by Bree Wolf
Madeline was utterly flabbergasted. Who was this man?
Then he opened his mouth, and his voice was almost gentle as he spoke. “I followed you tonight because−”
Madeline sucked in a sharp breath. “You followed me? Why?” Again, panic seized her as she remembered all those many moments gentlemen had tried to catch her alone to compromise her, to trap her into marriage, to take the choice out of her hands.
Always had she seen them coming, seen their intentions and thwarted their plans.
Often, she had prided herself on her ability to read people, to know what they thought.
Only this man was different.
She had not seen him coming.
She could not even recall laying eyes on him.
It was as though he had appeared out of thin air.
“What is going on here?”
At the sound of her aunt’s voice, Madeline jerked her head toward the door, which now stood wide open, revealing a bunch of old matrons staring in, their eyes widened in shock as they took in the scene.
Speechless, Madeline briefly closed her eyes, groaning inwardly as she knew exactly what they thought, what they thought they knew was happening, what she had done.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Madeline glanced at the man beside her, his face stoic as though nothing could surprise him, as though the consequences of their actions did not concern him in the least. Madeline, however, felt as though the hangman had just knocked out the stool from under her, her feet dangling in the air as the rope cut into her neck, closing off her lungs.
“Aunt Odelia,” she began, forcing an innocent smile onto her face as she approached the circle of women, “I assure you nothing untoward is going on here. This gentleman merely lost his way, and I…” On their faces, she could see the same disbelief she felt in her heart, knowing only too well that her words were a lie.
Her aunt’s quick eyes slid over her face, searching, wondering, before shifting to her partner in crime. Her gaze narrowed as she regarded him for a long moment. All the while, the ladies in her back whispered to one another, their eager eyes enthralled as they watched the drama unfold.
“Lady Otwell,” her aunt intoned without lifting her gaze off the stranger, “would you be so kind as to fetch my brother?”
“No,” Madeline gasped, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it herself, as she watched Lady Otwell turn on her heels without a moment’s hesitation and dart off in the direction of the ballroom. “Aunt Odelia, you cannot−”
“Save your breath, my dear,” her aunt interrupted, the look in her eyes determined. “That is for your father to decide.”
Unable to face the disapproving looks of her aunt’s little circle any longer, Madeline averted her eyes and glanced up at the tall stranger beside her. Would he not say anything? Of course, he would not. After all, this was exactly the outcome he had hoped for.
And yet, when she looked at his face, Madeline could see neither triumph nor satisfaction. Instead, the dark light in his gaze had dimmed and his eyes narrowed as his thoughts seemed to be directed inward. He inhaled slowly, and his lips thinned, but not with anger. If Madeline was not thoroughly mistaken, there was a trace of guilt in the way he clenched his jaw and straightened his shoulders as though the implications of their situation had never occurred to him before this very moment.
“What is going on?” her father’s voice cut through the hushed silence, his words echoing her aunt’s from only a few moments earlier. Then he stepped into the room, and his eyes immediately sought hers before they narrowed as he took notice of the silent man by her side.
“Father, I can explain,” Madeline began, wringing her hands, praying that her father would allow her to do so. “This is all a terrible misunderstanding.” Was it? She wondered. How on earth was she to explain something she could not even understand herself?
However, her father was unwilling to even grant her that small mercy. Shaking his head, he stepped toward her, his big, warm hands engulfing her own chilled ones. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he whispered, honest regret in his eyes as they held hers. “You’ve done it now.” His gaze shifted to the side, indicating the cluster of women behind him, listening intently. “There’s no way to contain this. You would be ruined.” Again, he shook his head. “I love you too much to allow this to happen.”
“Father,” Madeline pleaded, her eyes misting with tears as her carefully structured world began to crumble around her. “Please.”
He inhaled deeply, and his mouth tugged up into a tentative smile. “Maybe this will be good for you,” he spoke, his voice still hushed, only meant for her. “You’ve never been able to make up your mind, never given your heart to one of the many gentlemen who sought your attention, your affection. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.” He glanced at the still silent stranger, standing like a stone pillar behind her. “Maybe this will give your life a new purpose. Maybe this will make you happy.”
Closing her eyes, Madeline sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from crying out in desperation. As her father ushered her aunt’s circle of friends out the door, stating in no uncertain terms that a wedding would follow swiftly, Madeline spun around to face the man who had ruined her life.
Shifting his gaze from the far wall, he met her eyes, his own calm and collected, and yet, she could see a storm brewing underneath. She wanted to lash out at him, strike him, rake her nails across his face, anything to shatter that calm exterior of his. She wanted him to know that he had ruined her life and that she would never forgive him.
He would be her husband, and she would hate him for it.
Hate him with a passion he had never encountered.
However, before she could say a word, her father stuck his head in, his gaze focused on the man who had not uttered a single word during all of this. “My lord, may I have a word?” he asked, his voice respectful and kind as though he held no grudge, no bitterness or animosity toward the man who had ruined his daughter’s chances in life.
Madeline inhaled a calming breath. Knowing her father, he probably did not.
But that did not mean she could not.
