Deceived & Honoured--The Baron's Vexing Wife (#7 Love's Second Chance Series)

by Bree Wolf

  Swallowing, she held his gaze. “Do you truly believe that?”

  Derek nodded. “The fact that you care about what they think proves that. You care,” he enunciated. “People who care are not without feeling, without compassion. However, that does not mean that we are all equally able to endear ourselves to others. Believe me, I myself am a rather reticent man.”

  A warm smile lit up her face. “You’ve said quite a lot tonight,” she observed, the tone in her voice teasing.

  “It was an unusual night,” Derek replied, reluctant to release her hands, but knowing he ought to. “Get some sleep. You must be exhausted.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, allowing her hands to slip from his. And yet, Derek thought to see a touch of regret in those dark green eyes.

  “Good night.” Turning to the door, Derek felt himself breathe easier than ever before, and he realised how much the strained relationship to his wife had bothered him. He could only hope that the future would see them happier.

  “Wait!”

  Stopping with his hand on the door handle, Derek looked over his shoulder, his heart tightening as he saw renewed tension on his wife’s face.

  “What should I do?” she asked as she strode toward him, wringing her hands. “I don’t know how to prove them wrong. I don’t know−”

  “Meet them with an open mind,” Derek said, nodding to her encouragingly, wondering if he ought to make more specific suggestions. However, judging from the distraught look on her face, he thought she might be grateful for every bit of advice he could offer and not see it as criticism or even an insult. “Maybe you should start by dressing more…comfortably.” For a moment, Derek held his breath, knowing that ladies of the ton were very particular when it came to their wardrobe.

  However, his wife nodded eagerly. “I’ve thought of that, too. Maybe Kara can help me.”

  “I’m certain she would be delighted to,” Derek replied, his gaze seeking hers. “Everybody likes to be of help.”

  As understanding found her, her eyes lit up and she nodded.

  “Why did you bring me lunch today?”

  Holding his gaze, she swallowed as though embarrassed to reveal the truth. “Because I wanted to help, and I couldn’t think of anything else.”

  Derek smiled. “Then let them see it, too. Once they do, they will be more open to seeing the person you are and not the person they believe you to be.”

  For a moment, her brows drew down in confusion before they suddenly shot up, and he could see that she had understood him.

  “Good night, Madeline,” he whispered, turning back to the door. For a reason, he could not name, he had felt compelled to use her name, to feel it on his tongue and hear it spoken out loud. Maybe this shared moment had truly brought them closer, and using her given name was merely an expression of how it had made him feel.

  How indeed?

  He could not say.

  And yet, his heart felt lighter, warmer and full of excitement for the days ahead.

  As he closed the door behind him, he heard the faint sound of her voice, whispering, “Good night…Derek,” and for a moment after he had stepped out into the hall, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard wood of the closed door, wishing with all his being that his eyes and his heart had not deceived him.

  That she had come to care for her life at Huntington House.

  For his family.

  For him.

  Chapter Twenty-One − A Night in the Stables

  “Madeline, get up!”

  Rolling over in her bed, Madeline tried to ignore the rather insistent voice whispering into her ear. Her limbs still felt heavy, and sleep clung to every fibre of her being.

  “Madeline, get up!”

  This time Madeline recognised the voice as her husband’s, and her senses immediately flared into wakefulness at the thought of him in her bedroom. Surging up from the comfort of her pillow, Madeline pulled the blanket tightly around her, wondering if she had overslept again. However, as she glanced toward the window, she could not detect a single ray of dim daylight. “What’s going on?” she croaked, her voice heavy with sleep as she turned to see her husband standing by her bed. “Why did you wake me?”

  A sense of urgency rested on his features as he tossed a ball of clothes at her. “Put these on,” he instructed before he leaned down and set on old pair of worn boots by the side of her bed. “These are Kara’s. I hope they fit.”

  “What? Why?” Brushing the sleep from her eyes, Madeline gawked at him.

