Yet no matter her occupation, the Earl of Haviland was never far from her thoughts. Madeline didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed to have seen no sign of him or Freddie Lunsford the entire weekend.
She did, however, receive a short missive from Haviland shortly after dinner that confirmed their agreement to attend Mrs. Sauville’s salon together on Tuesday evening. While his messenger waited, Madeline wrote the earl a quick reply, asking if they might visit Hatchard’s bookshop beforehand in order to investigate reference materials for her French classes.
Madeline couldn’t help but view the upcoming trip to London with eager anticipation. Thus far she’d lived an utterly tame life, growing up on a country farm and then serving as a lady’s companion for so many years. Purloining letters from under the nose of a blackmailing widow might be the most exciting adventure she had ever experienced. Moreover, sharing that adventure with a former spymaster of Haviland’s vaunted reputation would likely prove fascinating.
The novelty of going to London at least helped ameliorate her nervousness at the prospect of conducting her first class on the morrow. Perhaps that was why, Madeline realized once she had passed the test at the academy with flying colors, her initiation into the world of teaching went so well.
However, when both missing gentlemen called on her at Danvers Hall on Monday afternoon, her nerves returned full force. Madeline deplored the way her heart leapt when Lord Haviland entered the library where she was poring over a map of Paris in preparation for her next class.
Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from drinking in the sight of him, or dismiss the feeling that she had just been passing time until his reappearance in her life.
I am suffering from a sad case of infatuation, Maman, Madeline lamented inwardly as she invited the gentlemen to be seated in wing chairs near the fire and asked Simpkin to bring refreshments for her distinguished callers.
Despite her determination to conquer her idiocy, she listened with only half an ear as Freddie Lunsford rambled on with an apology for neglecting her these past few days, claiming that he had been in London.
When Haviland offered the same excuse, she found herself looking at his mouth, remembering the taste of him, and eyeing his strong, capable hands, recalling their sensual touch on her skin the night in the Danvers nursery. How thoroughly he had overwhelmed and enchanted her that evening—
“I say, Miss Ellis,” Freddie interjected, “didn’t you begin teaching today?”
“Yes,” Haviland seconded. “How did your first French class go?”
Flushing, Madeline jerked her errant thoughts back to the present. “It seemed successful. I centered my vocabulary lesson around French fashions and had my young ladies pretend we were in Paris, patronizing various modistes and milliners. Tomorrow I mean to expand our environs to historical sites.”
Haviland raised an eyebrow. “Have you been to Paris?”
“No, but many of my mother’s compatriots returned there once the royalists were reinstated after Napoleon’s defeat, so I think I’ve heard enough tales and descriptions to convey the flavor of the city. And as you know, much of the British aristocracy flocked to Paris after the war’s end. As a result, our English fashion magazines show a decided French influence. I plan to capitalize on that to spark our pupils’ interest in proper grammar and pronunciation.”
Just then, Simpkin entered, carrying a large tea tray. When he had left Madeline alone with her visitors again, she turned to the topic that was foremost on her mind.
“I admit I was relieved to receive your missive yesterday, Lord Haviland. I feared you might change your mind about letting me accompany you.”
“No, I decided your ideas were good ones. You have a legitimate interest in attending Madame Sauville’s gathering and conversing with her countrymen so you can better teach your pupils. And my escorting you there provides me a reasonable excuse to attend without raising her suspicions.” A half smile touched Haviland’s mouth. “Furthermore, we had a bargain, Miss Ellis. I mean to uphold my end of it, and I expect you to do the same.”
Reminded of her promise to consider his proposal, Madeline wrinkled her nose. “I fully intend to.”
Freddie was looking between them with puzzlement, but Haviland ignored him and proceeded to explain that setting his plans in place was the chief reason for his recent trip to London. “I managed a chance meeting with a friend of Mrs. Sauville’s to confirm the program for Tuesday evening. She has planned a poetry reading for seven o’clock, with a supper afterward.”
“Will we attend without an invitation?”
“Yes, to avoid giving her any advance warning. If for some reason she does suspect me of plotting to regain the letters, I don’t want to allow her time to move them to another hiding place.”
Impressed by his foresight, Madeline voiced her next question. “When should I be ready tomorrow?”
“I will call for you at three o’clock to convey you to London. That should allow us ample time to visit the bookshop you mentioned. We’ll discuss the details of the plan during our drive.”
Realizing she would have to be content until then, Madeline nodded slowly, just as Freddie piped up:
“There will be an ample reward for you, Miss Ellis, if you succeed.”
“A reward won’t be necessary,” she replied.
The opportunity to repay Haviland’s generosity a small measure, and the satisfaction of helping extricate his cousin from a plot to blackmail him, would be reward enough, Madeline knew. And so would the chance to enliven her admittedly rather dull existence.
Despite her concern about spending so much time alone with the irresistible Lord Haviland, she would be eagerly waiting for three o’clock tomorrow.
Rayne arrived exactly on time late the following afternoon, and he complimented Madeline on her own punctuality as he handed her into his coach.
