His Wicked Wish (31 page)

Of course Gilmore wanted an audience with her. He knew she'd concealed the truth about her background. She hadn't seen him after leaving the duke's house, for she'd gone straight to bed …

As Maddy lifted her head from the pillow, an overwhelming rush of nausea struck her. She scrambled out of bed and barely reached the chamber pot in time to retch.

Afterward, gasping and miserable, she pressed her forehead to the side of the bed. She felt Gertie's hand gently rubbing her back. “Poor dear. But 'tis happy news, I'll guess. Ye must be with child. Lady Gilmore will want t' send fer the doctor—”

“No!” Maddy took a linen towel from the maid, using it to blot the cold sweat on her face. “No, you mustn't bother anyone. Not just now.”

“'Tis no bother. And Lord Rowley's gone out. But he'll want t' know when he returns. Won't he be pleased!”

Nathan wouldn't be pleased. Not at all. He had made that perfectly clear the previous night.
I've no wish to give Gilmore a grandson—not anymore. Then he truly would win.

The memory of his icy wrath weighted down her spirits. He had walked her back to Gilmore House and then had taken his leave, his manner cold and formal. A shudder ran through her. He didn't want a son. And he had not come to her bed last night.

Did it mean their marriage was over?

Maddy tamped down an incipient panic. Somehow, she had to get through the hours until she could speak to him again. Especially since Gertie knew nothing of their quarrel. The previous night, she had given the maid only an abbreviated version of the events at the duke's house. Just enough to allay her curiosity.

She caught hold of the woman's careworn hand. “You mustn't tell anyone, Gertie. Not even a whisper. Please. It's too soon and … I just want to wait for a little bit.”

Clucking in sympathy, the maid helped Maddy to her feet. “Mayhap 'tis wise since ye only just met the duke. 'Tis a lot fer ye t' swallow all at one time.”

“Yes, that's right.” Maddy seized on the convenient excuse. “I should like the uproar to settle down first. This house has had quite enough excitement for one week.”

*   *   *

An hour and a half later, Maddy heard the musical dinging of a clock chiming the hour of eleven as she approached the library. She had girded herself for battle in a jade-green gown with her hair drawn up in a simple twist. The awful nausea had subsided. She felt much better now after a breakfast of dry toast and weak tea. Almost normal, in fact, except for the ache in her heart.

She still had not seen Nathan. He'd gone out early this morning without leaving word when he'd return. Somehow, she must find a way to make things right between them. She
would
find a way.

After this meeting with the earl.

The library was located on the ground floor overlooking the garden. As she stepped through the doorway, Maddy could see the green of the outdoors through one of the tall windows. The floor-to-ceiling shelves held a vast array of leather-bound books, so many she could be happy for years perusing them.

But that wasn't likely to occur. She didn't know if she would be allowed to stay at Gilmore House. Or even if she wanted to do so.

Her gaze went to the two people seated side by side in chairs by the unlit hearth. She faltered a step before continuing toward them. Of course, this summit also would include the dowager.

The Earl of Gilmore rose to his feet and watched her approach. His pitted features looked as harsh as ever, his graying auburn hair neatly combed, his dark garb impeccable. Only a certain keenness to his brown eyes gave any indication of a change in how he viewed her.

She performed the requisite curtsy. Then he waved her into a straight-backed chair that faced the two of them. “Good morning, Madelyn. Pray be seated.”

Clad in dark gold, the dowager lifted the quizzing glass that was pinned to her bodice and peered closely at Maddy as she sat down. “Ah, you do indeed have the look of Houghton. I can see it now in your cheekbones and eyes. And in the fair hair, too.”

Maddy folded her hands in her lap. She resented being examined like a butterfly pinned under glass. “People see what they wish to see.”

“Indeed,” the earl said. “And
you
wished for us to believe you were a baseborn actress. Why?”

“I never said I was baseborn,” she corrected sharply. “My parents were lawfully married.”

He gave a cool nod. “Of course. Forgive me. But you have not answered my question. You must have known that you would be far more acceptable to me as Nathan's wife had I been informed of your close connection to the Duke of Houghton.”

