Seducing the Beast (28 page)

“Get up, before someone sees you like this. Drunk. Good gracious!”

“I only had two.” She held up one finger. When Eustacia poked her with a bony foot, she swatted her away, laughing. “Stop that, it tickles!”

“Get up. This instant!”

It occurred to Maddie, eventually, that her cousin was fully dressed. It did not, however, strike her as odd, even at that time of night. In her current state of awareness, she would think nothing of it if Eustacia wore a pig snout.

Peering down through the oak railings, she watched her cousin’s long shadow cross the hall tiles. Momentarily snared in the wedge of moonlight through the open doorway, the thin, pewter shape slithered out of sight, leaving only the questioning hoot of an owl as the door closed quietly behind the vision.

* * * *

He found her on the stairs, on his way down to look for her, having found her bed disturbingly empty. Relief soared, but some panic remained in shards that cut into his throat, made his voice hoarse.

“Where have you been?”

“Too hot,” she murmured.

“Damn you.” He gathered her up and carried her to bed. “The minute my back’s turned you disappear again. Yet you expect me to trust you.”

Without opening her eyes, she nestled her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. “My darling Beastie. There you are.”

“Where have you been?” he repeated sternly.

“Who cares? I came back, didn’t I?”

He sighed, shaking his head, feeling helpless as he laid her on the bed and watched her drift back to sleep. Yes, this time she’d come back, but eventually she wouldn’t.

One day she’d leave him.

Thanks to the sweet, pungent spice of cider he had a good idea where she’d been, but not with whom. He’d find out. Couldn’t encourage this bad behavior. Someone had to take this woman in hand.

But there was nothing to be done now, except lie down beside her, hold her tight and go to sleep. And while she slept, he cherished her in ways he never dared when her eyes were open and her lips capable of tender mocking.

It was ascertained that Eustacia had bribed one of the young, new stable lads to take her as far as the north road. She left a note for Gabriel, saying she thought their marriage was a mistake and she could see she was not welcomed at Starling’s Roost.

“Do you think she’s gone back to London?” her husband agonized.

Maddie urged him not to worry, for Eustacia could manage by herself and would, no doubt, send him a letter within a day. With a sore head, not yet recovered from her excursion with Luke, the last thing she cared to hear was her cousin’s woeful husband.

His health improved, but he moped like a sick dog, and although the servants tiptoed around as if a loud noise might cause utter collapse and shatter his fragile bones to pieces, Maddie thought Master Gabriel might benefit from one or two loud noises. At breakfast he sat with his head hanging from his shoulders, poking at his food, never putting a morsel to his down-turned lips, as if he waited for someone, like a nursemaid or a nanny--or his brother--to distract him out of his mood with toys and games. She began to feel more sympathy for the earl.

It rained heavily all day, adding to the dreary gloom, and Griff was in a bad mood, claiming everything and everyone was against him. Gabriel had kept his vow to Madolyn and told his brother he knew nothing about her. To further pinch at his temper, when Griff questioned the staff on her late night exploits at the tavern, determined to find out who was responsible for taking her there, they all claimed to have been with her. Even Jennet.

As his staff presented this united face, there was nothing he could do. He could hardly dismiss the entire staff. “Everyone,” he remarked grimly to her, “is apparently on
your
side.”

She stayed out of his way, waiting for the storm to pass--outdoors and in.

When she suggested Gabriel might like to play cards, he shook his head, his eyes pink-rimmed. “How can I think of entertainments with Eustacia gone?”

Maddie was quite sure his wife would be thinking of nothing but her own entertainments, wherever she was, but Gabriel suddenly took her hand and exclaimed fervently, “I do love her, Madolyn. I know what you think. But I do love her. Perhaps she doesn’t yet believe it either.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, skeptical.

“Like my brother, you don’t understand.” When she objected, he explained gently, “Eustacia needs me. Don’t you see? For once, someone needs
me
. All my life,” he went on, “I was the one, protected and fretted over. When I met your cousin, she didn’t treat me like a child, but looked to
me
to protect
her
.”

Thus Eustacia’s sudden departure brought Gabriel to a new level of consciousness, a new determination to be his own man, and now he made up his mind to go after her.

