by Bree Wolf
Elsbeth nodded, an apologetic look in her eyes. “His reasoning is sound.”
“I know!” Madeline snapped yet again before the muscles in her jaw tensed, and she forced a deep breath down her lungs. “I do not fault him. He only does what he thinks best for me, but….” Closing her eyes briefly, Madeline felt her anger flare up once more. “I blame him. I blame….” Her voice trailed off, and once more she groaned in annoyance. “I blame whatever-his-name-is!”
“How can you not know his name?” Elsbeth asked, a touch of incredulity in her kind eyes. “Even if you didn’t know it that night, your father surely must have mentioned it.”
Madeline rolled her eyes, huffing, “I’m certain he did, and I’m equally certain I was not listening at the time.”
“Well, here at least I can help.”
Turning a confused gaze to her friend, Madeline frowned. “What do you mean?”
Giving Madeline’s hand a gentle squeeze, Elsbeth said, “His name is Derek McKnight, Baron Ainsworth.”
Madeline groaned, “He’s only a baron?” This was far worse than she had expected. “Wait! How do you know this?” After all, Elsbeth had never been one to gossip. Quite on the contrary. “And why don’t I?”
Elsbeth shrugged. “Considering your rather popular attitude regarding your future husband, this development has spread through town like nothing I’ve ever seen. Everyone knows his name.”
Madeline’s shoulders slumped. Would this keep getting worse?
“I also asked Frederick if he had heard of him,” Elsbeth said, a gentle question in her voice as she watched Madeline expectantly.
Madeline sighed, uncertain if she truly wanted to know more about the man she was to marry. “And what did your husband say?”
“Well,” Elsbeth began, “as far as he knew Lord Ainsworth is a simple-born man, who returned rather gloriously from the war and was awarded the title of a baron.”
All blood left Madeline’s face as she listened to her friend. “He’s a commoner?” she asked, almost breathless.
“He was,” Elsbeth corrected, a touch of a challenge in her pale blue eyes. “He’s a baron now, remember?”
Burying her face in her hands, Madeline closed her eyes. “Instead of a countess, now I’ll be a lowly baroness. Barely even a peer. The wife of a butcher or farmer or−”
“A soldier,” Elsbeth corrected once again, a hint of a reproach in her voice now.
“As though there’s a difference!” Madeline snapped as she jerked up her head, staring at her friend. “Everything I’ve worked for my whole life is now lost. Thanks to that…that soldier!”
With brows drawn down, Elsbeth looked at her, almost imperceptibly shaking her head. “I have to admit I’m rather disappointed in you, Madeline. Before, I always thought of your insistence not to marry anyone below the rank of an earl as an eccentric peculiarity of yours, hoping that once the time came, you would allow your heart to sway you.” Now, shaking her head for certain, Elsbeth held her gaze. “How can you discount him for his own achievements? You don’t even know the kind of man he is. Allow me to remind you that you were the one to leave the ballroom unchaperoned.”
“But he followed me!” Madeline hissed stubbornly, hating how this made her feel like an insolent child.
“Did you ask him why?”
“I did!”
“And pray tell, what did he say?” Elsbeth demanded, her watchful eyes trained on Madeline’s face.
Opening her mouth, Madeline realised that she could not recall what he had said. Had he even replied at all? He had hardly said a word that night.
Unable to keep still any longer, Madeline surged to her feet, resuming her pacing with vigour. “I don’t remember,” she finally admitted in a small voice, unable to meet her friend’s gaze.
After a long moment of silence, Elsbeth rose to her feet, holding out her hand to Madeline. “Come, a little fresh air will do you good.”
Although tempted to refuse out of fear to be subjected to the stares and whispers of London society, one glance in Elsbeth’s determined eyes told Madeline that such an attempt would be futile. And so, she found herself strolling through Hyde Park not half an hour later, welcoming the sun’s warmth on her skin, her lungs filling with fresh air.
