by Diane Gaston
Yes, it was a fitting punishment to never ride again.
She walked over to the window and peered out. Devlin was now astride the black horse with Linette seated in front of him. He urged the horse into a sedate walk and she could hear through the closed window Linette’s squeals of delight.
Devlin looked as if he were born to the saddle, and, as he held Linette protectively in his arm, Madeleine felt her heart yearn for him.
No. She must refrain from such feelings. She would ride, as he commanded her to do, but she would not allow herself to feel a thing. Not for him. Not for anything, except her daughter. She would not allow herself to care about how the horse felt beneath her, how the hooves pounded in her ears, how the wind beat against her face.
She turned back to the bed and began undressing.
A quarter-hour later, she allowed Bart to toss her into the saddle. She remained silent while Devlin handed Linette down to Bart and they cantered through the London streets.
They made a solemn pair as they rode next to each other through neatly kept streets, still quiet at this early hour. The shops made way for rows of houses, each larger and more elegant as they progressed. She did not ask where they were headed.
Devlin finally spoke, though more to himself than to her. ‘I have not been on horseback since…since Belgium.’ His voice was flat, expressionless.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She must have tugged on the reins because the horse broke its gait. She hurriedly righted it again, but remembered the battle’s evidence on his chest and back. In spite of her resolve to be angry with him, her throat tightened with emotion.
‘We are here,’ he said. They had stopped in front of a large stone gate.
Hyde Park.
Beyond the gate was a landscape of green, a fantasy of countryside in the midst of a city. ‘Oh, my,’ she gasped.
‘It is early. No one will heed us at this unfashionable hour.’ His horse led the way.
So many years ago, it had been her girlish wish to gallop down Rotten Row in Hyde Park, while her sisters had merely aspired to sedate afternoon drives.
As she and Devlin rode, Madeleine tried to imagine row after row of fashionable equipages with beautiful ladies and finely dressed gentlemen perched on the seats. The less prosperous would stroll along the pavement. She admitted to curiosity about such a sight, even though she had disdained the role of passenger. In those innocent days, however, she had never expected to feel like a trespasser in a world to which she no longer belonged.
Devlin led her to a dirt path where it was clear they could let the horses have their heads. Rotten Row. There were a few other riders, and Devlin ignored them. Madeleine pulled the netting of her hat over her face.
‘We will race.’
He was back to giving commands, was he? Well, she would do as he commanded. She would race.
She did not wait for his command to begin. She pressed her knee into the horse’s side. The mare leaped into motion. Madeleine leaned forward almost flat against the horse’s neck. She inhaled the mare’s scent, heard the panting of the mare’s breath and the pounding of her hooves. Madeleine’s heart ignored her bidding to play dead and leapt with delight. For the first time in years, she felt exhilaratingly free.
Other hooves sounded and Devlin’s horse, neck pumping, pulled alongside. She glanced at him. His beaver hat was gone, and his hair blew wildly around his head. His eyes, too, blazed with excitement.
She urged her horse faster. Joy overwhelmed her and she laughed out loud. She glanced at Devlin, his horse neck to neck with hers. He grinned. They ended the course together.
They slowed their horses to a walk. Devlin, breathing as hard as his horse, circled around Madeleine. He gazed at her. To Madeleine, the green of the park faded and was replaced by the green of his eyes. She held his gaze, memorising it. No matter what her resolve, she vowed to remember the passion she saw in his eyes, the passion that mirrored her own.
A slow grin came over his face. ‘Shall we do it again?’
Before she could figure out what the it could be that they would do again, he launched into a gallop. She recovered quickly and urged her horse on his heels. He smiled proudly at her when she caught up. Again they finished the course together.
‘I won,’ he said, a smug look on his face.
‘You did not,’ she countered. ‘I would have been a length ahead if not for this infernal saddle.’
His brow wrinkled. ‘Is something amiss with the saddle?’
