Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (12 page)

He clicked his tongue. “Let me assure you he didn’t cause her collapse. I discovered the truth when I was investigating him. Lady Susan suffered a miscarriage, but Stretton wasn’t the cause of her pregnancy.”

She gasped. “The poor lady!”

“The matter would have led to her ruin, had not Stretton allowed the story to spread, that she’d collapsed for love of him.” He growled and turned his head. “Why? Did that witch tell you otherwise? Or was it gossip you heard and decided to believe?”

Aurelia frosted over. “What witch would that be, sir?”

“You know damned well who! Your mother, naturally.”

If this was lovers’ talk, she’d got the notion all wrong. Absolutely nothing lover-like about the way he spoke now or his tone, quietly furious. But she wasn’t gone enough to call her mother names. “She told me what she’d heard.”

“Salon talk being very different. No, I suspect she used the story for her own ends. I don’t suppose you know where Stretton is, do you?”

She turned an astonished face to him, her mouth open. That was the very last thing she’d expected him to say. “Don’t you? I had hoped you were with him.”

“I spent last week trying to track him down. I’d agreed to meet him to discuss—well, never mind that, but it was a meeting he would not have wished to break. But he never sent word. I went to his house, and his butler said he’d sent a note that he’d be away for a few days. I saw the note and the writing was not his. I fear the worst, Lady Aurelia.”

“Sir, I cannot believe that he is—dead. He is not. I’d know it, surely I would.” No. That would mean the end of all her hopes. She refused to accept that outcome.

After passing a couple of carriages whose occupants seemed determined to take up the whole of the space, which was supposed to easily encompass the width of at least three vehicles, Lyndhurst spoke again. “I don’t think he’s dead, but I can’t tell for sure. I have good reason to know he wouldn’t disappear in such a precipitate fashion. He would not.”

“I didn’t believe so, but recently I’ve begun to think—”

“Don’t. Don’t let her get to you. And yes, I’m talking about your mother again. Whatever Stretton said to you, he meant it. Rely on that.”

His impatience was revealed in the short sentences and the way he snapped them out. He made her nervous, with his strident tones and impatient manner, and she hated anyone making her feel that way.

But his affirmation sent a wave of relief through her. Enough for her to try another confidence. “Do you ever imagine someone else is in your head?” she asked.

“Why, what a strange question. Why do you ask that?” She couldn’t imagine what he meant, except—yes, she could, in a way. Hearing voices as a child, and perhaps other things. Her softening of her attitude to Lyndhurst when she’d decided to refuse him, her doubts about Blaize, all gone when she left the house. No, foolish imaginings.

“Because I have, sometimes. That’s all,” he said. He shot her a smiling glance. “Please don’t think me mad or fanciful. I’ve stared death in the face in my time. Perhaps it’s merely a reaction to that. But, Aurelia, listen to your heart.”

That was the first time she could recall him using her first name. It didn’t sound as intimate on his lips, even without the honorific. But friendly. She’d like to be his friend. Lyndhurst was honest and true. “I will. My mother wants you to marry me.”

Lines appeared at the corner of his mouth as it flattened into a tight line. “I’ll wager she does. Do you want to marry me, Aurelia?”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Not a formal one before witnesses, no.”

She laughed for the first time in days. “Then no. I don’t. I like you, and I was prepared to accept your offer, but I met Blaize.” She came to an abrupt halt. Her life split into two parts, before and after Blaize. Only she didn’t want any after. She just wanted during.

“Good.” His mouth relaxed, although his gloved hands remained tense on the reins of the pair of bays he was tooling around so efficiently. She gave him time to turn at the end and begin the journey back to the gates. “Then if you have no objection, I’ll seek you out for a while. We’re safe from each other as long as I don’t offer and you don’t accept. But your mother favours the match, and she’ll let us meet.”

“But if we meet in private, we’ll be compromised.”

“Not if we’re careful. Besides, we can speak in company, as long as we ensure they don’t overhear us.”

“How will you do that?” she asked.

“I have ways.”

He’d forced another laugh from her. “Mysterious.”

“Perhaps. Listen, I’ve spent the last week hunting for him. But discreetly. He might have urgent business, and we don’t want society chattering about his disappearance, do we? I have my suspicions.”

