, arching her back. ‘Come, my lord.’

  Devlin spoke quietly. ‘You must call me Devlin. Did you forget that, Maddy?’

  She rolled to her side and stared at him.

  ‘This is not Farley’s establishment.’ He stared back.

  She twisted the sheet in her hand.

  ‘Go to your room, Maddy. Your daughter might need you this night.’

  She sat up. ‘No.’

  ‘I do not want your favours.’ Something else from her, perhaps, but not what Farley required of her.

  ‘But you must.’ A desperate look came over her.

  ‘No.’

  She scampered off the bed and gathered her dress, holding it in front of her, covering herself with it. ‘Please, Devlin, you must let me make love to you. You must.’ Her words came out between laboured gasps.

  ‘No, Maddy.’

  He walked to the door and opened it.

  ‘Devlin, I am used to this. It is not difficult. I will pleasure you. It will be pleasant, I promise you.’ Tears sprang to her eyes.

  With every sensation in his male body, Devlin wanted to accept her offer, but he could not bear the emptiness in her seductive words
. He well remembered what had passed between them that first time and this was not it.

  She rubbed her eyes, now red and swollen. Her nose had turned bright pink. ‘I…I wish to show you my gratitude.’

  ‘Gratitude? Do you think I desire your lovemaking out of gratitude?’

  Confusion wrinkled her brow. Devlin suspected that was not part of her practised repertoire. She clutched her dress in her hands. ‘You want me, I know you do. Men like to…to…You liked it, too.’

  He had indeed, but not when her eyes stared vacantly and her words were rehearsed.

  ‘Go to bed, Maddy. Your own bed, not mine.’

  She dropped her dress to the floor and wound her arms around his neck, kissing wherever her lips could reach. At least her rehearsed seduction had fled, but her desperation was no better. None the less, his body flared to life. He picked her up and she sighed in relief, nuzzling his neck. He carried her through the doorway and dropped her on to the large bed in the other room.

  ‘No, Devlin.’ She grabbed the front of his shirt, trying to pull him back. ‘You do not understand. I must do this.’

  He moved her hands away, trying to be gentle, but not succeeding. The demands of his body were making him harsh. ‘You do not need to bed me. It is not something I demand of you.’

  ‘But it is the only thing I can do.’

  Madeleine watched him turn away from her and walk toward the door. ‘You do not understand,’ she whispered. ‘It is the only thing I can do.’

  He did not look back, but closed the door behind him, leaving her alone.

  Devlin fled down the staircase and out into the damp night air. He strode through lamp-lit streets until reaching the nearest gaming house. Instead of sounding the knocker, he stood staring at the entrance. What would he find inside? Cigar smoke? Bad brandy? The luck of the draw? It was not ennui he sought to dispel this night, but the turbulence left in Madeleine’s wake.

  Why not accept her gratitude and bed her? He’d rescued her from Farley’s, hadn’t he? Taken in her child and her mouse of a maid. Provided them proper lodgings.

  Devlin turned from the door of the gaming establishment and walked back to the street. When he had first met her, she had come to him, not with gratitude, but desire. Almost like loving him. He had never forgotten.

  He wandered slowly through the streets, until he found himself back at the door of his expensive new rooms. The place was quiet as he entered, a single candle providing light. He glanced toward the back of the place where the two other bedchambers were located and wondered what might be occurring behind those closed doors. Was Bart holding the frail Sophie protectively, lest the ‘lord’ attack her in the night? Had Sophie offered her body to Bart, as well? Had he accepted?

  Devlin would bet a month’s blunt Bart had not made a mull of things as he had, and that, on the morrow, the little maid would gaze upon Bart’s craggy features with adoration.

  Devlin entered Madeleine’s room quietly. The dim illumination of the street lamp shone on Linette’s sleeping figure, her thumb in her mouth. Devlin smiled and gently pulled out her thumb. The little girl stirred, her long dark eyelashes fluttering. She popped the thumb back in.

  Madeleine’s bed was empty, and he felt a moment’s anxiety, until he spied her curled up on the windowseat, sound asleep, as innocent and vulnerable as her daughter.

  They were both beautiful, these charges of his, and totally dependent upon him. It frightened him, worse than leading men into battle. Soldiers knew the stakes were death, but they had the tools to fight. If he failed Madeleine and Linette, they would be at the mercy of creatures like Farley and would have no weapons with which to protect themselves.

  He would not fail them, he vowed. He would see to their needs no matter what the cost.

  Devlin gathered Madeleine in his arms, her weight surprisingly like a feather. He carried her to the bed.

  ‘Only thing I can do,’ she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder, much like her little girl had done earlier.

  ‘Hush, Maddy,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll wake Linette.’

  ‘Linette,’ she murmured. ‘All I have.’

  ‘Not any more, Miss England.’ Devlin laid her carefully on the bed and tucked the covers around her. ‘Now you have me, as well.’

