His Wicked Wish (23 page)

She strove for control. “Actually, I was growing quite drowsy myself while reading to her. A book of dry sermons isn't designed to keep a person awake for very long.”

He frowned slightly as they strolled down the sumptuous passageway. “I thought the book was for your own enjoyment. But you were reading aloud to Grandmamma?”

“I always do so each morning. She claims it's good for me to practice my diction. But the truth is, she won't admit her eyesight is poor. She insists she doesn't need spectacles, only that silly quizzing glass.”

Nathan stopped just outside the door to the drawing room and took hold of her upper arms. “You needn't feel compelled to do her bidding, Madelyn. If Grandmamma needs a companion, I'll speak to the earl about hiring one.”

“I don't mind helping out. I'm used to staying busy.” At the theater she'd had rehearsals and costume fittings and a hundred other duties to occupy her days.

“Nonsense, you're a lady now. I won't have my wife treated as a servant. You're free to occupy your days as you wish.”

“What else am I to do? I can't shop or go to the park. The dowager expressly forbade me to leave this house.”

“That was before you passed your test with flying colors last night.”

To Maddy's surprise, Nathan pulled her into the quiet drawing room, guiding her to the one of the windows that looked out over the square. It was late morning, and people were out strolling or walking their dogs in the sunshine. The squeeze of his hand around hers drew her attention back to him. “That's why I sought you out just now,” he went on. “To commend you on winning our wager.”

“Wager?”

“On our wedding night, you vowed to transform yourself into the perfect lady. We agreed that if you succeeded, then I would reward you with diamonds.”

Maddy blinked. She had made that thoughtless demand in a fit of nervousness about the night ahead. But she didn't want him to continue to think her a fortune hunter.

She placed her hand on his cheek, loving the faintly raspy feel of it even though he had shaved that morning. “Nathan, that really isn't necessary. You've given me enough already with the new wardrobe and the stipend. I don't require anything else.”

“Quite the contrary. There is indeed something you need.” A half smile playing on his lips, he reached into an inner pocket of his coat. “It occurred to me that you were shortchanged at our nuptials. I should like to rectify the matter.”

He held out his hand. Between his forefinger and thumb, he held a gold circlet with a large, square-cut diamond and two smaller diamonds on either side. The gemstones winked in the sunlight.

Her eyes widened on the ring. A rush of tender emotion filled her throat. Of all the jewels he could have given her, she had never expected something that called to her heart. Something that hinted he might have deeper feelings for her than mere lust.

She tore her gaze from the ring and looked up, trying to read his enigmatic expression. “It's … beautiful.”

“I'm glad you approve. Shall we complete the ceremony, then?” Taking her left hand, he slid the circlet onto her finger. “With this ring I thee wed.”

Her heart thudded as she gazed down at the diamonds sparkling on her hand. She blinked against a hot prickling in her eyes. It was foolish to feel a tightness in her bosom, to wonder if Nathan might be falling in love with her. It was imprudent to wish their marriage could be more than one of convenience, for she must not want something that could never be. Yet she felt more newly married in this moment than she'd felt that cold day in church.

She lifted her soft gaze to his face. “Thank you, Nathan.”

Standing on tiptoes, she brushed her lips across his. He pulled her close and deepened the kiss, his mouth playing with hers for one heartfelt moment of tenderness. Then he drew away all too soon.

He took a step back and regarded her with a look of aloof satisfaction. “Last night, you were wearing gloves, so no one noticed your lack of a ring. But that won't always be the case. It would raise eyebrows in society if you're seen without my wedding band.”

So that was his true purpose. To brand her as his. The gift had no romantic significance to it whatsoever.

The bubble of wistful yearning burst, leaving her deflated. She thought back to their waltz at the party, when she had teased him about taking a lover once he left England. He had appeared displeased by the notion, and the heady thought that he might be jealous had prompted her to needle him all the more. Now, it struck her that he intended for the ring to be a constant reminder that she belonged only to him.

Not out of love, but because he'd bought and paid for her.