He took her home after that, and they didn’t discuss Blaize further, except to promise to meet the following evening at the theatre to exchange news. If they had any to disclose.

Aurelia prayed that they would.

She went to bed that night filled with misgiving. That barely restrained dislike she felt emanating from Lyndhurst all the way through their drive—as if he was forced into trusting her even this much. They both knew Blaize was missing, and they were forced into becoming allies, but he wouldn’t tell her any more than he had to. She didn’t have to read minds to see the hardness in his eyes, the distance in his voice. He deterred any effort on her part to tell him how desperate she was to find Blaize.

A reluctant ally was better than none at all. And since society was talking about their liaison and casting eyes in her direction, she was glad of Lyndhurst’s support. He would prevent her ultimate humiliation, if her suitors stayed away, at least until they saw the way the land lay. But she had more support than she’d had for the past week, and she’d do everything she could to keep the peace between them. Until they’d discovered what had happened to Blaize.

Finally she drifted off to sleep, still thinking of the only thing that meant anything to her.

“Aurelia.”

She knew she was dreaming, but it didn’t make any difference. She’d take it, grasp at any straw. Blaize was dressed only in breeches and shirt that looked as if he hadn’t changed them recently, bareheaded, his short, dark hair ruffled by a breeze she couldn’t feel. She lay on the ground, on grass in the open air. Blue sky with a light scattering of fluffy clouds floated above. A perfect day with the one man she wanted to be with above all others.

Murmuring his name, she reached for him. He came, leaning over her, but he didn’t kiss her, as she expected him to. “Aurelia.”

“Blaize, where have you been? Where are you?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now.” He laughed and smoothed her hair off her face. “You’re here. We can stay here.” He frowned. “Except you’ll need food. They’re leaving me bread, but it’s stale. Sometimes as green as this grass. I eat it. They’ve left me water too. I need something else. Come soon. Bring wine. I need wine. Come soon. Darling, I miss you.”

Then he did move closer, but the wildness in his eyes disturbed her. But she couldn’t deny him a kiss.

Their lips met as if they’d never been apart, then he pressed harder. His mouth ground against hers. Her teeth cut her lower lip and she tasted blood, but that didn’t stop her accepting anything he had to give her. She was desperate for his touch, for his hands on her. When he opened his mouth, she opened hers, and he thrust his tongue inside. Deeper, desperate. She wanted it too.

With a speed that shocked her, he sprang off her. As she passed a shaking hand over her mouth, he stood over her, a shadow against the bright spring day. He was unkempt, dirty, like she’d never seen or imagined him, and he had a beard.

This was a dream, so why was it perfect, just as she imagined it?

Perhaps if she closed her eyes and opened them again—no, that didn’t work. He watched her as she gazed at him, trying to understand what this was about—and how did she know she was dreaming?

“I called you,” he said. “Here you are. Aurelia, I’m raving mad, but I found a corner of sanity before they give me more drugged food and drink that I have to take. It’s either that or starve. I need wine. I’m five or six days’ journey from you. I can’t remember sea, so I’m still in Britain.” A click sounded in the enclosed space when he clenched his teeth. “Everything is green and I can’t find my way out of here.”

“You’re in a maze?” Sitting up, she stared around. High hedges surrounded them, the growth so close it couldn’t be penetrated by eye or by force. It was impossible to climb too. Had he tried? “Have you been here all along?”

“What?” Blinking, he tilted his head on one side and gave her a cautious grin. “I’d get out of here if I were you. How did you get here?” Abruptly he swooped down and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell me! And did that bitch send you? Was Lyndhurst right, were you working with her all along?” He shook her with a fierce insistence that rattled her teeth and wildness entered his eyes.

“No, no, I swear it. This isn’t me, I’m not here, and you’re not like this! It’s a dream, it’s a dream!”

But she knew where he was when she woke up.

Six months ago, if anyone had told Aurelia that a Season in London would become tedious, she’d have laughed them to scorn. But that was exactly how the last week and the next day felt to her. She’d been asked to some of the most exclusive gatherings in the city, and yet she didn’t want to be there. Gossip and beautiful clothes meant nothing to her anymore.

But she coped with the Venetian breakfast, shopping and a walk in the Park at the fashionable hour, before she had to dress for her engagement at the theatre. She didn’t even appear to wilt when someone asked her, “Have you seen Lord Stretton recently? I almost thought you would make a match of it with him.”