And she would.
If it was the last thing she did.
Chapter Three − One Night's Consequences
As he could not afford a townhouse of his own, Derek always resided with his friend Tristan whenever he was in town. Although taking charity rubbed Derek the wrong way, Tristan had never once treated him as someone inferior. His friend was one of only a handful of people he knew who cared very little for title and reputation, and Derek had never had any reason to doubt the honesty of his words or the truth of his loyalty. Had Tristan not married a woman far beneath him on the social ladder?
Standing beside the happily-married couple as they waved their goodbye to the Marquis and Marchioness of Rodridge, Derek swallowed, knowing he would have to reveal to his friend the trouble he had gotten himself into. He could not remember ever having done so before. After all, was not Tristan the impulsive dreamer and he the level-headed pragmatist? Suddenly, their roles were reversed, and Derek had no doubt that Tristan would enjoy this most thoroughly.
“Oh, I will miss them,” Beth sighed as the carriage turned the corner and was lost from sight. “Strangely enough, I feel as though I’ve known them forever.”
Pulling her into his arms, Tristan brushed a kiss on her cheek. “We will see them again soon,” he reminded her. “After all, Christmas is just around the corner.”
Beth laughed, slapping his shoulder good-naturedly. “Do not poke fun at me, my lord, for you might not live to regret it.”
With his hands linked behind his back, Derek stood to the side, waiting patiently for an opportunity to catch Tristan’s attention. Even though he dreaded this conversation, he could no longer put it off.
However, as always, his friend was oblivious to such subtle signs. In the end, it was Beth who noticed the strain on Derek’s face, her knowing eyes sliding over his tense shoulders b
efore she turned to her husband. “I shall be in the library,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “A little peace and quiet will be wonderful after these rather turbulent days.”
Listening to the receding sound of her footsteps as she walked away, Derek inhaled a deep breath before he spoke. “Do you have a moment?”
Turning around once his wife was lost from sight, Tristan smiled at him. “Certainly.” Then his gaze narrowed. “Is something wrong? You seem quieter than usual…if that is at all possible.” Laughing at his own joke, he stepped up to Derek, his gaze open, awaiting a response.
“I’d appreciate it if we could take this into your study,” Derek forced out through gritted teeth. Strangely enough, he felt like a little boy about to confess a misdeed to his father.
And he did not care for it in the least.
Noting the tension on his friend’s face, Tristan sobered, then nodded and led the way to his study. After closing the door behind Derek, he poured them both a drink, holding out one glass to his friend. “Here, you look like you could use it.”
“You know I do not indulge.”
Rolling his eyes, Tristan set the glass down. “It’s only one drink. I was not suggesting you drain the whole bottle.”
Derek cleared his throat, unable to see the humour in his friend’s words.
“Fine,” Tristan said with a deep sigh, setting down his own glass as well. “What did you want to talk about?”
Derek drew in a deep breath as a strange sense of detachment washed over him. After all, this could not possibly be true. This could not be the reality he lived in. And yet, for the past few days, he had awoken every morning, realising that he was wrong as time refused to wash away the truth of what had happened.
And still, he could not believe it was real.
“Would you tell me what’s going on?” Tristan snapped, his gaze narrowed as he watched Derek closely. “You look as though someone’s died. What has happened?”
Swallowing, Derek opened his mouth. There was no point in delaying the inevitable any further. “It would seem I am to be married.”
As expected, Tristan’s jaw dropped open and his eyes widened in utter astonishment as though they wished to spring out of their sockets. “Say again,” he mumbled after a while, still not blinking.
“You heard me.”
Suddenly, a face-splitting grin stretched over Tristan’s face, and he clapped his hands together in delight. “It’s about time,” he exclaimed. “Congratulations, my friend! Who is the lucky lady?”
Feeling his muscles tense, Derek swallowed. “Lady Madeline.”
If Tristan’s face had held stunned surprise before, it now almost fell apart in utter shock as he gawked at Derek for the better part of a minute. Then he blinked; a slow smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. “Lady Madeline? Lord Carlton’s daughter?” Derek nodded. “How did you manage that?”
Still embarrassed by his own lack of foresight, Derek related the events at Lord Kingsley’s ball, and with each word, Tristan’s grin grew wider. “Was it your intention to compromise her?”
Derek’s glare hardened. “I had hoped you knew me better than to ask that.”
“I apologise.” Shaking his head at him, Tristan sighed. “I assure you I never meant to call your honour into question.” An apologetic grin came to his face. “However, I must admit I find your story quite entertaining.”
“I assure you you’re the only one who thinks so,” Derek grumbled, remembering only too vividly the hateful glare in Lady Madeline’s eyes. How could he ever marry her?
“I take it the lady is not taken with the idea of your impending nuptials?”
Derek exhaled loudly. “I believe it is certain to say that she despises me.”
Stepping forward, Tristan clasped a hand onto Derek’s shoulder. “I admit there are better ways to start a marriage,” Derek rolled his eyes, “but there is still hope. Remember that my own marriage started in a similar fashion and look at me now. I never thought I’d ever be this happy.”
