To Tame a Dangerous Lord (23 page)

“Come,” Rayne urged, smoothing her veil into place before taking her elbow. “I will let Freddie drive you home since I must stop at my house here.”

She allowed Rayne to escort her to Freddie’s curricle, where he was waiting in the seat, holding the reins.

As Rayne handed her up, he must have sensed her wavering resolution, for he said bracingly, “I will see you at five o’clock, love. I’ll send a carriage for you at Danvers Hall at a quarter till, and if you are not ready, I will come for you myself.”

Madeline had no doubt Rayne would make good on his promise, and so made no reply as she arranged her skirts on the seat. She ignored Freddie’s quizzical glance also, and asked him to take her home at once, saying she would explain during the drive.

Just now she was too occupied wondering if she had made a dreadful mistake.

   Rayne left the dueling field feeling a strong sense of satisfaction. He’d been seriously displeased to see Madeline
this morning, but the end result made up for her maddening interference.

By this evening she would be wedded to him, and by tonight she would be bedded.

The prospect filled him with triumph and anticipation as his carriage negotiated the foggy streets of Mayfair. And when Rayne recalled Madeline’s irate responses to his interrogation, he felt an undeniable measure of relief.

She’d had a reasonable explanation for writing to Ackerby, enough to allay his worst suspicions about her. Her concern was for
him
, not the baron.

He had overreacted, Rayne admitted, thinking they might be lovers. And her correspondence with her brother was only the support of a loving sister, not some sinister plot to betray him.

Marriage to Madeline was indeed the right course, Rayne reaffirmed to himself. He could repay his debt to her late father, as well as give her the protection of his name and save her from Ackerby’s pursuit.

As for his grandmother, well … Rayne knew he might have a fight on his hands. He had little doubt that the imperious dowager Lady Haviland would object to his choice of brides. Thus he’d deemed it better to inform her after the fact rather than risk a disagreeable scene. Grandmother would simply have to be satisfied with the prospect of someday having a grandson to carry on the family title. In any event, he wouldn’t let his relative sway him from his course.

Granted, Madeline was vastly different from the vapid debutante he had expected to marry. Yet despite his exasperation with her, he’d never admired her more than when she’d come marching out on the dueling field and pushed her way between two adversaries, threatening to
shoot both of them if they refused to withdraw. Even now, the remembrance made Rayne smile.

His opinion of Madeline’s mettle had risen another several notches with her stand against him this morning. And despite looking so bedraggled and dowdy in her mud-splattered cloak and dripping bonnet, she had shown the makings of a magnificent countess.

He had spoken the truth to her earlier, Rayne acknowledged. He wanted a woman as feisty and brave as Madeline for the mother of his children.

Yet at the same time, he’d made certain she held no illusions about the basis for their marriage. He wanted her to have no expectation of love between them. Short of that, however, he was willing to predict they would have a highly compatible union.

   Unexpectedly, Rayne’s feeling of anticipation was interrupted moments later when he arrived at his town house on Bedford Avenue, since the carriage standing at the curb bore the crest of Drew Moncrief, the Duke of Arden. And Arden himself was descending the front steps of Rayne’s mansion, evidently having paid an extremely early morning call only to find him away from home.

His curiosity aroused, Rayne strode up the walk in time to meet the tall, elegant, fair-haired duke halfway.

“I would like a private word with you, if I may, Haviland,” Arden said in greeting.

His tone was pleasant enough, giving no indication for the purpose of his visit, and Rayne agreed readily and led him inside. Once he’d turned his wet greatcoat and hat over to Walters and seen his visitor’s outer garments likewise disposed of, Rayne invited the duke into
his study, where they settled on comfortable leather couches.

“My recent involvement with government affairs,” Arden began, “has made me aware of your past efforts to defeat Napoleon, protecting national interests from numerous threats over the years. I realize that the Foreign Office no longer funds a department for gathering intelligence, but I suspect your skills could prove invaluable in a domestic matter, Haviland. You are aware that Prinny survived an assassination attempt this past January?”

“I had heard of it, yes,” Rayne said.

George, Britain’s Prince Regent, had nearly been shot, while his unpopularity was still causing riots now.

“How may I be of service?” Rayne asked Arden.

“Some disturbing rumors have been circulating about a fresh plot to assassinate the Regent. I would like to commission you to investigate. Should you find any credence to the tales, then I want you to foil the plot, if possible.”

Rayne bit back a smile, feeling a renewed wave of satisfaction along with a sharp twinge of amusement. Just last week he’d been lamenting the dullness of his life and wishing for more excitement. Thwarting blackmail attempts, fighting duels, arranging marriage to a spirited spinster, and uncovering political intrigues with the prospect of foiling an assassination plot against the Prince Regent were sure to cure his restlessness and boredom.

How fortuitous that Arden’s request had come at precisely this moment, Rayne decided. He would relish the chance to pit his wits against a new foe using the skills he’d developed in his former vocation.

But first he had to get past his wedding and wedding night. Not that bedding Madeline would be a hardship. He was greatly anticipating initiating her in the carnal delights of the nuptial bed … and sating the powerful sexual desire that had been building inside him ever since their first titillating meeting at the inn when he’d kissed her and tasted a hint of the passionate woman trapped inside that drab exterior.

Still, he was glad for the diversion. A new occupation for his time would give him an excellent reason to keep his distance from Madeline while they settled into married life together.

