The Chevalier

by Jacqueline Seewald

  Johnny insisted on riding her right up to the theatre. “I’ll be back for you later,” he told her.

  She said that she could just as easily walk back herself but he wouldn’t hear of it, and secretly, she was relieved. Madeline slipped a pound note into his hand. When he tried to refuse it, she shook her head adamantly.

  “You’ve earned this,” she said. She left her cloak with him and hurried away.

  At first, the manager of the theatre, noting her youth and slight appearance, refused to sell her a seat to the performance. Her disguise was working a little too well.

  “We’ve a full house tonight,” he said. “All the quality have come to see the new production. Try again another time.”

  But there would be no other time. This was her only chance. Tonight or never.

  “I won’t be in London again,” she said, trying to keep her voice as deep as possible. “If you won’t sell me a seat, then let me buy a place to stand. I just want to view the play.”

  The manager finally yielded, agreeing that she could stand at a location in the rear. Madeline did not mind at all. After everyone was seated and settled, she could see and hear well enough. In fact, when the play finally ended, she hardly noticed how tired her feet were or the fact that tears were streaming down her cheeks. The play had utterly absorbed her. Never had she felt so moved. She did not even notice the handsome, golden-haired man who studied her with narrowing eyes.

  Six

  Gareth was annoyed with the performance he’d just viewed. Emily, well-acquainted with the lady playing the part of Desdemona, had been enthralled. The actress had a shocking reputation and Emily was eager to offer a few juicy stories regarding the more scandalous exploits. The thespian’s revealing choice of costume enthralled the gentlemen in the audience. There were loud cheers, whistles and stomping whenever she provocatively bent over and displayed her abundant breasts. Gareth, however, felt restless and not at all amused.

  For him, the thought of a noble soldier being so pathetically misled into jealousy was disturbing. He found himself identifying with the Moor. The audience was standing and cheering the performers as he impatiently took Emily’s arm and urged her to leave to get a head start on what would soon be a mass exodus.

  “Such a fine production,” Emily said as they made their way up the aisle. “I warrant it will be talked about by everyone tomorrow.”

  Gareth shrugged his massive shoulders with disinterest.

  “You are too unemotional. What would it take to rouse your feelings? Look at that pretty lad standing at the far back? Why his eyes overflow with tears.”

  “Children do not know how to contain their feelings,” he said with disapproval, glancing in the direction Emily indicated. He blinked sharply; there was something terribly familiar about the lad. Was he imagining it?

  The actor who had played Othello drew their attention back to the stage. “Gentlemen and ladies,” the artist announced, “as you know, in this year of Our Lord, 1745, we are suffering the incursions of a second Jacobite rebellion. In every theatre of London, the evening is ending with a rallying song for the House of Hanover. So join us in singing our fervent and heartfelt support for King George.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Madeline watched and listened in disgust as the entire audience stood as one and joined the play’s cast in singing loudly:

  “God save our gracious King, Long live our noble King, O Lord and God arise, Scatter his enemies.”

  She could bear to hear no more of it but turned to leave the theatre as quickly as possible. How right Roland had been. These people were the enemy; how had she ever been foolish enough to think otherwise?

  Adding to her discomfiture, she caught sight of a very tall, blond man. Even if Gareth Eriksen weren’t at least a head taller than anyone else, he would have stood out in any throng. Madeline sincerely hoped he hadn’t noticed her: she was beginning to feel rather ridiculous.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  As the youth turned to leave, Gareth hurried Emily along, much to her consternation.

  “Really, Gar, what are you doing?”

  “One moment, I shall return to you.” He rushed ahead through the crowd without further explanation and caught the boy by the shoulders just as the youth was departing the theatre.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  He knew that voice. “Mademoiselle de Marnay?”

  The moonbeam eyes like no others caught his. She bit down on her lower lip and whispered. “Don’t give me away.”

  He grabbed her arm and led her none too gently out of the surge of people. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see the play,” she replied simply, as if that answered everything.

  He felt unaccountably angry with her. “What a foolish child you are. Don’t you realize how dangerous it is for a young girl to be out alone at night?”

  “Of course, and that is why I came in disguise. No one realizes that I am not a boy, except for you, of course.”

  “I should have known it even if I didn’t recognize you personally.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He studied the thick, black lashes and vivid feminine features. No, her disguise might hide her female curves well enough but not the striking feminine beauty of her face. She tried to walk by him, but he roughly caught her arm.

  “How do you intend to get home?”

  “I’ve arranged for transportation.”

  He looked at her skeptically. She was not the sort of girl given to consideration of her wellbeing; her lack of caution alarmed him. “I will take you home myself.”

  “You’ve someone with you,” she noted. “I do not think the lady will like it overmuch.”

  “She will understand.”

  He guided her firmly toward Emily, although she continued to protest. He was becoming more and more angry with the girl. Instead of thanking him gratefully, as she ought, the foolish chit was being difficult. He explained the situation to Emily succinctly, leaving no room for argument and then called for the lady’s carriage.

