His Wicked Wish (28 page)

He reached for the prostitute to settle her back onto his lap.

Even in his befuddled state, Nate recognized the insult. Dunham was calling Madelyn a whore. He was implying he'd kissed her, too.

Was
that
what had happened the other night, when Nate had caught them together? It had to be.

In a red mist of fury, he seized hold of Dunham's lapels and yanked him to his feet. He hauled back his arm and drove his fist at the man's jaw. A solid crack resounded, the satisfying force of it traveling up his arm. Dunham staggered sideways into a small table and overturned it, glassware crashing to the floor.

Men shouted, women shrieked.

Nate paid no heed. He went after his nemesis, pummeling him with both fists. From out of nowhere, Dunham struck a glancing blow to Nate's nose. Tasting blood, Nate shook his woozy head and tried to land a jab, but Dunham ducked and Nate's fist swooshed through the air.

The momentum of the missed strike sent him barreling into the wall. He banged his shoulder and the side of his face so hard that his teeth rattled. His head spun as he turned around. Even as he started to lunge again, several men rushed forward to clamp onto his arms. Nate howled in rage and struggled to free himself.

Especially when lily-livered Dunham escaped out the door.

*   *   *

Maddy had arrived home after midnight in the company of Nathan's family. They had attended a musical evening featuring an opera singer and a harpist at a neighboring town house. She would have enjoyed the entertainment much more had she not been annoyed that Nathan had begged off at the last minute.

Prior engagement, indeed, Maddy thought as she scanned the titles of the few books on a shelf in her bedchamber. He'd claimed to be joining some old friends, though he hadn't specified who.

Could he have gone on the prowl for another woman?

The possibility disturbed her much more than she cared to admit. His behavior had been rather cool toward her since the previous evening at Emily's debut ball when Maddy had implied he was jealous. Perhaps she oughtn't have provoked him. But she had not been able to stop herself. The words had just come out.

She had tried to atone for her blunder by being seductive in bed. Their lovemaking had been sensational last night—yet he'd departed directly afterward as he always did.

Sexual pleasure was all he would ever give her of himself, Maddy reminded herself. Theirs was not a marriage based on love and affection. It was a business arrangement, and he would be departing from her life forever in a matter of weeks. The sooner she reconciled herself to that fact, the happier she would be.

Too wide awake to sleep, she paced the room. None of the books on the shelf appealed to her. Especially since she had come to crave Nathan's company in bed. But he likely would be out late tonight, and she needed a distraction to allay a sense of loneliness.

Perhaps she would go down to the library and find a play to reread. She had always enjoyed Shakespeare in particular, and it would be pleasant to forget her troubles in one of the Bard's lighter comedies. As she donned a wrap over her nightdress, nostalgia for the theater tugged at her. It was at times like this, when she was alone in her lavish bedchamber, that she missed the excitement of performing, the friendships with the other actors, the close confines of her untidy little dressing room. If only she could attend a play at the Neptune Theater.

But perhaps it was best to make a clean break. That was her old life. And her stay here at Gilmore House soon would be over. Her real adventure would begin at the end of the season, when she opened her shop. Then she would be so busy and fulfilled that she need never dwell on the past—or pine for the companionship of her husband.

Taking the candle lamp from her bedside table, she opened the door and went out into the corridor. An occasional flickering taper in a wall sconce lit the long passageway, leaving swaths of deep shadow here and there. The other bedroom doors were all closed. She wasn't likely to run into anyone, for the family would be fast asleep by now.

Yet upon walking toward the staircase, she was proven wrong. From somewhere ahead of her came a heavy thump. It was followed by a muffled, disembodied curse that echoed off the walls.

She froze. It sounded as if something had fallen.

No, not some
thing.
Some
one
.

With visions of half-crippled Lady Gilmore lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, Maddy hastened forward with the candle. She couldn't imagine why the dowager would be wandering the house at such an hour. Was she ill?

Arriving at the stairs, she peered down into the gloom. Her eyes widened. A dark, monstrous shape crawled up the steps.

