His Wicked Wish (3 page)

Deep in thought, Maddy turned the corner. She stopped abruptly. Her stomach took a sickening dive.

Lord Dunham lounged in the doorway to her dressing room. How well she knew his fair features: that narrow blade of a nose, the refined cheekbones, the flaxen hair. From previous encounters, she also knew that despite his languid pose, her cousin possessed a wiry strength beneath the black tailcoat and snow-white cravat of a gentleman.

“Why are you here?” she asked coolly, willing steadiness into her voice. “Only cast members are permitted backstage.”

“Don't be cross, darling.” Sauntering forward, Dunham presented her with a posy of red roses, the stems tied with a white ribbon. “I merely wished to congratulate you on a magnificent performance.”

Maddy reluctantly accepted the bouquet. “Thank you, my lord. Now you really must go before you're discovered here.”

“The cast is busy with encores. Your Romeo certainly likes to show off his singing.”

He was referring to Edmund, who enjoyed entertaining the crowd with his deep baritone. She could hear him in the distance, his rich voice accompanied by cheers from the audience. There would be no help from that quarter. Even her maid Gertie had gone out to check on preparations for the farewell supper.

No one would hear Maddy if she screamed.

“They'll be finished very soon,” she said with contrived certainty. “And I'm afraid my head hurts, so if you'll be so kind as to depart.”

She made a sweeping gesture toward the exit door behind her. It led out into the alley where this man belonged. But Dunham merely shaped his lips into an attractive smile. No doubt some women found him charming—though she herself thought him far too snooty.

His ardent gaze raked her body as if he were imagining her naked. “Is that how you show your gratitude, Miss Swann? Surely you can grant me a kiss at the very least.”

“I'm afraid not, my lord. We scarcely know one another.”

“Only because you've been avoiding me of late.” He edged closer and forced her to take a step backward. “You seemed so very friendly at first, inquiring about my family history, showing an interest in my pedigree. If I've done something to offend you…”

“I've merely been checking into the backgrounds of all the gentlemen who are pursuing me. A woman can't be too careful.”

He shook his head, a hank of flaxen hair falling onto his brow so that he looked more like a choirboy than a seducer. “Nonsense, you showed me a particular attention. You invited me into your dressing room. We shared a flask of wine.”

That had been a mistake, Maddy knew in retrospect. Their meeting had been the catalyst for his obsession with her. “I'm sorry if you misconstrued my purpose. Now, I really must ask you to go. You may submit your bid tomorrow evening at the auction along with the other gentlemen.”

And she would toss it straight into the rubbish bin. Even if he wasn't her cousin, heir to the odious Duke of Houghton, she would still despise Lord Dunham for making her feel like a cheap whore. She had only invited him to participate in the auction so as not to alienate him. He was, after all, her one link to finding out information about their mutual grandfather.

All at once, Dunham lunged at her. Before she could do more than gasp, he pressed her back against the wall of the corridor and locked her in the prison of his sinewy body. The odor of his cologne made her gag. In a fright, she tried to wriggle free, but his arms were like iron bars.

“You're quite the feisty filly. I shall enjoy taming you to the ride.” As if to relish her squirming, he nuzzled her cheek, his breath hot and moist on her skin. “Ah, Madelyn. You are so very beautiful.”

“Release me at once!”

“Don't play the innocent. After all, you're selling your services to the highest bidder. I'd merely like to sample the goods and decide how much to offer. Now, that isn't unreasonable, is it?”

Maddy took a shuddery gulp of air. She still held the posy he'd given her, and her fingernails dug into the stems. Further struggling would only enflame him. Better to find a way to catch him off guard.

Drawing upon her acting ability, she pretended to go limp. She willed the tension out of her body and sagged in his arms, letting her head fall back as if to yield to his dominance. For dramatic effect, she formed her lips into an enticing bow. “As you wish, my lord,” she whispered. “You're so much stronger than I am.”

A blue flame flared in his eyes. “Now, there's a good girl. Or shall I say, a
bad
girl? Just the sort I like.”

