“Please, Madelaine. Give me a moment.”
Was this more seduction or the accounting she longed for? “I used all my spare moments last night waiting on you. I’ve none left. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She looked pointedly at her elbow. If he had nothing to say to defend himself, she had to make herself go.
Dropping his hand, he sighed. “You’ve every right to be angry, but I can explain.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Now they were getting somewhere. “Let me guess, more equerry training?”
“Yes!” He raked a hand through his hair. The motion drew her notice to the utterly disheveled mess. Frowning, she swept her gaze over the rest of him. His clothes were fresh and pressed, but his hair hadn’t been combed, a hint of dark stubble graced his face, and―she discreetly sniffed.
“You smell of whiskey, smoke and―” She sniffed again. The unmistakable spicy scent of a woman’s perfume lingered on him. Anger swelled inside of her. He dared seek her out to continue his game after spending the night with another woman. Did he think her dull-witted? Expect her to believe his pathetic excuse of more equerry training? She tilted her head back. “Did you just get in?”
“Not long ago, but―”
She held up a palm, glad for the anger that pushed her sadness away. “Did you spend the night with a woman from the Merry Tavern?”
“Certainly not. I spent the night passed out on the floor of the tavern.”
She arched her brow. “I feel so much better knowing that.”
“You confound me.” He cleared his throat. “For once I’m trying to properly court a woman, and what do I find?”
He looked so forlorn that she couldn’t help but ask, “What?”
“It’s much more bloody difficult than I ever imagined.”
“Then quit bothering. You’re doing an awful job of wooing me anyway.”
He leaned away. “I feared as much. I’ll just have to try harder.”
“Don’t.” Her heart lurched at his pronouncement. If he tried harder, she might succumb again. He’d not given a good enough explanation. He wasn’t to be counted on.
“I’m afraid I’m rather mule-headed when set on a course. I know you don’t believe me, but I was forced to go to the tavern against my will.”
“You’re right,” she snapped. “I don’t believe you.” Not wanting to listen to anymore of his lies, she bounded away from the alcove and ran smack into an oncoming person. The collision took her breath away, but she managed to maintain her footing. Constance was not so lucky. The chambermaid fell backwards onto her bottom, the laden silver tray she’d been carrying clanked to the floor with enough noise to make Madelaine wince.
“I’m so sorry, milady.”
“I’m the one who should apologize.” Madelaine reached to help Constance up, but before the woman clasped onto Madelaine’s hand, Grey appeared and kneeling, helped Constance to her feet. Madelaine scowled at his interference, but she couldn’t very well be cross with him for lending a helping hand. She bent to pick up the chambermaid’s forgotten tray and when she rose, Grey and Constance were staring at each other rather peculiarly. Neither of them spoke a word. A funny, queasiness assaulted Madelaine, worsened by Constance’s strong, spicy perfume.
Madelaine looked from Grey to Constance, her stomach plummeting. The sudden dryness of her mouth forced her to swallow repeatedly. “Constance, do you ever get a night off?”
“Rarely. But the queen was in a generous mood yesterday and excused myself and another chambermaid for the night.” Constance’s gaze lingered on Grey.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself.” A dull ache pressed behind Madelaine’s right eye. She lifted her unusually heavy arm to rub her temple. The best thing for her heart would be to forget Grey and let her suspicions lay unconfirmed. But she couldn’t do it. She had to know if he’d been at the Merry Tavern with Constance. “Did you get to leave the castle and enjoy yourself or were you trapped here?”
Grey shifted from foot to foot, his gaze darting from Madelaine to Constance. Her queasiness intensified. The chambermaid looked at her oddly, and no wonder. Ladies-in-waiting didn’t converse with chambermaids let alone inquire as to how they spent their free time.
“Lady Madelaine.” Grey touched her elbow, and she instinctively pulled away. He’d hurt her once, she was not about to let him hurt her again. Worry creased his brow. “Your father is walking this way.”