She felt herself redden. ‘No, I…I am accustomed to riding astride. Or I used to be.’
His expression turned solemn and she suspected he could imagine the scandalous picture she made in those days.
A bird fluttered noisily out of a nearby bush, startling Devlin’s horse. He quieted the animal and glanced at Madeleine. Her face was flushed and her blue eyes sparkled. No matter what happened to him from this day forward, he would never regret this moment with her. Nor would he forget.
They remained that way, staring into each other’s eyes, their mounts restless underneath them. Neither looked away.
More riders arrived in the park. Some greeted Devlin and tossed curious glances toward Madeleine. She held her head down.
‘Perhaps we had best head home,’ he said.
‘Perhaps.’
He rode to retrieve his hat and led them to the gate. She followed closely.
They returned through the most fashionable streets, to streets full of shops, to their own nearly respectable address.
Madeleine spoke, ‘Why did you hire horses today?’
He glanced at her. ‘They belong to my brother.’
‘The Marquess?’ Her voice was anxious.
‘Yes, but do not worry, Maddy. I have my brother’s permission.’ It was not entirely accurate, but he had Serena’s permission, and Ned would never counter her wishes.
They lapsed back into silence.
Soon they neared their street. Madeleine asked, ‘Why did you do this?’
‘Fetch the horses?’
‘Make me ride with you.’
He frowned. How could he explain what he did not truly understand? He had not meant to invite her. At first he had meant to escape her. ‘I did not wish to ride alone.’
‘You could have taken Bart with you.’
To Bart horses were like tools, a means to get a job done. His wish to ride was more ephemeral. A last chance for freedom? Bart would never have understood.
He had not even thought of Bart, though. He had wanted Madeleine. Who else would understand the need? The pleasure?
‘I wished it to be you.’ His voice had turned low and he was not sure if she heard him.
As they rode up to their apartments, Linette’s face disappeared from the window. A moment later she was out the door, tugging away from Bart’s firm grip.
‘Horse! Horse! Mama. Deddy.’
‘Hello, my darling,’ Madeleine called to her.
‘Me, too, Mama. Me, too.’ Linette cried, squirming to get free. Even a strong man like Bart could barely hold her.
‘Bring her here, Bart.’ Devlin reached down and scooped the child into his arms, holding her securely in front of him. ‘Maddy, come with us.’
Devlin, Madeleine, and Linette rode sedately to the end of the block, quiet at this hour, and back again. The little girl’s delighted laughter filled the street.
‘More. More.’ Linette shouted.
‘Enough for today, Lady Lin.’
Bart reached for the child. Devlin slid easily off the horse and turned for Madeleine, holding her firmly by the waist to assist her to dismount.
She looked him directly in his eyes and whispered, ‘Thank you, Devlin.’
He held her there, suspending the moment.
When he finally slid her down his body to touch the pavement, Madeleine blinked, turned and took Linette from Bart. She allowed Linette to pat the horses and say goodbye to them.
‘Would you return the horses, Bar
t?’ Devlin asked.
Bart nodded, taking hold of the reins. ‘Dev, a note was delivered for you. It is on the table inside the door.’
Devlin, his emotions in a tangle, ran up the steps and into the house. He had not wanted that time with Madeleine to end. He removed his coat, gloves and hat, and picked up the envelope.
Madeleine and Linette came inside, and Linette ran to the window for her last glimpse of the horses. ‘Bye bye, horses!’
‘What is the note?’ Madeleine asked as she pulled off her hat. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders.
He handed her a piece of paper.
Her eyes grew wide. ‘It is a voucher for Almack’s!’
‘Serena certainly lost no time procuring it for me.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘The other paper is an invitation,’ he said, though she was paying little attention. ‘No, a command, really.’
‘A command?’ She gingerly fingered the voucher.
‘We are commanded to dine with my brother and his wife this evening, at their town house.’ He tapped the card against his palm.
