His Wicked Wish (12 page)

A brief softening on his haughty face, Gilmore squeezed her hands. “If it makes you happy, then so be it.” His dark gaze narrowed on Nathan. “But only for a short while until he finds his own residence.”

 

Chapter 9

Standing at the newel post, Nate watched as Madelyn, led by a maidservant, ascended the staircase on the way to her bedchamber. The saucy sway of her hips beneath the cherry-red gown stirred his blood. He was tempted to go after her. To lock the bedroom door and avail himself of that curvaceous female body at once.

But his lust could wait until nighttime. His wife had served her purpose for now. All in all, her performance in the drawing room had been brilliant. Addressing the earl as “Papa” had been a particular stroke of genius.

Gilmore had been enraged by Nate's marriage. The revulsion on his face had been priceless. His father had been especially disgusted to learn about the auction, for nothing could have been better designed to create a permanent blot on the family honor.

Nate had arranged for the other gentlemen who had bid on Madelyn to be informed of the marriage. The scandal would spread like wildfire. Everyone of consequence soon would know that Gilmore's heir had purchased a notorious actress for his bride. In the coming days, there would be an invasion of visitors as nosy members of the ton came here to gawk at Madelyn.

Nate allowed a smile of satisfaction as he slipped into a shadowed antechamber. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and settled there to wait. From this vantage point, he could peer out into the main corridor and watch the doorway of the drawing room. A part of him despised skulking in dark corners as if he didn't belong at Gilmore House. He had every right to be here. Yet this subterfuge was necessary.

A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded. Gilmore walked out of the drawing room, the dowager clinging to his arm as she hobbled along with the aid of her cane. Emily trailed behind them like a forgotten ghost.

The trio headed toward the staircase where Madelyn had vanished. Perfect. It appeared the earl meant to escort Grandmamma upstairs to rest before dinner.

Nate retreated out of sight as the sound of voices approached. His grandmother was saying, “… so cheap and gaudy! I must write a note to my seamstress at once.”

“Stylish garb cannot change a sow's ear into a silk purse,” the earl grumbled. “I fear that woman is a hopeless tart…”

Their conversation faded after they'd passed by the antechamber. Nate poked his head out and saw his sister still following behind their father and grandmother.

“Psst,” he hissed softly.

Emily glanced over her shoulder. He beckoned to her, crooking his forefinger. She looked back at the older couple who were engrossed in their nasty tête-à-tête; then she scampered toward Nate.

He pulled her into the antechamber. Peering out once more, he was gratified to see Gilmore and the dowager heading up the stairs, unaware of Emily's disappearance. By the time they noticed, they wouldn't know where she'd gone.

Or who she was with.

“What's the matter?” Emily whispered. “Why are you being so secretive?”

His gut wrenched at the sight of her standing in the shadows. Ten years ago, she'd been an inquisitive little scamp who'd pestered him with a thousand questions about everything under the sun. Now, she'd grown into a beautiful woman, if only one could overlook the pockmarks that marred her creamy skin. “I wanted a moment alone with you, that's all. To tell you that I'm sorry you had to witness that scene in the drawing room. I'm afraid Father and Grandmamma don't approve of my new wife.”

“Well,
I
like Madelyn. She was very kind to me. They shouldn't be so mean to her just because she's an actress.”

“They're trying to protect you. Madelyn has a rather unsavory reputation with the gentlemen, you see.”

“Only because she's so very beautiful.” Emily clasped her hands to her bosom. “
I
think it's wonderful that the two of you fell in love. And I'm glad you married her no matter what other people might think.”

Her starry-eyed mien troubled Nate. Not because Emily had mistakenly assumed that love had prompted his hasty marriage. Rather, he was loath to see his naïve sister admire a worldly woman like Madelyn. When he'd concocted his scheme of revenge, he hadn't even considered how it would affect Emily.

“Like it or not, it
does
matter what people think,” he said. “In fact, it would be best if you kept a prudent distance from my wife. You especially oughtn't be seen in public with her.”

“What? You sound just like Papa!”

