His Wicked Wish (11 page)

Nathan's mouth tilted in a slight smile that showed a hint of dimples. “The sentiment is mutual, for no other woman has such beautiful assets as you, my sweet.”

Assets.
She didn't need for him to glance at her bosom for her to remember their earlier conversation. A hot blush penetrated the deepest part of her body. Other men had looked lustfully at her, but none of them had ever made her so flustered. Her involuntary reaction was only made worse by the fact that his family was present, watching them. When she would have turned away, Nathan caught her waist in a firm grip. He glanced over her head at his father. “I'm sure you can tell that Madelyn was very popular with the gentlemen,” he said. “More than a dozen vied to have her all to themselves.”

A trickle of ice replaced the flush of heat. Did he really intend to tell his family about the auction? Of course he did, for he knew they would scorn her all the more.

“Please, darling, you'll embarrass me,” she murmured.

He looked down at her. To the others it must seem a tender glance, yet she saw the glitter of anticipation in his eyes. “There's no need to be shy about our whirlwind romance, my love,” Nathan said before returning his gaze to the earl. “You see, I'm extremely fortunate to have won Madelyn's hand. She had quite a harem of enthusiastic suitors.”

“Not so very many,” Maddy demurred. “And perhaps now isn't the time to relate all the details. We should let your family finish their tea.” She pried his hands off her waist. “Do be a dear and escort me on a tour of the house. I can't wait to have a peek into all the fancy rooms. Why, there must be dozens of them!”

But Nathan wasn't listening. Nor was Gilmore.

The earl flicked her a look so icy she felt chilled to the bone. “Where did you find her?” he asked. “In a brothel?”

Nathan chuckled. “Hardly. You might know her as Madelyn Swann, celebrated star of the Neptune Theater in Covent Garden. Perhaps you've seen her plays?”

Lady Sophia huffed out an indignant breath. The dowager fanned her wrinkled face with a handkerchief, muttering, “Good heavens!”

As the two women stared at her, Maddy held her head high. She very much doubted either of them had ever had to labor for a living. What were
their
accomplishments, to think themselves her better?

“An
actress.
” Gilmore spat the word as if naming a particularly distasteful type of vermin. “Well, I wouldn't know of her. I haven't attended the theater in quite a long while. We've been in mourning this past year, in case you don't recall.”

She saw Nathan's jaw tighten at the reference to his brother's death. “Then you can't have heard about the auction,” he said.

“Auction?”

“Nathan, darling, I really
do
wish to tour the house—”

As Maddy tried again to intervene, he pressed his forefinger to her lips while keeping his determined gaze fixed on his father. “Recently, Madelyn solicited bids from a select group of gentlemen. Her purpose was to sell her services to the highest bidder. Luckily, I was the only one who offered her marriage instead of carte blanche.”

Lady Sophia uttered a squeak of horror. Lady Gilmore stared, slack-jawed. Lord Gilmore's face turned red with fury.

“You
purchased
this … this female?” he sputtered. “Then you dared to grant her the honor of my name?”

“Not yours, Father.
Mine
. I'm an Atwood, too, pray recall. Your son and heir.”

His father took a step toward him. “What, is this some sort of twisted plot of revenge? To wed the most unsuitable tart you could find and make our family a laughingstock?” He stabbed his forefinger in his son's direction. “I won't have it!”

“You must have it. The deed is done. We've spoken our vows in church.” Clearly relishing his father's rage, Nathan slid his arm around Maddy's waist again. “And I'd call my wife eminently suitable. After all, she's a very attractive woman and this family could use some fresh blood in its pedigree. She'll make a fine countess someday.”

The earl turned to scowl at Maddy, and she felt his wrath like a physical force. His face flushed, he glared daggers at her, as did the dowager in the chair behind him.

Maddy held her chin high and forced herself to preen at Nathan's praise like the silly twit she was supposed to be playing. The truth was out now and there was no refuting it. She
had
sold herself to the highest bidder—and if these aristocrats despised her for that, then so be it.

