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

by Bree Wolf

  Not knowing what to make of her sister-in-law’s story, Madeline nodded. “I would like that very much.” Although she was delighted with the opportunity to repay the family for all their help, Madeline could not shake the feeling that there was more to Kara’s story than her mother-in-law had said. Obviously, Kara’s prince charming had not turned out to be a duke, but a valet instead. How had Kara and Sean met? Madeline wondered, realising that she knew very little about her new sister-in-law.

  And yet, as she glanced at Bessy, her eyes distant as she gazed out the window, Madeline was certain that her mother-in-law would not say another word. If she wanted to know, she would have to ask Kara. But would her new sister-in-law confide in her? Would she share something so deeply personal?

  After spending the next few hours working in the kitchen under Bessy’s wise tutelage, Madeline finally filled yet another basket with bread, fruit and a few jam tarts that she had barely finished before heading out. Still warm, she had wrapped them in a towel, her fingers trembling with nervous excitement. Were they any good? Or had she done something wrong?

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Bessy called after her as she strode out into the cold. “Ye did well.”

  With another woollen skirt borrowed from Kara, Madeline strode through the tall grass toward the cottage still under repairs. From afar, she once again heard hammering and workers calling to each other.

  A part of Madeline dreaded every step she took as she remembered only too clearly how she had been received the last time. However, pride and no small amount of determination would not allow her to give up. Reminding herself to keep an open mind and allow her husband’s tenants to see that she wanted to get to know them, Madeline put on a brave smile as she approached the work site.

  At first, no one noticed her. However, when one man bent down to reach for a tool another was handing up to him, he caught sight of her…and his gaze instantly narrowed. Immediately, the other man turned his head to her as well. Before long, everyone was staring at her.

  Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, Madeline wanted nothing more but to bolt. Her legs quivered, and the basket on her arm felt heavier than before. In answer, her muscles began to ache with more intensity until she felt as though she could not hold up the basket a moment longer.

  “I did not expect to see you here today.”

  A wave of relief and utter joy washed over Madeline at the sound of her husband’s voice. Turning toward him as he came striding through the grass, she smiled, meeting him halfway, her muscles strained to the point of breaking.

  A large smile rested on his face. However, as he took in the way she favoured her arm, it vanished, and he immediately took the basket from her. “How is your arm?”

  “Still sore.” Wiggling her fingers carefully, Madeline sighed when she felt her muscles relax after the strain she had forced on them once more. “I’m sorry I slept in this morning. I didn’t plan to,” she said carefully, surprised how much her husband’s opinion meant to her, and she did not want him to think her lazy or shying back from her duties.

  Instead of a disappointed scowl, her husband’s face showed a teasing smile though. “You may not have,” he replied, gesturing for her to follow him, “but I did.”

  Madeline’s eyes widened. “You did. Why? I remember vividly how you snapped at me the first morning I slept in. You seemed fairly disappointed.”

  The expression on his face sobered. “I apologise for my rude behaviour. I never should have spoken to you thus.” He stopped and took her left hand with his free one. “Today you deserved to sleep in after what you did last night.”

  Madeline returned his smile, only dimly aware of the many sets of eyes still fixed on them. “You were up all night as well,” she countered. “Did you sleep in?”

  Derek drew in a long breath. “That is different.”

  “Why?”

  Gritting his teeth, he grinned. “Did you come here to argue with me?” he teased before his gaze shifted to the basket in his hand. “Or did you come to bring me something to eat? This is heavy. How much do you think I can eat?”

  Madeline laughed, “No, I did not come here to argue, and, no, I did not come to bring you something to eat.” As a frown came to his face, Madeline chuckled. “I came to bring all of you something to eat.”

  For a long moment, her husband looked at her, a touch of reverence in his gaze that send feelings of warmth and contentment through Madeline. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he finally said, his gaze never leaving hers. Then he took a step closer and lifted his hand to her face.

  Madeline inhaled a deep breath, taken aback by the sudden contact.

  Skimming his thumb over her cheek, he smiled. “I assume you did some baking this morning.”

  “I did,” Madeline confirmed, amazed at the intensity of his gaze. “How do you know?”

  Her husband grinned. “You have flour on your cheek.”

  Madeline’s eyes flew open, and she immediately stepped back, rubbing her hands over her face as she felt her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “Oh, no, I must look hideous. I should leave. I−”

  Derek caught her arm and pulled her back when she tried to turn away. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, amusement in his eyes as he watched her. “Especially now.”

  “What?” Madeline stared at him, remembering the many faces turned toward them. “I look like a scarecrow.”

  “You do not,” her husband replied, enunciating every word, his tone holding a touch of outrage that she would think so. “You look more…approachable when you show your emotions like that. Do not hide them. Believe me,” he glanced at the tenants pretending to work on the cabin, “they will assist you in gaining their respect.”

  Madeline swallowed, hoping that her husband was right. “What shall I do now?” she whispered, forcing a deep breath down her lungs.

  Offering her his arm, her husband smiled. “Invite them to eat.”