He crowded closer to claim his plunder. At the first repugnant touch of his wet lips to hers, she reached up and jammed the posy into the soft underside of his chin. She ground hard with all her might. The cloying odor of crushed roses burst into the air. Lord Dunham yowled as several thorns found the exposed skin of his throat.

His grip slackened and she jerked herself free, ducking under his arm and whirling around, intending to flee down the corridor and back to the safety of the stage. Instead, she found her way blocked.

A fine lady stood watching them. The woman had appeared from out of nowhere.

Maddy found herself the object of scrutiny by a pair of lovely violet eyes. Though the lady's features were mature, her skin showed only the finest of lines and it was difficult to pinpoint her age. She had coal-black hair beneath a dark berry silk bonnet that was elegant in its simplicity. In her gloved hand, she clutched a velvet reticule. Even in her befuddled state, Maddy noted the exquisite cut of that plum-hued cloak with its pearl button fastener.
This
woman had not sewn her own garments from cheap fabrics on the remnants table.

The lady gave Maddy a penetrating look before turning her attention to Lord Dunham, who was hissing curses while gingerly dabbing at his throat with a white handkerchief.

“Alfred Langley,” the woman said, arching an eyebrow in regal disdain. “This is quite the unexpected surprise.”

He looked up and scowled. “Lady Milford! What the devil are you doing here?”

“Better I should ask
you
that question,” she responded. “Especially as it seems you are engaged in your usual sort of mischief.”

Lady Milford must have been in the audience tonight, Maddy realized. But who had allowed her to come backstage? And how much had the woman seen?

Whatever the answer, she couldn't be trusted not to cause trouble. The last thing Maddy needed was a scandal on the night before the auction. “Lord Dunham was just on his way out the door,” she said.

He cast an angry glare at her. “Not without redress. I've a mind to summon the constable!”

“You daren't,” Maddy said, her fingers gripping the folds of her skirt. “Lest I testify as to exactly what happened here tonight.”

He curled his lips into a sneer. “And who do you suppose he'll believe, a lord of the realm … or a guttersnipe actress?”

Lady Milford delicately cleared her throat. “Alfred, you're forgetting something. There is another witness to your actions.”

“Good God, surely you can't take
her
side. She attacked me like a madwoman!” Lord Dunham gestured at the reddened streaks on his throat left by the thorns. “Look, I'm bleeding!”

Maddy bit her lip to keep from ridiculing his histrionics. He might only be suffering from injured pride, but he was a nobleman and she was in enough hot water without making him angrier.

Lady Milford appeared unimpressed by his wounds. “Be that as it may, I hardly think it in your best interests to involve the law. Especially as Houghton will then become aware that in addition to your other sins, you've taken to assaulting women!”

The mention of his grandfather had a visible effect on Lord Dunham. His flushed features turned pale and his hand froze in the act of dabbing his wounds. Maddy found that most remarkable. Was he truly so terrified of the Duke of Houghton?

Lord Dunham had revealed precious little about their mutual grandsire. But now his reaction told her more than she'd been able to weasel out of him over the course of several weeks. It confirmed her suspicions that Houghton was a harsh, fearsome nobleman who could make even his adult grandson quake in his fine leather shoes.

Dunham tucked the handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Blast you both. I shan't stay and subject myself to this collusion of hens! As for you, Miss Swann, we will speak tomorrow.”

He aimed an icy glower at Maddy, a look that chilled her to the marrow. Then he stalked to the exit door, wrenched it open, and vanished into the alley behind the theater. The door closed with a loud bang that reverberated down the narrow corridor.

The incident left Maddy shaken. Glancing at Lady Milford, she rubbed her arms in an effort to restore warmth to her skin. “I'm sorry you had to be privy to that scene, my lady,” she said stiffly. “But I do appreciate your aid.”

“It was my pleasure. And pray don't give Lord Dunham another thought. Men seldom react well when their vanity is injured.”

Maddy didn't know quite how to respond to the woman's kindness. An awkward silence ensued, in which she was keenly aware of the vast social gulf between them. She had never before engaged in conversation with a noblewoman other than her late mother.

