Madeleine's Christmas Wish (5 page)

“Keep her as safe as you can without stifling her. I'm continually surprised at how well my wife reads a situation.” Rutherford had a chagrined look on his face. “It's hard to admit, but many times she's better than I am.”

Georges drank half his wine. He didn't like what his friend was saying in the least. “Anything else?”

“Be honest.”

He groaned. The last thing he wanted was to tell Madeleine about his actions during the war. No matter. He'd just be truthful about everything else.

“Before I forget, Jamison sent this.” Rutherford handed Georges a packet. “He said it might be useful on the Continent.”

Georges opened it. Two sets of identity papers for Madeleine and him, as well as letters of safe conduct.

“I can't leave England at present.” Rutherford pressed his fingertips together. “But if you require any help I am able to give, you've only to ask.”

“I shall. At present my only decision is whether to take the
diligence,
which is the French mail coach, or journey by private carriage.”

Rutherford nodded. “Friends of mine are in Paris for their honeymoon. My understanding is that the mail is the only thing working properly over there right now. As you know, the
diligence
is quicker. It's hard to best seven to ten miles per hour, and there is the matter of finding good horseflesh for changes.” He took a sip of wine. “If you're in a hurry, I suggest you travel by mail, and have your coach follow you.”

“An excellent idea.” They could arrive in good time in Beaune. Then once he'd settled the problems there, he and Madeleine would continue on to his estate where they would spend Christmas before returning to England. “That would save many problems.”

“Will you return to England?”

Georges grinned. “I must. I have one sister still to be married, and I believe an English husband would be more advantageous in these times.”

If Napoleon returned, France might no longer be safe again. He'd need to have contingency plans for Madeleine's estates as well as his own.

A
lready dressed, Madeleine gazed out the window, trying not to think about her impending wedding.

Everything in this country was so calm and peaceful. For the first few days, each time she heard unexpected horses or a carriage arrive, her heart thudded in panic. She did not remember a time she'd lived without fear as her daily companion. Maman and Genevieve would be happy here. Georges, however, would be upset when she refused to leave with them.

Madeleine turned when the knock sounded on the door. Andrews opened it, and the butler bowed. “My lady. Lady Rutherford is here.”

Ah yes, the wife of one of Georges's friends, a baroness and possibly one of the people involved in saving Madeleine from the London brothel. “Please show her in.”

A petite dark-haired lady with laughing blue eyes entered and dropped an elegant curtsey. She held out her hand. “My lady. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you out of harm's way.”

Did the baroness know? A flush crept into Madeleine's neck and cheeks. “I”—she swallowed—“I.”

The woman smiled kindly. “Don't say a word, if you do not wish to. We have a saying here. All's well that ends well.”

Madeleine took the offered hand, clasping it. “Thank you.” She motioned to the chaise against the far wall. “Please have a seat. I shall order tea, or would you prefer wine? Georges has a very good claret.”

“Tea please.” Lady Rutherford sank onto the chaise. Madeleine had never known a woman who moved so gracefully. “I'll have wine at the wedding breakfast. What is the purpose of the stars in the windows? I've never seen anything like them before.”

She signaled to her maid who stepped into the corridor. “It will be here directly.” She sat on the chair next to the sofa. “They are Christmas decorations. Apparently, we begin celebrating the season much earlier than you do in England.”

“It's a lovely custom.”

Madeleine agreed, and she wanted to be home as soon as possible. “I am glad you and your husband could be here. I know only a few people, and there are not many Georges counts as friends.”

The other woman raised a brow. “I hope we shall be friends as well. I know several ladies who would be delighted to meet you.”

“That sounds lovely.” Madeleine twisted her fingers together. She wanted so badly to be able to confide in someone, yet she had only just met this woman.

“Is something wrong?”

Straightening her shoulders, she took a breath. “I—we, Georges and I, will leave for France soon. I do not think I shall return to England.”

Lady Rutherford's eyes widened. “I see. If—”

Before she could finish, Andrews led in a footman carrying a tea tray, which he placed on the low table. Madeleine poured two cups, giving one to Lady Rutherford. When Madeleine glanced up, the baroness was studying her.

“I think you need a friend,” Lady Rutherford said.

Yes. Madeleine desperately needed a confidante, but could she trust this woman? “You are correct, yet . . .”

“The path to my marriage to Rutherford was not smooth either,” Lady Rutherford said with a knowing look. “And I am known to be discreet. If you'd like, you may call me Anna.”

