To Tame a Dangerous Lord (10 page)

“So she claimed. Rayne hopes to find them there, at any rate.”

“Then I wonder if I could be of use after all,” she said thoughtfully.

Freddie’s eyebrow rose. “How so, Miss Ellis?”

Her gaze fixed on him. “Perhaps I could accompany Lord Haviland to the soirée on Tuesday night—as his guest or perhaps a family friend. He could keep Mrs. Sauville occupied while I search her rooms. I am less likely to be noticed, since I am a woman.”

Freddie stared at her a beat before his expression brightened. “Your idea is bang-up clever, Miss Ellis. Rayne could doubtless use a female to help him. He may be a master of disguise, but even he can’t look as if he belongs in a strange lady’s boudoir. And if you are half French, you will readily fit in at Madame Sauville’s elite gathering, since many of her usual guests are émigrés.” Freddie paused. “Yet Rayne may not be willing to take you along. He likes to do things his own way.”

“You should ask him to allow me to,” Madeline remarked. “I would very much like to help you in any way I can.”

“By jove, you are a capital sort, Miss Ellis,” Freddie exclaimed, beaming.

Madeline found herself returning his smile, but Freddie’s next remark took her aback.

“If you succeed in helping Rayne, then you should be rewarded for your efforts.”

“Rewarded?” she repeated cautiously.

“You know … a monetary remuneration.”

Heaven knew her finances were in a sad state, since she’d spent all her savings on her brother’s elopement. But she was not about to take Mr. Lunsford’s money.

“I do not want a reward,” Madeline replied. “I merely want to help ward off your father’s retribution, and in some small measure repay Haviland for coming to my rescue.”

Freddie looked quizzical, but then he shrugged. “As you wish, Miss Ellis.
I
simply want to retrieve my letters from that she-devil.”

He bowed then, and strode off with a jaunty step, looking far more cheerful than he had this morning, but leaving Madeline feeling quite alone again in the crowded ballroom.

She cast another glance at Lord Haviland as he finished the quadrille with the Duchess of Arden. A fresh surge of envy washed through her, along with an inexplicable pain in the vicinity of her heart.

There is no point in my remaining here, Maman, just so I can be miserable
, Madeline thought, turning toward the ballroom doors to make a retreat.

Perhaps she would retire to her bedchamber—or better yet, find a pleasant nook in this enormous manor where she could indulge in a bout of melancholy in private.

*   *   *

“I know that none of the candidates I put forth last month interested you,” the lovely Roslyn, Duchess of Arden, told Rayne as their quadrille concluded, “but I have high hopes for this evening. There are at least seven young ladies here you should meet.”

“I have danced with three of them,” Rayne acknowledged.

“But none of them suit your fancy?”

Rayne managed an apologetic smile. “I am afraid not, your grace. But I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

The duchess gave him a congenial smile in return. “They may improve upon further acquaintance, but if not, you needn’t despair. I am determined to find the ideal bride for you.”

Roslyn herself would have made him the ideal wife, Rayne thought as he guided her toward the sidelines. She was well-bred, gracious, and thoroughly versed in the social niceties. She would have made an admirable hostess for balls such as this, and would have pleased his grandmother as well. But Roslyn had rejected his proposal this past summer in favor of her duke.

She wanted love in her marriage, she’d claimed, and Rayne would never have given her love. He’d been physically attracted to her, certainly—what red-blooded man would not? But he hadn’t harbored any deeper feelings for Roslyn than admiration and respect, while Arden was head over Hessians in love with her.

Unfortunately, she was vastly superior to every other possibility Rayne had considered over the summer. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with any of the proper, insipid young ladies he had interviewed thus far. Their fawning attempts to impress him only made him want to send them scurrying back to their schoolrooms,
where they could spend a few more years maturing from girls into women.

Rayne turned Roslyn over to her new husband and stood conversing a moment with his former rival. Surprisingly enough, there was no lingering hostility between them. He quite liked Drew Moncrief, Duke of Arden, for his keen intelligence and ironic sense of humor. That and his aristocratic demeanor made him a perfect match for his beautiful bride, Roslyn.

