by Rose Gordon
“Both,” Stevens said promptly.
Was it her imagination or did Benjamin groan at the same time she did? No matter. She shot him another apologetic glance and together they turned to walk back downstairs. Blast. All that skillful navigation of the halls only to be found out at the very end by the butler. Perhaps next time they’d just bore a hole in the ceiling and lower her in.
“It’s about time,” Andrew drawled as they walked in.
Madison felt a blush creep up her neck. “If we’d known you’d be waiting on us, we’d have stayed out longer,” Benjamin said smugly, leading Madison to lightly elbow him in the side. This was no time for jokes, not that she thought her family would get his humor anyway.
“Not to worry, I’ve been late once or twice myself,” Paul said dismissively.
“No need to bring up the past,” Liberty said lightly. “Now that everyone’s here, tell us what you’ve been torturing us with all afternoon.”
Paul reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a piece of paper. “There once was a time when I was filled with dread when I received one of these,” he announced with a grin directed to his wife. “But this time, I am proud to announce I have a piece of correspondence from one Mr. John Banks.” He held it up in the air for all to see. “Gentlemen, control your wives,” he commanded playfully a second later when the three women in the room ran to his side to try and grab the missive.
“Why did he send it to you?” Andrew asked testily, not bothering to pull his wife off the man.
“Because I’m his favorite son-in-law,” Paul retorted with a snicker, still holding the note as high in the air as he could.
Andrew frowned. “What makes you think you’re the favorite?”
All the commotion in the room came to an abrupt stop. Followed instantly by four people giggling, howling, shaking and bending over in laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding?” Madison said between ragged breaths of laughter.
“No,” Andrew said solemnly, shaking his head then turning to look at Benjamin who only shrugged in return.
“Putting aside that we’re both men of the cloth,” Paul broke in, still shaking with mirth, “you both married your wives due to scandal.”
“So did you,” Andrew retorted.
“Of her making, not mine,” Paul corrected, garnering a swat his bottom from his Liberty.
“And,” Brooke said, still giggling almost uncontrollably, “if you think about it, you helped create the scandal that led to Madison’s marriage to the man who hired you to create the scandal involving me.”
“I daresay, you just may hold the title of the least favorite,” Madison quipped.
Andrew shook his head. “All right, I’m the least favorite, as always. Now can we just hear what the letter has to say?”
“As soon as the vultures retreat,” Paul said.
Realizing the man wasn’t going to hand over the note to any of them, the girls backed away and waited in anticipation as Paul read the letter.
Most of it was a lot of huffing and puffing about how Andrew botched up his job as guardian and how disappointed Mama was she’d missed the one wedding that wasn’t a five minute ceremony thrown together on a whim with only a half dozen guests in a private residence. Then Papa went on to explain they’d be leaving on the next passenger vessel, which would be three days out from the one that carried the letter, therefore, technically they were only three maybe four days away by the time the letter arrived. Excitement skittered up Madison’s spine. She’d missed her parents dearly the past few months. At the very end of the letter there was mention of three small chests that would accompany the letter.
Madison’s heart pounded. She knew which chests her parents had sent. Each of the girls had a small chest two feet high, two feet long and maybe a foot and a half wide. They weren’t terribly big, just big enough to hold personal items that were special. Brooke’s and Liberty’s probably held things like favorite ribbons, dance card slips from their first dances, or other innocent things like that. Madison wished hers held innocent tokens like her sisters. Instead, she knew it was stuffed full of missives from Robbie, sketches she’d drawn of a stranger and even a few paintings. Nothing she wanted. Nothing that held an ounce of appeal.
“Would you like yours?” Benjamin asked, startling her.
She blinked up at him and turned to where Paul had a cabinet open and was withdrawing the chests he’d hidden there earlier. She shifted her gaze to Brooke when she heard her laugh at the dance card slip that held the name of a Russian Prince she’d once danced with when he’d come to America. Andrew was sitting with his arm around Brooke and acted somewhat interested in what she was showing him, but kept turning his curious gaze back to Madison and Benjamin. “I don’t believe so,” she said at last. “I’d like to go to my room actually.”
Benjamin wrapped a comforting arm around her and steered her from the room then down the maze of hallways and staircases that led to her room. “Madison, would you like to talk?” he asked when they reached her room. He moved to stand directly in front of her, resting his shoulder against the door.
She shook her head.
“I’ll only listen,” he said, taking her hands in his. His blue eyes looked curious and intent as they stayed locked with hers while she debated her choices.
She shook her head again. “I’d like to be alone just now, thank you.”
He closed his eyes and nodded once. “All right. Will you come to where I’m staying tomorrow? I have something for you.”
Madison swallowed. “Can’t you bring it here?” she asked a bit nervously.
“I could,” he mused. “But I’d rather not. Just come see me.”
“All right,” she said quietly.
The corner of his mouth tipped up and he brought both her hands up to his mouth and feathered kisses on each of her knuckles. Lowering their hands, he leaned forward and every so lightly pressed a kiss to her lips. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.