‘You are?’ She said absently.
‘We are,’ he corrected. ‘You and I.’
Her face turned pale. ‘No.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Oh, yes,’ Devlin said. ‘The invitation is very specific. It is for us both.’
‘I will not attend.’ Her voice sounded as if she were being strangled. ‘I will not expose myself to…to a society dinner where I do not belong.’
Devlin saw the rising panic in her eyes. ‘It is a private dinner. You and I are to dine with Ned and Serena, en famille.’
‘No.’
Devlin rubbed his brow. What the deuce could Ned be thinking of? It was not like his brother to play games. Impossible to believe he would invite Madeleine to his home to dine with his wife. Ned might not love Serena, but he certainly would never deliberately cause her any discomfort. And, then, there was the matter of the voucher to Almack’s. An invitation to bring his mistress to dine, and a blatant entry into the marriage mart in the same package. It made no sense.
Madeleine stared at him, her chin now tilted in defiance, anxiety lingering in her eyes. He looked back at the card, not so much to read it again as to collect his thoughts.
He wrinkled his brow. ‘I think the voucher must mean Ned intends to give me the money, but…’ he glanced up at her ‘…I cannot understand why he wishes us to dine.’
‘I will not go.’
‘I do not think there would be any harm in it.’
She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I will not go.’
Devlin attempted a cajoling smile. ‘You would find use for the evening dress.’
She threw the voucher at him and fled up the stairs.
As he bent to retrieve it, Linette toddled in from the parlour where she had been on sentry duty at the window. She pulled on Devlin’s sleeve, her little mouth turned down and her big blue eyes mournful. ‘Horses gone.’
Devlin almost smiled, even amidst his confused thoughts. He picked her up. ‘That’s right, Lady Lin. Horses gone.’
Linette flung her chubby arms around Devlin’s neck. He clung tightly to Linette. The freedom and joy of the ride with Madeleine receded. Walls blocked his escape and the air seemed in short supply.
Run, he heard himself shout. Run. He was on horseback again, this time screaming for his cavalry to withdraw. They had gone too far, drunk with the carnage they’d wrought on the French, still swinging their sabres into retreating backs, until the pounding of fresh French cavalry sounded in his ears.
He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror, Linette’s curly dark head leaning trustingly on his shoulder.
He took a deep breath. ‘Come on, Lady Lin. Let us see if Sophie left us some lemon cakes in the kitchen.’
Madeleine flung herself dramatically on the bed. As a child, she might have indulged in a fit of angry tears, but now she knew tears achieved nothing.
She rose and unbuttoned the riding dress, choosing her yellow muslin to wear. After fastening the laces, she picked up the riding dress again and held it to her nose. It smelled of horse. She closed her eyes. The ride had been glorious. The exhilaration, the freedom of speed, Devlin, hatless and grinning beside her.
Another memory to store. She pored over every detail, fixing each in her mind. With another whiff of the lingering scent, she laid the garment carefully on top of the trunk at the foot of her bed. Later she would brush it off as she had seen Sophie do, and she would hang it up to air out.
The door opened. ‘May I come in?’
She stiffened at his voice. ‘You might have knocked first.’
Devlin closed the door and leaned against it, his legs crossed at the ankles. ‘You might have refused me entry.’
She picked up the riding dress and brushed it off with her hand. It was something to do, to look busy.
‘May we talk, Maddy?’
He looked appealingly long limbed, taut with strength, but infused with gentleness. She did not wish to see him thus. She closed her eyes, but that only brought the memory of him wild-eyed on a galloping horse. She shrugged.
‘First, let me assure you that the decision is yours. I will not mention this matter again, do you understand?’
She nodded, but did not look at him.
‘I do not know why my brother made this invitation, but I cannot believe he would mean any harm. He is a good man.’
‘I am not so certain of that.’ The Marquess represented danger to her, even though he had been gentle with Linette.