  ***

  Enjoying the feel of her arm on his, Derek escorted his wife back to the small bench where they had had lunch the day before. Today, the day had already progressed further, and dark clouds were rising in the east that promised yet another downpour. Still, he could not bring himself to disappoint Madeline’s hopes, her efforts in preparing this meal and her courage in coming out here after the way their tenants had received her the day before.

  As they neared the group of people working on the cabin, Derek could feel her tense as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. A somewhat strained smile appeared on her face as she turned to the people secretly watching her. “Excuse me?” she began in a somewhat timid voice. Then she swallowed and cleared her throat, trying anew. “Excuse me? Would you all like to join us for a bite to eat?”

  As though his wife had spoken in a foreign tongue, his tenants lifted their heads, confusion resting in their eyes, as they stared at her, unsure how to reply.

  A tremor ran through Madeline as she clutched his arm, and Derek set the basket down on the bench, placing his freed hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he turned to his tenants. “Please, come and join us,” he intoned before lifting his hand and beckoning them forward. “Judging from the weight of this basket, there is enough in here for all of us.”

  A few chuckles drifted to their ears as one by one their tenants shook off their stunned paralysis and came forward.

  Pointing to the basket, Derek stepped back and watched with satisfaction as his wife pulled back the towel covering the food and began handing out small, jam-filled pastries to his tenants. “Here, try these,” she said, a bit of an apologetic smile on her face. “I’ve made them myself, but I’m not sure how they are as this was my first attempt at baking.”

  Mr. Thompson’s youngest son pushed himself up on his tiptoes and snatched the pastry from his father’s hand before he could object. Then the little rascal plopped it in his mouth, chewing noisily. As everyone stared at him, his eyes lit up as he stumbled toward Madeli
ne. “Can I have ‘nother one?” he asked, his mouth still full of food, crumbs tumbling from his lips as he spoke. “’Tis awfully good.”

  The strained silence that had hung over the small group before vanished in an instant as everyone broke out laughing. Mr. Thompson stepped forward and tousled his son’s hair. “Mind your manners, boy. Ye do not speak with a full mouth.”

  Madeline smiled, beaming at the child and then at the father as she reached inside the basket and retrieved another tart. Leaning down to the boy, who eyed the pastry with longing eyes, she held it out to him. “But promise me you will eat this slowly. I do not want your belly to ache because you gulped it down like a hungry wolf.”

  “I promise,” the boy said, his eyes glowing with pride as he carried his tasty possession away.

  After snatching an apple from his wife’s basket, Derek stood back and gave her room to interact with their tenants. Although he saw a certain apprehension on both sides, he could tell that the ice had been broken. By showing herself as insecure and vulnerable, Madeline had allowed these people a glance at her true self, helping them to break through the prejudice that had formed long before they had even met her.

  Now, there was a chance that they would come to see her as the wonderful woman he knew her to be.

  By the time everyone had received a tart and a piece of fruit, Madeline’s eyes were aglow with pleasure. Although her cheeks shone in a deep red whenever one of the tenants complimented her tarts, Derek could see the satisfaction that came from accomplishing something on one’s own instead of having it done by another. She continued to make her rounds, offering what was left in her basket, exchanging a few short words here and there. After a while, Mr. Thompson’s wife found her way to Madeline’s side, and before long, the two women were sitting on the bench, chatting excitedly.

  Then the wind picked up, and a low rumbling could be heard in the distance.

  Faces turned upward, and before long raindrops began to fall.

  “We should head home,” Mr. Thompson stated, instructing the men to put away the tools and secure the last beam which would hold the new roof. “Looks like ye will stay with us again tonight,” he added, looking at the tenant’s family who had hoped to return to their cabin that day.

  As the men packed up, Derek walked up to his wife. “We should leave,” he said, offering her his arm. “Good day, Mrs. Thompson.” Watching the little group break up and take off in different directions toward their homes, Derek guided Madeline down the small slope and toward Huntington House. “I reckon this was a success,” Derek stated as he glanced at his wife.

  Turning to look at him, she smiled as raindrops began rolling down her face. “It was wonderful,” she beamed, squinting her eyes against the strengthening rain. “I had no idea they were such wonderful people.”

  Derek laughed, enjoying himself despite the rain that began to soak through his clothes. Clutching her arm with his, he pulled her onward until the warm glow of Huntington House was visible on the horizon.

  “There,” his wife said, pointing ahead. “It’s not far now. If we hurry…,” her voice trailed off as she wiped a hand over her face. Looking down the length of her dress, she began to laugh when she found herself drenched from head to toe. Smiling, she turned to look at him. “There’s no point in hurrying, is there?” Then she released his arm and stood back, spreading her arms and raising her face to the sky. Twirling, she laughed as the rain ran down her face.

  Never had Derek seen her so at peace.

  So untroubled.

  So blissful.

  Taken with the sight of her−so beautiful, so liberated, so tempting−Derek found himself striding toward her, his arms aching to hold her, his lips tingling with the deep desire to taste hers.

  Barely two steps away from her, he froze as lightning split the sky in half, followed by a deafening roll of thunder.

  Madeline’s eyes snapped open, and she stopped in her tracks. “I guess we should hurry after all,” she called over the downpour, reaching for his arm.