Maddy pursed her lips. He was too astute not to have conjectured the answer. “My husband and I had made an agreement. I would play the vulgar strumpet, and in return, he would provide me entry to society. It was as simple as that.”

“Aha!” the dowager said, thumping her cane on the carpet. “So you were playacting when you first came to this house. All that nonsense and babbling was designed to fool us. But you already knew proper behavior. You'd learned it from Lady Sarah Langley.”

The earl held up his hand to silence his mother. He kept his gaze trained on Maddy. “Nathan didn't know about your connection to the duke. He appeared every bit as shocked as we were.”

“I thought it best not to tell him. You see, both he and I have had our secrets.”

Maddy coolly returned his stare. She wanted the earl to wonder if she knew that Nathan had been fathered by a footman. Despite the estrangement in her marriage, she couldn't bring herself to forgive this man for making Nathan's childhood a living hell.

To her amazement, Gilmore looked away first. He abruptly stood up and paced to the fireplace before turning to regard her. “You should know that I had a conference in private with His Grace last night after you'd left. He wanted to know your background, where you've been all these years. I'm afraid I couldn't enlighten him, at least not much.”

She tensed. “He asked about me?”

“Of course. You're his granddaughter. He expressed a very strong desire to see you again.”

Agitation gripping her limbs, Maddy surged to her feet. She had not thought beyond the confrontation, except to fantasize about the duke hanging his head in shame for all he'd done. “Why would I wish to see
him
? After the way he treated my mother?”

“Come now, Madelyn. You cannot fault him for showing an interest in his long-lost granddaughter. In fact, that is why I called you here. He asked me to convey an invitation to you to come for tea this afternoon.”

*   *   *

Maddy followed a footman in white wig and crimson livery up the grand staircase at the Duke of Houghton's house. Their footsteps resounded loudly in the large entrance hall. In stark contrast to the throngs of guests the previous evening, the place was empty and echoing, the candles in the chandelier burned to nubs and the gold ribbons gone from the balustrade.

The Earl of Gilmore had wanted to accompany her to this meeting. He had been most insistent. But she had been just as adamant about coming alone. She would not defer to her father-in-law. Especially when he clearly favored her making amends with the duke.

She reached the top of the stairs. Her jade-green skirt rustled as she followed the servant down a long, ornate corridor. Was she doing the right thing in returning to this house?

Maddy stiffened her spine. It had been very tempting to reject the invitation. She owed no courtesy to the Duke of Houghton, not after the way he'd spurned her mother. Blood might make him her grandfather, but there was no other bond between them. Nor did she seek one.

Yet there had been things left unsaid last night in the heat of the moment. This would be her opportunity to make her position clear.

The footman stepped through a doorway and bowed. “Lady Rowley, Your Grace.”

As the servant retreated, Maddy stepped into a spacious morning room decorated in autumn hues of gold and russet. Several tall windows let in the afternoon sunlight. Hunting scenes were displayed on the walls, with small porcelain dog figurines scattered here and there.

The Duke of Houghton did not occupy his wheeled invalid's chair today. He sat on a chaise beside the fireplace, where flames burned on the grate. Despite the warmth of the room, he had a rug draped over his knees. He leaned forward, his eyes squinting at her as if his vision were poor and he hungered for a look at her.

Then her gaze was caught by a portrait that hung above the marble mantel. Her steps came to an abrupt stop. The painting showed a young woman in an old-fashioned white gown with pale pink ribbons, a string of pearls at her throat, her blond hair drawn up in a mass of curls. She looked so hauntingly familiar that Maddy felt her heart catapult into her throat. Her lips formed the name without uttering a sound.
Mama.

“Well, well, if it isn't our newfound cousin.”

The aristocratic voice broke into her reverie. She realized to her surprise that two other gentlemen had arisen from their chairs. Lord Dunham and Lord Theo. Of course. How foolish of her not to have anticipated the presence of her cousins at this meeting. They would want to protect their grandfather—and they must be curious and resentful of an interloper into their exalted family.