“Better?” Elsbeth asked, tightening her hold on Madeline’s arm.
Madeline shrugged. “A little. Unfortunately, this doesn’t change anything.”
“No, but−”
“Good day, Lady Elmridge, Lady Madeline.”
At the sound of his voice, goosebumps broke out all over Madeline’s body. Turning her head, she forced a breath of air down her lungs. “Good day, Lord Townsend,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as her eyes raked over his smiling face.
As always dressed fashionably, he cut a dashing figure as he looked down at her from his chestnut gelding. His blond hair, cut short to reveal an almond-shaped mole below his right ear, complemented his deep blue eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever he looked at her. “I heard congratulations are in order, Lady Madeline,” he said, a gentle smile on his face. And yet, Madeline thought to see the utter despair that rested in his blue eyes as he forced himself to look at her, to be civil, to hide what that night had done to him as well.
If only things could be different! If only he had been the one to come upon her! If only Lord Ainsworth had not thwarted her plans!
After a few polite words about her upcoming nuptials, the weather and other nonsense, Lord Townsend took his leave. Looking after him, Madeline felt her heart plummet to the ground and shatter into a million pieces as the future she so desired rode out of sight.
Chapter Four − A Wedding Day
Dimly, Derek recalled Tristan’s wedding day when his friend had stood in front of the tall mirror, staring at his own reflection with a disbelieving scowl on his face. Now, their roles were reversed, and Derek could not help but wonder if this was retribution for a sin he could not recall.
“You look quite handsome, my friend,” Tristan observed, a slight chuckle in his voice, as he regarded Derek with that ever-present smirk planted firmly on his features. “However, I do believe a wedding is a happy occasion. Do try to smile, will you?”
“I doubt she will,” Derek grumbled, unable to focus on anything else but his future wife’s angry glare. Again, and again, he saw it in his dreams or whenever he closed his eyes for even a bare second. It was burned into his memory, a bad omen for things to come.
“Not with you scowling at her,” Tristan snorted. “You are aware that this is not a battlefield, and she is not the enemy, are you not?”
Gritting his teeth, Derek did his best to fight the impulse to punch his friend in the face. “If only it were a battlefield and she the enemy,” Derek mumbled under his breath. “Then at least I would know how to….”
As his voice trailed off, he remembered the daze that had always befallen him when setting foot on a battlefield. In an instance, the world had fallen away. Everything ceased to matter. The only thing he saw was what was right in front of him. Then, he had acted on instinct alone, and it had served him well. With his feelings dulled and his thoughts muted, he had felt detached as though moving through a foggy dream. The horror of the battlefield had hardly touched him, protecting him from being swept away in a mindless fear that would have certainly cost him his life.
Now, he wished he could return to that numb detachment as the thoughts that had plagued him ever since Lord Kingsley’s ball were drilling into his soul, a little deeper every day. Nothing he did, no distraction he tried to conjure, could fight them off or lessen their intensity. And every moment, he found himself thinking of Lady Madeline; these thoughts seemed to be fuelled by a hidden source, receiving new vigour and determination to crush his soul.
Beside him, his friend sighed, all humour suddenly gone from his face. “If you meet her like this,” he began, compassion ringing in his voice, “you will frighten her.”
Derek felt a slight tu
g at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt that very much.” The very thought of Lady Madeline frightened was ludicrous. “She is not one to cower.”
“Maybe not openly,” his friend insisted. “However, that does not mean she is not scared. After everything that happened, she has every right to feel−”
“Trapped?” Derek demanded, slowly turning around to face his friend with a hard look in his eyes. “Ruined? Because I did what I thought was my right and ignored her wishes? Because I took advantage of her lack of distrust? Because I sought her out when she was vulnerable?”
As he watched him, Tristan’s brows drew down in thought. Then he inhaled, his gaze holding Derek’s. “You are not him.”