Little did Nathan realize, though, she desired no man but him. The prospect of an affair repulsed her. She didn't know if the muddle of emotions he stirred inside her ought to be labeled love or fondness or friendship. All she knew for certain was that she craved to be with him, to talk to him, to probe behind the cool façade he showed to the world.

“I must be going now,” he said briskly, taking out a gold watch and consulting it before replacing it in his pocket. “I've some pressing business at my warehouse. I shall be back in time for tea.”

He turned to leave the drawing room, but on impulse Maddy caught hold of his sleeve. “May I go, too?”

Nathan frowned. “There will likely be callers this afternoon, wanting to have a closer look at you after last night's party. Grandmamma will require you to be here.”

“So that I might be examined like an exotic creature in a zoo? All the more reason for me to escape this house for a while.”

“I have paperwork and you'll be bored silly.”

“Not nearly as bored as I'd be listening to the gossip of catty aristocrats.” Smiling, she stroked his cheek, conscious of the ring weighing on her finger. “Please, Nathan, I haven't been out in the daylight for over two weeks. Won't you take me with you?”

He stared at her a moment before nodding. “As you wish, then.”

*   *   *

The London docks were no place for a lady. Nate was sorry he hadn't considered that before letting himself be wheedled by his wife. But he didn't seem to have the fortitude to deny Madelyn anything. Especially when she aimed that dazzling smile at him.

She was smiling now as she alighted from the carriage with the assistance of his hand. The elegance of her bronze-hued gown looked incongruous against the filthy cobblestones. Her ocean-blue eyes glowed inside the brim of a chocolate-brown bonnet tied beneath her chin with an amber ribbon. She lifted her face to the midday sun and breathed deeply as if savoring the rotten stench off the Thames.

He found it impossible to believe she could enjoy these rough surroundings. But she was glancing around with interest at the many ships and the activities of the dockworkers.

He himself liked the hustle and bustle of the docks. He liked hearing the shouts of the sailors, seeing the forest of masts, smelling the tang of salt in the damp, fishy air. He especially liked the sense of being a useful part of this well-oiled machine that brought in goods to fill the demands of a great city.

A male whistle of appreciation came from somewhere behind them. Nate turned around with a scowl, but couldn't tell if it was one of the stevedores unloading a nearby ship or a dockworker rolling a barrel along the busy waterfront.

Leaving the carriage in the care of a coachman and footman, he guided Madelyn around a series of dirty puddles and toward a warehouse, the bricks blackened from soot. “I oughtn't have brought you here,” he muttered. “The men who frequent the docks are coarse fellows, and I don't like the way they're looking at you.”

“Oh, la,” she said. “It's not so very different from the way the nobility was staring at me last night. Just pretend they're not there.”

As Madelyn made a small, dismissing gesture, the sun winked off the diamond on her hand. His mind flashed back to the pleasure on her face as he'd slid the ring onto her finger. She'd been delighted by the gift, so delighted that the dreamy warmth in her eyes had alarmed him.

God help him if she were to believe the ring had any profound meaning. Of course it didn't. Rather, he intended for it to act as a warning to any lecherous gentleman with seduction on his mind.

Madelyn belonged to him and to him alone.

At least until he left England. He refused to consider what might happen after that—because thinking about it made him grit his teeth and feel the urge to punch something.

He rapped hard on a door with peeling green paint. An eye peered through a peephole, and a moment later the door swung open.

A hugely muscled giant stepped back to allow them entry into the dimness of the warehouse. He had a patch over one eye, a torn ear that had healed jaggedly, and a mug that looked as if it had been rearranged by a potato masher. “'Ello, guvnor,” he said in a deeply gravelly voice. “'Oo's the pretty bird?”

“The
bird
is my wife, Lady Rowley. Madelyn, this is Yancy, my watchman.”

“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yancy.”

She extended her hand and the man gingerly shook it, her dainty fingers like a tiny wren caught in his meaty fist. No other lady of Nate's acquaintance would have been so gracious to such a fearsome lout. In fact, they'd have run screaming at the sight of his battered face.