All of a sudden, Lady Sophia loosed a choked sob. “
He
doesn't care that David's dead. Nor does she! Look at them, they're both
glad
!” She lurched up from her chair. “Oh, I cannot bear this a moment longer!” Tears spilling down her cheeks, she clutched her skirts and fled the drawing room.

Maddy's bravado abruptly deflated. In spite of the woman's earlier venom, she felt a twist of sympathy for Lady Sophia, who had lost her husband and all her prospects with him. At one time, Lady Sophia had anticipated becoming the Countess of Gilmore. How horrifying it must be for her to watch another woman usurp her place—and a lowly, loudmouthed actress at that.

It was only a role, Maddy reminded herself. She had to think of herself as a character in a dramatic production. Yet on stage, even when she'd played a villainess like Lady Macbeth, she wasn't hurting real people. If she made someone weep, those were merely crocodile tears, not evidence of true, heartfelt pain.

The moment Lady Sophia vanished out the door, the earl turned toward the dowager. “You should go after her, Mama. You've both suffered a terrible shock.”

Lady Gilmore remained on her gilded throne, sitting stiffly upright with her hands clutching the gold knob of her cane. “Nonsense, Hector. I shall remain right here. I won't be driven away by a reckless troublemaker like him.”

“That's no way to speak of the successor to the earldom, Grandmamma,” Nathan mocked. “Madelyn will think us little better than street brawlers.”

Lady Gilmore harrumphed. “You're hardly one to lecture me on manners, young man! Especially when you bring such a wicked woman into this house.”

“It cannot be good manners to insult the newest member of our family,” he retorted.

Like an angry bull about to charge, Lord Gilmore swung toward Nathan. “Stop this right now. Your grandmother has every right to be distraught. Look at what you've done, appearing here without warning after ten years' absence, stirring up chaos in my household, foisting this … this
female
on us. You're a disgrace as always. You haven't changed a whit.”

“Nor have you, Father.” Nathan strolled to the tea tray and grabbed a slice of cake, wolfing it down with his fingers. “We're both doomed to relive our past, I fear. Only this time, I'm not a boy to be bullied into obedience.”

Gilmore watched him in obvious disgust. “Sophia's right, you don't care a whit about David. You're pleased he's dead so that you can claim his rank.”

His jaw tight, Nathan paced to the earl. He stood half a head taller than his father, forcing Gilmore to tilt up his chin. “Leave my brother out of this. You always did try to turn us against each other.”

“Bosh. I expected you to behave like a gentleman, as he did. But you were determined to be the bad seed.”

“The bad seed is now your heir,” Nathan taunted. “And it gives me great satisfaction to know there's not a damned thing you can do to change that fact!”

The earl's face turned a deeper crimson. His chest heaved beneath the tailored black coat. “Say what you will to me—but don't curse in front of your grandmother. She deserves your respect!”

“Sit down at once, Hector, lest you suffer an apoplexy,” urged the dowager. To Nathan, she chided, “His health is not what it was before his illness.
You
may wish to send him to an early grave, but I most certainly do not!”

His illness? Maddy wondered what the woman meant.

Nathan didn't inquire, so he must have understood the reference. He stood in moody silence as Lord Gilmore sank heavily into the chair beside his mother and groped for his teacup.

Standing at the edge of the gathering, Maddy felt momentarily forgotten. That was fine with her. She would sooner observe the scene from the wings than be drawn back onto the stage of their bitter squabble. The powerful, destructive emotions between father and son both repelled and fascinated her. She'd always liked to observe people in order to glean insights for playing characters onstage. But seldom had she had the opportunity to witness such a clash of wills.

Clearly, the Earl of Gilmore was a haughty, demanding man. But why did he hate Nathan with such ferocity? What lay at the root of their quarrel? Was it just a case of two strong-minded men butting heads? Or was there something more, something deeper? There seemed to be a dark undercurrent between them that defied her observational skills.

And she couldn't place the entirety of the blame on Gilmore. Nathan appeared to take considerable pleasure in provoking his father.

The earl drained his teacup, his hand shaking slightly. The man truly
did
look ill, with a grayish tinge to his skin beneath the flush of fury.