  “I need your help,” was all he said as he strode to the door. “Meet me in the stables as soon as you can.” And then he was gone, his thundering footsteps echoing down the stairs.

  I need your help.

  Those words echoed in Madeline’s sleep-deprived mind and finally managed to lift the veil of detachedness that usually clung to her after waking too early. Pulling apart the ball of clothes he had tossed at her, she found they were a worn, old shirt as well as a pair of breeches. Frowning, Madeline stared at them before she remembered that she needed to hurry.

  Why? She could not say. However, the urgent and somewhat tense look on her husband’s face remained with her as she slipped into the unfamiliar clothes. Never had she worn a man’s breeches before, and she had to tie a string around her waist to hold them up. Pulling on Kara’s boots, Madeline sighed in relief when her feet settled comfortably into the worn leather.

  I need your help.

  No one had ever needed her help before. At least not in the way her husband had spoken. Whatever was going on, it had him deeply concerned, and Madeline did not know if she ought to feel flattered that he would ask for her help before anyone else’s or feel terrified at the thought of disappointing him, of letting him down when he truly needed her.

  Rushing down the stairs, Madeline did her best to keep her thundering pulse under control. It would serve no one if she fainted now. Although she had never fainted in her life, it was something attributed to ladies of the ton. Something accepted. Something natural, like adding sugar to one’s tea.

  Shaking her head, Madeline wondered how such an expectation had ever developed. Why were ladies seen as so weak that they would faint at the sight of blood or distress or excitement? Why was it that they did not object to being seen like that?

  As the cold night air hit her, Madeline wrapped her arms around herself and pushed onward. The wind pulled on her, making every step a struggle as she headed toward the stable, a dim light glowing within.

  Pulling open the door, she slipped inside, sighing at the warmth that engulfed her, and quickly pulled the door back closed. As her gaze shifted around her surroundings, she took note of the different animals all settled into one outbuilding as there were not enough of them to warrant maintaining more. The smell of hay drifted to her nose as she made her way down the aisle, her gaze gliding over a fat pig resting in the straw, a bunch of piglets at her side.

  “Madeline! Over here!”

  At her husband’s voice, Madeline hurried to the back of the small stable where the farm horse Milly had her home.

  Snuggled into the last box, Milly had often greeted her and Collin when the boy had dragged her to the stables yet another time, drawn to the chestnut mare with the kind, dark eyes. Madeline had to admit that the young horse had grown on her over time. She was nothing compared to the fine steeds Madeline used to ride through Hyde Park or out on her father’s country estate, but there was a spirit in Milly that demanded respect. After all, she lived a hard life…and she did it well.

  As the door to Milly’s box was open, Madeline rushed inside…and stopped short.

  With her head bent, Milly stood by the far wall, her legs trembling, as Derek gently brushed a hand over her heaving flanks, whispering words of comfort.

  Although Madeline had never witnessed a foal coming into the world, she would have had to be a dimwit to not see the signs that the mare was in trouble. Something was wrong. Something was not going as it ou
ght to.

  Milly was in danger.

  As was her foal.

  Swallowing, Madeline stepped forward, her gaze drifting from the suffering mare to her husband, his brows drawn down in concern as he turned to her. “You’re here. Good.”

  Madeline drew in a shaky breath as a cold lump settled in her stomach and her fingers grew chilled with dread. Why had he called her out of bed? What could she possibly contribute that he could not?

  “The foal is stuck,” Derek explained, his hand running along Milly’s back as he stepped up to her tail, which kept swishing from side to side. “She needs our help.” His gaze shifted to Madeline’s, the look in his eyes saying more than a thousand words as he tried to gauge her reaction. “She needs your help.”

  With wide eyes, Madeline stared at him before a frown drew down her brows. “What? Why? How? I mean…” Trailing off, Madeline tried to focus her thoughts. Although she could not say in what way she could possibly be of help, the look in her husband’s eyes told her that she would not like it…and that he feared she would refuse him.

