His Wicked Wish (22 page)

“Well, well, if it isn't Theo Langley,” Nate said, offering his hand. “Nathan Atwood here, in case you've forgotten me.”

Theo looked around in surprise, his dark blue eyes rounded behind his spectacles, a lock of sandy-brown hair tumbled onto his brow. “Oh … hullo.” His gaze flicked to Madelyn and then to Emily, lingering a moment on her before he belatedly shook Nate's hand. “Um … you're Lord Rowley now, aren't you?”

“Indeed, and I've lately returned from a long journey through the Far East. Lord Theo, if I might introduce my wife, Madelyn, and my sister, Lady Emily. Madelyn and Emily, Lord Theo Langley.”

Theo turned hesitantly to Emily. He took her gloved hand almost reverently. “Hullo. It's—it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Madelyn offered her hand as well. Her full attention on him, she studied him closely as if inordinately thrilled to meet Dunham's brother. “It's an honor, Lord Theo. Your grandfather is the Duke of Houghton, is he not? May I ask, is he here tonight?”

The second question struck Nate as odd—except in the context of her being a social climber. Did that explain her interest in Dunham? Had she selected that rogue as a future conquest on the basis of his bloodline? Nate clenched his jaw. As Houghton's grandson and heir, Dunham would be a feather in her cap.

And a rich one, too, for Houghton had deep pockets.

“I'm afraid Grandpapa doesn't get around very well these days,” Theo said. “But I'm sure you'll meet him at our ball.”

“Ball?” Madelyn inquired.

“It's in May. You must come, everyone does. It's always the biggest crush of the season.” He blinked owlishly behind his glasses. “Not that
I
like great crowds of people. But the ladies seem to enjoy it.”

Theo and Emily were stealing glances at each other and Nate decided the lad needed a nudge. “Ladies like dancing, that's why,” he said pointedly. “Perhaps you and Emily should go practice your skills right now.”

“Practice? Oh, yes, right, a capital notion.” He bowed to the girl. “Lady Emily, would you care to dance?”

“Yes, I would, thank you!”

Arm in arm, they headed off toward the music, Theo looking tall and lanky beside petite, slender Emily. The young blade had better treat her well, or he'd have to answer to Nate.

He turned to see Madelyn smiling warmly after them. “They're such an attractive couple. They do seem enamored of each other, don't you think?”

“It would appear so.”

Nate reflected that
he
was the one enamored—of Madelyn. That soft smile made him hunger to whisk her upstairs and find a bedchamber in which to make love to her. Even a dark corner or a linen closet would do, anywhere that they could be alone. The blood burned hotly in his veins. He could lift her skirts, press her up against the wall, and thrust into her tight velvet heat …

“Rowley,” spoke a male voice from behind Nate. “You always did have a beautiful woman on your arm. This time, I see she is the scandalous Madelyn Swann.”

Dunham joined them, a drink in his hand, his narrow features exuding a sly snobbery as he glanced from Nate to Madelyn and back again. He looked dapper in a black coat with a ruby stickpin in his cravat, his blond hair neatly combed. The slight sneer on his lips revealed his resentment at being the loser in the auction.

Nate slid his arm around Madelyn in a deliberate display of ownership. “Dunham. You will kindly address my wife as Lady Rowley. Darling, this is the disreputable Lord Dunham.”

“How do you do, my lord?” she said.

Madelyn was still smiling but with tense civility. She didn't extend her hand as politeness demanded, nor did she curtsy. She watched Dunham almost warily, and Nate wondered if he'd been wrong to think her interested in the man. Rather, there seemed to be an undercurrent of dislike between them.

Why would she have invited him to participate in the auction if she had an aversion to him? Was it just his rank that had attracted her? Whatever the reason, Nate felt disturbed by it.

Dunham waved his glass toward the dance floor. “Was that Theo I saw going off with your sister just now? I'm afraid it won't do.”

“Won't do?” Nate repeated coldly.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but my brother shan't be permitted to court her. Houghton would never allow his grandson to have any connection to a family that has been tainted by common blood.”

