He couldn't wait to meet this selfish fellow who let the burden of his sins lie on his daughter's back. He would give the man a piece of his mind.
She sank onto the bed. "Mama always knew how to bring him out of his fits of melancholy, but I confess that this time I…begin to despair. He's never had one run so deep or last so long. That woman's death shook him terribly."
Anthony had friends who suffered such bouts. Samuel Coleridge was one— it was why the man took laudanum and inhaled nitrous. From what Anthony could gather, breaking from the prison of melancholy was damned difficult.
Still, the man shouldn't neglect his duty to his daughter. Here she was, doing reckless things— associating with a rakehell, attending a scandalous party…
Yes, what of that? "This doesn't explain why you're desperate to meet Sir Humphry."
She swallowed. "Papa's enemies are clamoring for the incident to be reexamined and Papa charged with a crime. They want the woman's husband to press for a trial."
"Good God." Anthony knew how justice could operate in such provincial towns. Once the populace decided you were guilty, you could find yourself hanging from the end of a rope very easily.
"
That's
why I need to meet Sir Humphry. He's my last hope. If he would travel to my town and speak on Papa's behalf, they'd have to listen." As she warmed to her subject, her face grew more animated. "They keep saying that Papa's use of the nitrous is what killed her. You and I know that's not true."
"It's unlikely, yes."
"And Sir Humphry knows that more than anyone. He has reams of documented evidence that prove it, as well as the fame to overpower their ignorant objections. If he would only speak to them, convince them— "
"Did you ask him to do so? Approach him?"
"I tried. But unlike you, my lord, I cannot gain entrée merely by leaving my card. I wrote letters asking for an audience, and they were ignored," she said in a hollow voice. "So I wrote letters explaining how dire the situation was. The last one was refused unopened. That's how I know that he— or someone close to him— must have read the previous ones."
Anthony paced before her. "Why didn't you tell me this from the first? Ask me to introduce you?"
"And what would you have done? Take a stranger to your friend's home?" She shook her head. "You would have asked why I wanted to meet him. Once I revealed the truth about Papa, you would have balked at involving your friend or yourself in my troubles when you already had difficulties of your own."
Her perfectly valid point annoyed him. "You could have held my niece's enrollment over my head the way you did to get your party."
"And that would have convinced you to help a woman whose father might be taken to trial for murder? What if your uncle heard of it? What then?"
Oh, God, his uncle. He'd forgotten all about him. Damn, damn, damn! If the man learned of Anthony's involvement with anything unsavory, he would use that knowledge to destroy Anthony's chances at guardianship.
"At least with the party," she went on, "you were kept out of it. I hoped to meet Sir Humphry on my own and make my case without involving you."
"But you did involve me," he snapped. "You just didn't have the courtesy to tell me why."
"If I'd told you why I needed to meet Sir Humphry, you might have warned him off. Then I'd have lost my chance. Trying to meet him in society seemed more prudent, and your parties are— "
"— the only events he attends these days." He gritted his teeth. "That's true."
Everything
she said was true, damn it. If she'd asked him to introduce her, he would have insisted on knowing why. He would at least have mentioned her name to the man. Given the letters she'd sent— letters that had been refused— the matter would have ended there, without her even gaining her audience.
"I did what I had to do," she whispered. "Surely you can understand that, given your situation with your niece."
With a nod, he began to pace again, unable to keep still. "I see why you were worried about telling me of Sir Humphry. He's not even home to his friends half the time." He shoved his fingers distractedly through his hair. "But I still say you could have asked for
my
help. Perhaps not at the beginning, but later, after I kissed you. Caressed you. Couldn't you have trusted me then?"
"It's not a matter of trust. Other than by introducing me to Sir Humphry, how could you help me without damaging your situation with your niece?"
"It's not as if my uncle is omnipotent," he clipped out, frustrated by her view of him as some ineffectual idiot. "He wouldn't know if I went to a provincial town to use my influence in helping a physician. How would he find out?"
Her gaze grew shuttered. "He might. You never know."
"Not if I greased the right palms. Money and rank often accomplish things that logic and reason cannot. You should at least have given me the chance to help."
"I couldn't risk your making matters worse."
"I wouldn't have." He marched up to her. "I won't. Let me try." He wasn't sure when he'd gone from suppositions to a determination to help her, but he couldn't stop himself. Her anguish tore at him. "Let me go to your town and— "
"No."
"Come now, Madeline, you're being stubborn." He laid his hand on her shoulder. "At least let me make enquiries."
"No!" She shoved his hand away, then rose to go stand by the fire. "You can't be involved to that extent."
Her demeanor set off alarms in his head. "There's something you're not telling me. This isn't the whole story."
She wrapped her arms about herself. "Leave it alone."
"I'm not going to leave it alone." He didn't like being used. He was tired of her keeping secrets. And the fact that she continued to do so gave him pause.
What if she'd invented the tale about her father? What if Stoneville's initial suspicions were correct? She could have any reason for wanting to meet Sir Humphry, and surely the man wouldn't have refused her letters without good cause.
What did Anthony really know of her, anyway? She wouldn't even tell him exactly where she was from, yet she seemed to know a damned lot about
him
.
"Madeline," he said sternly. "I want the truth. All of it."
She whirled on him, desperation in her features. "Then find some way for me to meet Sir Humphry. Do that, and I'll tell you everything."
"Not this time. Tell me the whole story tonight, or I bring you home and wash my hands of you." It was a bluff, but she couldn't know that. She couldn't know she'd sunk so deeply inside him he couldn't seem to root her out.