Derek shook his head. “As far as I remember your wife never hated you on sight,” he grumbled, feeling a sense of hopelessness engulf him. “Quite on the contrary, you were both taken with each other from the first moment your eyes met.”
Tristan shrugged, then sighed a bit exasperatedly. “What do you expect, Derek? She was taken aback. After all, she does not know what kind of man Townsend is. No one does. And you didn’t tell her, did you? You didn’t tell her why you came after her?”
Holding his friend’s accusing gaze, Derek straightened his shoulders. “We were discovered before I could.”
“Then you can hardly expect her to be grateful to you for that night’s developments,” Tristan continued, his mind working far too rationally for Derek’s liking. “After all, you know how focused she has always been on becoming at least a countess upon marriage. Naturally, she feels cheated.”
“Thank you,” Derek mumbled, a sarcastic tone to his voice, as he wondered whatever had possessed him to take Tristan into his confidence. “I do appreciate your support.”
“I’m not finished,” Tristan chided. “All I meant to say was that marriage does not always start with great love, but that doesn’t mean it cannot develop over time.”
Rolling his eyes, Derek turned away. “Maybe for you,” he snapped, feeling guilt rise in his chest as he remembered his thoughtless behaviour. “However, what I did forced her hand. She has no choice now but to marry me to protect her reputation.” He exhaled loudly. “I’ve sentenced her to a life by my side. A life as a baroness. A life she never wanted. I’m certain she will hate me for it, and I cannot even hold it against her.”
Stepping forward, his gaze as serious as Derek had ever seen it, Tristan met his eyes. “Listen to me. I know that you see the world differently than I do, but I am telling you now that there is hope. You’re a good man, and in time, she will come to see that she couldn’t have chosen a better husband herself. Have faith.”
Faith? Staring at his friend, Derek could barely keep himself from shaking his head. Faith? No, the world simply did not work like that. Nothing came together on its own. Everything he had achieved, he had worked for and paid for, shaping his world as best as he could, fitting it to his own expectations, his own demands.
This had certainly not been part of his plan. If he ever would have married, Derek could not say in that moment. However, if so, he felt convinced he would have chosen a woman who could relate to the life they would have had, who had similar expectations, who needed no incentive to marry him.
A woman who wanted him.
And even though he knew almost nothing about Lady Madeline, Derek knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she did not want him.
Had there ever been a couple more ill-matched than them?
If he could cry off without ruining her reputation…and her life, Derek knew he would not hesitate to do so.
And yet, somewhere deep inside a voice whispered that if he did so, he would come to regret it.
For the rest of his life.
***
After spending the morning pacing her bedchamber, unwilling to meet anyone and see the pity in their eyes at her misfortune, Madeline now almost raced downstairs, willing herself not to trip over her own feet. That indeed would have been the crowning moment to the farce that had become her life!
As she approached, the footmen hurried to open the doors, and she rushed into the drawing room without a single thought for decorum. “My dear Elsbeth, how glad I am to see you!” she exclaimed, almost throwing herself into her friend’s arms.
“Oh!” Slightly taken aback, Elsbeth Lancaster, Marchioness of Elmridge, slightly swayed on her feet before she gently wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders. “I heard the good news,” she mumbled into Madeline’s hair, “and came to offer my congratulations.” Then she stepped back, and her pale blue eyes searched Madeline’s face. “You don’t look happy,” she observed, a touch of confusion in her voice
. “What happened? I was so delighted when I heard you had finally chosen a husband. Admittedly, I felt a bit irked when you didn’t inform me yourself but−”
Madeline rolled her eyes. “Chosen?” she snapped, instantly regretting the harshness of her tone when she saw her friend flinch. “I assure you I did not choose. I would never have chosen…” Groaning, she shook her head, staring at Elsbeth with wide eyes. “I don’t even know his name!”
“What?” Elsbeth’s eyes widened in utter shock.
Madeline snorted. “Isn’t it ironic how after all my careful planning I am now betrothed to a man I don’t even know?”
Grabbing Madeline’s hand, Elsbeth pulled her down onto the settee. “Tell me what happened. I thought you’d finally fallen in love. How can you be betrothed to a man you don’t know?”
“He compromised me!” Madeline almost yelled as her heart hammered in her chest.
For the past few days, she had done her utmost to ignore the unexpected and highly undesirable turn her life had taken. Upon awakening each morning, there had been a moment−utterly too short−when the truth of those recent developments had still been absent from her mind and she had found herself smiling. However, within seconds, reality had come rushing back, and she had groaned into her pillows at the thought of marrying…a no one.
After all, this was the definition of utter failure, was it not?
In today’s world, there were many things women could not do to distinguish themselves. The one thing they could do, though, was marry a high achieving gentleman and share his title, his fortune and his standing in society. However, despite all her assets, Madeline had failed.
Utterly.
Completely.
Devastatingly.
“He compromised you?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Madeline did her best to calm her rattled nerves as she related the events at Lord Kingsley’s ball. “Father insists that I marry him as he fears my reputation would be undeniably ruined.”