The direct slap at Madelyn made Nate's fingers clench into fists. “If you insist upon insulting my wife, then let's settle the matter in the boxing ring. Just name the time and place.”

Those pale blue eyes widened slightly. “Fisticuffs,” Dunham scoffed. “That was always
your
manner of solving disputes, not mine. I ask only that you warn your sister not to expect Theo to come calling.”

With that, he walked away into the horde of guests. The stinking coward. Nate would have enjoyed planting a hook into that weaselly face. It was hard to believe they'd once been cronies, drinking and gambling and carousing together. He must have been out of his mind to associate with such a ne'er-do-well.

He looked down at Madelyn. As she stared after Dunham, her face was pale, her lips compressed. Nate had never seen her so wounded that she could not speak.

The sight stirred a protective instinct in him. “I'm sorry you had to be subjected to that,” he murmured, gently squeezing her hand. “I'll make certain Dunham never again comes near you.”

She lifted her chin and looked at him. Her blue eyes blazed with anger. “You needn't coddle me. I'm perfectly capable of watching out for myself. If you'll excuse me now, I shall return to Lady Gilmore.”

Stunned, Nate stared as she glided away, the incomparable lady as she sailed through the crowd and sat down with his grandmother and the other matrons. He'd been wrong to think Madelyn distressed. She was furious. At him? What the devil had he done but defend her?

No, surely her anger was directed at Dunham. She must be incensed at him for barring Theo from seeing Emily. And she'd be affronted at being dismissed as
common.

Whatever the reason for her ire, Nate resolved to keep a closer eye on his wife. Not just tonight but in the coming days as well. There was something between Dunham and Madelyn, something that didn't quite make sense.

And he intended to find out exactly what it was.

*   *   *

The following morning at nine, Maddy entered the dining room to see the Earl of Gilmore sitting alone at the head of the table.

She stopped, tempted to make a quiet retreat. The newspaper he was holding blocked him from seeing her in the doorway. What was he doing here at this hour? The earl usually breakfasted promptly at eight. By nine, he was ensconced in the library with his papers and books. She had learned his daily routine in order to avoid his company. But their late return from the party the previous evening must have caused him to alter his strict schedule.

She balked at the notion of making stilted conversation with her father-in-law over the breakfast table. Frankly, the man intimidated her. According to Nathan, the earl had tried to have their marriage annulled. Keenly aware of his resentment of her, she often felt tongue-tied around him. She could do nothing to improve their strained relationship, either, for she had been charged with the task of irritating him.

She was being paid handsomely for her efforts, Maddy reminded herself. It was necessary for her to earn her keep. Besides, the footman standing on duty by the sideboard kept flicking glances at her. And the food laid out there smelled delicious, making her stomach rumble.

She pasted on a chipper smile and advanced into the room. “Good morning, Papa. I trust you are feeling well today.”

Gilmore lowered the newspaper to regard her. Maddy knew she looked respectable in the stylish morning gown of bronze silk. Yet not even the tiniest hint of welcome cracked that dour façade. He merely gave her a nod, then lifted his cup to the footman, who scurried over to refill it from a silver coffeepot.

Maddy proceeded to the sideboard. The chafing dishes held a vast array of kippers and sausages, eggs and deviled kidneys, porridge and toast. Even after a few weeks living here, she never failed to be awed by the lavish meals. At the theater, she'd felt lucky to break her fast with stale bread and a sliver of cheese. Now she filled a plate with coddled eggs and bacon. Then she marched boldly forward to seat herself at the earl's right hand.

The footman came to pour steaming tea into her cup, and Maddy added a trickle of cream, stirring it with a silver spoon. Gilmore continued to read his newspaper as if she weren't even present.

She buttered a slice of toast. If there was to be a conversation, she would have to start it. “Lady Milford's party was a brilliant success, was it not? It seemed we all enjoyed it very much.”

The earl glared over the top of his newspaper. “You behaved adequately last night. Is that what you wish to hear from me? Then consider it said.”