"You wouldn't," she said uncertainly. "You still need me to get your niece enrolled in the school."
His temper flared. He strode up to loom over her with hands clenched. "Ending Tessa's chances won't help your situation. Because if you tell Mrs. Harris I'm unfit to be Tessa's guardian, I'll ruin you at the school, I swear. All it would take is one word to your employer about your father and his background, not to mention your attendance at this party, and you'd be without a position."
"I would never hurt your niece!" Tears pooled in her eyes, and she turned away to hide them. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "If you want me to trust you, you'll have to stop saying such horrible things."
The sight of her distress clutched at his heart, bringing him back from his dark suspicions. He'd never seen her cry. She always controlled her emotions around him, and the fact that he'd brought her to tears— which even now she tried to hide— made him realize she was just a frightened young woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
"Don't cry, sweetheart, please don't cry," he said hoarsely.
"I'm n-not," she stammered, turning his stomach into knots.
He tugged her into his arms. "Shh, now, shh, it will be all right."
"You mustn't a-ask me to tell you. I can't. I-I won't."
"How can I not ask when it's breaking your heart?" And his. He stroked her back, holding her close in his embrace. "We both have much to lose in this matter. We should be working together, not fighting each other."
Cupping her head in his hand, he lifted it so her tear-filled gaze met his. "Just tell me everything. Tell me what this is really about. Then I'll do whatever is in my power to help you. I swear."
Chapter Eighteen
Dear Michael,
Keep a tight rein on Madeline? She is not a horse, sir— she is perfectly capable of looking after herself. I know her character well enough. She may be mad for science and too curious about certain matters, but she is no fool.
Your friend,
Charlotte
M
adeline was sorely tempted to do as Anthony bade her. How lovely it would be to lean on someone else, to reveal the entire sordid tale and let him fix everything. She could see that he wanted to. He'd even defended her to Stoneville!
That part of the night was still hazy, but she had flashes of memory— Anthony's fierce expression as he'd come to her aid, his tender treatment of her, the concern shining in his beautiful eyes. He'd been so sweet, so gentle.
And later, so jealous. Of her with Sir Humphry— imagine! A sob caught in her throat. No man had ever cared enough about her to be jealous. And to have Anthony feel that way…oh, how she wanted to unburden herself to him.
But she couldn't.
Even if she did tell him everything, hearing that Papa had been accused of trying to seduce a woman using nitrous oxide was sure to give him pause. Anthony would know how easily a man could do such a thing. And just because his despised uncle had made the accusations didn't mean Anthony would assume Papa was blameless. A whole town believed the gossip. Why should Anthony believe
her?
And even if he did side with her and Papa, he might fear that Sir Randolph would find out if he helped Papa.
She couldn't predict how he'd react if he knew the full story. It would be difficult enough for him to get her in to see Sir Humphry— she couldn't risk his refusing to do it entirely. Or worse yet, warning Sir Humphry off.
"Come now, sweetheart." He brushed a kiss to her forehead as if sensing her uncertainty. "You know you want to confide in me. After everything we've shared, surely you can trust me not to hurt you."
After everything they'd shared…
She froze. Therein lay her answer. He wanted her in his bed. Since he didn't deflower innocents and erroneously believed she was unchaste, she'd have some hold over him if she gave herself to him. Once he discovered he'd taken her innocence, he'd feel so guilty he would surely do whatever she asked, even introduce her to Sir Humphry. Especially once she said she didn't expect him to marry her.
But what a low trick, to use his desire for her in such a scurrilous manner!
She sighed. What choice did she have? Besides, if she was willing to give him something he wanted in return, how was that wrong?
Her innocence wasn't likely to be of use to her anyway— she had little chance of marrying. She'd never had viable suitors before— it was even less likely now that scandal tainted her family.
"Sweetheart…" Anthony whispered against her ear, and her heart fluttered.
Right now Anthony cared about her, but how long would that last if she told him the whole sordid tale about Papa?
That was the real reason she balked at telling him everything, wasn't it? Because he mattered to her. Because, fool that she was, she liked having him care about her. She liked having him jealous and defending her. If what she told him ruined that, she couldn't bear it.
She deserved to have some part of him, if even for one night. Tomorrow, she would deal with the rest of it, but tonight…
Lifting her gaze to his, she ignored the clear hope in his eyes that she would trust him with the truth. She couldn't do that yet, but she could trust him with something else. And perhaps that would be enough for him for now.
"I don't want to talk about Papa," she whispered. "Or Sir Humphry or what we can do." She let her desire for him show in her gaze as she began to unbutton his waistcoat. "I don't want to talk about anything at all. Kiss me, Anthony."
He groaned. "Madeline, for God's sake, don't…"
"Kiss me," she begged. "A few days ago, you told me that 'swiving' has a way of taking one out of oneself." She unknotted his cravat and drew it off, then nuzzled the whiskers along his jaw. "I need to be taken out of myself tonight. And you're the only one who can do that."
"Damnation, sweetheart," he choked out, though his fingers dug into her waist. "This won't change anything."
Yes, it would. But he didn't know that, thank heaven. "I don't care."
"Then let's return to my town house, where we'll have privacy."
So he could keep her trapped while he plagued her for the truth? Not on her life. If she went home with him, she would need his help to return to the cottage in Richmond. At least here she could follow her original plan and take a waiting hackney. "You said you locked the door. You said Lord Stoneville doesn't know we're here." She unfastened his shirt buttons. "Why wait?"
