But could she be certain of that? Was she ready to marry again, to chain herself to a man who seemed to disdain her more often than not? And how much would he hate her if he discovered the truth about Aimee? Perhaps she should tell him...or was it already too late?
Maddie bit her lip, conscious of Brock’s questioning stare. “I must have time to think. A few days, please. I am exhausted. I cannot think now.”
Brock’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. Though he did not like her answer, he accepted it. “You’ve been through a great deal.”
She reached across the space between them to touch his bare brown shoulder. “I will truly consider it. I promise. I must be certain before I enter into anything.” Maddie wanted to explain, tell him that she feared for her legal independence... for her heart. But she knew he would only argue. “I vow I will think of nothing else and give you an answer by week’s end. Perhaps I simply need sleep.”
“Then sleep,” he whispered as he gathered her up in his arms. He held her as slumber overtook her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maddie opened her eyes to a dark, unfamiliar room. She lay alone in a cold, white-sheeted bed.
Something—a noise?—had jolted her from a sound sleep. Dazed, she sat up. The sheet slid down her breasts to fall into a heap in her lap.
To her astonishment, she was naked.
Memories of the previous night came rushing back. Aimee’s disappearance, Brock’s tender determination and help. And in the aftermath of her ordeal, the blistering warmth of his succor.
Dark and disquieting, desire flooded her stomach in a wild remembrance of shared kisses and sighs, of his skilled touch and heaven beyond her imagining. How easily he had guided her to that sweet bliss. Even more surprising, the poignant delight she had felt in sharing the moment with him.
A shocking turn of events, to be sure.
Then, once again, he had asked her to marry him. This time, his proposal seemed to come not from his ambition, but his heart. Maddie had seen the sincerity on his face, shining from those green eyes. Inside, her heart had shouted yes. But caution and experience had overridden that—barely. She owed him an answer by week’s end.
Lord, what answer would she give?
The noise that awakened her resounded again. It was a knock.
Maddie scrambled from the bed and searched the floor for her chemise. Fumbling in the weak moonlight glow filtering in from the next room, she finally found her shift and donned it.
As she headed for the door, she peeked at Aimee, who still slept soundly on the sofa, all tangled in the soft quilt.
Unable to resist, Maddie succumbed to the need to kiss her slumbering daughter, to draw in the powdery scent of her little-girl skin. She felt a moment of peace with the world. Aimee was the most important part of her life. Having her daughter returned and safe meant more than words could express.
And she owed it to Brock.
“Mrs. Smith?” a woman from the other side of the door called out.
Smith? The voice belonged to the innkeeper’s wife; she remembered it from the previous night. Had the woman knocked on the wrong door?
“Yer mister had a horse sent to ye and told me to wake ye before the sun rose.”
Brock. Clearly, he had left hours ago and sent her mount so she could return home, as he had said he would. Still, he continued to do his utmost to protect her good name, even misleading the innkeepers to believe they were man and wife.
“Thank you,” Maddie called to the woman.
Since the innkeeper’s wife did not look as if she’d fallen off the apple cart yesterday, Maddie had to assume the woman found Brock’s early morning disappearance and his instructions to his “missus” more than a bit suspicious. However, Maddie would also bet her last few sovereigns that Brock had paid the woman handsomely to look the other way.
Money did have its advantages, and in the past twenty-four hours, Brock had used them all to her benefit. She could not deny that warmed her heart.
“Oh, and yer mister had me bake some fresh gingerbread for the little lassie. It’ll be waitin’ downstairs for ye.”
“He remembered,” Maddie whispered to herself.
Aimee would love it. Why had he cared enough to have it baked for the girl? The stirring surprise moved her. Brock treated Aimee far better than Colin, who had legally claimed the child. In fact, from the day Aimee emerged following a trying two-day labor, Colin had despised the girl. While Brock, having no notion that Aimee was of his own flesh, had nearly behaved like a concerned father last night. Could the man who had done so much to see Aimee safe really send her to Fleet or a workhouse?