Maddy tried not to quail under that unfriendly stare.
Adequately.
Was that all? But she hadn't been fishing for a compliment, anyway. “I was thinking of Lady Emily in particular. She danced with quite a few young gentlemen. She seemed especially taken with Lord Theodore Langley.”

Instantly, she was sorry to have spoken that name, although Gilmore merely grunted and returned to his newspaper. Lord Theo was her cousin and she mustn't single him out lest someone guess the connection or glimpse a family resemblance. Besides, Lord Dunham had forbidden the courtship.

Houghton would never allow his grandson to have any connection to a family that has been tainted by common blood.

She took a bite of egg without really tasting it. His crass statement had lit the fuse of her fury. She had barely been able to contain herself from blurting out that she and Dunham shared the same blue blood.

But that revelation must wait for the moment when she came face-to-face with their mutual grandfather, the Duke of Houghton. Perhaps at the ball he was giving sometime in May.

Gilmore folded his newspaper and laid it down beside his empty plate. His dark brown eyes penetrated her. Abruptly, he asked, “Who are your people?”

Maddy's heart pounded. She took her time slathering gooseberry jam on her toast. “My people?”

“Your relatives, your family,” he said in irritation. “Who taught you to speak like a lady? You could not have learned such refinement in your short time here in this house.”

“Oh.” She felt on familiar ground now. “I'm an actress, as were my parents before me. I grew up in the theater. From an early age, I learned to imitate speech patterns, to play many different roles. It was a necessary part of my work.”

His flinty stare made her uncomfortable. It was hard not to look away, to pretend a brashness that she didn't really feel.

He dabbed his mouth with a linen serviette. “I presume you also became adept with the use of cosmetics at the theater.”

“Why, yes.”

“Emily was wearing face paint last night. My mother would never have allowed it. None of the servants would have dared to disobey her. And Sophia denied any complicity. That leaves only you, Madelyn.”

She clutched her fork, the whorled pattern pressing into her fingers. His stern expression daunted her. His face bore a network of the same unfortunate pits as Emily's, a legacy of the illness that had claimed the life of his eldest son. How could he be angry over the improvement in his daughter's looks?

Maddy refused to apologize for helping the girl. “Yes, I did use a bit of powder and paint to minimize Emily's scars. You mustn't hold her to blame, either. It was entirely my doing. I can be quite insistent and persuasive, you see!”

“I am not blaming anyone,” he said testily. “My daughter looked exceptionally fine last night. It seems I am obliged to thank
you
for that.”

Rising, the earl pushed back his chair. Maddy gawked at him in astonishment. Before she could articulate a reply, he walked away and vanished out the door.

 

Chapter 16

Two hours later, Maddy was still mulling over the possibility that the Earl of Gilmore might have a trace of humanity in him, after all, when his son stepped into the morning room.

Nathan's broad shoulders and tall form made the spacious chamber seem suddenly smaller. The walnut-brown coat brought out the gold flecks in his green eyes, while tan breeches and black knee boots outlined his long legs. A warm attraction pulled at her, a testament to his magnetism. It was hard to believe that less than a month ago, she had not even known he existed.

When he opened his mouth to speak, however, she held her finger to her lips and glanced meaningfully at Lady Gilmore, who sat dozing in the chair opposite Maddy.

The dowager's chin sagged to the bosom of her pigeon-gray gown. Her eyes were closed in her wrinkled face, and a light, rhythmic snoring emanated from her. She had fallen asleep some ten minutes earlier and Maddy was loath to awaken her.

She quietly closed the book in her lap and set it aside. Then she arose from the chaise and tiptoed to the door to join Nathan. Catching hold of his arm, she steered him down the corridor toward the front of the house.

“What a relief,” Maddy said with feeling. “Your grandmother has been especially petulant this morning.”

“Exhaustion from the late party, perhaps?” Smiling, Nathan ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “It doesn't seem to have affected you. And you certainly had less sleep than her.”

A delicious shiver coursed through Maddy. He had been especially attentive to her in bed last night, taking care to arouse her so completely that she fancied the aftereffects of pleasure still softened her body. Or perhaps it was just that smile of his now that made her so weak-kneed.