“I feared you might leave without me if I was tardy,” she replied, settling back against the comfortable squabs.
“That is another reason we would be compatible in marriage,” he pointed out as the vehicle moved off. “We both value promptness.”
He saw her bite back a wry smile. “I expected you to take this opportunity to press your suit, my lord. Just not as the opening salvo.”
“My name is Rayne, remember?”
“Very well … Rayne. Your requirements in a wife are rather curious. If you esteem promptness so highly, you would do better to hire a secretary. You can demand that he follow your schedule to the minute.”
“I already have a secretary to handle my affairs in the Lords. Unfortunately he cannot present me with offspring.”
A soft laugh escaped Madeline. “That indeed is a drawback when you are seeking an heir.”
Rayne surveyed her with interest. “What about you, sweeting? During my proposal I neglected to ask your opinion about children.”
Her look turned uncertain. “What do you mean?”
“Do you want children of your own?”
She answered with no hesitation. “Yes, I want children. Provided I have the right husband.”
“I suspected you would,” he said seriously, ignoring her pointed exception, “since you had the patience to act as companion to an invalid, and since you seem to have taken to teaching adolescent girls so readily.”
Madeline shifted in her seat, as if uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. “Didn’t you say you would share the details of your plan with me during our drive to London?”
Rayne’s mouth curved as he recognized her diversionary tactic. Even so, he complied. “The basic plan is simple. As soon as possible after we arrive at the salon, I will make my way upstairs to Madame Sauville’s rooms and search for the letters.”
“I still think I would be better able to slip into her boudoir undetected.”
“Perhaps, but I want you well out of it.”
Madeline eyed him quizzically. “Are you reluctant to use me because I am a woman?”
“Not necessarily,” Rayne replied. He didn’t mind employing female agents if they were skilled and suitable for the task at hand. The ones he’d known had all been experts at espionage. They could be cold and deadly when necessary, and could take care of themselves. “I don’t like using civilians.”
“Civilians?”
“Amateurs.”
Madeline made a face. “You are afraid that I am not brave enough.”
“No.” That wasn’t the case at all. She was brave enough for any ten women. “I don’t question your courage, love. In fact, I admired the way you dealt with Baron Ackerby. But you don’t have the necessary training or experience for this task.”
Madeline’s expression held a touch of skepticism. “You aren’t being overprotective simply because you knew my father so well?”
That was partly true. He wanted to keep her safe, more so because he felt responsible for her. “You cannot claim your father would approve of my putting you at risk,” Rayne countered.
Her retort was sweetly spirited. “Oh, I think he would. Papa taught his children to fend for themselves. He would be more disappointed if we needed to be sheltered. Besides, the danger is not all that great, is it?”
Her life would not be in jeopardy, Rayne acknowledged. If that were so, he would never chance letting Madeline accompany him. He’d lost more than a few agents in his time, deaths he could not have prevented, yet he still bore the guilt. And his guilt would be magnified a thousandfold if he let harm come to David Ellis’s daughter. “I told you, I don’t want to chance you being taken for a thief.”
“Even so, I truly would like to help. I’ve had little opportunity to make any meaningful difference in anyone’s life, as you have.”
Rayne had difficulty resisting that imploring gaze, especially when Madeline added in a softer voice, “Won’t you allow me any role at all?”
“You will have a significant role, love. You will keep Mrs. Sauville in sight at all times. If you see her break away from her guests and attempt to leave her salon, you will distract her. The same goes for any suspicious activity among her servants. And if I require more time to search her apartments upstairs, you may have to create a disturbance of some kind.”
“What sort of disturbance?”
He gave a light shrug. “It depends on the circumstances. You could fall down in a swoon, or spill wine on one of the guests, or tip over a candle…. You’ll have to rely upon your wits to decide the most effective course and then improvise.”
Madeline’s features held both intrigue and disappointment. “So I am only to serve as a distraction if one is needed?”
“Yes. Nothing more.”
“Very well,” she said reluctantly.
Rayne fixed her with a level gaze. “I want you to promise that you will follow my commands to the letter, sweetheart. Otherwise we will call the whole thing off.”
Madeline hesitated before a glimmer of amusement entered her lovely eyes. “Certainly I will, O master.”
When Rayne’s glance sharpened, her look turned innocent. “You won’t let me address you as ‘my lord.’ I thought you might prefer ‘master.’”
Laughter and exasperation battled within him. “Simply Rayne will do.”
Pulling a leather pouch from a side pocket of the carriage door, he handed Madeline a folded paper. “Freddie has drawn up a floor plan of the widow’s house from memory. I want you to study it in the remote event it becomes necessary for you to go anywhere but the drawing room.”
“Do you prepare this much for every operation?” she asked curiously.
“More or less. When your life depends upon the smallest detail, you learn the wisdom of careful planning. But there are always unknown factors that can upend your best-laid plans, including simple ill luck, so you develop contingencies in case of trouble. Now apply yourself to learning the layout, love, starting with the widow’s bedchamber.”
“I won’t ask how Freddie learned so much about that particular room,” Madeline murmured impishly before turning her attention to the drawing.