  Holding his gaze, Madeline swallowed, her hands balling into the fabric of her loose-fitting breeches. “What do you want me to do?”

  Derek inhaled a slow breath. “For some reason, Milly is not strong enough to push the foal out. I need you to reach inside and pull out the front legs.” He nodded to her when her eyes grew as round as plates. “Then I will help you pull it out.”

  Shaking her head, Madeline took a step backward. “W-why can’t you do it?”

  “I’ve tried,” her husband replied, failure and guilt written all over his face…as well as a sense of helplessness that chilled Madeline to her bones. “My hands and arms are not small enough to reach the foal.”

  Although Madeline felt a deep desire to help Milly, to help her husband and wipe that look off his face, fear chilled her veins. “I-I c-can’t,” she stammered, backing away another step. Never had another’s life rested in her hands, and she was terrified that she would not be able to do what needed to be done, that she would let everyone down.

  Milly.

  Her husband.

  Herself.

  If she did not try, she could not fail, could she?

  It was a twisted logic, and yet, Madeline clung to it. Her husband had been right about what he had said to her earlier that night. Never had anyone depended on her. Never had she been asked to fight. Never had she needed to face down her fear.

  Never had she been given the opportunity to fail…

  …and have the consequences be beyond social repercussions.

  Stepping away from the mare, her husband came toward her, his long legs carrying him over in two strides. His gaze held hers as he grasped her chilled hands, warming them with his own. “Yes, you can,” he said, conviction in his voice as his dark eyes drilled into hers. “She will die if you don’t. They will both die if you don’t.”

  Madeline swallowed, angry with her husband for putting such a burden on her shoulders, and yet, strangely proud that suddenly she was the one who was needed, who could help, who could turn this around.

  Only Madeline was not sure if she could be the person her husband thought her to be, and once again, failure loomed over her.

  “This is the moment of truth,” Derek continued as his fingers rubbed hers, bringing them back to life. “Challenges are never easy, or they wouldn’t be challenges. Strength is not the absence of fear,” his gaze was imploring as it held hers, “but bravery in the face of it.”

  Gritting her teeth, Madeline closed her eyes, unable to bear her husband’s imploring gaze any longer and wishing herself far, far away…

  …until a soft nicker reached her ears, and she opened her eyes and turned her head toward it.

  In the box across from Milly’s stood Arion, Derek’s trusted gelding. Leaning forward, he stretched his massive neck, kind eyes resting on the small mare as he nickered softly, the sound soothing and comforting.

  The ghost of a smile flickered over Madeline’s face as a sense of loyalty and support engulfed her, and she knew that she could not refuse her husband no matter what he demanded of her. Tonight, they all stood together, and they would all fight for Milly’s life in whichever way they could.

  Blinking back the tears that had appeared as though out of nowhere, Madeline turned back to her husband, her gaze briefly brushing over his hands wrapped around hers. “I will try,” she promised him as much as herself.

  A deep smile came to Derek’s face and his eyes lit up as his hands gently squeezed hers. “I knew you would. Thank you.” Holding on to her right hand, he pulled her toward the shivering mare.

  “Hello, Milly,” Madeline whispered, brushing a hand down the mare’s neck as the horse turned to look at her. Warm eyes found hers, and yet, Madeline could clearly see pain and suffering in them, which the mare bore with such strength that Madeline felt humbled. “I shall do what I can,” she promised the young mare and then stepped back to the horse’s rump.

  Allowing her husband to guide her hands, Madeline leaned into him, listening to his whispered words as he spoke softly into her ear. His warmth engulfed her, keeping her grounded, keeping her safe.

  Whenever a contraction took Milly, Madeline gritted her teeth, feeling the horse’s powerful muscles squeeze her arm as though it were made of pudding. Her whole body tensed, and her hand searching for the foal’s little hooves stilled.