His brother would have stopped him, but Maddie politely suggested it was time the earl stopped meddling in other people’s love lives, since he had no experience on the subject. He took exception to this and by the time he was done quarreling, Gabriel’s horse was saddled. Maddie prepared a basket of food for his journey and made certain he was warmly clothed for travel, fussing over him as if he was her own son, much to Griff’s apparent amusement.

“I know I accused you of overprotecting your brother,” she said, as she came back to his side on the steps, “but I can see how it was not entirely unjustified.”

Since she conceded this much, he met her half-way, admitting his brother might be old enough to make his own mistakes, occasionally. But they sent two strong bodyguards after him as a precaution.

* * * *

That afternoon the roan mare went into foal, and Griff began an anxious vigil in the stables. Madolyn went to her chamber to change into the old gray gown, planning to spend the afternoon in the cookhouse and surprise him again with her culinary skills. Struggling with the hooks of her gown, she heard the door open and thought it was Jennet come to help.

“Need a pair of hands there, eh?” Wickes slithered against the doorframe, grinning at her.

“Get out! How dare you enter my chamber?”

“You can forget those ladylike manners with me, wench.” His filthy boots moved stealthily across the creaky boards. She backed around the bed, holding her gown over her shift, clutching it to her breasts. “No need to run away from ol’ Wickes. You and me, we’re of the same mould. We know how to survive in this world.” He sniffed, looking around her chamber. “He’s given you plenty o’ trinkets already, eh?”

“I told you to get out.”

“I don’t follow
your
orders, mouthy whore.” He came toward her again, grinning. “Couldn’t understand where he went when he left London in the middle of the night, not even telling ol’ Wickes where he was off too.” He paused, licking his cracked lips. “Now I understand his haste to be alone with you. Can’t blame the feller. Now you can share a little o’ that with ol’ Wickes and I won’t tell him who you were with last night, in the tavern. Don’t want to get that fool Luke in trouble, do you wench?”

She glanced at the window, but it was closed. No one was in the south corner of the house this afternoon and she was alone with Wickes. He’d chosen his moment carefully.

“You labor under a misapprehension, Wickes,” she said steadily. “I’m not a whore, but even if I was one, you’d never get your hands on me.”

He laughed, flinging back his greasy hair. “Aye. Not an everyday sort o’ whore. Costly no doubt. Add this one to the master’s bill, he’ll never notice.” His steps continued toward her. She made a
volte
leap up onto the bed, hoping to scramble across, out of his reach, but he caught her by the ends of her hair, pulling her off balance. She landed hard and then he was on top of her, his dank stench suffocating. He tried to pull the gown away and his rough, blackened fingernails tore a hole in the shoulder of her shift. She bucked, kneeing him hard in the groin, but this only made him angry, slapping her flat-handed, swift and hard. His boots scuffed dirt across her coverlet, his weight crushed the breath out of her as he forced her legs apart. With one hand she reached under her pillow and retrieved the knife she kept there. Her fingers closed around it, and in one burst of enraged strength, she heaved again and struck with her knee at the same time. He fell away, swearing at her, but the sound ended abruptly on a startled squeak as he felt the cool blade pressed to his windpipe.

Eyes darkened with fury, he glared at her. She pressed the knife into his skin enough to leave an indent, and held it there, jerking her shift out from under him with her free hand.

With the breath gasping in her own throat, she hadn’t heard the door open again.

“Good gracious, Wickes, can you do nothing right?”

Stunned, Madolyn turned, still holding her knife in one hand, her gown in the other. A woman had entered the chamber quietly to watch their struggle. Now, slowly removing her riding gloves, she shook her head at the servant scrambling off the bed. “Want a job doing, one should do it oneself, it seems.”

She wore a feathered hat with a lace veil, through which she seared Maddie with a thorough, critical perusal. The broad collar of her coat was thickly embroidered with blue and white fleur-de-lys, the Swafford colors. Her slow assessment completed, she blinked, just once. “Apparently his tastes run to peasant.”

Wickes wiped his mouth on his grimy sleeve. “She’s naught but a common strumpet, like I said.”

The woman snapped at him to leave and he slid out, grumbling and peevish.