  Chapter Five

  Madeleine held tightly on to Devlin’s arm as they strolled the pavements of London in the bright morning sun. She pulled the hood of her cape to obscure as much of her face as possible. Still, she felt exposed.

  ‘You will not take me to a fashionable modiste, will you, Devlin?’ The thought of walking down Bond Street filled her with dread.

  Devlin regarded her with an amused expression. ‘No, indeed, Maddy. Would I subject you to such a terrible thing?’

  That made her laugh. ‘Do not tease me. It is merely that I would not want to be seen.’

  ‘Do not worry, goose. You were always masked, were you not? No one will recognise you.’ He patted her hand comfortingly.

  ‘Of course. So silly of me.’

  She took a deep breath. He did not understand. Farley’s patrons did not concern her, but perhaps those she did fear encountering would not recognise her either. Surely the years had altered her?

  ‘Where are we bound, then?’ She gazed up at Devlin, so tall and handsome. His green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, like emeralds on a necklace a young man had once bestowed upon her before Farley snatched it away. If necessity bade her to walk in daylight, it pleased her to be beside him.

  ‘Bart found a dressmaker only four streets from here,’ Devlin said. ‘How he should know about dressmakers foxes me.’

  She laughed. ‘Bart is very clever, isn’t he? He and Sophie. I do believe they can do everything.’

  ‘Unlike me, I suppose.’ He smiled, but the humour did not reach his voice.

  ‘You are the hub around which all revolves.’ She spoke absently, transfixed by a coach rumbling down the street. ‘Oh, look at the matched greys. How finely they step together. They are magnificent, are they not?’

  ‘Indeed,’ he answered.

  She watched the coach-and-four until it drove out of sight. ‘Oh, my.’ She cast one last glance in the direction it had disappeared. ‘What were you saying, Devlin?’

  ‘I was remarking about how utterly useless you find me.’

  She glanced at him. ‘You are funning me again. What would have happened to me and Linette without you, Devlin?’

  Madeleine felt her face flush. She should not have spoken so. To suggest he had any obligation to her was very bad of her. She had awoken in her own bed this morning. The only service she could render him, he’d refused.

  ‘It is I who am useless, not you, Devlin.’ She sighed. ‘I am skilled at nothing…well, nothing of consequence.’

  A curricle drawn by two fine roans raced by. Madeleine stopped to watch it.

  ‘Do you like horses, Maddy?’

  ‘What?’ She glanced at him. ‘Oh, horses. I used to like horses.’

  ‘Not now?’ His mouth turned up at one corner.

  ‘I have not been on a horse since…for many years.’

  ‘You ride, then?’

  She had careened over the hills, giving her mare her head, clearing hedges, sailing over streams. Nothing unseated her. She outrode every boy in the county and most of the men. When she could remain undiscovered, she spent whole days on horseback.

  Had she not been out in the country on her mare, unchaperoned as usual, she might not have met Farley, might not have succumbed to his charm. Never riding again was fitting punishment for her fatal indiscretion.

  She blinked away the regret. ‘You might say I used to ride horses as well as I now ride men.’

  ‘Maddy!’ Devlin stopped in the centre of the pavement and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Do not speak like that. I ought to throttle you.’

  She tilted her chin defiantly. ‘As you wish, sir.’

  He let go of her and rubbed his brow. ‘Deuce, you know I
will not hit you, but why say such a thing?’

  ‘Because it is true. I know what I am, Devlin. There is no use trying to make me otherwise. It is my only skill. Bart and Sophie can do all sorts of useful things. You, too. You can win at cards and go about in society. You have fought in the war. What could be more useful than that? But me, there is nothing else I know how to do.’

  He extended his hand to her, wanting to crush her against him and kiss her until she took back her words. Though the kissing part might not prove the point, exactly, he admitted. He dropped his hand and, putting her arm through his, resumed walking.

  After a short distance in silence, he said, ‘That’s what you meant last night. Saying it was the only thing you could do.’

  She did not reply.

  Devlin held his tongue. This was no place for such a conversation in any event. Besides, each time some handsome equipage passed by in the street, she slowed her pace a little.

  He chuckled. ‘Horse mad, are you?’

  She pointedly turned her head away from him.

  ‘Now do not deny it, Maddy. You are horse mad. I recognise the signs. I was myself, as a boy. Why, I liked being with the grooms better than anyone else. My brother, the heir, could not keep up with me when I rode, though he’s a good ten years my senior. Nothing he could do but report to Father that I was about to break my neck.’

  He threw a penny to the boy who had swept the street in front of where they crossed.

  ‘Oh, look at all the shops!’ Madeleine exclaimed. ‘I had not reckoned there to be so many.’

  Like a child at a fair she turned her head every which way, remarking on all the delicious smells and sights.

  ‘You have not been to these shops?’

  She laughed. ‘Indeed not. I always wondered what the London shops would be like.’

  ‘You’ve been in London three years and have never seen the shops?’ This was not to be believed.

  ‘Lord Farley did not take me to shops.’

  This time Devlin stopped. ‘Do you mean that devil did not let you out of that house?’