Today, Maddie doubted he could. In fact, she’d awakened to a rebirth of the heart where Brock was concerned. For nearly five years, she had believed her emotions for him were dead, crushed when he had abandoned her, ruined and pregnant, without a word. Finding fortune had been more important to him then. Now, he still craved fortune, but acted as though he found her and her daughter significant as well. Thus, her feelings for him had resurfaced, shimmering, glowing inside her like a secret.
Maddie bit her lip. Did she dare care for him again? After last night, how could she not?
Aimee moaned, interrupting Maddie’s thoughts. She turned to find her daughter lying on the sofa with half-open eyes.
Maddie smiled and went to the girl’s side, enveloping her in a giant hug. Aimee laid her soft golden head upon Maddie’s breast, breathing soft breaths of comfort and trust. Maddie was relieved to see the child’s ankle nearly back to normal.
It wasn’t long before Aimee’s stomach roused her. Quickly, Maddie dressed and helped the groggy child stand. They descended the stairs to find the innkeeper waiting with the warm gingerbread, courtesy of Brock.
Maddie accepted it with thanks, took Aimee’s hand and led her outside.
“Mama, is that gingabread for me?” she asked, eyes hopeful.
After breaking off a piece, Maddie handed it to her. “Yes, Mr. Taylor had it made especially for you.”
Aimee put as much in her little mouth as possible and chewed, wearing a look of bliss.
Her horse awaited them, freshly brushed and fed from the looks of things. Maddie sent a silent thank you to Brock once more. He’d thought of everything from their comfort to her reputation.
The vestiges of night fog swirled around them as she and Aimee traveled northwest. The sun turned the sky a mysterious gray within half an hour. Servants of all shapes and sizes descended from homes to begin daily tasks for their employers. By the time they reached the edge of the city, it teemed with people and activity, a loud display of London’s humanity.
Soon, she and Aimee arrived at Ashdown Manor to find Aunt Edith—and thus, the whole house—in an uproar. Quickly, Maddie explained Aimee’s disappearance. Her elderly aunt and Vema surrounded the little girl, oohing and cooing, jubilant at her safe return. With no compunction whatsoever, Aimee devoured the attention.
Weary to the bone, Maddie tried to sneak in a quick nap, but her mind would not rest. One question dominated her every thought: Should she marry Brock?
If she did not, how could she resume their midnight assignations and resist the lure of his lovemaking, now that she knew how wonderful they felt together? How could she resist the man himself, knowing how caring he could be?
Or did his caring have a more devious purpose? Did he merely do and say things he thought would sway her? She hated to be so suspicious after he’d done so much for her. He’d seemed so genuine… But she’d be naïve if she didn’t question his sudden about-face.
With a sigh, Maddie punched her pillow and gave up the idea of rest. Perhaps tonight would prove better.
“My lady,” Matheson said as she descended the stairs. “A Lord Belwick wishes to see you. Will you receive him?”
Maddie frowned, more than a bit puzzled. She did not know Lord Belwick personally and scarcely knew of him. What on earth would he want with her?
Curiosity got the better
of her. “Show him into the parlor,” she told Matheson. “I shall be there directly.”
Maddie returned to her room and contemplated her closet with a frown. All her gowns were either suitable for hard work or the latest soiree. Knowing there was no hope for her wardrobe at the moment, she changed into one of her better serviceable dresses, one still somewhat acceptable for Sunday.
At the parlor door, she stopped. Lord Belwick sat on the edge of the sofa, short fingers fidgeting restlessly. His graying hair made him look a bit pale, yet he projected an impression of incisive knowledge and unquestionable power.
“Lord Belwick, I am pleased to make your acquaintance—”
“Thank you for seeing me.” He took her hand and bowed over it. “These are highly unusual circumstances, and I can only apologize for my breech of conduct. Please know that only my genuine desire to help you has led me to your door, despite not having a former acquaintance. I merely came today to give you a bit of information, my lady. Something I suspect you will find quite... enlightening.”