Derek scoffed, “I might as well be for all the good I did that night.”
“You did what you did out of concern and compassion,” Tristan insisted, his gaze unwavering. “What Townsend did he did only for himself, his own desires. You are nothing like him.”
Derek drew in a slow breath. Of course, he knew that his motivations differed from Townsend’s. However, he doubted that motivations mattered in the end. After all, a life ruined was still a life ruined, no matter what the motivations had been.
“Come,” Tristan said, clasping a hand on Derek’s shoulder for support. “It is time. You can still worry about this later, and knowing you, I’m certain you will.”
Rolling his eyes, Derek tried to ignore his friend. There were days he could barely tolerate the cheerfulness with which Tristan seemed to go through life. Days when he felt compelled to leave and never return. Back to a world that still made sense…at least to him.
When they entered the little church, Derek could barely hold back the groan that threatened to escape him. For although he himself felt most at ease in a small circle of friends, he doubted that Lady Madeline was afflicted by the same need for solitude. Quite on the contrary, he supposed. Would she not see the small number of guests as an insult to her and the man she had chosen? Or rather the man who had chosen for her? Was this not proof that they were ill-matched and that her future was now bleak at best?
If only he had not gone after her!
As he came to stand at the front by the altar, his friend by his side−to reassure him or keep him from running off, he did not know−Derek was momentarily taken aback when he felt a slight flutter in his heart. He swallowed then and took a deep breath, unable to extinguish the delicate smile that threatened to tug up the corners of his mouth at the thought of his future wife.
What finally did extinguish it was the look of unadulterated hatred on Lady Madeline’s face as she came walking down the aisle on her father’s arm.
Instantly, Derek’s heart plummeted to the ground.
***
When the doors opened to allow her into the small, insignificant-looking church, Madeline felt her anger rise once more. Her gaze swept over the handful of people in attendance, and she wondered why she should even be surprised. After all, she had not sent out any invitations, had she? No, indeed not. The wedding she had always imagined herself to have one day had been lost the moment she had been discovered in the presence of Baron Ainsworth.
Once, Madeline had been certain her wedding would be the most opulent event of the Season, talked about for the remainder of the year. But now, everything was different. Apart from her future husband’s closest friends, only her father and aunt as well as Elsbeth and her husband were present.
Indeed, it was a pitiful sight, and Madeline wished with all her heart that she could simply turn around and walk away.
No one would remember her wedding. How could they with no one present?
No one would talk about her.
Envy her.
Remember her.
Soon, she would be forgotten as the lowly wife of a baron.
A deep sense of failure washed over Madeline as she remembered all the advantages she would have had. How could her life have turned out this way? After all, most people had less and still achieved more. Considering her father’s title and reputation, her large dowry and alluring physical attributes, Madeline had never doubted that she would make a good match.
More than that.
A perfect match.
A match that would raise her to the heavens.
A match that would make her stand out among the ladies of the ton.
Now, all that was gone. Now, no one would remember her. See her. After all, what did she have to offer now that all the advantages that had been hers would be stripped from her the moment she spoke her vows? She would no longer be the daughter of an earl, but the wife of a baron. Her dowry would no longer be hers to offer but belong to her husband. Certainly, she was still beautiful, but what good would that do her now?
Unable to meet her future husband’s gaze, Madeline kept her own fixed on the floor, the far wall or even directed inward at something only she could see. She barely heard the priest’s mumblings, and only when the man cleared his throat loudly did she look up, belatedly realising that he expected her to answer.
And she did.
Despite the turmoil in her heart and soul, Madeline knew her duty. Had always known it. After all, there was no way for her to return to her former life. Even if she did not marry Lord Ainsworth, she could never be the old Madeline ever again. That part of her life was over.
And the rest of it might as well be for all the hopes she did not harbour in her chest.