Devlin continued, choosing not to argue the point, ‘The invitation must have something to do with Ned advancing my money, or else why would he include the voucher? I think that in order to get the money, we must do as he says.’
She stiffened. ‘I do not have to do as he says.’
He softened. ‘Of course you do not. But I wish that you would. Nothing is more important to me than securing your future. And Linette’s and Sophie’s and Bart’s.’
‘Why?’
He looked surprised.
Her vision blurred with useless tears. ‘Do you wish to go to Almack’s and search for a wife?’
She watched one of his hands clench into a fist, then relax again. ‘I do not wish to do so, but I must.’
‘I cannot like it,’ she said lamely.
One corner of his mouth turned up in an ironic smile. ‘I cannot like it either, but we must do it for Linette’s future.’
Did he mean this, or was he saying it because he knew she would do anything for Linette’s sake? Her child was more important than all the rest of it. Even more important than Devlin’s happiness, though it killed her to have to make that choice. She truly wanted to believe that Devlin cared so much for Linette, but men had said many things to her over the past years and she’d learned not to believe any of it.
‘Linette is my concern, not yours.’ She strode to the window and looked out.
He came behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I have told you before. You all are my responsibility. You. Linette. Sophie. Even Bart. What kind of man would I be if I did not see to your well-being? But I need the means to do so.’ He gently rubbed the tender skin of her neck with his thumbs. ‘My brother controls the money, so I must do as he says for the time being. It is the price of my independence and your survival.’
‘He is making you marry and you do not want to do so!’ she blurted out. ‘And the fault is all mine.’
He put his fingers to her lips to silence her. ‘I choose to do this. Ned does not make me. Just as I will not make you go to this dinner, though I want you to do so.’
With all her heart, she did not want to go. She did not belong in polite society, and she did not trust the top-lofty Marquess, even if he did show a soft spot for her daughter.
It was unfair of Devlin to ask her to do such an unsuitable thing. How would she endure it? Madeleine pursed her lips. She had managed more unendurable thin
gs. She could manage this.
‘Very well, I will attend your brother’s dinner. For Linette’s sake.’
‘That is also why I attend,’ he murmured, gazing into her eyes with a softened expression. ‘Madeleine,’ he whispered, his lips inches from hers. His fingers gently stroked her cheek.
The passion flared inside her, making her ache for him here in the middle of the day with the whole household up and busy. She had lost all claim to respectability with her wantonness. Worse, she had tied herself to him with her body.
He leaned closer. She felt his breath on her own mouth. She wanted him again, felt urgent for his kiss. She considered how to loosen his buckskin breeches.
Small steps pounded on the stairs. ‘Mama, Mama!’
Devlin took a step back, a rueful smile on his lips. ‘In here, Lady Lin.’
The Marchioness of Heronvale felt uncommonly nervous as she waited with her husband for the arrival of their dinner guests. She was anxious that her new guest approve of her, a silly worry. Since when did one concern oneself with the approval of a…such a woman?
Her husband’s plan filled her with excitement, but she was afraid to even think of that, so huge were the hopes that could be dashed. So she thought instead about how scandalous it was to invite to their respectable home a woman whose attachment to a man involved carnal matters. Serena put her fingers to her cheeks to conceal her blush. What would Devlin’s woman be like? What would be different about this woman that she could hold a man by bedding him? Serena felt almost unbearably wicked for pondering such things. What would Ned think of her if he knew?
Rarely did Ned require her to face the carnality of the marriage bed. When he did, all she managed to feel was anxiety that she would displease him. Displease him she always did, though he was too much of a gentleman to tell her so.
She wondered if Ned would look upon this mistress of Devlin’s in that sensual way she had often glimpsed at the opera, where young dandies eyed gaudily dressed women in the pits. It frightened her unbearably that Ned might do so, just as it frightened her to think he might have a mistress of his own. He gave her no signs of doing so, but how would she know?