Devil in My Bed (21 page)

Love. Aidan. Her thoughts always seemed to spin predictably back to him. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, remembering the way he’d kissed her goodbye, right in front of Colin and Melody, as if he had every right to.

It was a silly girlish thing to do, to sigh over a man’s kiss even after he’d left—but she felt silly and girlish and very nearly happy.

Then the memory of his strange, last look crossed her mind. She turned idly, trying to see what had caught at his attention that way. If she were as tall as Aidan and had been standing precisely there, she would have seen . . . the desk?

She ambled over to it, only half listening to Melody’s pleading behind her for another Cap’n Melody story. Sir Colin was going to regret that storytelling skill of his someday, she would wager.

The desk was clear, holding only an inkstand just above the blotter. There was a top drawer that contained only a sheaf of blank paper and beneath it, a small key.

The key opened the other drawer. Feeling delightfully sneaky in a silly way, Madeleine unlocked the drawer, keeping her skirts between the keyhole and Sir Colin’s view. The lock worked easily and she was in the drawer in a matter of seconds.

The drawer contained only one thing. A small gold box sat with its lid wide open.

In the box nestled the ring Aidan had tried to give her during that disastrous proposal years ago.

The ring blinked ruby hot and glowing in the drawer. Without even touching it, Madeleine could remember the weight of it, feel the searing heat of it in her palm.

Time slipped away and she was back there in that room, with Aidan on his knees before her and the air leaving her lungs.

I must have you for my very own.

She shut the drawer quickly but she could still feel the heavy weight of the ring—the heavy weight of her secrets. Her heart was pounding as if she was being chased. The walls felt as though they were closing in on her. Pressing a hand over her midriff to steady her breathing, she turned to see if Sir Colin had noticed her reaction.

Colin was asleep sitting up on the sofa, his head tilted back at an angle that would be sure to cause an ache later. Melody was standing on the cushion next to him, about to pour her milk into his open mouth.

Right. “Come here, mousie,” she whispered. “Let Uncle Colin have his nap.”

Melody wavered. “Why?”

Madeleine chose to answer the question she had the answer to. “If we let Uncle Colin have his nap, we can take a little walk outside. Would you like that?”

Melody considered the breathtaking possibilities of mayhem with the milk, weighing them against Madeleine’s promise. “Outside or outside?”

In the hall or in the real world? Goodness, she was actually beginning to speak toddler!

“I remember seeing a large park just down the street.” After all, this secrecy was about to end, either way she decided. Surely one little excursion wouldn’t be the end of the world.

And if she didn’t get out of this room, she was going to start pouring milk on things as well!

The thought of green grass and flowers and possible real dirt swayed Melody. She carefully squatted to put her glass down on the cushion. Madeleine stepped forward to rescue it from spilling while Melody lay belly down on the sofa and let herself slide off to land on her feet.

After dressing them both in boots and coats, for the spring weather was unpredictably wet, they slipped quietly out the door and into the hall.

Old Aldrich was nowhere in sight. First, she peered out the window at the end of the hall to check the street. Then she peeked into the servants’ stair, but there was no sign or sound of activity. She showed Melody how to tiptoe in an exaggerated fashion, which practice kept the child occupied long enough to make it down to the ground floor.

The stairwell opened into the hallway that ran past the kitchens. It was after breakfast but luncheon was hours away. There were only two scullery boys present and they were busy at the sinks, their backs to the hall.

It took but a moment to scurry down the hall and slip through the door to the outside.

The trade entry was lower than street level, which gave Madeleine a chance to make sure the coast was clear at the front door above and to her left.

The sight of a proud fellow in livery who could only be Wilberforce had them ducking low, but he soon finished his business with the postboy and went back into the club.

Madeleine picked Melody up and ran for it, which lack of dignity Melody enjoyed immensely. Despite Madeleine’s continued caution, they were both giggling by the time they made it to the end of the block and turned the corner toward the park.

The park seemed vast. After the two rooms, it felt as expansive and wild as the moors of the north.