The weight on Madeleine's shoulders slipped away. “I am Madeleine.”

“Do not tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Anna waited until Madeleine nodded. “Though I don't know the circumstances, it appears to me this wedding is a bit rushed.”

Madeleine's stomach churned, as she considered how—what to say. “In a way it is and in another it is not. We were to have been betrothed as children, but the revolution began and the plans for our marriage fell apart. Therefore, I suppose the answer is yes, but I needed Georges's help in France, and he would not agree unless we married first.”

Anna tilted her head to the side. “Does he love you?”

Love? Madeleine had not really considered it. “In my country, persons of our status do not marry for love. Of course, if the couple is lucky, they may come to love one another.”

“Then he is marrying you because of the understanding?”

A good question, one Madeleine wished she had an answer to. She gave herself a shake. “I do not know.”

Anna reached over, took Madeleine's hand, and squeezed it. “Georges has lived in England for a long time. You cannot know how that has affected his thinking regarding marriage. Normally I would say you should find out what his feelings or motivations are before you wed, but there is no time for that. Though I do counsel you to do so as soon as possible.”

“I've never been in love.” How would she even know if Georges was in love with her? “What are the signs?”

Anna grinned. “I have noticed that gentlemen become extremely protective. Even more telling is they do everything they can to see to your comfort. To keep me warm, Rutherford once had me so wrapped up in fur rugs I could barely move.”

Georges was already protective. Madeleine wanted to ask how she would know if she was in love, but it didn't matter. Even if she fell in love, she'd have to leave him.

Another knock came on the door. “My lady, the vicar and priest are here.”

“We will come directly.” She turned to Anna. “Thank you. I will do as you have suggested.”

Madeleine would have the long journey across France to think, yet what if she discovered he did love her? What if these strange feelings she had for him were love? Then what would she do? He would never agree to have the marriage annulled.

 

 

Georges paced the drawing room until Rutherford drawled, “You remind me of a nervous cat. Are you afraid she'll run away?”

That was exactly what Georges was concerned about. Over the years, he'd looked around and had considered a number of ladies. Yet when he'd discovered Madeleine's plight, it never occurred to him that he would not marry her. She was his and had been since he was fifteen. Still, he had no idea what she thought of him. It might have been better to have ascertained that before he blackmailed her into this marriage. Perhaps she was in love with a man in France. No. He'd known when he'd kissed her there had been no one else.

“Smile. We have company,” Rutherford said in an under-voice.

Georges glanced up. The two clergymen had arrived. Accompanying them were his mother and sisters, and Wilton. The guests would arrive within the hour for the wedding breakfast.

His mother hugged Georges. “I've sent for Madeleine.” Maman held out her hand to Rutherford, who bowed over it. “You must be Lord Rutherford.”

“Indeed. My wife is with the countess.”

“Yes, I remember. She will attend Madeleine. How nice you could come, and while you are still so newly married yourself.”

“We were delighted to make the trip.”

Georges grinned to himself. With Rutherford's three sisters in the house, he'd wager his last penny, Anna and Rutherford were happy for some time alone. Pauline had wanted to attend Madeleine, but Maman thought Madeleine should meet other people.

Her father's habit of avoiding court helped keep them alive, but left her with limited social skills when it came to the
ton
. If possible, they'd be back in England for the Season, and she would be more comfortable having previously met Anna.

A sigh from one of Georges's sisters made him glance toward the door. For a moment he thought he was dreaming. Madeleine strolled forward. The silver thread and crystals woven in a pattern over her gown's silk bodice and skirts caught the sunlight streaming through the windows, casting multicolored lights onto the cream walls. Her face was framed by soft curls. The fabric was the same color of her eyes. She was exquisite. He wondered if the back of her hair would be a simple knot, or elaborately braided. Either way, he would be taking it down. He might have agreed not to consummate their marriage to-night, but he hadn't agreed not to touch her.

His lips tugged up, and he knew he was smiling like a besotted bridegroom. Perhaps he was. Once he'd kissed Madeleine, he never wanted to touch another woman.

Her beautiful blue eyes were wide with trepidation. He reached out for her. “Come, my love.”

Color flooded her cheeks, and he realized what he'd said. Yet he'd not take it back. He did love her, or very nearly so. The question was what did she feel for him?

The priest and rector had blended the service so that all the legalities and customs of both countries were accomplished. They knelt for communion, receiving the blessing of the Holy See. When she'd hesitated, then stumbled over the “until death do them part” portion of the vows, he had his confirmation. For whatever misguided reason, she was planning to have the marriage annulled. In that case, he'd just have to convince her otherwise.

