A Lady Betrayed (7 page)

“Madeline Margaret Applegate…to wed…Adrian Phillip Carter, Viscount Weller of Huntingtonshire. If any person can name any impediment to this marriage, let him speak now or forever hold his peace….”

The church seemed suddenly full of sound as people shifted position in their pews, and the old wooden benches creaked in protest. Maddie found she was holding her breath.

But no one spoke out.

Of course they would not, why should they?

In a moment, the vicar went on with the service, and she exhaled with a long sigh, trying not to allow her unease to show. The viscount would think she was mad. It was just—she wasn't sure why she felt so restive.

She was glad when the service finally wound its way to a close. She took her rectangular cushion with its handsome needlework design that her mother had done with her own hand and knelt upon it for the final prayer, glad to have the padding between her knees and the cold stone floor of the old church.

When the last “Amen” was said, she stood, still pondering the mysteries of marriage, and lingered without speaking as the church emptied. Lord Weller waited for her father to turn his wheeled chair, and they headed for the front door of the church.

Adrian found that his shoulders ached with tension. He had been fighting the urge to look behind him ever since the banns had been read. He seemed to feel the eyes of every person in the church concentrated on the back of his head, even though the pews hid much of his tall frame. And without any rational reason, he kept wanting to turn and search the crowd of parishioners to see if he could make out his cousin's face amid the cluster of churchgoers.

“You're going as mad as Francis,” he murmured to himself.

Madeline glanced up at him, and he pushed back his worries with great effort, smiled down at her instead, and offered his arm. She smiled back as they made their way toward the sunshine outside the open church door.

The vicar stood at the doorway and gave cheery greetings to his flock at they all exited the church.

“Ah, my dear Miss Applegate, you too will taste the joys of matrimony, just as your younger sisters have done, having most unkindly preceded their elder sister,” he said, his tone jovial, as they came out into the level ground. “I know I speak for everyone when I say that we are all happy for you.”

Adrian felt his brand new fiancée stiffen. He knew that older sisters usually married before the younger; did she feel some hidden barbs beneath the churchman's comment?

“Thank you for your good wishes,” he said, so that she did not have to reply. “I am the happiest of all, I think, having secured the promise of such a pleasing bride.”

“Indeed, indeed,” the vicar agreed. “The most beautiful of all the sisters, and that is saying something, I must tell you, Lord Weller, as there is not a plain face in the bunch. Mr. Applegate and his late wife, may she rest in peace, produced a most handsome family.” The churchman leaned over to shake hands with the man in the wheeled chair, and they exchanged greetings, leaving Adrian free to speak quietly to Madeline.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said, but she didn't quite meet his eye.

He would have it out of her later, when they were in private, he told himself.

Once Mr. Applegate had made his farewells, they walked at a leisurely pace back to the Applegate residence, pushing the chair along the wide path, leaving the conversation confined to innocuous subjects of weather and the church service.

But Adrian still glanced about him at the thick copses and wondered uneasily which could hide a sharpshooter taking aim.

Madeline saw her father to his own room on the ground
floor to take a short rest before the midday meal, then went into the kitchen to see if Bess needed any help. One of their neighbors had sent over a couple of pheasants newly shot. Thomas had plucked the birds and prepared them for cooking, and the kitchen now smelled agreeably of roasting meat. Bess handled the delicate matter of the plum sauce, but she put Maddie to work on the potatoes. When the vegetables were ready for the cooking pot, Maddie was free to take off her apron, wipe her hands, and become a lady of leisure again.

Presently she returned to the sitting room and found the viscount pouring himself a glass of wine.

He raised the bottle. “May I?”

Maddie started to shake her head, then paused. “Yes, thank you, I believe I shall.”

He poured and passed her the goblet.

She took a sip, then stared at the glass as if untold mysteries were hidden inside.

