His Wicked Wish (13 page)

“She must learn to keep her opinions to herself,” the dowager decreed. “Especially in situations where she contradicts her elders.”

The scolding only made Emily hunch her shoulders as if she wanted to slide under the table. She looked so distraught that something had to be done to draw attention away from her.

Maddy purposely made slurping noises with her spoon. “Mmm, this mushroom broth is so delicious! It's nothing like the cabbage soup we ate at the theater. That slop often gave me a case of the belches, it did.”

Everyone stared wide-eyed at her, even Emily. Nathan's mouth twitched as if he were biting back a chuckle.

The Earl of Gilmore sharply put down his spoon. “There are some things one does not discuss in company,” he snapped. “Have you no manners at all?”

“What? Oh! I'm so sorry, Papa. I'll try to be more polite.” Maddy held out her empty bowl to the footman. “Could I have more, please, sir? I'm still rather hungry.”

Nathan leaned closer so that she caught an enticing whiff of his sandalwood scent. “Be patient, darling,” he said. “We've five more courses yet.”

“Five—”

“A veritable feast awaits you,” he promised. “The earl has always believed in no less than six courses for dinner.”

On cue, a white-gloved footman came around to collect the soup bowls, while the other servant brought a platter of whole baked fish to the dowager, who used the silver serving fork to transfer a dainty portion to her plate. When it came time to dish out her own helping, Maddy thrust her nose close to sniff it.

“Stuffed pike! I must say, it smells considerably better than the fried cod from Billingsgate Market. At the theater, we always bought day-old fish in order to save money, you see. But I suppose you needn't practice such economies in such a fine house as this one.” She grabbed one of the forks at random from beside her plate. “Mr. Shawshank said you even have a fancy cook, come here all the way from France.”

The tension around the candlelit table was palpable. Clearly annoyed by her chatter, the Earl of Gilmore compressed his lips. He and the others no doubt also were offended at her calling the footman “sir” and the butler “mister.” Little could they guess, she had made those blunders on purpose. Over the years, Gertie had entertained her with stories about the workings of a noble household, including the petty rules for addressing the staff members.

“We have David to thank for hiring the chef,” Lady Sophia said, gazing down her dainty nose at Maddy. “My late husband had superior taste in all matters.”

Lord Gilmore gave Sophia a brief smile that warmed his cold features. “Indeed, David was accomplished in a wide variety of areas, from cultivating friendships among the politically connected to managing the tenants on my estate. He is sorely missed.” The earl glanced up at a portrait over the fireplace, and a brooding cloud descended over his face.

Maddy followed his somber gaze to the painting of a handsome young gentleman in a red coat and black breeches standing beside a glossy brown horse, the reins held loosely in his gloved hands. With his noble bearing, dark auburn hair, and medium build, the man bore a strong resemblance to Gilmore.

With a jolt, she realized his identity. He must be the eldest son. Nathan's brother, David. The image of him shook her to the core, for the smiling man in the painting looked so vital, so alive.

How had he died? Nathan had never told her. Nor had he informed her of exactly why he despised his father, though she was beginning to have an inkling that it might have something to do with his elder brother. There was so much she didn't know …

Though reluctant to stir up painful memories, she felt too curious to bide her tongue. She said in a stage whisper to Nathan, “Your father was gazing at the portrait over the fireplace just now. Is that your brother, David?”

Nathan's gaze flicked to the painting before he glanced away, appearing troubled as he took a swallow of wine. “Yes.”

“He was a fine-looking gent, to be sure.” She added in sincere sympathy, “I'm so very sorry for your loss. I never had any brothers or sisters, so I can't imagine how you must feel—all of you.”

No one responded. A frigid hush dampened the conversation at the table, the silence disturbed only by the clink of silver utensils. Everyone attended to their plates, while Maddy nibbled on a tender slice of fish without really tasting it.

A quagmire of gloom seemed to have swallowed everyone present except for her. Clearly no one wished to speak of the late departed heir. Ought she make more commentary? Poking her nose into their private grief certainly would prove her to be a crass, unladylike boor.