Help her? Maddie stared at the man in puzzlement. How could he have any information that would be of interest to her? “I am flattered that you should take so keen an interest in a stranger.”
“I feel as we’ve met. I am well acquainted with your sister-in-law, Lady Dudley. We’ve spoken of you often.”
That Belwick had aligned himself with Roberta made Maddie wary instantly.
“My lord, I lead a simple widow’s life. I can hardly imagine what interests you enough to travel all the way to Hampstead.”
“I’ve come to talk to you about Brock Taylor.”
A little jolt of surprise ran through her. Though she did her best to hide it, Belwick indeed had her attention now. “I see. I did not know you were acquainted.”
“Quite, yes. Through business and financial circles, of course,” Belwick said, as if Brock wasn’t worth knowing otherwise.
Maddie still could not fathom why the man had come here or what he knew that might pique her interest. “Of course.”
Belwick hesitated, his pale blue gaze sharp as a freshly-stropped razor. He drew in a deep breath, as if reluctant. Maddie knew better. She watched him, quite certain he paused only to make sure he had her undivided attention.
“Lord Belwick?” she prompted, then baited him. “If you are reluctant to share your information with me, I understand.”
Belwick’s faded mouth twisted up in a smile. “I am not so much reluctant as cautious. I want to be certain I tell you the information that will best serve you.” Finally, he said, “I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Chiltam, Mr. Taylor’s secretary?”
The odious man who had let Aimee roam an unfamiliar building and city by herself. How could she forget him?
“Yes.”
“It seems that Mr. Taylor released Mr. Chiltam from his duties this morning.”
Maddie stared at Belwick, mouth agape. Brock had fired the man for his negligence last night? Startling, indeed.
“Understandably, Mr. Chiltam is now seeking employment. He came to me to inquire about a possible position early this morning. I hired him; he is an impeccable secretary. Anyway, he told me some very interesting information.”
“Indeed,” she murmured, still not certain what he wanted.
Did Belwick now know of her marriage wager with Brock? Did he know she owed Brock huge sums of money? Panic began to gnaw at her gut. It was entirely possible Chiltam had heard her and Brock arguing yesterday afternoon.
“Mr. Chiltam happened to overhear that his former employer has extended an offer of marriage to you. Is that so?”
Maddie met Belwick’s clever gaze. He was watching her every move, every reaction. She felt as if he knew everything that had taken place between her and Brock, and it unnerved her.
Belwick was like a bored cat with a mouse; it wasn’t a matter of if he would pounce, merely a matter of when. Maddie knew she had to speak carefully to avoid scandal.
“I think that matter is between Mr. Taylor and myself,” she answered in her frostiest tone.
Suddenly Belwick became all consideration. “Indeed. I meant no offense. I did not come here to pry. I merely thought you might wish to know the reason behind Mr. Taylor’s proposal.”
Did Belwick mean to tell her of her own debt? Or did he imagine that Brock had not yet informed her that he had purchased all of her outstanding notes?
Drawing herself to her feet, Maddie stared down at her guest. “Reasons? If he had proposed, I should assume his reasons are like any other suitor’s.”
“Not so. Has he told you about the railroad?”
Railroad? What on earth...?
Belwick gave a shallow laugh. “I thought not. Shall we start over?”
Uneasy now, Maddie nodded and sank to the sofa once more. What did Brock have to do with a railroad?
“About two years ago, I first heard of railroads. I felt certain they would be the transportation mode of the future. If one could reach their destination in the fraction of the time without enduring England’s ill-kept roads, certainly they’d pay a few pounds for the convenience. The first party to establish such a line in any populated area is sure to make a fortune.”
Though Maddie had heard little about railroads, if what she had heard about the speed of the transportation was true, Belwick was indeed correct. She nodded and urged him to continue, though the knot in her stomach clenched tighter.