“Forgive me,” Madolyn said coolly. “I don’t know your name, madam, and I didn’t expect guests.”

She tossed her gloves onto the rumpled bed. “Makes two of us…on both counts.”

“I don’t--”

“My name, child, is Lady Isabelle Mallory.”

Maddie clasped the sturdy oak post at the foot of the bed.

“You might also know me as the Countess of Swafford. His wife. And this is my bedchamber.”

She felt nauseous, slightly dizzy. This was not real. His wife couldn’t be standing there in the house, looking at her.

“I suppose you’re a pretty thing, if somewhat coarse and common. Perhaps that’s what he finds attractive. You’re disposable. I was not.”

“I think you--”

She held up her hand, silencing Madolyn as if she was her servant. “Since he’s out, we can talk uninterrupted. Set a few rules. I must apologize for Wickes.” She bared her teeth. “He has a clumsy hand and knows nothing of subtlety.”

“I can look after myself.”

“So I see.” The countess was expressionless, her eyes moving around the chamber, taking it in--the vases laden with flowers, the excess of candles, the silk stockings over the chair, the lapis necklace on the dresser. “I thought my husband would have this obsession out of his system by now. It is very…awkward.”

She was tall, slender and elegant. Her eyes slanted upward slightly and seldom blinked. Beneath an aquiline nose, his wife’s lips, wide and fleshy, opened and closed in a quick, snapping motion, each word shot out briskly, purposefully and well-aimed. It seemed this woman had no tendency to forget what she meant to say and never let her tongue run on past its point. “You’re young. How old?”

“Old enough, madam.”

“Apparently.” Those full lips stretched over her teeth. “When I heard my husband took a mistress, I had to see for myself. The mystery, alas, only deepens. Why are you special? Surely he might find half a dozen like you in any village or whore house.”

Madolyn decided, with difficulty, to say nothing further. If she did speak, she would only amuse the woman by losing her temper.

“This is the lay of the land, little girl. I’m very much a part of his life and always will be, for this marriage cannot be undone. If he must have you, so be it. We must put up with one another.”

How calm she was, how prepared to share. Again, nothing like Maddie the Merciless.

Her eyebrows moved like the widespread wings of an eagle, hovering, skimming, cold, eyes picking out her insignificant, defenseless prey. “I’m afraid you’re rather a disappointment.” Now she glided forward, as if she never made a clumsy step in her life. “I’d hoped for something half-way civilized.”

“Why have you come here?” Ah, she couldn’t hold her tongue.

The woman turned to show her profile, one hand smoothing over the front of her gown. “I came to let him know how the child progresses, of course. Oh…I see you didn’t know.”

She leaned back, needing the bedpost to keep her upright. “A child? But he--”

“After eighteen years of marriage he decided he wanted an heir,” the countess drawled, as if confiding in an acquaintance who would share her amazement. “After eighteen years! I couldn’t refuse him. What could I do? A husband’s request is his wife’s command.”

Maddie swallowed painfully, her heart in her throat.

“It was the first thing on his mind when he returned from Spain. And you know how he is. He will not be refused. I resisted because a child is the last thing I wanted at my age, but he would have his way.”

She was trying to say he’d forced her. Madolyn’s belly twisted and tightened.

“He knew his brother would never change for the better. Gabriel had disappointed him once too oft. Oh,” she paused, a hand to her face in feigned shock, showing off the Swafford crest on her ring, “that dreadful woman he recently married!” She shook her head, sighing. “The Beast, therefore, needs a son, another heir. Now, here I am,” she continued, drawing closer still, “in this wretched state. With his child in my belly he cannot be rid of me and neither, my little barefoot harlot, can you.”

Her nerves snapped, coiling. “I don’t believe you.”

“Ask him then.” The words fell like shards of vicious glass through the air. “Although he will say it is none of your business and truly it is not. Matters between husband and wife are always private.”

“I don’t believe he forced you,” Maddie clarified, with more calmness than she felt. “He would never do that.”

The woman’s eyes shone with spiteful glee. Her perfume was very strong, sweet and cloying. “Oh, my dear. I know the Beast better than you. I know the evil of which he is capable. A husband may do as he pleases with his wife. There was nothing I could do.”