Her heart raced. Her first impulse was to turn and flee. Worry kept her rooted in place. “Lady Gilmore?” she called. “Is that you? Are you hurt?”

A growl issued from the monster. The creature lifted its shaggy head. The feeble light of the candle fell upon bloodied features. Familiar features with green eyes and a strong jaw.

“Nathan!” She set down the candle lamp on a side table and hastened down the few steps to reach him. The smears of rusty red on his lower face alarmed her. So did the raw scrapes on his knuckles. “What happened? Did you fall?”

He muttered something unintelligible.

As she slid her arm around his back to help him to his feet, Maddy caught a strong whiff of spirits. “Oh, for pity's sake! You're drunk!”

“So wha' if I am?” he said loudly. “I won' be your dog on a leash.”

She struggled to assist him in mounting the stairs. He was swaying, a heavy weight that threatened to topple her. “Stop babbling,” she hissed. “You'll wake everyone.”

“Wake 'em, then.” He made no attempt to moderate his tone. “Tell 'em that you're mine. All mine.”

“You're speaking nonsense,” she whispered. “Close your mouth and concentrate on walking.”

They reached the top of the stairs. Somehow, she would have to guide him down the long corridor and get him into bed. Then he took a wrong step, stumbled, and crashed into the wall. As another curse echoed, she caught hold of his arm. It would be a miracle if no one heard him. “Quiet! Lean on me.”

A nearby door swung open. So much for miracles.

The Earl of Gilmore stepped out, clad in a blue silk dressing gown, a look of irritation on his stark, pitted features. “What is all this racket out here?” He held up the candlestick in his hand and let the light fall on Nathan. His expression hardened into a look of disgust.

Maddy didn't want him to realize how drunk Nathan was. He'd only despise his son all the more. “He fell on the stairs and hurt himself,” she said quickly. “I was taking him to my room.”

“That isn't why he's injured. He's been out brawling.”

At that icy tone, she put it all together. The bloodied nose. The skinned knuckles on Nathan's hands. The smell of drink.

“Yes, well, I still need to see if a doctor should be summoned.”

“No. I won't have the entire household disrupted because of his folly.” Gilmore put down his candle and came forward. “I'll help you get him into bed.”

As he put his arm around his son, Nathan tried to shy away. “Don' want yer help. Never did.”

“Silence!” the earl snapped. “Lest I toss you out of this house at once.”

Amazingly, Nathan clamped his mouth shut. He lowered his head and scowled like a sullen little boy.

Maddy grabbed her own candle and followed them. Her husband was half a head taller than his father, though Gilmore was huskier and managed to keep Nathan upright and walking. As they neared her chamber, she ran ahead to open the door.

A fire still burned on the hearth. She set down the candle lamp by the bedside and made haste to throw back the covers. Gilmore guided his son there and settled him onto the sheets, lying on his back.

Nathan groaned. He threw his arm over his face as if the scanty light from the candle hurt his eyes. Maddy went to his side, her anxious gaze sweeping over him. But other than his bloodied nose and battered hands, he appeared to be hale enough.

“I'll ring for a servant to bring towels and hot water,” the earl said. “That and sleep should fix him.”

“A pot of strong tea, too, if you don't mind,” Maddy added. As he walked to the door, she scurried after him. His assistance had been kind, and she needed for him to know that. “Thank you, my lord. I'm truly sorry to have involved you.”

Gilmore's mouth twisted. His gaze flicked to the man lying on the bed. Then his dark brown eyes pierced Maddy, and he looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he merely nodded and went out the door, closing it behind him.

What had he been about to say? That he was disappointed in his heir? That Nathan fell far short of his paragon of a brother, David? Oh, she hoped not. It broke her heart to see the strife between father and son. Neither of them seemed ready to budge an inch, and tonight certainly hadn't helped matters.

She couldn't blame the earl for being disgusted. This
had
been a monumental folly. Where had Nathan been all evening? Who had he been with? Most of all, why had he been fighting?

Torn between anger and concern, she padded to the bed. He lay unmoving, his arm still over his eyes, only the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest giving testament to life. He must have fallen into a drunken stupor. His clothes were untidy, his cravat bloodstained and crooked. Blood also smeared the lower half of his face. One cheekbone showed the darkness of a rising bruise.