“Is something wrong, Madeline?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“You told the vicar you would stay here the required four weeks, making the reading of the banns in your own home parish unnecessary. Is there some reason you don't wish to have them read in your own church back in Huntingtonshire?”

He tried to guess at the direction of her thoughts, and what might have created the furrow of worry on her brow. “Such as another woman who might have claims on my affections?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, her tone even.

He thought of the spies paid by his cousin to send word of any news of his comings and goings, even as he shook his head. “I simply thought this would be easier and more efficient,” he told her. “I make no claims to have lived my whole life like a Turkish eunuch, but for some time, I have been unfettered when it comes to matters of love. I assure you, no other lady—no other female, for that matter—has any claim on my attention, Madeline. I leave behind no brokenhearted squire's daughter, or innkeeper's daughter, or farmer's daughter. No lady of the evening expects me to call. I am free of entanglements, quite free to make a betrothal.”

He sounded completely sincere, and some small knot inside her eased. What did she fear? She wasn't sure, only that she felt he was holding something back. And yet, he had stood beside her in church and listened to the banns being read—what more could she expect from him? Why did she still wonder?

Why could she not trust him completely? Was it something she sensed about him, or something lacking in herself that she found it so hard to trust? Perhaps it was only that their acquaintance was so new, their engagement so oddly made. Maddie bit her lip and looked away from him.

“I don't know why…” she started, and then paused again. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” he told her, his voice gentle. “After all, we have found ourselves in a strange predicament.” He reached across the space that separated them and took her hand before she realized what he was about. Adrian lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back gently, with a soft precision that sent sparks of feeling all the way up her arm.

Maddie had to fix all her resolution not to jerk her hand away. It was like coming into contact with a leaping flame, except it was not a pain—no, it was more like an exquisite pleasure, but almost more delight than one could stand. How did wives endure so much joy, if their husbands pleased them so deeply with every touch? She almost moaned aloud but managed to swallow the sound before it emerged from her lips.

But instead of leaving her alone to sort out her very confused feelings, the confounded man leaned forward and kissed her hard on the same lips that had almost betrayed her. He tasted of port wine and warm sunshine.

“And you will stay here for four weeks?” She pulled away and tried to sound as if her mind was still alert.

“Since I've already been here almost a week, that's not such a long visit, unless you feel you will weary of my company?” That irresistible grin lifted the corners of his lips again.

She smiled back, unable to withstand him. “Of course not, I just meant…”

When he smiled at her just so, she couldn't remember what she meant. She took a sip of wine to cover her moment of confusion.

This was ridiculous, Maddie decided. They were betrothed. They were alone. She should enjoy the moment. She set her glass down up on the table. “And what did you wish to tell me?” she asked boldly.

“Just this,” he murmured, taking her hand and once again lifting it to kiss. He brushed his lips over her fingers one by one while she shivered from the sensations that the warmth of his kisses produced. Then he turned her hand over and pressed a more distinct kiss upon the palm; this one Maddie felt deep within her. It was all she could do to remain still and not fling herself bodily upon him.

Was this flirting? She had heard of discreet flirtations between sophisticated ladies and gentlemen, but how did one manage the necessary self-control? She found that she was breathing quickly, and she thought that the viscount's breath was also coming more rapidly.

She watched the way his eyelids lowered over his dark eyes, and the veins in his temples throbbed; she could draw a map of his face, she thought. She ached to reach out and push an errant lock of hair back behind his well-shaped ear.

Now his kisses moved up her wrist, to her arms, and she felt the sensations inside her body deepen, the longings increase, and she fought not to slip down upon the settee and pull him down with her. She didn't even really know what she wished for, only that she wanted to be close, she wanted him to assuage these deep longings in a way that she instinctively knew that he would understand how to do.

Lord Weller looked into her eyes and kissed her palm one last time, then released her with reluctance. “We'd best stop for now, my darling Madeline. If your father comes in, he will take one look at your languorous eyes and know precisely what we have been about.”