Nate clenched his jaw at the unwelcome comparison. He was nothing like the Earl of Gilmore. Nothing at all.

He caught hold of her slender shoulders. “Listen to me, Em. He's right in this particular matter. My marriage is bound to stir up a scandal. I won't have you caught in the fireworks, not when you're about to make your debut. It will harm your marital prospects.”

“Bah, I haven't any real prospects,” she said with a toss of her chin. “My only admirers will be fortune hunters sniffing after my marriage portion. I heard Grandmamma and Sophia say so when they thought I wasn't listening.”

Fury stabbed into Nate. Blast those two biddies! “Never mind them. You'll find a good husband, I'm sure.” At least he hoped so.

“Well, if I don't,” she said archly, “I shall run away and join a convent. I'll give my dowry to the nuns and spend the remainder of my days in cloistered prayer.”

Nate restrained a laugh. “So you'll renounce all your worldly goods? You'll have no use for jewelry?” He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a miniature black-enameled box. “It seems I shall have to give this to someone else, then.”

Emily's eyes brightened. “What is that? A gift for me?”

She grabbed for the box, but he held it high out of her reach. “First, you'll have to promise not to become a nun—at least not for a good long while.”

“I promise! Oh,
please
give it to me.”

Chuckling, he placed the small box into the palm of her hand.

Emily eagerly undid the tiny catch and opened the lid. On a nest of white silk lay a jade figurine on a delicate gold chain. She stepped out into the corridor where there was more light to examine the necklace. “Oh, my gracious, it's a little dragon. How precious! Is it truly mine?”

“Absolutely.” Nate stepped behind her to secure the hook at the back of her neck. “It came all the way from China. Over there, the dragon is a symbol of power and courage. It will give you great luck when you make your debut.”

“Perhaps it will keep me from tripping on my hem.” Her face fell suddenly. “But Grandmamma won't allow me to have this. She says that debutantes should wear only pearls.”

“Keep it in your reticule, then. It'll be our little secret.”

Emily smiled. “Yes, indeed. But first I want to go look at it in the mirror.” Standing on tiptoes, she landed a butterfly kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Nathan. You're the best of brothers.”

Rooted in place, he watched as his sister flew up the staircase and vanished, leaving him alone in the ornate corridor. Emily was wrong. He wasn't the best of brothers. The best brother had stayed here at Gilmore House while Nate had gone off to seek his fortune. The best brother had died from the same illness that had befallen Emily and the earl.

Maybe if he had stayed,
he
would have been the one with the pockmarks instead of his sister. Maybe he would have died instead of David.

Nate pulled a deep breath into his lungs. The air felt as thick and oppressive as the inside of a mausoleum. Dammit, he was supposed to be gloating today, not wallowing in gloom.

He stalked down the corridor toward the library. He needed a strong drink. He needed to forget his mawkish thoughts. Most of all, he needed to celebrate the success of his revenge on the Earl of Gilmore.

*   *   *

Maddy arrived late to dinner.

She dashed into the dining room to find everyone already seated at the far end of the long table. For a moment she paused in the doorway, overwhelmed by the affluence on display. Cobalt-blue curtains framed the darkened windows, while family portraits hung on the walls. On the linen-draped table, crystal glasses and china plates gleamed in the soft glow from an extravagance of candles.

It was a far cry from the rough plank table and overturned crates used for quick meals by the cast and crew of the Neptune Theater.

The Earl of Gilmore occupied the head of the table with nineteen-year-old Lady Emily to his left and his mother to his right. Prim-faced Lady Sophia sat beside the wrinkled dowager with Nathan opposite her.

Sipping from a wine goblet, Nathan smirked at his wife's tardy entry. He had planned this, Maddy realized. She had waited alone for hours upstairs in the large, lavish bedchamber, but he'd never so much as poked his head in the doorway to check on her. After the dramatic reunion with his family in the drawing room, the devil had vanished to the bowels of the netherworld with nary a word to his new bride.

Maddy had been told by a footman to listen for the sound of the gong before going down to dinner. But she had taken a wrong turn and had become lost in the maze of corridors and staircases until her wanderings had brought her here.