Madeleine turned Melody loose to run free in the pearly sunlight of the day.

Aidan’s agent in town did happen to know of just the house for his employer to rent—his own. As a bachelor, he was very happy to let it immediately for a sizable rent.

Aidan walked about the cheerful and comfortable house with great approval. It was small, tastefully furnished, and in a very respectable square. There was even a patch of garden in the back that was already in bloom.

It was the perfect setting for a family. He could picture intimate suppers in the dining room, relaxed evenings sitting in the parlor with Madeleine as Melody played on the carpet, even noisy breakfasts in the sunny breakfast room with its large window facing the garden. He’d be able to pluck blooms for Madeleine’s table without so much as getting dew on his shoes.

Yet by far Aidan’s favorite room was the master bedchamber. Here it seems the bachelor succumbed to a slightly sensual bent. The big bed was draped in crimson velvet and gold cord.

Madeleine would look astonishing spread out on that bed, her arms open to welcome him, her skin aglow with firelight . . .

He knew then. This was to be no marriage of convenience, no simple means of legitimizing Melody’s birth.

He needed her, only her.

Only Madeleine.

She understood him as no one ever had, not his family, certainly not his mother, not even Jack.

No other woman could tempt him. Hers was the only touch he wanted. Hers were the only lips he wanted. Hers was the only heart he needed. Ever.

No matter what she feared, he knew they could overcome it. Nothing was insurmountable.

It was a stunning realization. He was not a man who attached easily. He had not the gift of common friendships. His loyalty was fierce and complete once given. There was so much more than mere lust between them now. They were partners in caring for Melody. They were stronger together than they were apart. They were a family now.

His family.

He took the house. The deal was very swiftly done and the agent promised to vacate by the next morning. It seemed he had a sister he could stay with for the duration of Parliament and the Season.

Aidan barely listened as the man warbled on about his plans. A warm and unfamiliar sensation was fizzing its way through his veins.

He suspected it might be happiness. However, there was one more thing he needed to secure. A special license.

Oh, yes, and an acceptance of his proposal. Thank heaven he already had the ring.

St. James Park was a large park, twice as wide as it was deep. Directly ahead of Madeleine and Melody, crossing their path and flowing down the length of the vast lawn, was a canal edged by a line of trees on both sides, rather like a country lane.

Immediately upon entering the park, Melody was off, headed down to the canal to torment the ducks.

Chubby legs pumping, curls bouncing, it seemed there was nothing in the world but open green space in which to run.

Madeleine smiled and fought back the impulse to hike up her gown and follow. When had she last run for the joy of it?

Running for one’s life didn’t count. Nor did running from Aidan, running from the intimacy of truly being with him, without secrets, without guard. Running from . . . herself?

She put one hand to the trunk of a tree to brace herself against that sudden flash of clarity.

Aidan didn’t love her. How could he? She was a lie, a fabrication from start to finish. There wasn’t a single true thing about the woman she was when she was with him . . . except for the way he took her breath away when he stood too near and for the way her throat went tight watching his tenderness with Melody.

Must she truly carry the sins of the past forever? That seemed a rather extreme punishment.

Melody was already near the far end of the canal, squatting to poke at something on the ground. A real mother might call out for her to stand up and stop dragging her hem on the grass. Instead, Madeleine began to slowly stroll closer, idly wondering what held the child’s attention so closely.

The sun came through the clouds and she paused, closing her eyes and lifting her chin into the light. It was a perfect day and she’d been indoors for so long.

In hiding for so long . . .

She was so weary of wearing black. Who was it she was mourning?

It certainly wasn’t her husband.

Perhaps it was herself. Lady Madeleine seemed a lifetime ago.

On the other hand, if the old Madeleine was gone forever, then perhaps a new Madeleine could now emerge. She could build herself from the beginning. Letting the warmth of the sun sink into her and relax her to her bones, she played with that idea.

The things that made her up, the facts of her life, the girl she had been—what if she recreated those? A birthplace was just a place, after all. The names of her parents could be reinvented, her history and her path to this moment could be invented just as easily as she’d invented the name “Chandler” while standing across the street from a London candlemaker’s shop.

