How to Romance a Rake (39 page)

Maddie looked down at the filigreed, fan-shaped dance card. “All right,” she told her cousin. “I will take it.”

“In all honesty,” she admitted, “I cannot help but giggle remembering just where our great source of luck has come from. If only Amelia knew how much her dance card has helped us, she would terrify London with her screams of rage.”

“A toast,” Juliet said, raising her teacup in the air. “To Amelia!”

“To Amelia.”

“May her dance card bring our Maddie as much luck as it’s brought us,” Cecily said.

“And may her novel writing career bring her many admirers,” Juliet added.

Maddie rolled her eyes. “That is not what I am using the dance card for, Jules.”

“There is no law that says you only have one wish upon the dance card,” Juliet retorted. “Besides, admirers will surely make your books more popular.”

Thinking of the reason she wished to write novels in the first place—to show her brother just how dangerous his choices had become—and just how much sway her popularity would hold with him, she relented. “To admirers then.”

If admirers could make her brother reform his dangerous ways, then she would attract as many as she could get.

Historical Note

Unfortunately, most innovation in the field of prosthetics and orthotics has come about not because of disease, but in response to a man-made problem: war. As war has historically (with a few exceptions) been the purview of men, I could find no firsthand accounts of female lower-limb amputees in the early nineteenth century. I have little doubt that they existed, but their stories do not appear to have been recorded for posterity. And if they have, I was unable to find them.

What I do have, however, is an imagination, and because Juliet’s injury took place around the time of Waterloo, I had little problem imagining that an upper-class English lady, whose father was a diplomat, would have access to a surgeon skilled at performing lower-limb amputations. And though there is no record of such a thing happening, I also imagined that a English nobleman, like Lord Shelby, would be able to pay enough money to bring a skilled craftsman back to England with them to see to it that his daughter was fitted with a proper series of wooden feet. I called this mythical prosthetist Otto Bock, after the Austrian company that makes my own hi-tech, above-the-knee prosthesis.

For the description of Juliet’s prosthesis, I am indebted to
On Artificial Limbs: Their Construction and Application
by Henry Heather Biggs, 1855. And also,
A Manual of Artificial Limbs
by George Edwin Marks, 1914, both of which are available in full from Google Books. For an account of England’s most famous lower-limb amputee, hero of Waterloo, the Marquess of Anglesy, I recommend Paul Youngquist’s
Monstrosities: Bodies and British Romanticism
, 2003.

Any errors are entirely my own.

Read on for an excerpt from the next book by MANDA COLLINS

HOW TO ENTICE AN EARL

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

“Ladies,” Monteith said as he bowed to the cousins. “I hope you won’t mind if I steal Lady Madeline for a word.”

Yes, they do mind.
Maddie didn’t speak the words aloud, but she hoped that she conveyed the sentiment effectively. She wasn’t ready to be in his company again. Last night’s ordeal at Mrs. Bailey’s gaming hell had been harrowing, and not only because of Mr. Tinker’s murder. She’d seen Christian, or Monteith she corrected herself, in an entirely different light, and her newfound … awareness … was not at all comfortable or convenient.

“We don’t mind a bit,” Cecily said, breaking into Maddie’s thoughts. Her sideways glance at Maddie indicated that she was ready to send her off with Monteith whether Maddie liked it or not. “I’m sure you both have much to discuss.”

Maddie glared at her traitorous cousin. She’d deal with Cecily and her matchmaking schemes later.

Grudgingly she allowed Monteith to take her arm, and just as she had last night, she felt a thrill of excitement zing through her as she placed her hand on his arm. Trying to calm her senses, she realized that they were not headed toward the dance floor. But when she saw the direction in which he was headed, Maddie had to fight the impulse to balk like a mule.

“It is quite warm here,” Monteith said, as if he hadn’t noticed his partner’s reluctance to continue on. “Let’s step outside for a breath of air, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s,” Maddie said, reconciling herself to the situation. Unable to stop herself, she reveled in the feel of hard muscle beneath his coat sleeve and leashed power as he walked beside her.