  Once inside it, neither female would speak but instead glared at the other like warriors readying themselves for combat.

  “Really, Gar, since we are taking this child home, I do think her parents ought to be informed of her shameful conduct. They would probably wish to beat her.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed, enjoying the look of outrage that crossed Madeline’s face and pinked her cheeks.

  “My sick mother would no more like to be informed of my behavior than your husband, Madame, would wish to know that you spend evenings in another man’s company.” Madeline’s face was flushed with anger.

  Emily almost choked. “Gar, please leave me off at the Bromleys. I shall be spending the remainder of the evening there. When you have delivered this willful baggage to her unfortunate family, you may pick me up again.”

  “I will probably do some gaming at the club. I have no wish to be with those people.”

  Lady Emily reached into her beaded reticule and snatched out a large number of notes. “Do play on me then, since the time is spent on my behalf.”

  He pushed her hand away. “Nonsense, I never take money from women. You should know that.”

  When they pulled up in front of her friends’ residence, Emily put her arms possessively around Gareth’s neck and gave him a deep, passionate kiss, then she threw a challenging smile at Madeline and quickly left the carriage.

  To the girl’s credit, she did not say a word but merely averted her gaze. As they drove on, Gareth pulled the cap from her head.

  “So it really is you underneath there,” he said with an amused smile.

  Some of her hair had gotten loose and he pulled the pins free so that her luxurious, black locks cascaded freely. He admired her. Even in the overly large clothing that she wore, the French girl was extraordinarily beautiful.

  “I hope the play proved up to your expectation,” he said.

  “Indeed, it did. But I thought it very sa
d. How could such a noble fellow become so savagely jealous that he would murder the one woman who truly loved him? Why could he not see that she was faithful? How could he doubt her that way?” She turned innocent, pained eyes on him, waiting expectantly for a response.

  “Passion does strange things to men. It wasn’t just his sense of the loss of love, you see, but the sense of the loss of an ideal. She represented all that was virtuous to him.” Gareth felt deeply saddened suddenly, for he realized that he wasn’t talking merely of Othello but of himself as well. Twice in his own life a woman who he idealized had deeply hurt and disappointed him. He still bore the pain of wounds that would never fully heal.

  “I do not understand what Othello meant when he called himself one not easily jealous, but being wrought perplexed in the extreme.”

  “Any one of us can be driven to the excesses of jealousy I should think.”

  She shuddered. “I would hope not.”

  “You haven’t told me why you felt it necessary to take these extreme measures merely to see a play?”

  She shook her head. “I do not think you would understand.”

  He found her quite exasperating. “Many suspect me of having a keen wit.”

  “Forgive me, but I resent you forcing me to come along with you this way and interrogating me besides.” Sparks of lightening shot from her eyes.

  The ungrateful brat had no manners at all. “You seem to have no sense in your impish head. I may have saved your life tonight. Disguise or not, it’s likely someone would have waylaid you in a pitch-dark alley as you walked about the streets. London is a city teeming with criminals.”

  They were nose to nose now and her eyes burned brightly into his own. “I had my own transportation all arranged. As a matter of fact, Johnny will be worried that I did not wait.”

  “Johnny, is it?” He practically snarled at her.

  “That’s right. A most considerate person. It’s his cap I was wearing.”

  “Watch yourself, girl. You make yourself too free with men and you will get burned.”

  “Do not preach to me, you hypocrite! I am not immoral. You dare to imply such slander about me when it is you, sir, who cavort about with a married woman.”

  It was simply more than he could endure! Who was she to pass judgment on him? What did she know of life? She was the typical well-born young lady of genteel, aristocratic birth who wished to tease and flirt with a man like himself. He was so incensed at the little coquette that he seized her bodily. Emily was quite right about the girl, the spoilt creature needed to be taught a lesson. With a quick, fluid motion, he had her over his knees. Ignoring her alarmed cries, he was about to bring down his hand to administer a sound blow to her derriere, when the feel of her lower body against his loins sent a surge of pure lust shooting through him that he felt down to his very toes. The sensation disturbed him excessively; it came unwanted and unbidden. Indeed, that part of his anatomy was so affected that a more sophisticated female would have surely thrown him a knowing look. He lifted her from his lap with shaking hands. How could she have such a potent effect on him?

  Madeline looked at him wild-eyed, her chest heaving in spasms. “You were going to hit me,” she cried out. “How dare you!”

  “I apologize. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never struck a female, not even my sister when she misbehaved. Usually, I manage to maintain a certain detachment, but I seem to lose both my temper and my sense of propriety when I am around you, Mademoiselle. Forgive me.”

  She was still trembling as she shrunk back from him, sinking down into a shadowy corner of the coach. He was such a strange man; she hardly knew what to make of him. But the effect he had upon her was most disturbing. Angry as she was with him, the attraction she felt for him had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, she had to admit that she was beginning to understand jealousy quite well herself. Watching Lady Emily’s possessive manner with him had driven her almost mad with the unwelcome emotion.