***
Madison sat on the edge of her bed staring at the wall in front of her far longer than she should have. She just couldn’t force herself to get up and get changed for bed. She’d already been unnerved by the crashing end to her bright day by the delivery of those blasted trunks with the blasted letters from the blasted Robbie in them. But then to come into her room and find another blasted letter from blasted Robbie only served to fray her edges. She might have stared at the wall for a week straight if Brooke hadn’t arrived.
“Madison,” Brooke said softly, coming into her room and shutting the door. “Do you want to talk?”
Madison handed Brooke the new blasted note from blasted Robbie.
Brooke’s fingers snatched the unsigned note and she scanned it, moving her lips as she read the words. “Where did you get this?”
“On the bed,” Madison said, pointing to where the note had been lying on her pillow when she’d opened the door.
Brooke sat down next to her. “Madison, the note was delivered by a paid messenger and isn’t even signed, why are you so upset over it?”
“It’s from him,” Madison said evenly, falling back to lie on the bed.
Brooke lay next to her. “Who? Your husband?” she asked doubtfully.
Madison brought her hands up to cover her face to stop from laughing and sarcastically said, “Yes, Brooke, Benjamin wrote me an anonymous note to warn me he was a murderer.”
“Well, you knew he was dangerous before you married him. He had to earn his title of Dangerous Duke somehow,” Brooke quipped.
“I don’t believe the content of the note for a minute,” Madison cut in before Brooke could make any more asinine comments. “It’s the ‘who’ of the matter that bothers me.”
“Not following you,” Brooke said, getting off the bed and going to Madison’s chest of drawers. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a cotton nightgown then tossed it on the bed next to Madison.
“Robbie,” Madison said.
“What are you talk
ing about?” Brooke asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She walked to where Madison was laying on the bed and motioned for her to get up.
Like the good younger sister that she was, she dutifully stood up and turned her back to Brooke so she could undo her gown. Having grown up in America without lady’s maids, the girls had always helped each other dress and undress if needed. Having never had strangers help her disrobe before, Madison had been slightly uncomfortable with Lottie’s help and had given her time off until she was ready to leave Rockhurst. “The note. It’s from Robbie,” Madison clarified as Brooke quickly undid her buttons.
“Pffft. Toss it in the trash. Robbie hasn’t two thoughts to knock together in that empty space he calls a brain box.”
Madison shook her head. “I just wish he’d leave me alone.”
“We all do, trust me. He just cannot stand for you to be happy without him. Remember what happened w—”
“Do not speak to me of him,” Madison cut her sister off sharply.
“All right, I won’t. But the fact is, Robbie cannot stand for you to be happy with anyone else,” Brooke stated flatly, stepping away from the back of Madison’s gown and picking up her nightgown.
Madison stepped out of her slippers and got ready to pull her gown down. “And what makes you think I’m happy with someone else?”
“The fact that you’re not wearing your chemise,” Brooke said in a sing-song voice.
Heat rose in Madison’s face. “It’s not what you think,” she said hastily. After their bath, she’d had to retire her wet chemise for the day.
Brooke shrugged. “I’m not passing judgment.”
“Brooke, just leave it alone. Nothing happened.” She quickly brought her nightgown over her head and turned to face her smiling sister.
“If you say so,” Brooke said, disbelief filling her voice.
“Well, I say so,” Madison countered with a hint of annoyance.
Brooke took a seat on the bed and patted the space next to her until Madison gave in and plopped down. “Say I believe you and nothing happened,” she cast her a doubtful smile, “do you think it’s possible something could happen?”
“It’s possible,” Madison confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
Brooke tucked a raven tendril behind her ear and wet her lips. “If he makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you,” Madison said softly. “But that’s what you said about Robbie, too.”
“I know,” Brooke said, nodding. “But I mean it this time.”
“You’re a good sister,” Madison said, leaning her head on Brooke’s shoulder.
“You are, too,” Brooke said. “Even if you do have abominable taste when it comes to men.”
Chapter 14
Benjamin stared at that wooden chest. Who knew a little box no more than six cubic feet could possibly fascinate him so? Madison had gone whiter than a corpse when she heard Paul’s grand announcement about those chests. Something had to be inside there that she didn’t want to be reminded of. But what? For the hundredth time since he’d taken it from the drawing room, his fingers ran over the edges. All he had to do was flip it open and he’d know what she was hiding behind. But that wasn’t his place, he reminded himself as he pulled his hands away and shoved them back into his pockets. She needed to trust him and she wasn’t going to be able to if he searched her things like she was a child.
Putting the trunk under his bed, he went about setting up the painting materials he’d purchased. He’d been pursuing her quite aggressively the past two days and hoped by asking her to join him here she’d take a chance and trust him enough to come.
Morning couldn’t come fast enough. And just like every other day in the last six years, it took its sweet time about coming. But at last it arrived and joining the sun peeking into his windows, shedding light in the room came knocking at the door.