Before she could succumb to temptation and inhale the scent of him, they arrived at their destination. For which Maddie was grateful.

The terrace beyond the dance floor was blissfully cool after the closeness of the ballroom. And though several other couples had also sought out the openness of the balcony, their conversation was a far cry from the loud chatter inside the house.

A kinetic silence fell over them as they walked, arm in arm, toward a small alcove created by a bower of spring peonies trained to grow tall and tower over a bench. Reaching the secluded nook, Monteith stepped back and allowed Maddie to take a seat while he remained standing. Her independent nature didn’t much care for the asymmetry of the arrangement, but some traitorous impulse within her did.

“You are recovered from last night’s ordeal?” Monteith asked, his gaze boring into her.

There was an intensity in his question that puzzled her. He had seen her home last evening after all, and assured himself that she was well. She had lain awake long after arriving home, unable to get the image out of her mind of Mr. Tinker’s face as he breathed his last. But eventually she’d drifted off. Not that she would reveal any of that to Monteith, of course.

“Yes,” Maddie responded. “Thank you for asking, my lord.”

His curt nod indicated that he’d expected as much. But it was Monteith’s next words that indicated to Maddie that her welfare was not his only reason for asking her here.

“I have heard from more than one source that you are claiming not to have witnessed anything about the man who killed Tinker last night,” he said briskly. “Is that correct?”

Relieved, and a little disappointed that the charged atmosphere between them had disappeared, Maddie nodded. “It’s nothing more than the truth. I didn’t see the man who killed Tinker.”

“How well did you know him?” Monteith asked. Then, perhaps realizing that it was an impertinent question, he added, “If you wish to tell me, that is.” Though it was clear that the amendment was only for courtesy’s sake.

Deciding that answering the question would harm no one, Maddie said, “I’ve known him as a friend of my brother for some years. Mama did not see him as the sort of person a young lady should spend a great deal of time with, however, so we were never in the same company above a dozen times.”

“It’s not like you to back down from a parental dictate,” Monteith said with a raised brow. “Did you obey her?”

Maddie bit back a huff of annoyance. “Of course I obeyed her. To be perfectly truthful, I found him a bit of a bore. All he talked about was horseflesh and racing. Not a favorite interest of mine.”

“What do you know of his friendship with your brother?”

This question stopped Maddie cold. “Why are you asking about James?” she demanded. “Surely you don’t think he had something to do with Tinker’s death.”

Monteith looked as if he wished to evade the question, but said, “I don’t know if he had anything to do with it. I was simply asking because there is a strong possibility that whoever killed the man was already acquainted with him.”

Before Maddie could protest further, he lowered himself to the bench beside her. At eye level now, he said, “I didn’t bring you out here to discuss your brother or his friends.”

Maddie was disconcerted once more by those intense eyes. “I wanted to tell you,” he went on, “that you are doing the right thing in telling everyone that you saw nothing last night.”

He took her gloved hand in his. Maddie tried and failed to ignore the frisson of awareness that vibrated through her.

“The last thing you need is to draw the attention of a killer,” Monteith said seriously.

“So you don’t think James did it?” Maddie heard herself ask. It was a good thing, she told herself, that he didn’t suspect James.

His lips tightened. “I didn’t say that,” Monteith admitted, making her stomach leap in fear for her brother. “I simply think that if the man who killed Tinker is not your brother, then you could do much worse than to let him know that you are not a threat.”

“If?” Maddie demanded, pulling her hand from his grasp, looking Monteith boldly in the eye. “I know for a fact that my brother didn’t kill his friend. He might be a gambler and an occasional drunkard, but he would never do something so reprehensible. Never.”

“Easy,” Monteith said, his voice soothing. “I know you love your brother. It does him credit. But I must tell you that this is a more complicated matter than it appears on the surface. And until the authorities can learn just why Tinker was killed, you must prepare yourself for the cloud of suspicion to hover over your brother for a bit. If he is innocent, as you claim, then it will just as quickly move on to implicate the real killer.”