That morning passed in a blur as though it held little meaning, and yet, it was as life-altering as anything Madeline had ever encountered. Like a ghost, she sat at the small table during their wedding breakfast, her only thought one of disbelief as she learnt that Baron Ainsworth did not even have a townhouse of his own. No indeed, the townhouse where they would spend their wedding night belonged to his friend, Viscount Elton.
Trapped in a nightmare, Madeline felt exhausted, her head too heavy to lift it, her arms dangling by her sides. Occasionally, her eyes closed, and for a short moment, she prayed that all had been a mistake and upon opening them again she would find that her life was still what it used to be.
Only it was not.
She did not wake.
Her nightmare was real.
Chapter Five − Duty & Desire
Madeline felt restless as was evident in the quick strides that carried her up and down the ornate rug draped over the parquet floor in her assigned bedchamber.
It was not even her own bedchamber, and it never would be. After all, they were merely guests here.
Running her fingers through her loose hair as it fell in black waves over her shoulders, Madeline felt her skin burn with untapped anger. All day, she had remained silent, done as asked, and ignored the feelings of utter desperation that threatened to choke the air from her lungs. Now, as the sun slowly began its descent, all restraints seemed to fall from her, releasing her anger in a wave of uncontrolled rage.
Never in her life had she felt helpless.
And it stung like nothing ever had.
Gritting her teeth, she snatched up the small vase sitting on the side table by her vanity and hurled it at the far wall, a cry of sheer frustration tearing from her lungs. As her heart hammered in her chest, Madeline stared at the small shards covering the floor, thinking the image utterly befitting her own state of mind.
“You seem upset,” a dry voice remarked from the door, and Madeline spun around to face it…or rather him.
After spending the better part of the day ignoring her husband, Madeline suddenly found herself utterly transfixed with him. Unable to even blink, she stared at the tall, dark-haired stranger who stood with his back to the closed door, his dark eyes calm as he watched her.
The last time they had looked at one another like this, the room had been dark, dimly lit only by the light of the moon streaming in through the window. He had been dressed mostly in black, and Madeline remembered that he had appeared like a shadow to her, an enigma, something one could not quite grasp. He had barely spoken, and yet, his gaze
had been watchful, intense in such a way that she could almost feel it trailing over her skin.
The memory sent a shiver down her back, and Madeline drew in a deep breath. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze, ignoring the silent authority that rolled off him in waves. If he thought she would cower before him, he was severely mistaken!
For a long time, they stood staring at one another before his gaze flitted to the ground and the cluster of shards across the room. “Is there anything you require?” he asked in a voice so calm it was quite unnerving.
Gritting her teeth to keep from laughing out loud at the absurdity of his question, Madeline merely scoffed, crossing her arms before her in a defiant gesture. “Your question, my lord, comes much too late,” she hissed, watching the muscles in his jaw tense at the hostility in her voice. Had he truly expected her to be civil?
Even though a scandal often resulted in a marriage, Madeline could not help but feel cheated. After all, she had not entered a scandalous moment willingly with a man of her choosing, risking everything because she felt the need to be alone with him. No, that was not what had happened.
For his own selfish reasons, Lord Ainsworth had been the one to seek her out. They had not even been acquainted, had not even exchanged a single word before her hopes had come crashing down around her. He had not asked for her hand. He had merely allowed life to run its course after setting them both up for a marriage neither one of them wanted.
After all, all he wanted was her dowry.
And possibly her father’s influence.
“I ask nonetheless,” he spoke, jarring her from her thoughts. “Is there anything you require?” His dark eyes held hers, and to her utter surprise, Madeline thought to see a touch of honest concern in them.
As though unable to sustain itself any longer, her anger dissipated, and her breathing hitched as she felt herself respond to the intensity in his gaze. She felt almost naked under his scrutiny as his eyes travelled over her face as though seeking to understand her. No one had ever looked at her quite like that. It was as though he truly wished to see her, her in all her flawed glory, and not the woman she portrayed to the world.