Rayne watched her for several minutes as she frowned in concentration. When she began worrying her luscious lower lip, he recalled doing the same thing to her mouth the night of the ball. In truth, he’d almost lost control of himself that night. Even though he’d merely planned on kissing Madeline, he couldn’t resist the vibrant woman in his arms—her eyes soft and hazy, like silver smoke, her magnificent breasts bared for his pleasure. He remembered plucking those taut nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pulling them into his mouth, hungry to taste his fill of her….
He’d somehow resisted the urgent impulse to carry Madeline into the nearest bedchamber and take his persuasion all the way, but it had been a close thing. Even now an image of her spread wild and wanton before him made Rayne stir uncomfortably in his seat.
Her response to his passion, however, had only increased his desire to have Madeline in his nuptial bed, while her reaction to his proposal had confirmed his decision to wed her.
Admittedly, Rayne was mildly astonished that she’d refused him with such conviction. Yet after considering it, he was rather glad she hadn’t leapt to accept his offer. He valued a challenge, and Madeline would be a challenge worth striving for.
Meanwhile, he would have to suffer the pain of unfulfilled need. It was another reason he didn’t want her working with him on this operation. She was too much of a distraction.
Even so, he was glad to have Madeline with him. Spending an afternoon and evening together gave him the opportunity to woo her subtly without raising her resistance further. He could show her his home in London and give her a taste of the advantages and pleasures she could expect as his countess. God knew, Madeline had enjoyed few pleasures in her life thus far.
And once they had safely retrieved the letters, Rayne reflected, he could turn his full attention to convincing her to become his wife.
* * *
Watching Madeline that afternoon brought its own pleasure, Rayne decided two hours later. He first escorted her to Hatchard’s, where she seemed enraptured to find so many varied tomes available for her perusal. To her additional delight, the proprietor had an excellent French primer in stock, and agreed to write the publisher and order three dozen copies for the Freemantle Academy.
Madeline sighed upon leaving the bookshop. “How wonderful it would be to have so many books to choose from. One could read a different volume every day for years and still not come to the end.”
“I have a fair library of my own,” Rayne informed her. “You are welcome to read them all.”
She gave him a knowing glance. “Is dangling such a treat before me meant to advance your matrimonial plans?”
Rayne smiled. “In part.”
“Your offer is indeed tempting, but with the salary I will earn from my new position, I can afford to subscribe to a lending library.”
“Then let us see if I can conceive of a better way to influence you….”
Continuing his plan to woo her, Rayne escorted Madeline to a nearby tea shop, where he bought her three different flavors of ices over her objections, as well as one for himself.
“This is truly decadent,” she murmured when they were seated at a table by the window overlooking the busy street. “I haven’t tasted an ice in years, and now I have an overabundance.”
Her enjoyment of the sweets, however, seemed to match her enjoyment of watching the passersby outside the shop window, Rayne noted. Under that spinsterish exterior, Madeline Ellis had a hunger for living that was palpable.
Rayne waited until she had finished every last spoonful of her ices before standing and holding out his hand to her.
“Come, we should go. I don’t want to be late to the soirée.”
Madeline looked puzzled as he helped her to rise. “I thought we had more than an hour before it begins.”
“We won’t be going there directly. We need to make a stop at my London home first to collect a few access
ories.”
“What accessories?”
“I want to replace your cloak, for one thing, and dress up your gown a bit.”
“What is wrong with my gown?” Madeline asked, her chin lifting in a position of pride.
His gaze dropped to the lavender crepe dress she wore under her drab brown cloak. “Nothing is wrong with it,” Rayne said, keeping his tone mild. “But for you to be welcomed by Madame Sauville’s guests, you need to look the part. The aristocrats there put great store in dressing well—I suspect because they cling to the grandeur they once knew before the Revolution, or would have known had they not been exiled and stripped of their lands and fortunes. Additionally, I need to change my own attire for something more appropriate to carrying a packet of concealed letters.”
“Oh,” Madeline said, seemingly mollified.
She willingly accompanied Rayne back to his coach, and, while driving to his house on Bedford Avenue, she commented on his choice of professions.
“It is curious that the heir to an earldom would become an agent for British Intelligence. How did you become involved in spying in the first place?”
Rayne’s mouth curved in remembrance. “Would you believe a stolen loaf of bread inspired my career?”
“Truly? I should like to hear that story.”
Deciding there was no harm in Madeline knowing how he had gotten his start as a spy, he told her the truth.
“I had a great deal of restless energy as a boy, for which I could find adequate outlets in the country, at Haviland Park. But when my parents came to London for the Season, I frequently escaped my tutors and spent numerous hours prowling parts of the city far from Mayfair. One day when I was eleven, I happened upon a ragged lad about my same age who had been apprehended by a baker for stealing a loaf of bread. The thief likely would have hanged or wasted his life away in prison, and since I didn’t think that fair for so minor a crime, I created a diversion and helped him escape from the baker. We became fast friends after that.”
To Tame a Dangerous Lord Page 11