“I don’t understand,” Maddie said, frustrated by his lack of candor. What did Monteith know of the matter anyway? And why did he suddenly appear so grave. It was unlike him, she realized. He was always given to joking and laughing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him as serious as he’d been these past two days.

“I cannot tell you the full story,” Monteith said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But your brother is involved with some very bad characters. Men who would think nothing of killing a man for any number of reasons.”

“Then they are the ones who killed Mr. Tinker,” Maddie said with what she hoped was convincing authority. “Not James.”

“It’s too early to say,” Monteith said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. Maddie couldn’t help but notice how the shift in position displayed his muscles beneath the fabric of his evening coat. “What I do know is that you are well out of the business. And I would suggest that when next you speak to your brother, that you caution him against the company he keeps.”

“As if that would make a difference,” she said before she could stop herself. Feeling disloyal, she went on, “That is not to say that James is stubborn, my lord.”

Monteith laughed softly. “I’m afraid you won’t fool me on that score. I know all too well that stubbornness runs in your family.”

Since it was true, Maddie couldn’t be too angry over the assessment. Even so, she wondered whether he was serious about her brother’s intimates. “Do you really think that one of James’s friends might have something to do with Tinker’s death?”

“I do, indeed,” Monteith said seriously. “And I would be pleased if you could find some way to keep out of the company of your brother and his friends until this matter is settled.”

Christian watched as Maddie’s brow furrowed with concern for her blackguard of a brother.

“Are you quite serious?” she asked, her color rising in her agitation. Feeling like a lecher for wondering, he speculated about whether the blush extended further down than the bodice of her gown revealed. He hadn’t even allowed himself to entertain those kinds of thoughts for Maddie in the past, but once the barrier in his mind against them had crumbled at the Wexford ball, he’d had the devil of a time controlling them.

“I cannot simply abandon James to whatever it is that these people mean to do to him,” Maddie went on. “He’s my brother!”

Which was the trouble, Christian thought. She was loyal to a fault and it was unlikely that she’d consider her own safety as a reason for keeping out of the killer’s way. Whoever he might turn out to be.

In an effort to smooth things over, and to remind her where his own loyalties lay, he said, “I do not mean that you should abandon him, Lady Madeline. I only wish for you to protect yourself. Your brother is a grown man and can fend for himself should it come to that, but you are…”

But that was clearly the wrong tactic, Christian thought with an inward curse. If she’d shouted at him, he’d have been less afraid than he was at hearing her softly angry tones.

“I am what?” Maddie asked with deceptive calm. “I am a weakling because I had the misfortune to be born a woman instead of a man? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, dammit!” Christian said, unable to keep the harassed tone, and the expletive, from his response. How did he manage to constantly be at verbal daggers drawn with her? “You’re twisting my words,” he went on in a calmer tone. “I only meant to say that James is his own person and shouldn’t drag you into danger with him.”

“I am already there,” Maddie said vehemently. “I was there. I held that man in my arms as he drew his last breath. If you understand anything about anything, then you should know that such an occurrence has affected me deeply. And my brother’s friendship with him only makes it more imperative that I do what I can to make sure that his killer is brought to justice.”

Her words sent a jolt of terror through him. Lady Madeline Essex searching for Tinker’s killer was the last thing he wanted to see. She’d already endangered herself enough with her visit to Mrs. Bailey’s.

Careful to keep his fear from his tone, he said, “Lady Madeline, Maddie, you are not under any obligation to find this man’s killer. Leave it to the authorities and I promise you that I will keep you apprised of any developments that might affect your brother.”

He hoped the promise to keep her in the know would reassure her enough to let the matter go. He wasn’t prepared for her next question, however.

“You just said that it should be left to the authorities,” Maddie said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And yet you say you will keep me apprised of things as they pertain to James. What do you know about the situation? Are you working for authorities now?”

“No, I misspoke,” Monteith said quickly.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit
. “I only meant to say that if I should hear anything about the business, I will share that information with you.”