Speaking of keen intelligence … Rayne glanced around the crowded ballroom, searching for Madeline Ellis. He wondered if he would have to make a foray up to her bedchamber and physically compel her to come down to attend the ball. He didn’t care for fêtes such as this any more than she did, but he wanted to help pave her entrance into local society and introduce her to the gentry who would be her new neighbors.

He was looking forward to seeing Madeline for his own sake also. Her company would enliven this dull affair, Rayne knew, feeling a surge of pleasant anticipation.

Just then Freddie Lunsford strolled through the throng, looking highly pleased with himself.

“What has you grinning like a moonling?” Rayne asked when Freddie reached him.

“Miss Ellis. She’s a game one. She knows how to put a fellow at ease.”

Rayne cocked his head, wondering just how she had won his cousin over. “Only this morning you were calling her a managing female.”

“Oh, she is—but in a kind way. I told her about the Widow Sauville’s blackmail attempt.”

Rayne thought he understood. “She wormed the details out of you, did she?”

“Well, yes. Miss Ellis is rather clever.”

“Indeed,” Rayne agreed dryly, amused in spite of himself.

“She has volunteered to help you retrieve my letters.”

“Is that so?”

“She said you need a female to navigate the widow’s lair—and I agree.”

Frowning, Rayne shook his head. “You’ll recall, she already offered her help this morning and I refused.”

“Yes, but that was before she pointed out that being a woman has its benefits. She is more likely than you to get into Madame Sauville’s bedchamber undetected. You should let her help, Rayne. Besides, she could use the funds.”

“Funds?”

“I offered her a reward if she participates. As a gentleman, I cannot welsh now.”

Rayne felt a decided twinge of exasperation. “I told you to let me deal with Mrs. Sauville, Freddie.”

“I know, but I thought Miss Ellis raised a good point,” his cousin said stubbornly.

“Even so, I don’t want to put her at risk if something goes wrong.”

That argument at least made Freddie hesitate. “Well, perhaps you are right.”

Rayne refrained from replying that of course he was right. Freddie was not entirely witless, merely thoughtless. He often failed to think things through, as opposed to Rayne, who had spent the past decade analyzing possible outcomes of various actions, usually regarding issues of life and death.

Freddie gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose I let Miss Ellis sway me too readily, but she has an easy way about her…. When she talks to a chap, she sounds perfectly logical, as reasonable as any man.”

“That she does,” Rayne agreed.

“’Tis a pity you cannot choose her,” Freddie added almost to himself.

“Choose her for what?”

He angled his head, gazing at Rayne thoughtfully. “For your bride. Since you must marry, Miss Ellis might be a good choice for you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rayne’s gaze sharpened on his cousin. “Are you foxed, Freddie?”

“Not a bit of it. Miss Ellis is a comfortable sort, and courageous besides—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind. It was a damn fool notion.”

Rayne had gone very still, hiding the range of emotions his relative’s offhand suggestion had stirred in him. The chief one was startlement, followed swiftly by intrigue. “No, I want to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

Freddie’s expression turned sheepish. “You will only laugh.”

“I assure you, I won’t.”

“Well, in truth, Miss Ellis is much too plain to be your countess. On the other hand … her lack of looks could be an advantage. She will likely be grateful that you are willing to wed her and solve her financial difficulties. It isn’t as if she will have many offers at her age. Spinsters cannot be choosers, you know.”

Rayne had no chance to respond since Freddie was evidently warming to his theme. “She likely won’t complain of neglect if you seek your pleasures outside the
marriage bed. And with her womanly hips, she should be able to bear children easily and thus give you the heir you need to satisfy your grandmother.”

Although Rayne disliked his cousin making such intimate observations about Madeline Ellis, he was definitely struck by the idea of wedding her.

“Moreover,” Freddie was saying, “she doesn’t seem to be the romantic sort, so you needn’t worry about her going all daft with love for you.”

That was a significant point in her favor, Rayne acknowledged silently, since he was determined that love would play no role in his marriage. He would allow himself no emotional ties with a wife—and wanted none from her either.