Nathan's abandonment annoyed her, though not because she desired his company. After all, they were hardly typical newlyweds who yearned to spend every moment together. But he ought to have warned her of his plan to neglect her. She felt as if he'd thrust her onto the stage of his life without offering adequate instruction.

Well, then. Since he hadn't told her otherwise, she would simply continue in her role of the shallow, talkative, ill-mannered commoner.

Shaping her lips into an alluring smile, she minced toward the diners. She noticed two things in quick succession. No one had any food on their plates yet, which meant she'd kept everyone waiting. And secondly, the women had changed into exquisitely beautiful gowns, Lady Emily in pale yellow organza, Lady Sophia in lavender silk, and the dowager in celery-green satin.

Maddy felt horribly conspicuous in the crimson dress with its plunging neckline. But even if she'd known to change, she couldn't have worn anything else because Gertie was still absent. The maid had been charged with collecting Maddy's belongings from both the rooming house and the theater. She didn't know what was keeping Gertie. Everything had been packed beforehand, and she'd had only to arrange for transportation of the trunks.

The earl rose from his chair in grudging courtesy. “I see you've finally deigned to join us, Madelyn. You've kept us waiting for a quarter hour.”

“I'm so sorry, Papa,” she said brightly. “I fell asleep for a while and lost all track of the time.”

His lips thinned at her too familiar address, but he didn't correct her. He merely resumed his seat and gave an imperious nod to the two blue-liveried footmen on duty. Both sprang into action, one of them picking up a large silver urn, the other a ladle with which to transfer soup into everyone's bowls.

Nathan jumped up to draw out a chair for Maddy. “So there you are, darling. I was just about to come looking for you.”

“Thank you, my dearest.” She puckered her lips and blew a kiss in his direction. “You've been so very attentive. I couldn't ask for a more considerate husband than you.”

His green eyes glinted at her. He wasn't put off in the least by her syrupy drivel; the scoundrel was enjoying the spectacle. She had an awareness of a close, conspiratorial connection between them. They were in this ruse together to hoodwink his family. And Maddy didn't know if she liked the collusion or not.

Yet it was necessary to earn her rich stipend. In a few months, he would leave England forever and she would be free to live as she chose. Until then, however, she had to play his game.

As a footman ladled a clear mushroom broth into her bowl, she picked up her silver spoon and held it close to the candlelight, examining the ornate leaf pattern on the handle. “This must be solid sterling,” she said to Nathan in a loud whisper designed to project to the others. “And these plates, they're the finest porcelain. Oh, I do hope I don't break anything.”

The dowager harrumphed. “If you would prefer to eat from cheap crockery down in the kitchen, then feel free to run along and do so.”

Maddy blew on her steamy bowl of mushroom soup. “Me, dine with the servants?” she asked in wide-eyed surprise. “Why, that won't do at all. My place is here with my new family. Right beside my dear husband.”

Fluttering her lashes at Nathan, she spied the earl glowering at the end of the table. Beside him, the dowager arched a haughty gray eyebrow. Sophia pruned her lips as if the spoonful of soup she'd just swallowed tasted of vinegar.

Lady Emily peered past her brother, the candlelight shining on her pockmarked face. “I'm very glad you're here, Madelyn,” she asserted. “If Nathan loves you, then so should we all.”

Maddy's heart squeezed. The girl's kindness was refreshing in this cesspool of hostility. And regrettably misplaced, for she was wrong in her naïve assumption that it was a love match. “How lovely of you to say so—”

“It is best to refrain from commenting on matters beyond your ken,” Lady Gilmore chided the girl. “Tend to your dinner now.”

Emily blushed and returned her attention to her soup.

Maddy itched to fling the hot contents of her bowl at the bitter old woman. No wonder the Earl of Gilmore was so pompous. He had learned his cold, selfish conduct at his mother's knee. How could these people think themselves the masters of refined taste? She'd known street urchins with better manners.

Nathan signaled to the footman to refill his wine goblet, then said testily, “Leave Emily be, Grandmamma. She only means well.”