“Oh!” Maddie said, alarmed. She moved back a few inches and tried to straighten both her collar and her face before anyone could indeed recognize what they had been up to in their precious minutes of solitude.

But she couldn't wait until they could do it again!

N
ow that her neighbors knew that Madeline
Applegate was betrothed to a titled and prosperous stranger, and—better yet—that it was an engagement made under possibly scandalous circumstances, the whole shire seemed to overflow with intense curiosity. Their volume of mail suddenly erupted to new heights. Bess came in on Monday with her apron nearly full of notes and letters.

She looked a bit stunned. “The post is 'ere, Miss Madeline.”

“Good gracious,” Maddie answered. “Is that all for us? Put them on the table, Bess, and I will sort through them.”

Their usually quiet neighborhood seemed to have blossomed overnight into a veritable social playground. Their previously sedate neighbors were now planning a wonderful procession of tea parties, alfresco meals “before the good weather disappears altogether,” shooting parties, small dinner parties, small dinner dances, larger but still intimate dinner parties, riding parties, card parties, and Lord knew what else, and to all of these no doubt enjoyable diversions Miss Applegate and her newly betrothed fiancé were cordially invited.

“You're well favored among your neighbors,” the viscount said when he came down to find Madeline, feeling quite overwhelmed, sitting at the dining table sifting through the pile of invitations.

“I've never been this popular in my life,” she declared with a wry smile. “I fear we must hold you accountable for the sudden demand for our company.”

His dark eyes held the twinkle she had come to watch for, and she smiled back at him as he grinned. “Funny that, I never knew I was such a social lion. I shall have to practice my roar.”

Just then her father wheeled himself in to the breakfast table, and she turned to him. “Can you believe this, Papa? All invitations, and most of these people haven't bothered with us since your accident. I've a good mind to write them back and tell them to go to the devil!”

“Now, now,” John Applegate said, picking up his napkin and taking a piece of ham to put on his plate. He allowed the viscount to add a good-sized slice of cold venison as well, nodding his thanks. “We must allow for some normal inquisitiveness, my dear.”

“Normal? They are as curious as cats!” Maddie allowed her disdain to show. “And I am of no mind to humor their need to meddle and pry. Why should we aid their rush to dig into our private affairs?”

“Why, indeed,” the viscount agreed, filling his own plate. His expression was sober, but his eyes still twinkled with hidden laughter. “Our lives are none of their concern, I agree. We did not make our betrothal for their amusement.”

Bess came in carrying a teapot swathed in a tea caddy and proceeded to pour hot tea into their cups. “Bunch of nosy parkers, all of 'em,” she said, her tone brisk. “Best to watch what ye say out in company, a 'cause it'll be all over the shire a 'fore ye blink.”

Maddie opened her mouth to reprimand her too helpful servant for offering advice when she was, again, supposed to serve quietly at the table, but paused, not having the heart.

She glanced at Lord Weller, whose lips were pressed together a bit too tightly, in that way he had when he was suppressing a smile. Her father simply looked resigned.

When Bess had left the room, John Applegate chuckled. “So, we are agreed that we shall have to keep our own counsel. But shall you not accept some of the invitations, my dear? Lord Weller will no doubt appreciate some amusement.”

Maddie recalled their tryst in the flower garden and hastily pushed that thought away before she blushed again. Amusement, indeed!

“But you find it so tiring to go out in the evening, Papa,” she pointed out, even as she glanced down at the pile of notes, knowing that she was tempted by some that came from genuine friends and that she could be sure were offered in the spirit of good will.

“Ah, but Lord Weller can help get me into the carriage, and I'm not as frail as all that. Or you could always find a matron who would be willing to act as chaperone, I'm sure.” Her father took a sip of his tea.