“I would be pleased to help if I can,” Rayne replied easily to Arden. “Why don’t you begin by telling me everything you know and have heard so I can judge what may best be done?”

How drastically her life had changed in the span of a single week, Madeline reflected as she stood reciting her vows in the elegant drawing room at Riverwood.

She’d been in danger of declining into permanent spinsterhood, yet now she was joining in holy matrimony with a ruggedly handsome nobleman and entering a world of privilege and wealth she could only imagine.

The small but illustrious list of wedding guests was just one indication of her altered circumstances. In addition to the vicar and her two new friends from the academy, Jane Caruthers and Penelope Melford, Arabella and her husband, Marcus, Lord Danvers, were in attendance. So were Arabella’s sister Roslyn and
her
husband, the Duke of Arden, as well as the Honorable Freddie Lunsford.

Madeline felt a trifle dazed by her startling turn of fortune. Her nuptials were not precisely what she’d expected, either. She wore a pale-green silk gown borrowed from Arabella, with the bust and waist seams let
out and the hem pinned up to accommodate her fuller figure and shorter height.

But most critically, Madeline acknowledged, she had abandoned her dreams and romantic ideals for marriage. She and Rayne were two near strangers who were marrying simply for convenience.

Or at least,
his
motivation was convenience. Hers went much deeper.

Keenly aware of her compelling bridegroom standing beside her, Madeline couldn’t help noting the frantic way her heart was drumming warnings about her future prospects. Rayne had frequently taken her to task for risking physical danger, but she had put herself in real peril by wedding him with little hope of mutual affection.

She was in love with a man who had no interest in her other than the heir she could give him.

Madeline was very aware, also, that she was not Rayne’s first choice of brides. The beautiful Roslyn might have been standing here instead had she not married her duke.

Madeline swallowed as a pang of sadness twisted inside her. Her father had fairly worshiped her mother, and she’d wanted that kind of profound devotion for herself. Yet now she was prepared to settle for much less. She wanted Rayne to be, if not happy in their marriage, then unassailed by regrets at the irrevocable step he was taking today.

The ceremony was over swiftly, practically before Madeline realized it. Rayne favored her with a brief kiss to seal the union. Then together they accepted felicitations from the various guests.

Madeline responded to the good wishes with a forced
smile, until Freddie’s bluntness roused her genuine amusement.

“I confess myself disappointed that Rayne actually got himself leg-shackled,” Freddie said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “But if he had to do it, you are likely the best choice he could have made, Madeline.”

“Thank you for the compliment, I think,” she murmured with a strangled laugh.

“Oh, my admiration of you is utterly sincere,” Freddie protested. “You and
I
would never suit, but you and Rayne … well, you just might. He needs a wife who can hold her own, and you certainly have no fear of standing up to him.”

Under most circumstances, that was true, Madeline agreed silently, except that now her wedding night loomed ahead of her—a fact that Freddie was quick to remind her of.

“I plan to take myself home this evening directly after dinner,” he announced, “so that you and Rayne may have Riverwood to yourselves. I have doubtless overstayed my welcome as it is.”

The ceremony was to be followed immediately by a small dinner celebration, but Madeline wanted to implore Freddie to stay afterward so she could postpone the inevitable as long as possible.

She scarcely ate a bite during dinner, although she fortified herself with a significant quantity of wine. Despite her intention to pretend nonchalance, she stole frequent glances at her new husband where he was seated at the head of the table on her left. She couldn’t stop thinking about the consummation that lay in store for her or calm the butterflies that were rioting inside her at the prospect.

The physical aspects did not really worry her overmuch. Thankfully, Arabella had told her something of what to expect—that she might feel pain and discomfort her first time, but that a considerate lover would make the experience as pleasurable as possible. And she had no doubt that Rayne would be considerate of her virginal state.

What worried Madeline was that giving him her body would leave her even more vulnerable to him than she was now.

Fortunately for the sake of their dinner guests, Rayne carried on the bulk of the conversation with their company. Not that the two happily married couples at the table paid much regard to her near silence.

Madeline couldn’t help but notice how contented Arabella seemed with her earl and Roslyn with her duke. Judging by their conversation and their mutually tender glances, it was perfectly clear that both ladies were very much in love—and that their love was returned wholeheartedly.

Which in itself was a little disheartening to Madeline, since
her
marriage fell far short in comparison. And all too soon she stood with her husband in the entrance hall, saying farewell to their guests.

When after their departure, Rayne took up a brace of lit candles to lead her upstairs, Madeline accompanied him reluctantly.

“Are you suffering an illness, love?” he asked as they reached the second floor where his bedchamber was no doubt located. “You scarcely spoke a word at dinner. It is not like you to be so mute.”

“I am perfectly fine,” she lied, walking beside him down the long corridor.

Nerves clustered in her stomach as he ushered her inside a luxurious chamber.

“This suite will be yours,” Rayne informed her. “You’ll find your trunk and bandbox in the adjacent dressing room. And your sitting room is to your right.”

It was clearly a lady’s bedchamber, done in shades of pale blue and rose, Madeline saw with some surprise while wondering why he hadn’t directed her to the master’s suite. But perhaps he meant to spend the night here with her.

She watched silently as Rayne shut and locked the bedchamber door behind them. Then he set the candles down on a table and went to the hearth to stir the flames.

“I asked that the fire be built up,” he added casually. “I mean to keep you warm tonight, but until then, I don’t want you to grow chilled.”

Madeline swallowed at the implication that they would be naked together.