But Madelyn seemed to view Yancy in a more favorable light than some of the finest gentlemen in society. She looked interested and friendly, as she did with everyone she met.

Except Dunham. What had happened between her and that reprobate? Nate pushed away the nagging question for another time.

As they walked through the warehouse, she asked in a hushed tone, “What happened to cause his terrible injuries?”

“Yancy used to be a prizefighter until he lost the eye.”

“Where did you find him?”

“He was a sailor aboard my ship, earning his passage back here to England. I came to trust him when … I saw what a hard worker he was.” Nate felt loath to share the real story. Yancy had risked his own life during a terrible storm at sea to save several seamen from being washed overboard, including Nate himself.

Madelyn glanced around the small warehouse with its high, grimy windows. Dust motes danced in the meager sunshine, the rays of light illuminating the crates and barrels stacked against the brick walls. “Do you really need a guard on duty even during the day?” she asked.

“Thievery is a way of life in this part of London. It pays to be careful.” Nate took her over to a large cask and pried open the lid with his pocket knife. “There's a small fortune in these containers. Dip your hand inside and you'll see.”

She gazed askance at him, as if expecting some trick. Then she reached into the cask and brought forth a palm full of dark, loose leaves. With a smile, she lifted the substance to her nose and breathed deeply. “Tea!”

“The variety is called
keemun,
from the Anhui region of China. All the crates over there contain silk.” Stacked up three high, the oblong containers ran the entire length of the back wall.

Her face alight, she asked, “That's quite a lot of cloth! May I look?”

“I'm afraid it would take far too long to pry off the lids. I warned you, I have papers that require my attention in the office.”

“Then perhaps Yancy wouldn't mind helping me.”

Nate shouldn't be surprised at her willingness to tolerate the company of the hulking man. But at least it would keep her busy while he worked. “If it pleases you.”

Summoning the watchman, Nate instructed him to assist Madelyn.

Then he went into the small office in the corner of the warehouse and pulled a sheaf of papers from a drawer in the old oak desk. Picking up a quill, he set to work reading the clauses of the topmost contract. The murmur of voices drifted to him, one deep and rumbly, the other lively and feminine.

He had left the door open and he could see Yancy's colossal figure popping open a lid with a crowbar, while Madelyn chatted with him. What the devil did she find to talk about with such a man? Despite her common blood, she had lived in the insulated realm of the theater, not the rough-and-tumble world of ex-pugilists.

Nate focused again on the paper in front of him. It was a contract for the sale of tea to a merchant who wished to blend it with Indian varieties. Dipping the quill into the ink pot, he made some notations to the payment schedule. A short while later, a tinkle of laughter disturbed his concentration.

Disgruntled, he peered through the doorway at Madelyn as she continued to chatter with Yancy while fingering one length of silk after another. Did she intend to coax more cloth from Nate? Hadn't he given her enough already?

Or was she assessing his fortune? Trying to calculate the net worth of her rich husband?

Nate didn't want to think badly of her. He had a habit of doing so. Every time he tried to fit her into a category, she proved him wrong. He had believed her to be a strumpet until their wedding night. He'd thought her a social climber, yet she deigned to befriend a man who hailed from the foulest part of London. He'd thought her self-absorbed, yet she'd used her skill with cosmetics on his sister and read sermons to his half-blind grandmother.

She was as keen for illicit affairs as Mama had been …

Nate shut down that thought at once. It was wrong to draw a parallel to his mother. Madelyn was incomparable. She was like no other woman he'd ever met. Perhaps that was why she fascinated him. He never quite knew what she would say or do next.

But he never should have allowed her to come to this warehouse. Better he should enjoy his wife in bed and keep her separated from every other aspect of his life. She was too much of a distraction.

He forced his mind back to the papers and managed to work his way through them by sheer determination. He was signing the last one, his pen scratching across the document, when the light tap of footsteps penetrated his awareness.