Maddie thought of Mrs. Masham and repressed a shudder. Then she remembered her friend, Felicity Barlow. Would she consider going out into company with them? Surely Maddie could ask, tactfully. Besides, the viscount did deserve more entertainment than they could manage, not being able to entertain themselves. After all, he must be used to a more interesting nightlife than what passed as such in this rustic corner of Yorkshire.

If perhaps he found some genuine pleasure from her company—better not to consider that just now. It would bring another blush to her cheek, and with her father sitting close at hand, just as well that he didn't realize that his daughter was hoping that provincial dinners and dances were not the most amusing diversions that Lord Weller would enjoy during his time in Yorkshire.

“I will speak to Mrs. Barlow and see if she has any inclination to play duenna,” she told her father.

“Ah, the perfect person,” he agreed. “She is sweet-natured and always pleasant company.”

After their meal ended, the two men retired to her father's study for a friendly game of chess, and Maddie helped Bess in the kitchen for a time, then set off down the path to the widow's small cottage.

It was a lovely fall day. The leaves showed their splendid autumn hues, russet and deep red and gold, as they fluttered in the slight breeze. The air was cool enough that Maddie was glad she had wrapped a thick shawl about her shoulders before she'd left the house.

When she reached the cottage, she saw a thin column of smoke rising from the chimney. Knocking at the stout oak door, she soon heard footsteps from inside.

Still, it was a moment before the door swung open.

“Oh.” Felicity Barlow looked surprised, then she smiled quickly. “How nice to see you, Miss Applegate. Please come in.”

The small residence, which seemed to be mostly one large room, was painstakingly tidy. The wood floor was swept clean, the small fire contained behind a screen, and the hearth clear of ashes. The table was free of crumbs and held a bowl of nuts and a pitcher of water. A small gray cat curled up near the hearth. The bed in the corner was neatly made.

Mrs. Barlow poured water into a teakettle and put it on a hook that swung over the coals while Maddie explained her errand.

The matron smiled a bit ruefully. “I would be happy to help out,” she said, “but I'm not sure if my wardrobe is up to the challenge, Miss Applegate.”

“Oh, do call me Madeline,” Maddie told her. “We've known each other for months, now. And honestly, I'm not sure mine is, either. I'm going to go into our attic and dig through my mother's trunks and see if there are any gowns we can make over. I would be happy to share what I find with you.”

“Oh, that's more than generous—but they are your mother's things! I'm not sure I should accept.” Mrs. Barlow looked a little flustered. “And you must call me Felicity.”

“What a pretty name,” Maddie exclaimed, distracted for a moment from her train of thought.

“It means fortunate, in the Latin,” her friend explained, glancing ruefully about the sparsely furnished cottage. “There have been times when it has seemed an ironic jest that Fate has played upon me.”

“Which is why you must accept, and really, I have no idea if there is much to give,” Maddie confessed. “I haven't looked at Mother's chests in years. The twins always turned up their noses at the idea of reworked gowns, and Juliana had no need as she disdained the local boys, finding no one who caught her fancy until she went off to London and was well and truly caught by her gorgeous baronet.”

Felicity laughed.

“Of course, if you're still in full mourning…” Maddie hesitated, not sure how delicate this topic was. Mrs. Barlow, no, Felicity, had never shared any details about the death of her husband, and Maddie had respected her reticence and never asked.

“Oh, no, it's been much more than a year, I just—well, as you said, sometimes it's a matter of one's budget.” The widow smiled again.

“Oh, yes, I know.” Relieved, Maddie smiled back. “Then you must come over and help me dig through the dust and see what we can discover in the eaves. I know that neither of the men will be interested in our search for treasure troves of fabrics.”

After a cup of tea, the two walked back to the Applegate house and went up into the attic where the flotsam and jetsam of past years had come to rest. With Felicity's help, Maddie moved aside the occasional broken piece of furniture, and they opened the trunks and examined full-skirted gowns of old-fashioned design. The trunks were heavy with the scent of lavender to ward off insects, so most of the fabrics were untouched despite their years and were still fit to be made over and refashioned for their benefit.