Nudged by concern, she went to the trolley and fetched the pot, bringing it to Lord Gilmore and refilling his cup. “There you go, milord.” She judged it best not to call him “Papa” at this particular moment. “Do you wish sugar or cream? Shall I bring you a slice of cake?”

“No,” he snapped, eyeing her irritably. “And you're not to take on the role of hostess in this house. That is Lady Sophia's place.”

Maddy affected a bright smile. “But her ladyship ain't here, milord, and I would very much like to be helpful. Since I'm now a member of your fine family, you see.”

Turning away from his glare, she replenished the dowager's cup as well. Lady Gilmore peered suspiciously into her tea as if suspecting poison before she raised it to her withered lips and took a tiny sip.

Maddy would have liked refreshment herself, but there were no additional cups on the tray and she certainly wouldn't ask for one. Let these snoots shun her, she thought, marching back to replace the pot on the trolley. Their nasty opinion of her only proved that she was earning her generous stipend from Nathan.

Her husband strolled forward to join her, linking his arm with hers in another display of sham affection. Though she knew it was all for show, the contact of his hard muscles and warm flesh made her quiver inside as if her skin were sensitized, her every pore alert to his nearness. The reaction irked her, for she didn't much like him at the moment.

Not that he noticed. His attention was aimed at his father. “I trust you'll allow my wife and me to stay at Gilmore House. As I've just recently arrived in London, it will take some time to procure a place of our own.”

Gilmore set down his teacup with a clatter. “Go to a hotel. You'll be more comfortable there.”

Nathan's mouth formed a sly smile. “Then you won't care if people speculate as to why you've shunned your own heir?”

“He has a point, Hector,” the dowager said in an undertone. “We can allow nothing to mar Emily's debut.”

“That's precisely why I
don't
want them here. Look at the woman, she's a disgrace!”

“Indeed,” his mother concurred. “Yet they're bound to go out into society. And under my strict tutelage, her vulgarity
might
be modified. At least to some degree.”

They were discussing her as if she weren't even present, Maddy thought with a stab of resentment. These highbrow aristocrats viewed themselves as the arbiters of proper behavior, yet they couldn't grasp the irony of their own rudeness.

Then a movement in the doorway snared her attention. A slender young woman in a pale peach gown hovered there. Russet-brown curls framed the oval of her face, though she was too far away for Maddy to discern her features.

The girl darted into the room, wending a path through the clusters of chairs and chaises. “You mustn't send him away, Papa. Please!”

At the sound of her voice, Nathan turned. He sprang in swift steps to meet her halfway, grabbing hold of her dainty waist and twirling her around in a circle. “Who is this interloper? Surely it cannot be … Emily? But she was only a little sprout when I departed England.”

Smiling, his sister wriggled free. “Nathan,
why
have you stayed away so long? You didn't even give me an address to write to you!”

“I've been very busy building an import firm. And you … you've been ill, I've heard.” He gently cupped her cheek in his hand. “Pray forgive me for not being here.”

During their brief conversation, Maddy had been walking closer to them, and with a shock she noticed the pockmarks on the girl's face that resembled those on the earl's cheeks. Emily's blemishes were even more noticeable, likely because of the fairness of her skin.

The girl's eyes widened on Maddy and she shyly ducked her chin as if to hide her disfigurement.

Nathan looked over his shoulder to give Maddy a warning glance. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Madelyn. But you needn't concern yourself with her. I'm sure your paths won't cross very often.”

Maddy's heart went out to the girl even as annoyance pricked her. Did he truly think she'd act the crude termagant with his disfigured sister? “It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Emily,” she said. “What pretty russet hair you have. It enhances the hazel of your eyes.”

Nathan's sister gave her a startled look. She touched her glossy curls self-consciously. “Oh, I—”

“Come here, Emily,” the dowager ordered. “You mustn't speak to that woman.”

Emily left her brother and ran lightly to the earl, kneeling before him. “Papa, I haven't seen Nathan in so very long. Please do let him stay.”