She could give all this to Aidan the next time his eyes questioned her, the next time she watched his jaw clench as he turned away in frustration from her silence.

Perhaps if she repeated them enough, clung to them enough, those facts and figures would become real and she truly would become a different Madeleine.

What she wouldn’t give to make that so—to make all the past go away and start new!

A lie of that proportion would require that she cut loose every scrap of her true self. What would she be then? Then again, what was she now but a wall of silence, a dam holding back a flood of secrets?

Perhaps it was over. Perhaps it was time to put it behind her, to become Madeleine Chandler in truth.

Simply another widow, simply an ordinary woman who was free to marry, to mother a child, to live a life of truth instead of a web of lies.

Smiling at the thought, she lowered her face and blinked a few times to wash away the shimmering future which just might be within her reach. Looking ahead, she saw Melody standing on the grass with her hands cupped and uplifted, showing her discovery to a bright-coated man. Goodness, she’d best hurry over there or Melody would chatter the poor fellow’s ears off.

The man stood with his back to Madeleine but as she drew closer, something cold and jagged began to twist in her belly. He was short and wide, but so many men were. He wore a sickly green coat . . . but that meant nothing, truly it didn’t.

Then she caught the wobbling curve of his cheekbone and jaw. No. It was impossible for the thoughts swirling in her mind to be true. Entirely impossible—

Except, of course, that it wasn’t impossible, was it?

Critchley had found her after all.

Worse yet, it seemed he’d found Melody as well.

His rooms at Brown’s were empty. They were so desolate that for a moment of sheer madness Aidan actually wondered if he’d concocted Madeleine and Melody out of nothing but imagination.

Then he spotted Gordy Ann abandoned on the floor by the window.

Stolen.

By whom? And why? No, it made no sense. No one even knew they were here but for Colin.

Colin. Aidan’s fear deflated. Of course. They had gone to Colin’s rooms, probably to give restless Melody a change of scene. He wasn’t sure he liked having the woman he planned to wed visiting men in their rooms, but surely with Melody as a chaperone . . .

He turned swiftly, ready to barge into Colin’s rooms and take his family back with an offended remark or three. There in the hall behind him stood Colin, pale and out of breath. He looked nothing short of terrified. Aidan’s fear came back in a rush.

“I fell asleep,” Colin gasped. “On your sofa—I was up all night—when I woke they were gone!” He dragged an arm across his brow. “I’ve searched the club inside and out. I even searched the street.

They’re not here!”

Aidan’s mouth was dry. “Melody. Oh, God.” He blinked. “What of Madeleine? She would have fought whomever did this.”

What if she were harmed? Sick terror, black and icy, began to seep into him.

Colin cursed roundly. “How can you be so sure of her? Haven’t you glued yourself to these rooms for the past three days because you didn’t trust her? The moment we took our eyes from her, she grabbed Melody and disappeared!”

“Impossible.”

“Entirely possible!”

He focused his gaze on Colin. “How can you think that? You seemed to like her well enough.”

“ ‘Like’ doesn’t mean ‘trust’!” Colin ran a hand through his hair. “I take full responsibility for this. You left them in my charge and I let you down.”

“There is no blame.” Aidan shook his head. “Colin, she hasn’t run away with Melody. She isn’t trying to get away from me. She . . .” Even now it seemed miraculous. Through his worry his heart still beat a new rhythm. “She loves me. She told me so.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a simpleton, Blankenship. For years you’ve been telling me that she was faithless and heartless. Now you’re telling me that she’s stanch and loyal?”

Aidan shrugged helplessly. “I know what you think but you’re wrong. She might be in trouble and I’m dead worried about them both, but it won’t be because she’s trying to leave me.”

Colin blew out a long breath. “I can’t decide if I pity you or if I’m envious. I’m fairly certain you’re being blind—but I suppose you have as much right to be an idiot as any man. Nonetheless, we have to expand our search.”