Yet the constraints of conscience kept her quiet. It was one thing to behave like a silly ninny, but she drew the line at causing pain to others. Even if they
were
snobs.

“Who told you about David's passing?” Lord Gilmore asked suddenly, his sharp gaze pinning Nathan. “No one in this household wrote to you.”

That disturbed Maddy. Had his family made no attempt to inform Nathan of his brother's death? Why not?

“I have my sources,” Nathan said cagily.

“Lady Milford, no doubt,” the dowager said with a moue of distaste. “She's his godmother, she doted on him, and she'd know how to contact him. She's always been one to meddle in other people's affairs.”

“Apprising me of a death in the family hardly constitutes
meddling,
” Nathan said. “Did it never occur to any of you to ask Lady Milford if she knew my whereabouts?”

“You will not pin any blame on us,” the earl blustered. “You were the one who walked out. You were the one who cut off all contact.”

“Quite so.” Nathan gazed speculatively from his grandmother to his father. “Yet I can't help but wonder if you two were hoping I wouldn't ever find out about David. Was that the plan? If I hadn't returned to England, you could have had me declared dead and my toadying cousin named the heir.”

Silence spread like a poisonous fog. Maddy's stomach twisted when the Earl of Gilmore failed to deny the shocking accusation. Had that truly been his scheme, then?

“Papa wouldn't be so cruel,” Lady Emily burst out, clearly upset. “Tell him, Papa. Tell Nathan he's wrong.”

“Of course, darling.” The earl reached out to pat his daughter's hand. “Your brother is most certainly mistaken. I can't imagine what would have put such an appalling notion into his mind.”

As the footman came around with a course of roasted chicken and spring peas, Maddy wasn't quite sure who to believe. Especially when she noticed the Earl of Gilmore exchanging a veiled glance with his old dragon of a mother. Had he lied in order to appease Emily?

His expression cynical, Nathan tended to his food without saying another word. Maddy didn't want to become involved in his personal problems. She had wed him as a means to her own ends, to gain the funds to open a dress shop and also to have the chance to confront her estranged grandfather in society.

Yet despite her resolve to remain detached, she felt a stirring of sympathy for Nathan. What had his childhood been like in this cold, gloomy atmosphere? Was that why he'd gone away for the past ten years? Because his father and grandmother had favored the elder brother—to the point of denying Nathan any love at all?

And the real question was, what exactly had he done to earn their hatred?

 

Chapter 10

As the ladies arose after a dessert of apricot cake, Nate stood up, too. He was relieved to have this lengthy dinner over at last. It had been a trial to make stilted conversation, to abide by civilized manners when several times he'd wanted to plant his fist in the Earl of Gilmore's face.

He would not call the man “Father” or “Papa.” Not ever again. Not after the punishing words Gilmore had flung at him ten years ago. And not after the man had all but admitted he'd have preferred Nate to be declared dead in order to bar him from inheriting.

But at least Madelyn's performance had made the evening worthwhile. She had a remarkable knack for irritating the earl. Nathan didn't know how much of it was pretense, and how much was her true character, though he suspected she was far more intelligent than his family had been led to believe. He was impatient to discover the real Madelyn—in particular, the nubile body beneath that indecent gown.

He went to Madelyn's side and set her soft hand on his arm. She glanced up at him, her eyes a deep, mysterious blue. He caught an alluring whiff of her scent, and thoughts of the night ahead stirred a keen impatience in him. She belonged to him now; he could enjoy her as he willed. No doubt a woman of her experience knew many ways to please a man. At the first opportunity, he would concoct an excuse for them to retire early …

“The ladies will take tea in the drawing room,” Gilmore announced. “Emily, if you'll be so good as to escort your grandmother.” As the girl hastened to the dowager's side, he added sharply, “Nathan, have you forgotten the custom in this household? The gentlemen remain in the dining chamber.”

“I prefer to accompany my bride.”

“Sit down. It won't harm you to drink a brandy in my company.”