Blinking, she glanced down the corridor, lifted her hand and waved. It was as if she was in a dream. Another person going through the motions, but her body was moving. Her heart pounded in her ear. She had seconds to secure an answer. “Where did you go?”
When Constance’s gaze flew back to Grey’s, and his shoulders sagged as he dipped his head as if to give her permission, Madelaine ground her teeth. She’d didn’t need the chambermaid’s words to confirm what she now knew. “Never mind,” she said, barely above a whisper and turned to meet her father before he reached her. As Madelaine scurried down the hall, Constance’s words, “Too bad for you she’s a clever one,” echoed to her.
Clever indeed. She pasted a smile on her face for her father’s benefit. Not astute enough was more like it. A shrewd woman would have heeded the rumors about Grey and stayed as far away from the rake as possible.
The happy smile that lit Madelaine’s face when she embraced her father warmed Grey’s heart and helped him decide what to do. He couldn’t just walk away. Even if she wanted him to. He’d soothe her feelings and make things right. But first―he eyed the chambermaid, Constance. “You might have guessed…” his words trailed off at a glance at Madelaine. Her brow was furrowed and her father’s face was set into stern lines.
“Lady Madelaine is the woman you spoke of last night.” Constance finished his forgotten sentence for him.
“The very one.”
“She’s very pretty. But I doubt she’ll be willing to please you the way I offered to last night.”
“I feel certain you’re correct, but she’s intrigued me all the same.” Constance huffed beside him. “Not to say you’re not intriguing,” he amended. She was. And not long ago, he would have gladly accepted the offer to share her bed the previous evening, but the time had passed where all he wanted was a good romp. He wanted more. And he only had eyes for Madelaine.
“You’re sweet the way you try to appease me. A gold coin would go further though. You’re the first man to ever turn down my offer.”
He produced a gold coin and held it out. “If Lady Madelaine should question you…”
“She won’t. She’s a prideful one, she is.”
Grey’s gaze strayed to Madelaine. Why was she shaking her head? With any luck, it wasn’t in answer to being questioned as to whether she’d met anyone she had a tender for. He didn’t want to interrupt them, yet he didn’t want Madelaine to get away before he gained her forgiveness, and he wanted to greet her father. He refocused on Constance. “But if she should…”
“I’ll tell her the truth. You and I spoke for several hours and that was all. When I left, you were all merrily drinking.”
Damnation. The truth wouldn’t do at all. He didn’t want to lie to Madelaine, but the truth made him look like an ass. “Perhaps you could leave off the part about how long we spoke, and just say you talked with me for a moment.” He could explain the drinking away by saying they’d been celebrating finishing equerry training. Men would be men, after all.
“Your lady is leaving you,” Constance said.
Blast. She and her father were indeed walking away. “Good day,” he called over his shoulder. By the time he caught up with Madelaine and Lord Stratmore, his head was not only foggy from last night’s drinks, it was pounding. Curse Gravenhurst and Pearson.
“Lady Madelaine.”
She faced him, her gaze frigid as a frozen lake. “Lord Grey. What a pleasant surprise. I’d thought you’d gone along with your friend.”
There was a lot he could say to that, but not in front of her father. Inst
ead, he smiled, his face tight with the effort. “As you can see, I haven’t gone anywhere.” He waited, hoping she would give in and introduce him to her father, but from her mutinous airs, he suspected death would come quicker than Madelaine’s caving in would.
Her father coughed and when that failed to bring her to snuff on proper etiquette, the duke said, “Who might we have here?”
“Oh very well.” Madelaine scowled at Grey. She looked so kissable with her lips pressed together and her eyes sparkling with irritation. “Father, this is Lord Grey, the Duke of Ashdon’s son. And, Lord Grey―” Her eyebrows drew up into a haughty arch. “―this is my father, the Duke of Stratmore.”
“A pleasure to see you again, Duke.”