  Neither of them spoke to the other until the coach drew up in front of her residence. A tense, charged silence developed between them. When he moved to help her from the coach, she inadvertently brushed against him. Just his touch made her shiver. When his hand tightened on hers to help her down, she felt a quiver from head to foot, as if her body were suspended over a blazing fire. She had been frightened of him for a moment, but no longer.

  “I should apologize as well,” she said. “I realize you were only trying to be solicitous of my wellbeing. Please forgive my rude, thoughtless tongue.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” he said in a quiet but compelling voice.

  The moonlight touched his golden hair and made it glow silver in the hushed night. Was there ever a more magnificent man? She could only doubt it.

  His smoldering gaze dropped to her lips and she felt her heart leap and the blood in her veins begin to heat. She must escape him before he kissed her again, for if he did, she hated to think how she would react. Suddenly, his head lowered and he took her lips, swooping down on them like a hawk takes its prey. Her trembling hands reached up to his neck as she stood on tiptoes. He held her body to his; hands moving restlessly down her shoulders, igniting a burning desire within her. She was utterly lost as his tongue touched and then stroked her own. He kissed her until she was moaning with passion, writhing in his arms. His kisses drugged her mind and she felt herself whirling in a dizzying vortex of sensations. As his hand caressed her breast, she clung to him, feeling the powerful sinewy arms and shoulders, wild pleasure pulsating through her being. His body pressed hard against the swelling softness at her apex.

  How she ached to remain in his arms forever! But she willed herself to break free of him so that he would not think her totally wanton. Still, it was the most difficult thing she had ever done, since her will did not seem to be her own.

  “I must go in now,” she said in a breathless, tremulous voice. “I will never forget you.”

  “Nor I you.” His voice was a husky whisper.

  She did not dare extend her hand to him, afraid that she would simply throw herself into his arms and melt there.

  “Goodbye,” he called after her, his voice sounding oddly thick as if something were choking him.

  Once inside, she heard a voice call out softly to her.

  “Mistress, I’m glad you’re safely back. I saw you ride off in that coach with those fine people, so I came back here. But I wasn’t at ease until now.”

  “Everything is fine, Johnny,” she said reassuringly. She tossed him his cap and hurried upstairs to her room.

  But everything was not fine. Her heart yearned for a man she knew she could not have and should not care about. She’d said farewell to him; her mind could accept it, but not her heart. All she wanted was to love and be loved by him. Her body ached for his touch. Would she ever see him again? She hurried to her bedroom. Tonight she would dream of his touch on her bare breast.

  Seven

  The journey to Scotland was at best an ordeal for Madeline as well as her mother. Madeline could not help but worry about her mother’s pain and discomfort although Maman did not complain. In their well-sprung coach, they took only her mother’s maid, Marie. The driver and footman rode together on top, pistols handy, watching for highwaymen. Informed of the famine that swept Scotland, her mother had seen fit to carry with them sacks of oats and barley and other staple provisions so that their visit would be less of an imposition on their relatives.

  “I would not for the world offend their pride,” her mother explained, “but from what we’ve been told, there’s great need in the country of my birth.”

  Maman also saw fit to have her many valuable jewels carefully sewn into specially made seams in her traveling gown and cloak. An inside pocket in Madeline’s own gown concealed a number of gold coins. Her Maman did not close the London townhouse but kept the servants working there as usual.

  “I will not be returning here,” Maman had explained in a calm voice, “but the
house will be yours and it should be in readiness for you if and when you wish it. A woman must always have something of her own if it is possible.

  When I am gone, you will keep my jewels and use them as you see fit. We will not depend on the generosity of Roland for your portion. Even if a woman has a good husband, as I did, it is still advisable that she maintains economic independence. One should never be at the mercy of any man if one can help it, ma petite. I pass this bit of information on to you and hope it will help you make fewer mistakes.”

  Madeline nodded her head solemnly, recalling that her mother had a hard life before she met Papa. It seemed so unfair; now that Maman could live a life of ease, everything was being taken from her. Madeline’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Do not be sad. I will die in peace if I know that you are provided for.”

  “I wish you would not talk of such matters,” she protested.

  Her mother touched her face with thin, trembling fingers. “You are still just a child, and I wish that I could live to see you well married and content, but I fear that is not to be. I must talk of practical matters with you, for I know that you have a wildly romantic spirit; therefore, I must attempt to protect you from what might bring your downfall. Please try to think with your head rather than your heart. I do not wish my child to be hurt.”

  “I will be careful, Maman. You have my word.”

  “That Englishman made me most uneasy,” her mother said.

  Madeline nodded her head mutely, although she could not bring herself to meet Maman’s eyes. What could she say? Maman was right as usual. Gareth Eriksen was so overwhelming that when he kissed her, igniting a passion in her that would not be denied, she could not imagine refusing him anything he might ask of her. He truly was a dangerous man.