Lady Milford made no move to depart. She stood with her gloved hands folded at her waist and her expression serene, studying Maddy as if she were an exotic creature in a zoo.

Perhaps she
was
outlandish to a lady who'd never seen from close-up an actress prepped for the stage. Because the gas lamps washed out a performer's complexion, Maddy had applied a heavy dose of cosmetics to enhance her features. She had rouged her cheeks and reddened her lips and darkened her brows with soot.

To play the tragic Juliet, she had twisted up her blond hair with gold ribbons in medieval fashion. The décolleté of her ivory gown revealed a generous display of bosom that must be shocking to a lady of refinement.

Despite her discomfort at the woman's scrutiny, Maddy held her head high. “Were you looking for someone, my lady?” she asked coolly. “You must have come backstage for a reason.”

“I'm here to see
you,
Miss Swann. On a matter of great importance.”

 

Chapter 3

Maddy led the way into her dressing room. What could this elegant lady want with her? Whatever it was, it couldn't be to Maddy's benefit. Aristocrats often exploited the lower classes for their own selfish purposes. Yet Lady Milford had come to her rescue and it would be churlish to refuse to hear her out.

Maddy usually felt a sense of tranquility when entering this cozy chamber. It was her refuge from the hustle and bustle of the theater. Tonight, however, she was aware of the dingy cabbage roses on the wallpaper, torn in places and stained by soot from years of burning oil lamps in close quarters. Articles of clothing were scattered around from her quick wardrobe changes between scenes. Gertie must have been too busy helping the other performers with their costumes to tidy up.

Maddy cleared a ruffled petticoat off the single wooden chair in the corner. “I'm afraid you'll have to pardon the disorder. I wasn't expecting any visitors.”

Lady Milford gracefully seated herself. “It is I who should beg pardon, Miss Swann. It was discourteous of me not to have arranged this meeting in advance.”

Maddy pulled out the stool by the dressing table, and the legs scraped noisily on the wood floor. Sitting down, she noted the clutter of cosmetics and reached out to replace the cap on an open jar of rouge. It irked her that she felt embarrassed by the mess. What did it matter what this woman thought of her?

Nevertheless, she straightened the hairbrush and hand mirror, then put a cork in a bottle of perfume. “Perhaps you had better tell me why you're here.”

The woman folded her gloved hands around the velvet reticule in her lap, her posture straight and her gaze direct. “Allow me to be frank. I understand you are soon to hold an auction for select gentlemen of the ton. An auction in which you yourself are to be the prize.”

A pot of greasepaint dropped from Maddy's nerveless fingers. She caught it just as it rolled off the edge of the dressing table. Was her ladyship an angry wife come on a mission of rebuke?

No, Lady Milford appeared to be in her middle years. The noblemen were all bachelors in their prime.

Was she an irate mother, then, wanting to protect her son from a conniving actress?

But Lady Milford didn't look livid. Serious, perhaps, but not on the verge of explosive fury. None of the men were named Milford, anyway.

“Indeed,” Maddy murmured cautiously. “The gentlemen are to bring their sealed bids to me tomorrow night, and in due course, I shall select the winner. But … how did
you
find out about the auction?”

“My source is of no consequence,” Lady Milford said with a flutter of her fingers. “However, I should like to ask, is it true that only those men who have received an invitation will be permitted to submit a bid?”

“I—yes. I could hardly open it to the general public.” She'd chosen only a dozen or so nobles who were proper and well heeled, men powerful enough to protect her from Lord Dunham, yet not cruel in nature. If she was to embark on an illicit affair, it would be with a gentleman who would treat her with a measure of decency.

“I see,” said Lady Milford. “That is why I'm here, Miss Swann. I wondered if you would consider extending an invitation to my godson, Viscount Rowley. With the death of his brother over a year ago, he is now heir to the Earl of Gilmore.”

Maddy's jaw dropped. Not because she knew who Viscount Rowley was—she had never heard of him—but rather, because Lady Milford actually seemed to be expressing
approval
of the auction. So much so that she would come here to solicit an invitation on behalf of her godson!