“Where is Miss Ellis now?”

Freddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you mean you might seriously consider my idea?”

“I might. Where can I find her?”

Freddie pointed toward the far end of the ballroom. “A moment ago she had secreted herself over there by those palms, but I don’t see her now.”

Had she escaped the ballroom? Rayne wondered. If so, he would go in search of her. “A proposal is certainly worth contemplating, but I should first like to speak to her.”

Rayne turned toward the row of palms, leaving Freddie to stare after him in incredulous wonder.

   His cousin had catalogued the advantages of wedding Madeline Ellis quite accurately, Rayne decided as he traversed the length and breadth of the ballroom in search of her. A marriage between them would achieve several goals: He would fulfill his duty to his title and his
promise to his grandmother, in addition to satisfying the personal obligation he still felt toward Madeline’s late father for saving his life. As his countess, she would no longer have to scrabble for her living, or be vulnerable to lechers such as Baron Ackerby. And naturally, he would provide financial support for her younger brother.

Of course, judging by his grandmother’s standards, Madeline was not the ideal wife for him. She would never move in elite circles the way Roslyn Loring could, for instance. Yet the qualities he sought in a wife were different from those his grandmother wished for him.

Rayne agreed that Madeline’s plain appearance was not necessarily a drawback, since beauty was often accompanied by cruelty or vapidness. He prized intelligence and wit far more than appearance, attributes that Madeline had in abundance. And she was spirited enough to keep him challenged.

That
, perhaps, was the chief reason the idea was so amenable to him, Rayne realized. Because he’d been looking for a woman who challenged him. With her refreshingly frank manner and provocative wit, Madeline would keep him on his toes. He enjoyed sparring with her, despite her outsized pride and prickly independence—or even because of them.

Another point in her favor was that he could be fairly honest with her, Rayne conceded, since she knew of his past occupation. He wouldn’t have to mince words around her, or pretend to be anything but what and who he was.

Her genuine warmth attracted him as well, and he even liked that she was stubbornly self-sufficient. In short, he found Madeline Ellis more interesting and appealing
than any of the other obsequious matrimonial candidates he’d been exposed to thus far, and he enjoyed her company significantly more. Moreover, the male fantasies he’d had about bedding her were certainly hotter than any he’d had for other prospective brides.

The thought of taking Madeline to their nuptial bed stirred a distinct surge of pleasure in Rayne’s loins. He wanted to see her lovely eyes soft and hazy with passion. He had little doubt that she would welcome his love-making with an earthy ardor or that she would make a fiery lover once he taught her whatever skills she currently lacked.

Yet their relationship would be purely physical, he would see to it. There was little danger of his falling in love with Madeline, since she was far from the alluring femme fatale who had once betrayed him.

Betrayal had a way of making a man wary, while having his heart cut out had made Rayne determined to shun love. He was older and wiser now, though, and he was not about to suffer that pain again.

In truth, he was glad that Madeline was no beauty, as Camille Juzet had been, since she was less likely to have another lover waiting in the wings.

A decade ago, during his early career with British Intelligence, Rayne had fallen in love with an alluring French aristocrat who needed his fortune and associations to save her family from danger and bring them all safely from France to England. Camille had used his seduction for her own ends, and afterward, sorrowfully confessed that she was in love with another man, that she’d had no choice but to use Rayne to protect her family.

He no longer felt much anger or bitterness at letting
himself be duped like a callow youth, Rayne acknowledged. But he had no desire ever to repeat his folly or risk his heart again. Therefore, he hadn’t balked when his grandmother had pressed him to wed and sire an heir. He was perfectly willing to make a union of convenience with a genteel bride as long as
he
chose the lady he would be shackled to for life.

But do you want to wear those shackles with Madeline Ellis?

Rayne tried to imagine himself wed to her, testing the idea in his mind like a tongue probing a sore tooth. She was certainly the best alternative thus far. And if he settled on her, he could immediately cease looking for a bride.

But could you live with that irrevocable decision?