“Mr. Taylor had the same realization, it seems. We began competing to form the same route, London to Birmingham. I purchased necessary land, as did he. I bought a particularly large chunk in one rural area, bordered by a river on one side and a mountain to the east of that. To the west lay a piece of land not for sale. In doing so, I thought for certain I had Mr. Taylor beat at this game.
“Then recently he hired a new engineer and brought on some investors. One of which is your cousin, the Duke of Cropthorne.”
Maddie stared, wondering what she had to do with all of this. Did he mean to have her save Cropthorne from a bad investment? Surely not. She had seen little of the man in years.
“Mr. Chiltam informed me this very morning of the reason for Mr. Taylor’s optimism about the railroad he would like to build. That, my dear, is you.”
Maddie blinked in surprise. “Me? I know nothing of railroads. I cannot imagine how I might help him in the least.”
Belwick smiled, as if he were relishing the moment. “The location of the last piece of land Mr. Taylor needs is in Warwickshire. As I understand from Mr. Chiltam, your father left you such a piece of land, in right of your next husband.”
She stared at Belwick with dawning horror. The jolt of his words reverberated in her gut. Her thoughts whirled, her chest lurched.
Had Brock offered her marriage for her land, rather than social placement, as he claimed?
Though her heart screamed in denial, Maddie released a shaky breath. She had wondered if Brock sought to bind her to him as some method of revenge, perhaps, because she had not pined for him forever. Who knew the man’s mind? But for her land...?
“I see I’ve surprised you,” Belwick said, breaking into the rush of her tangled thoughts.
“How would Brock know about my land?”
Belwick merely laughed. “Mr. Taylor may come from less than sterling beginnings, but he is very crafty and very thorough. And he has enough money to find out anything he wishes to know.”
Numbly, Maddie nodded, acknowledging Belwick’s assessment. Brock was both crafty and thorough. And the implications—so many of them—barraged her in the next silent moments. She hardly knew what to think, much less what to say.
“I believe I’ve given you plenty to think about,” Belwick said, rising. “I’ll show myself out. Good day.” He bowed his head politely and left with a casual stride, as if he had not completely destroyed her state of mind.
Alone now, she rose to pace. Did Brock only seek to marry her for her land? It would explain his insistence that only she, and
not another impoverished widow, would be an acceptable bride. It explained why he had never succumbed to the temptation of sexual congress she had offered during their midnight trysts. He had a huge fortune at risk! But last night... Was he so manipulative that he would help her find Aimee and make love to her with such tender care in the hopes she would agree to marry him? The same man who had taken her virginity one hour, then a thousand pounds from her father in the next to abandon her?
Yes, Brock Taylor was indeed capable of the most dastardly manipulation. She had merely forgotten that fact amid his solicitous gestures and imploring green eyes.
The insidious ache of betrayal crept through her, making her bleed pain. In the past day, Brock had made her believe that he still cared. She had believed him worthy, possessed of an innate goodness beneath his ruthless tycoon façade.
Tears stung her eyes. She’d been a damn fool!
Maddie’s anger surged. It rolled over her relentlessly, reminding her that Brock had nearly fooled her again—and she had almost let him. God, how he was probably laughing, certain that a few kind words and an orgasm would be enough to make her his rattlebrain for life.
A violent heaving of fury fast became a combusting inferno. She was done playing into his schemes. If Mr. Brock Taylor thought to deceive her again for the purpose of making money, Maddie was willing—no, eager—to set him straight.
#
Three hours later, Maddie tapped her toe impatiently in Cropthorne’s parlor and awaited the man’s presence. She’d seen little of her cousin Gavin since her father and his had suffered a falling out. Avesbury had done his best to alienate everyone with his cantankerous nature. And her branch of the family had suffered for it. The wealth evident in Cropthorne’s Aubusson carpets, crystal fixtures, and abounding servants proved the feud had not hurt him one whit.
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