“Likewise, Lord Grey. I didn’t recognize you. You’ve at least doubled your height since last I met you. And a growth of beard as well.”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall the last meeting.”
“I should think not. It’s been a good fifteen years. Have you and Madelaine become friends at Court?”
“I’d like to think so.” Grey looked to Madelaine for some slight give in her anger. She glared in return.
“We’ve only just recently sp―sp―spo.” She gave her head a little shake. “Spoken.”
“Madelaine.” Her father narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
Grey wanted to intervene on her behalf, but if Madelaine was anything like he was interference would only make her discomfort worse.
“N―noth―nothing, Father.”
“You’re stuttering, and we both know what that means.”
Grey didn’t know what it meant. He hoped she didn’t stutter when distraught because he’d definitely feel to blame. It was hard to imagine he could feel worse than he already did.
“Please, Father. Not now. It’s―” she audibly swallowed. “It. Is. Nothing.”
Stratmore’s gaze flicked to Grey. “Since my daughter refuses to tell me the truth, maybe you will? What is the meaning of her stuttering lies? What have you done to her?”
Stuttering lies? So Madelaine stuttered when she lied? This was a totally different matter. Grey almost smiled in relief. This could be a true blessing if their courtship proceeded to marriage. “I’m afraid I’ve attempted to begin a courtship of your daughter, but I rather botched it.”
A dark look swept across Stratmore’s face. Grey stiffened. The man thought Grey meant something debauched. “Nothing untoward, sir, I assure you. I was to meet her in my aunt’s apartment last night, with my aunt and sister as chaperone, but I was detained. She’s quite understandably vexed with me.”
Grey was going to take a large chance. He prayed it paid off. He stared into Madelaine’s eyes. “I beg your forgiveness. It wasn’t as it seemed. After I passed my training, I was made to join in celebratory drinks that went on for hours. There was no gentlemanly way to excuse myself without causing offense. You must believe I would have very much rather been with you than sit and watch Lord Gravenhurst and the chambermaid flirt with each other.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Lord Gravenhurst likes Constance?”
Finally, a break in her anger. “I’d say he more than likes her. Ask him about last night if you wish to confirm what I’ve said.” Gravenhurst could damn well claim he adored Constance to help soothe Madelaine.
She cleared her throat and smiled. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”
“Don’t be. I deserve your wariness.” He’d never been so happy for a woman’s smile than in this moment.
Stratmore slapped Grey on the back. “Her mother always jumped to conclusions as well. Maddie, you should have said something about this earlier. I’m sorry for being cross with you.”
“It’s fine, Father.” It didn’t sound fine. Her voice sounded strained, and she’d shifted away from her father. “I’m pleased you’re happy.”
“Of course I’m happy. Lord Grey is from a fine family. Tell me, Lord Grey, what do you plan to do in the future? Will you take a commission as the youngest son?”
“Nothing as exciting as that, I’m afraid.” Grey wasn’t sure how to proceed. Did Stratmore already know Grey was now a spy? Even if he did, Madelaine could never know. Stratmore seemed happy to hear about the courtship. With luck the next bit of news would please the man more and not anger him, if he wasn’t already aware of Grey’s status. “I’ve just finished my equerry training.”
“Splendid. That’s a fine, noble thing to do.”
“I think so.”
“Who are you serving?”
“Lord Grey is an equerry to your friend Lord Pearson, Father.”
Grey smiled at Madelaine’s proud tone.
“Well,” Stratmore said. “That’s most interesting news.” The duke fumbled with a button on his coat. Stratmore didn’t seem a man to fumble. When he slowly looked up, his blue eyes were intent, and Grey felt a cold draft of displeasure through the layers of his clothes.
He straightened and met the man’s gaze which had turned unnaturally bright. “I’d love to discuss my duties with you.” What he really wanted to do was assure Stratmore that he had every intention, if his courtship should come to that, of one day being a good husband to Madelaine. Just because she couldn’t know he was a spy didn’t mean she would be unhappy.