He looked like a ne'er-do-well after a long, hard night of debauchery. Was this the way he'd behaved as a young man? Was that why his father resented him? The dowager had said he'd been a difficult child, quick-tempered and rebellious.

That was not who Nathan was anymore, Maddy thought in frustration. Now, he was a diligent, dedicated entrepreneur who had traveled to China and made his own fortune. Yet tonight he had shown his worst side to his father and had given Gilmore even more reason to dislike him.

Perhaps this was all part of Nathan's plan. Perhaps he'd
wanted
to irk his father. She still didn't understand why he refused to make amends with the earl. Was his antagonism just an entrenched habit?

She didn't know and he wouldn't tell her. She herself had loved her own father. She'd give anything now to have her dear papa back again, and it bothered her to see Nathan spurn his chance to have that close paternal love.

Bending over him, she tugged off his shoes, one at a time, and dropped them onto the floor. He groaned, but didn't move. She shifted her attention to his neck cloth. It took her a few minutes to untie the intricate folds, and as she leaned closer to him, Maddy caught a whiff of flowery perfume.

The scent jabbed her like a red-hot wire. It proved that her earlier suspicion was correct. He
had
been with a woman tonight, damn him.

In a fit of pique, she tugged hard on the untied strip of crumpled linen. It caught on something at the back of his neck, perhaps the leather thong that secured his long hair. He uttered a growl of protest.

His arm lashed out and he caught her wrist in a punishing hold. “Stop,” he muttered. “I'll kill you.”

“Let me go, you rotten varlet.”

His groggy eyes blinked up at her. “Mad'lyn?”

“Indeed. You passed out on my bed. Now kindly cease manhandling me.”

His arm fell away. Then he lifted his head slightly to survey the bedchamber before dropping back onto the pillow with a groan. “Gilmore … wasn't he here?”

“I'm surprised you remember.” She dropped the bloodied cravat in a wrinkled heap on top of his shoes. “He helped you into bed and then departed.”

His lips twisted with contempt. “No scolding?”

“You're married now. He left that task to me. And I will happily fulfill it.” She jerked open the buttons of his coat and then his waistcoat. “It was selfish and stupid of you to drink and brawl. And then to make noise and wake up your father, to let him see you this way.”

“Don' care wha' he thinks. Blast him.”

“No, blast
you.
Sit up now so that I can remove your coat before you ruin it.”

He gingerly levered himself up, swaying a little and scowling. “You're angry.”

“A brilliant observation.” Maddy worked the form-fitting coat off his shoulders and down his arms, then flung the garment onto a nearby chair. She did the same to his waistcoat, leaving him clad in only shirt and trousers. “I've every right to be furious, and so does your father. You behaved foolishly tonight. You drank too much and you engaged in a fistfight.”

“I won' be led around on a leash.”

He'd said that earlier, and now it only irritated her all the more. Especially when he gazed at her so sullenly—as if
she
were the one at fault. “You're free to do as you please,” she snapped. “So long as you show respect to me and to your family. Which you did
not
do tonight. Where did you go, anyway?”

Frowning, Nathan rubbed his eyes as if trying to call forth the memory. “Played hazard. Had a few drinks. Tha's all.”

“That isn't all. You reek of perfume. I wonder if you went to a brothel.”

His eyes widened. He glanced away as if unable to meet her gaze. His guilty reaction only confirmed what she already knew. He had sought his pleasure in the arms of another woman. Maddy's throat felt taut, her heart aching. His actions shouldn't hurt—yet they did.

A low knock sounded on the door. Grateful for the chance to pull herself together, she went to answer the summons. A footman entered with a silver tray. On it sat a jug of water and a small stack of linens, along with a pot of tea and two cups.

She drew a small table nearer to the bed for the tray. Seeing the young servant flick a curious glance at Nathan's bloodied face, she dismissed the fellow at once and he vanished out the door. No doubt the conversation in the servants' hall tomorrow morning would be animated, but Maddy didn't care. Nathan had only himself to thank for that.