As the earl resumed his seat, Madelyn gave Nate a sassy smile and tugged her arm free. She whirled around, and with an impudent twitch of her cherry-red skirts, she headed after the other women. Her hips swayed as she vanished out the door.

He wasn't sure if it she was just playing a role, or if the minx was deliberately teasing him. Whatever the case, he relished her playfulness. But if she intended to try to wrap him around her little finger, it wouldn't work. He'd had plenty of practice in taming strong-minded women. Madelyn would be no different.

One of the footmen placed a decanter and two crystal glasses in front of Gilmore. The other retainer brought forth a humidor and offered it to the earl, who opened the box and selected a cigar. Then Gilmore waved both servants out of the dining chamber.

Still standing, Nate found himself alone with the one man he loathed more than any other in the world. The urge to leave the room burned in him. He didn't owe this man any courtesy.

But if he walked out, Gilmore would brand him a coward.

Nate yanked out his chair and sat down. An expanse of white linen separated them. Gilmore uncorked the decanter and poured a generous splash into each tumbler.

He nudged one glass in Nate's direction. “Go on, take it. It seems we shall have to learn to tolerate one another's company.”

His words were an echo of what Lady Milford had said only a few days ago. Yet everything in Nate rejected the notion of a ceasefire. He didn't want to reestablish a relationship with this man; he preferred to be a perpetual thorn in Gilmore's side.

Nevertheless, he seized the glass and took a quick swallow, letting the brandy burn down his throat. “What could we possibly have to discuss? Everything I had to say to you was uttered ten years ago. I presume you recall that scene since you instigated it.”

One corner of Gilmore's mouth curled in a familiar haughty look that harkened back to Nate's youth. The earl picked up a small knife and trimmed one end of his cigar, frowning as if reflecting upon that ugly episode from the past. Their heated clash had resulted in Nate storming out of Gilmore House and boarding a ship to India. He had wandered for a time throughout Asia before using his talent for bartering to develop a thriving business.

But Gilmore didn't know that part of the story. Nor would he care.

The earl set the knife aside, pulled a candle closer, and lit the cigar at the flame, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “That long mane of yours needs barbering,” he said abruptly. “I'll send my valet to you tomorrow morning.”

Nate sat up straight. He shouldn't be surprised that Gilmore had ignored the past and launched a personal attack. “Be thankful I don't braid it anymore like the merchants in Shanghai. By emulating their style, I earned their trust and made a fortune in trade with them.”

“You're in England now and you'll conform to the standards of a gentleman. You cannot be seen in public looking like a heathen.”

“I'll do whatever I damned well please.”

The earl irritably tapped ash from his cigar into a saucer. “Will you harm your sister's reputation, then? Emily will be making her debut in a fortnight. She will have difficulty enough attracting a husband without
you
complicating the matter.”

With that, he'd struck a direct blow. Not for the world did Nate wish to ruin Emily's chance to make a good marriage. Yet he wouldn't be bullied. “If the length of my hair frightens off one of Emily's suitors, then the fellow is too gutless to be worthy of her.”

“And what of your unsuitable bride? The scandal of your marriage is certain to taint Emily. What the devil were you thinking to wed such a vulgar female?” His eyebrows clashing in a frown, Gilmore puffed on the cigar. “Never mind, your purpose is clear. You wish to strike a blow at me. You seek to bring shame down upon this household and damn the consequences.”

Now here was a topic that Nate relished. He settled back in his chair and savored his brandy, eyeing the earl over the rim of the glass. “Madelyn is a trifle unconventional, I'll grant you. But give her a chance. She'll charm everyone as she's charmed me.”

“Charm? I'm sure that strumpet has
charmed
quite a few men in her time. Especially the reprobates who tried to buy her services at auction!”

“Mind your tongue,” Nate snapped, wondering at his flare of anger when he ought to be rejoicing in Gilmore's disgust. “You're speaking of my wife—the next Lady Gilmore, I might add.”

Gilmore's nostrils flared as he sucked in several breaths. He appeared to be striving to contain his explosive fury. Excellent. The man deserved to suffer for the way he'd treated Nate all those years ago. The earl had brought this disaster upon himself.