“Madelaine, is the queen not expecting you?” her father asked.
“She is.” Madelaine bit her lip and glanced uneasily between Grey and her father. “I do have to go. Father, how long will you be staying? We can visit tonight at dinner and tomorrow―”
“I have to leave after I see the king.”
Grey’s heart squeezed for the way Madelaine’s face fell.
“Take heart, my girl. I’ll be back within the month to collect you.”
“Collect me?” She shuffled backward, nearly tripping over Grey’s boot. He reached out to steady her, though he felt rather unsteady himself. Her father didn’t seem to welcome the courtship now that he knew Grey was a spy like himself. His throat tightened with the need to argue his case, but he held his words. No sense trying to convince the duke with Madelaine standing here.
“But, Father―”
Stratmore turned away with a gesture of frustration. “Don’t question me. We’ll discuss the matter on my return.”
Madelaine’s gaze met Grey’s. Her face had gone pale, but she nodded.
Grey wanted to assure her everything would sort out. He stood still, the blood pounding thickly in his ears.
“Until next month then,” she finally said to her father. Her pulse thumped wildly in the open throat of her dress. “Lord Grey.”
“Lady Madelaine.” His words came out thick with emotion, but she passed by him without another word.
The moment she was out of sight, he addressed Stratmore. “I believe I understand your concerns.”
“You don’t.”
Grey felt certain he did. “Sir, you were married.”
“Which is precisely why I know how difficult the lying is. We’ll talk no more of it. My decision is made, and the king is expecting me.”
“The king expects me too. Madelaine likes me.”
Stratmore squinted at Grey. “She likes shooting arrows too. But I ended that folly.”
“Sir.”
Stratmore jerked his head. “You’ve been an equerry how long?”
“One day.”
“Exactly. You know nothing of the job. The dangers. I was married before I became what I am. I’d never have married afterwards, but it was too late. I didn’t know better.”
“My father makes it work.”
An inscrutable look came to Stratmore’s face. “Your father lives in a fantasy. He always has.”
“Are you denying my courtship?” He hated to ask the question because the answer was almost certainly not in his favor. Yet he had to know what he was up against. Too long he’d lived with assumptions that had been wrong. He’d not make that same mistake ever again.
“I’ve never denied my daughter anything.
Which is part of her problem.” The duke glanced toward the stained glass window for a moment then finally back. “You belong to the king in body and soul now, which means you’ll never be the man for my daughter. So yes, I’m denying the courtship. Stay away from her; it will be the best for both of you.”
Stratmore spun and walked away.
Grey followed silently behind into the king’s chambers. There was no way in hell he would simply obey Stratmore and not see Madelaine, but what would she do? He could see the enormous desire to please her father on her face. Pushing the problem aside, he focused on the king.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he said after Stratmore and the king had greeted one another. “Shall I wait in the outer chamber for you to conclude your business with Lord Stratmore?”
“No. Stay. My business with Stratmore concerns you as well.”
Grey settled into a chair near a window and opposite the men. The three faced each other, the sound of rain pounding against the window echoed a continuous tap throughout the silent room. Tension knotted Grey’s shoulders, made worse by the wait and the thunder that accompanied the rain. The groan of the heavy door being pulled partially shut seemed to snap the king out of his daze. He ordered all the servants to leave the inner and outer chamber, and the guards were ordered to stand guard at the door to the outer chamber.
Once everyone cleared out, the king leaned forward in his chair, his eyes almost feverish in appearance. “Did you bring it?”
Stratmore glared at Grey then swiftly looked away, nodded and reached inside his coat. He withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment. “It’s complete.” His gaze flicked once again to Grey before returning to the king. “Perhaps we should go over it alone?”
Grey ground his teeth. Not only did Stratmore not want Grey to pursue Madelaine, her father didn’t trust him.
“Lord Grey stays.” With that pronouncement, the king sat back, his face abstract in thought. Grey barely contained his triumphant smile.
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