Georges captured Madeleine's attention as she entered the drawing room. Dressed in a jacket of Prussian blue and matching breeches, he had never looked more handsome. The coat appeared molded to his broad shoulders. A lock of sable hair fell over his brow, giving him a piratical appearance.

“Nicely tied cravat,” Anna whispered. “Almost as good as Rutherford's.”

She was right. It was very well done. The only color on the snowy linen was a plain sapphire pin. Madeleine slowed her pace as they approached Georges and Lord Rutherford.

Could she truly go through with marriage knowing she intended to have it annulled? Yet, what choice had he given her? And part of her wanted to be married to him, to have him call her his wife, at least for a little while.

She almost choked on the last part of the vows, but he gently wrapped his fingers around hers, and she was able to finish.

After they signed the register, his sisters and mother smothered her in hugs and kisses. She'd better enjoy it now; soon they would hate her.

Georges wrapped his arm around Madeleine, leading her to the hall and the corridor to the ballroom. He bent his head close to hers, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Everything will be all right. I promise you.”

“I—I must tell you—”

“No. You must prepare to greet your guests, Madame Cruzy-le-Châtel.”

Mon Dieu
. What had she been thinking? If he hadn't had stopped her, she would have confessed all. Georges mustn't know anything until she'd rescued her family. “You are correct.”

Madeleine smiled until her face hurt, accepting good wishes. At one point her new mother-in-law pulled her aside. “My dear, if there is anything you wish to know before you retire for the evening, feel free to ask me.”

For a moment she did not understand what the woman was saying, then . . . Well she couldn't very well tell Georges's mother she would not be sleeping with her son. “
Non.
I will be fine.”

Fortunately Anna appeared. “Madeleine, you're wanted.”

Her friend led her away. “Thank you. She was going to give me advice about . . .”

Anna nodded sagely. “By the look on your face, I thought it was something like that. I have a feeling your husband will be able to explain it all to your satisfaction.”

The sun had set, and Georges took her hand. “It is time for us to leave the party.”

“It has been enjoyable,” she lied.

“It's been hell.” He smiled at a guest and hurried Madeleine out the door. “Finally we're alone.” He escorted her to a different bedchamber. “These are now your rooms when we are here.”

They were at the back of the house overlooking the formal gardens. He took her through a large parlor. Showed her the dressing room and bathing chamber, then led her to the bedroom and pointed. “My chamber is through that door.”

“Thank you for telling me. I shall ring for my maid.”

“There is no need. I shall do myself the honor of undressing you.”

Suddenly her heart was pounding so hard, she couldn't breathe. He'd lied to her! “
You promised!
You promised we would not sleep together.”

Georges stroked her shoulders and arms. “Calm down. I always keep my vows. However, I did not pledge, nor did you ask me not to sleep with you. You stipulated that I would not press you to consummate the marriage, and I will not.” His voice dropped to a low purr. “However, there are many things we may do short of marital congress, and I fully intend that you enjoy all of them.”

Georges pressed his lips to her forehead, skating down her cheeks to her throat, before gently nibbling her bottom lip. Madeleine tried to remain unaffected, but she sighed as he pressed his mouth to hers. He trailed his tongue along the seam of her lips. Her bodice sagged, and her intention of protesting was lost. Instead she gave in to the fire in her blood, caressing his tongue with hers.

Tiny flames shot through her. Hairpins fell to the floor and his fingers speared through her curls spreading them out over her shoulders. Instead of trying to resist him, she wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. The next thing she knew, her skirts slithered down her legs, but Madeleine couldn't think about that. Georges had pushed her stays down, and cupped her breasts. They were swollen and tender, and her nipples ached. She pushed one into his hand.

More, she wanted more
.

Georges lifted his head.

She tried to reach his lips, but he set her aside. “I'll help you into your nightgown.”

He was so calm, she could have screamed with frustration. Then his lips twitched. Devil, he thought this was funny.

“You did say”—he raised one black brow—“you did not wish to consummate our marriage.”

He'd said there was more. “Yes, but . . .” How dare he be the one to remind her of her demand?
Madeleine, you're not making any sense. This is what you want.
“Yes. I did.”

“Then it is time to get ready for bed.”

He efficiently stripped off her stays and shift, and she tried to ignore she was naked. She reached for her nightgown, but he held it away.