Wearing only his shirtsleeves and trousers, Benjamin tentatively opened the door and was rather surprised to see a perky Madison with a sleepy footman standing behind her holding a heavy tray. “Good morning, Benjamin,” she said brightly before directing the footman to take the tray to a little table in the corner.
“Madison,” he greeted, idly rubbing his jaw where he had a day’s worth of gristle. He knew she didn’t sleep until noon like she’d once claimed, but he had no idea she got up so earlier, either.
“May I come in?”
He looked at the position of her feet in the middle of the carpet. “It appears you’re already in.”
“I know,” she said matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you go finish getting dressed?”
He nodded and went to go shave and finish putting on his clothes. He was glad she’d come, even if it was much earlier than he’d expected.
He’d just finished shaving and had his stockings and boots on when she came to the edge of the bedroom doorway. “I’m almost done,” he said, tying the laces to his boot.
“It’s all right, take your time,” she said dismissively. “Breakfast is ready when you are.” She shot him a winning smile and leaned her head against the doorjamb.
“Dare I hope it’s waffles,” he teased.
Her smile slipped. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. But I do now,” he said, taking to his feet.
She put her hands on her hips. “See if I ever try to surprise you again.”
He smiled at her. “You do all the time and don’t even know it.”
“Leave the waistcoat and let’s go,” she said, walking out of the room.
He wasn’t going to argue with that command. He tossed the waistcoat down by his waiting coat and cravat. “Thank you for the waffles,” he said, sitting down. “It’s rare I eat them three meals in a row.”
“Me, too. Actually, it’s rare I eat them at all, and don’t for one minute think I’ll be eating them again for lunch,” she informed him. “However, I had a brilliant idea in the middle of the night and I had to see if you’d like it. And I absolutely couldn’t wait until our next trip to Bath to find out.”
Benjamin smiled at her. She’d thought about him in the middle of the night! And from the sound of things, they’d been good thoughts. “All right. Let’s see what we have,” he said, grabbing the top of the silver dome that was by him. He pulled the top off and looked at the waffles he’d just uncovered. They had little chucks of brown sprinkled in them. “What’s this?” He picked one up with his fingers and stared at it closely, barely resisting the urge to sniff it.
“It has chunks of chocolate in it,” she said with a blinding smile. “I’m sure someone’s thought of it before, but let’s pretend they haven’t and it was all my bright idea.”
“Excellent idea,” he agreed with a smile. “What made you put chocolate in it?” He noticed there was only one large round waffle on that plate under the dome and he carefully cut it in half and slid half onto each of their plates.
“Well, you said you like waffles and hot chocolate, so I thought, ‘why not combine them?’. And if that turns out to be nasty, I asked Cook to make one with chunks of strawberries cooked into the batter.” She lifted up another dome that was hidden on the chair to her left. Pulling off the lid, she showed him the waffle with the strawberries. “I figured since you were putting strawberries on them yesterday, you might like them cooked inside, too.” She shrugged and cut that waffle in half like he’d done with the other and gave them each half.
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”
And they were.
“I have something for you, too,” Benjamin said after they’d finished eating and the conversation reached a lull.
“You do?” Both her voice and her bright blue eyes were so full of excitement Benjamin swore his heart rate picked up.
He got up from his chair and walked back to where the little bedroom was. “Are you coming?” he called from inside the room.
“Aren’t you going to bring it out?” she hollered b
ack, still sounding excited, but perhaps a different kind of excitement.
He went to the vanity table that was against the far wall and started to arrange the painting supplies a bit more. She’d come close to coming into this room before breakfast, but where this table was located, she hadn’t been able to see his surprise. “It would be easier for you to come in here,” he said, fanning out brushes and positioning tubes and jars of dye just right.
Slowly he heard her feet scrape across the wooden floor as she walked across the great room to his little bedroom. “All right,” she said in a weak, resigned voice. “I’m all yours.”
“Excellent.” He went to the door and flashed her a smile before grabbing her hand and pulling her inside. “I’m not the greatest at surprises, but I think you’ll like this.”
She stepped over the threshold and into his room. Her face looked a little paler than earlier and her body was tense as she looked to the middle of the room. At his bed.
“You’re looking in the wrong direction,” he said gently.
She blinked her eyes and slowly let them move from his bed to the window and finally to rest on vanity before she gasped. “How did you know?”
“Brooke told me you didn’t bring your painting materials here. I thought now that this will be your permanent home, you could use some.” He walked with her over to the table and watched as she picked up some of the brushes and dyes. “This was all I could find in Bath. We can get more next time we go to London.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, picking up one of the oil paints. “You didn’t have to get both oil and watercolors.”
He frowned. “Do you prefer one over the other?”
“No, I’m just surprised you’d go to such an extreme, that’s all.” She picked up one of the brushes that couldn’t possibly have more than three hairs in it, and yet it had been almost the most expensive one. Of course. “They conned you, didn’t they?”