  “Are you all right?” Derek’s concerned voice reached her ears as his warm breath brushed over her skin, his arms still holding her steady.

  When the contraction subsided, Madeline nodded. “I’m fine.” Then she closed her eyes and began her search anew, feeling somewhere deep down that there was not much time. Milly was growing weaker. The foal needed to be born.

  Now.

  Feeling around for the foal’s small hooves, Madeline felt as though her arm was a lifeline, reaching out, offering safety to someone in danger of drowning.

  If only she could reach the little foal. Maybe her arms were not long enough. “I can’t feel it,” she gasped as tears streamed down her face and desperation clawed at her heart. What if she could not do it?

  “Take a deep breath,” her husband whispered in her ear, one arm wrapped around her middle while the other rested on her shoulder, willing her trembling muscles to still. “Don’t think about what you fear will happen. Only think about what you need to do. Push everything else away.”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Madeline slowly moved her arm when her fingers unexpectedly brushed over something hard. “There!” she exclaimed, and her eyes flew open. “I think I have something.”

  “Good! See if you can grasp it,” her husband instructed, hope clear and bright in his voice.

  As her fingers brushed over the small hoof, feeling its rounded shape and reaching up to touch the thin leg, Madeline felt her heart soar. “It’s a hoof! I found one!”

  “The other should be right next to it. Can you feel it?”

  Reluctant to relinquish her hold on the little hoof, Madeline splayed her fingers, trying to feel for the other. Just as disappointment began to claim her heart, her little finger brushed against the other hoof. “There!” Holding on to the first leg, Madeline moved her arm until she could grasp both legs with her hand.

  “Do you have them?”

  Madeline nodded as her fingers tightened.

  “Then pull,” her husband instructed. “Pull with everything you have. This won’t be easy.”

  Setting her feet against the ground, Madeline leaned back, feeling her husband’s hands on her shoulders, and pulled the foal’s legs forward with all her strength.

  Still, they hardly moved.

  Another contraction clawed at Milly, and Madeline tried to relax her muscles until the onslaught on her arm ceased. Then she gritted her teeth and once more pulled with all she had, feeling the little legs follow slowly…ever so slowly. She pulled and pulled until she had to stop yet again, waiting out another contracti
on. However, by then, her arm was almost free, the little hooves just outside her husband’s reach. If she pulled them a little farther, he would be able to help.

  “Do you have a firm grasp on them?” Derek asked, positioning his hands on Madeline’s upper body.

  Madeline nodded, tightening her grip. This time when she pulled, her feet digging into the ground, her husband pulled with her. Although he could not quite grasp the horse’s hooves yet, he did what he could to help her pull them free.

  “There!” As the foal’s front hooves slipped out, the lower legs already visible, Madeline turned to look at her husband, a larger smile on her face than she had ever felt before.

  “You did well!” he beamed at her, joy marking his features in a very becoming way. “Now, we do it together.”

  Waiting for the next contraction, they pulled on the foal’s legs with all their might, feeling it slide forward until the little nose poked out. Two more contractions later, Milly’s little foal rushed out in a gush of blood and fluid.

  For a split second, Madeline found herself wondering if she would faint now, but then a deep smile came to her face as she realised that she was no longer the woman she had thought herself to be. She was not weak. If anything, tonight had taught her how strong she could be…if someone believed in her. She may not be the woman her husband needed by his side yet, but now Madeline knew that she could be…one day.

  Watching Derek tend to Milly and her little foal as it tried to stand on shaky legs, Madeline felt truly and utterly at peace for the first time in…forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Two − Temptation

  As soon as Milly and her new, little filly were settled comfortably in a dry box, Derek turned to his wife. The shirt and breeches he had given her were drenched in fluid and blood, her hair was in complete disarray, her face flushed, sweat and tears making it glisten in the dim light of the stable, and her arm was beginning to show the bruises that would taint her fair skin for at least a week. She was a ghastly sight!