The lady’s green eyes narrowed in speculation when she smiled.

Aurelia gave an insouciant shrug. “I have no idea. Of course I knew he was leaving town for a while, but what business is it of mine where he goes? I enjoyed his company, but I never took him too seriously.”

“No, my dear. His reputation precedes him with a definite tang of the forbidden. Maybe that’s what makes him so irresistible.” Her tormentor flicked out her fan.

Aurelia managed a bored, “As you say,” before she glided away.

Now, outside Drury Lane, she felt nervous. Her mother was in her element, confidently entering the foyer and heading for the stairs that led the way to the boxes. Their footman saw to the details, had their names checked by the man standing by the stairs and then they went upstairs to meet Lyndhurst.

“He’s becoming very particular in his attentions,” her mother murmured gleefully. “I wonder who else he’s invited this evening.”

A carefully chosen group of people, as it turned out. Two of the dowager duchess’s friends, together with their children, one young man, one woman, who were known to be attracted to each other. People to keep the dowager occupied.

Lyndhurst stood as they entered the box and seated them, the dowager with her bosom-bows, and Aurelia next to himself. They exchanged polite conversation intermittently for the first part of an unengrossing play, then Lyndhurst politely invited Aurelia to stroll along the area outside for some private conversation. Her mother barely turned around to tell her to take care before she returned to her friends.

“A clever ruse,” she said to him as they left.

“Why thank you.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’m overwhelmed.” He guided her to the side of the hallway. She laid her hand on his arm, and they walked. “Have you heard any news?”

“Y-yes. In a way. You’ll think it strange, but I had a dream.” Now the time came to explain she was hesitant, apologetic. “Last night. I saw him. He said he was stark mad. Raving.”

Immediately he gave her his attention. “Mad, you say? Did he tell you why?”

“Why?” In her admittedly limited experience, she didn’t think madmen explained why they were insane.

“Why he went mad.” Lyndhurst made a sound of exasperation low in his throat. “Never mind. Tell me more.”

“Well, he was unkempt. Severely.” She’d tried not to wrinkle her nose at the odour he’d emanated. She must be in love—she’d even forgiven him that. “And he said he’d been there for five or six days. They were drugging his food. He hadn’t been taken on a ship.” She frowned. “I know where he was.”

“Where?” He stopped walking, turned and faced her. “Where is he?”

“In the maze on my brother’s Scottish estate.” Shaking her head, she spread her free hand apologetically. “I’m so sorry. Of course I’d imagine him there. My mind tells me he’s lost, so I think of the impenetrable place. Very few people know the key.”

“Do you?”

She tilted her chin. “Of course I do. My brother and I worked it out. It’s not an easy one. Or rather, we know how to get in and out without losing ourselves.” Halting her words abruptly, she opened her eyes wider. “You believe me? But it was a dream!”

His eyes burned into her as if she held every secret. “God, I should have trapped her and questioned her until she told me. But I suspected I didn’t know everything. Stretton and d’Argento have a gift I haven’t yet mastered, otherwise I’d have done just that. I’ll set out tomorrow. But if he’s mad, did he do it for himself, or had it imposed on him? Did he say anything else?” He spoke swiftly, urgently, so she found it difficult to keep up with him.

“Bring wine,” she said with a weak smile. “He drinks too much.”

“In this instance, not enough.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I have thought that he consumes too much at times.”

“I’ll explain. No, he’ll explain. Can you give me the key to the maze?”

She shook her head. “I know it when I’m there. It changes—Mama orders them to keep the maze fresh for new challengers. When we have house parties, she puts prizes in the centre. I suspect I wouldn’t know the new key, but I can guess it. I know how she works. Even the cleverest people have certain ways of thinking.”

For the first time in days, Lyndhurst’s mouth curved in a genuine smile. “Tell me, Lady Aurelia, do you love Stretton—Blaize—truly?” Eagerly she nodded. “Would you marry him whatever happened?” Another nod. “And he’ll want me to bring you. I can’t very well hare off in search of him and leave you with that—that witch.” He said the last word as if he really meant it. “She’ll use you as a bargaining counter or she’ll throw you at someone else. Lady Aurelia, I think we should elope. Tomorrow.”