It was Dunham who had spoken, and he strolled forward to greet her. “Do give me a kiss, dear cousin.”

Maddy noted the angry resentment in his ice-blue eyes and in the curl of his upper lip. As he drew near, she sidestepped him. “There is no need for any pretense of affection, my lord.”

“Alfred,” he corrected. “Surely now we can be on more familiar terms … my dear Madelyn.”

“You are presumptuous,
Alfred
. I'm afraid we scarcely know one another.” She slipped past him and went to his brother, offering her hand. “Hello, Lord Theo. I'm truly sorry for disrupting the ball last night. I do hope you had a chance to speak to Lady Emily.”

His dark blue eyes lit up behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. “Oh! Yes, I did for a few moments. Though she left early, dash it all.”

Maddy's spirits lifted. Perhaps there
was
an advantage to her secret being exposed. Perhaps now she could arrange for more meetings between Theo and Emily. It was something to consider, anyway.

“Come here, girl,” the duke rasped, beckoning with his skeletal hand. “You're to sit right beside me.” He patted the striped gold cushion of the chaise.

She hesitated. It was the only possible place for her to sit since her cousins already had laid claim to the pair of brown upholstered chairs opposite the duke. Everything in her resisted the notion of being within touching distance of the man who had shunned her mother. Yet if she refused to share the chaise with him, she would be forced to go across the room and drag over another chair.

That would only make her appear childish when she needed to be strong and fearless.

Maddy glided to the chaise and sat down, staying as close to her end as possible. Despite her best efforts, her skirt brushed against her grandfather's bony legs. Alfred and Theo resumed their seats as well.

She didn't want any of them to direct the conversation. So she said quickly, “I'm sure we can all agree there is no need for chitchat. I accepted this invitation only because I wanted to say—”

A movement at the door interrupted her as a footman entered, pushing an elaborate tea trolley. He wheeled it into the space between the chaise and the chairs, then bowed and departed.

“At least there's one advantage to having Madelyn as our new cousin,” Alfred said. “We now have a
lady
in the family to serve our tea.”

His emphasis on the word “lady” indicated that he hoped to trip her up, to prove that she lacked the proper refinement to perform the simple task. Of course, he didn't know about the endless hours she'd spent under Lady Gilmore's tutelage. Maddy arose gracefully and poured the steaming tea into the four cups, took orders for sugar and cream, then passed around a plate with slices of seed cake.

As she delivered a porcelain cup to the duke, he took it with shaky hands and balanced it in his lap. He looked down at it, then said, “Sarah always prepared my tea. She knew the precise shade of whiteness that I prefer. And it appears that you do, too, Madelyn.”

Passing out the other cups, Maddy tensed, remembering how he had mistaken her for her mother the previous night. “I am not Lady Sarah, Your Grace. It was merely a lucky guess.”

“Yet you look so much like her, it's uncanny. The portrait up there proves it.”

Maddy's gaze was drawn again to the painting over the mantel. Papa had often remarked on the resemblance, and today she could see it, too. It brought a lump to her throat to behold her mother's gently smiling image captured as a debutante. The features that had grown fuzzy in her memory were now brought into clear focus.

“Grandfather had it brought down from the attic today and dusted off,” Alfred said, watching Maddy over the rim of his cup. “Had I viewed it earlier, I'd have recognized you and guessed your game at once.”

“Game?” she asked sharply, sitting down on the chaise with her own cup of tea. “This is no game. I came here today to clear the air. I grew up hearing stories about how Mama had been cut off from her family for the sin of having fallen in love with an actor.”

She looked from her cousins to the duke. “I wanted all of you to know that my father was a fine man, moral and kindhearted, and he earned an honest living with his talents. He was nobler than many I've met in the aristocracy. And he adored my mother more than life itself.” Maddy remembered him kneeling at Mama's gravesite, heartbroken at her loss. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away and focused on her grandfather, her fingers taut around the saucer in her lap. “You should never have passed judgment on Papa without even knowing him. It was wicked of you. Wicked and cruel!”