  Holding her tight against him, Derek pulled her onward as they ran toward the house. Mud clung to their feet, weighing them down and hindering their progress as the darkening sky continued to pour buckets of water on their heads.

  When they finally reached the house, they burst through the kitchen door in a mess of water and mud, quickly shutting the door against the icy wind.

  “Now, don’t ye look like drowned cats?” his mother observed from her usual spot by the workbench. Then she turned her narrowed gaze to the muddy floor. “If ye don’t want to end up in tonight’s supper, ye better not take another step.”

  Looking down, then at each other, Derek and Madeline broke out laughing before taking off their boots and leaving them by the door.

  “My, my, ye seem to be in an awfully good mood for such bleary weather,” his mother chuckled, an amused twinkle in her eyes that Derek had not seen in a long time. She seemed happy. If only he knew what had put that look in her eyes. After all, they had just tracked mud onto her sacred kitchen floor. A grave transgression if his childhood was any indication!

  “Get yourself upstairs and out of those wet clothes,” his mother instructed as Madeline attempted to wring out her skirts into a bucket, which was only mildly successful. “Sean put more firewood into your rooms for tonight. It’s getting to be too cold with winter well on its way.”

  Once more offering his wife his arm, Derek escorted her upstairs, trying to ignore his mother’s meaningful chuckle, as his heart was already thudding in his chest. Despite the cold, wet clothes hanging on his body, Derek had never felt so warm, and with every step he took, the heat seemed to intensify.

  If only he had kissed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four − To Light a Fire

  When the door closed behind her husband, shutting out his warmth, Madeline’s body began to shiver, her teeth chattering loudly. Hurrying to her wardrobe, she pulled out a dry gown when her gaze fell on the firewood in the corner.

  After a moment of hesitation, she laid her gown on the bed and quickly stacked some logs in the hearth. Then she grasped the small tinderbox on the mantle. However, upon opening it, Madeline was lost.

  How did one use such a device? In her father’s house, it had been the servants’ duty to light the fire in the hearths. Never had Madeline even seen them do it. Had she simply never paid attention? Or was this one of the many duties servants were expected to perform like ghosts in the night? Invisible to their masters?

  Whatever the reason, Madeline had never seen the small items she found in the tinderbox. Dimly, she recalled that two things had to be struck together to raise a spark. As the only two things that could be struck together were a hand-sized piece of metal as well as a quartz-like rock, Madeline set aside the tinderbox and knelt in front of the fireplace, determined not to allow this simple task to stand in her way.

  Taking a deep breath, she struck the two pieces together.

  Nothing happened.

  Except for a dull pain in her right arm.

  Feeling her spirits sink, she tried again and was rewarded with a tiny spark. However, upon coming to life, it immediately died, and the logs in the fireplace remained untouched and cold.

  Again, and again, Madeline tried, and again and again, she failed.

  Once more, anger and disappointment surged to the surface, even more consuming after the triumph she had felt only moments earlier. After all she had learnt and accomplished in the last day, would this simple task once more bring her to her knees?

  As Madeline realised that she was indeed kneeling in front of the fireplace, her frustration peaked, and she hurled the two pieces into the fireplace. Anger tore a growl from her throat as tears streamed down her face, replacing the fresh rain that had felt so good, so liberating.

  Still shivering, Madeline pushed herself to her feet, then spun on her heel and strode toward the door that separated her room from her husband’s. Without thinking about what she hoped to accom
plish, she yanked it open and burst into her husband’s bedchamber.

  Instantly, a glowing warmth enveloped her, and Madeline’s gaze swung around to the hearth where her husband stood in front of a blazing fire in nothing but his breeches, a shirt forgotten in his hand as he stared at her. “Is something wrong?” he finally asked when she remained quiet.

  Blinking, Madeline swallowed as she felt a touch of hysteria well up in her veins. “Wrong?” she snapped, noting the touch of disappointment that came to her husband’s dark eyes but unable to tamper her own anger. “Why did you leave me alone? Why didn’t you come to help me?”

  A frown drew down his brows as he came toward her. “What do you mean?”

  Drawing in a sharp breath, Madeline gestured at the fire. “Do you truly not know?”

  After glancing over his shoulder, her husband shook his head, his eyes closing briefly as though he could not believe his own mistake. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, coming toward her. “I should have−”

  “Yes, you should have,” Madeline stated, brushing a wet curl from her forehead. “I’ve never made a fire in my life. I wouldn’t know how to begin.” With each word she spoke, her throat began to close as tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re my husband. You take care of everyone. But not me.” Swallowing, she shook her head. “Not me. Why?”

  As he held her gaze, a touch of guilt came to his own, his dark eyes clouded by regret. “I should have. I know that,” he said, grasping for words. “I cannot say why I did not. Although I know that this is not a life you’re accustomed to, I never think of you as someone in need of help.” Shrugging his shoulders in apology, he sighed. “You always seem so strong and competent that I…I forgot.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, his gaze held hers before it drifted lower to her wet dress. “You need to change.” The ghost of a smile curled up his lips, and a teasing note came to his voice. “Your dress is dripping all over my floor.”