Maddie and her father had generally led a quiet life and had not gone into local Society all that often, so her need for gowns had never been as urgent before. But now she was very glad to have her mother's old dresses to call upon. She removed several silk gowns and a lined satin evening cloak that was wide enough to provide material for reworking. Before she shut the trunk, a book of receipts caught her eye. Maddie took it out, too, wondering if there were dishes here that perhaps even Bess had forgotten and which might be tasty to prepare for their guest.

They left the attic with their arms full and brought it all down to her bedroom to sort through. Their designs were too out of date to wear as they were, of course, but the material and trimmings could be salvaged and reused. They would simply pick out the seams and take the gowns apart.

“This lavender silk would make a good dinner dress for you,” Maddie suggested. It would make Felicity's shift from full to half mourning less of a shock to the neighborhood.

“You are being more than generous,” her friend told her. She stroked the sleek fabric with a sigh of appreciation. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“Nonsense. I am thankful that you are willing to leave the peace of your quiet life to chaperone, so that Papa does not have to exhaust himself just because everyone in the shire suddenly wishes to take a look at my new fiancé,” Maddie said, rolling her eyes.

“I suppose we are providing our neighbors with a genuine act of kindness, then,” Felicity said, with the lilt of laughter in her voice. They both giggled.

“I hope, dear Madeline, not that it is my place to say, that you are happy with the betrothal,” the widow added more soberly. “I mean, I hope that you have not been pressured into this arrangement simply for the sake of your honor, or for appearance's sake, as important as I know that always must be for a maiden of good family.”

Maddie looked away for a moment, but then turned back and met her friend's eyes. “In the beginning, it was mostly for the sake of appearance—my and my family's honor, you are right. But I find—I find that I am becoming more and more pleased with the arrangement.”

She remembered her uncertainties and the great chasm of ignorance that fueled her frustration and her fears that she might not make a pleasing bride. Could she ask an older and more experienced friend for advice? She drew a deep breath and gathered her resolve.

“You know my mother died when I was very young?”

“Yes.” Felicity nodded.

“And I never planned to marry.”

Her friend looked startled. “Why on earth not, my dear?”

Madeline looked away, thinking of the terrible time when her mother had fallen ill, and all the certainty in her world had crumbled. “My mother—my mother asked me to look after my father. And I promised her I would—that was the last coherent thing she said to me as she was burning with fever. I held her hand until she grew too weak to talk at all, but she gazed at us with eyes that grew too fever-mad to know anyone—anyone except my father. He was the only one in the last hours who could rouse her to a knowing, loving glance. She loved him so much.”

Madeline found her own gaze blurring, and she had to blink hard.

Felicity put one comforting hand on her shoulder. “That had to be very hard on you, I know. Were you very young?”

Maddie nodded. “Hardly eight years old. But I promised, you see. And then as the rest of my sisters grew up, as we all grew up, I tried to mother them, guide them, comfort them—because I was the eldest. And there was so much I didn't know, and there was no one to ask.”

“Oh, my dear, what a task you set for yourself.” Felicity's voice was soft with sympathy. “You have not had the easiest life, either, and you forfeited your childhood very young, I think.”

“Not that our father was not the best father in the world, you understand, but he was a father, and he could not be a mother, too, even as much as he tried. And then he suffered his own injury, and that made it all even more difficult.” Maddie sighed and drew out her handkerchief so she could wipe her eyes.

“I never thought, without dowries, that we would be lucky enough that even half of us would find husbands, and it seemed clear that I must stay home and look out for my father and whichever of my sisters remained at home. That Lauryn should fall in love with the squire's son and he with her was wonder enough, and then Juliana going to London, and the twins running off—which could have been, really should have been, a total disaster—well sometimes miracles happen.” Maddie shook her head, remembering how angry she had been at her feckless younger sisters. Honestly, if they had not been so amazingly fortunate—