Our Wicked Mistake (17 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

BOOK: Our Wicked Mistake
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“You’d prefer less chivalry?” There was a laugh in his voice.
Did she? No, and she was being ridiculous anyway, because she had no claim on Luke. He’d helped her, and though her inexperience with casual love affairs was a problem in their relationship, she was intelligent enough—if she saw the situation clearly—to know it was
her
problem.
They edged past a group of matrons who didn’t even bother to hide their interest, a few with quizzing glasses boldly raised. “I’m sorry,” she said haltingly, her voice equally as quiet. “I haven’t your sangfroid over our . . . circumstances.”
His expression softened. “My dear Madge, I know. I’d like you a great deal less if you did.”
He liked her. Well, she supposed lovers should
like
each other. Anything more would complicate matters.
The next two hours passed in a blur. She danced, drank champagne, and listened to the hum of voices that consistently rose above the music, alternately wondering how many people were talking about her and thinking it was vanity to assume her life was of such interest. Luke did dance with the duchess, his blond good looks a foil for her dark elegance, and when they passed each other amid the swirl of couples, Luke smiled at Madeline in a sinful curve of his mouth that made the evening’s ten sion melt away. It was as if they shared a special secret, a promise of what would come later when they were alone and in each other’s arms.
Like I used to feel with Colin
, she realized wistfully, her hand on the shoulder of some young man whose name she couldn’t remember, swirling to the music.
Only what she had with Luke was
nothing
like her marriage.
 
“And here I thought reclaiming the journal was the end of it.” Michael spoke in his usual neutral tone, his hazel eyes speculative. “Or so you said.”
Madeline was dancing still, her blond hair unmistak able, as was the fluid movement of her body, and Luke watched her waltz with meditative attention. She’d cho sen a gown of indigo taffeta, a foil for her ivory com plexion. “I thought it was. Fitch is still a complication. I don’t want him causing trouble for her.”
“So you decided to gallantly ruin her reputation in stead?”
It wasn’t censure. Michael never judged. The way he looked at life was always oblique, never based on straightforward concepts like moral judgment. That aside, the observation was accurate enough, if all the avid attention they’d received this evening was an in dication. Luke’s smile was rueful. “I admit to mitigating circumstances.”
“Like her undeniable charms, which apparently you find irresistible.”
“I believe most healthy males would be tempted.”
“She is lovely.” Michael’s gaze followed her progress across the dance floor. “But that has never been enough for you. I’ve never seen you publicly escort anyone ex cept your mother and sister.”
They stood by a Grecian pillar that rose magnificently upward, the column at least five feet in diameter, to support the arched, frescoed ceiling. Painted cherubs cavorted above their heads as Luke rubbed his jaw. “It wasn’t an impetuous decision. We are both adults and free. We can do as we please. She’s aware of my thoughts on a more permanent arrangement.”
“Is she, now?”
He transferred his gaze to his friend’s face. “I don’t have the luxury of it being any other way. Madeline is a passionate, lovely woman who happens to need my protection at the moment. It’s a mutually satisfying relationship. Trust me.”
“I’d trust you with my life,” the Marquess of Longhaven murmured. “That is undisputed and has been proven, I believe.”
They’d trusted each other back in Spain, and neither of them would be standing there if that trust wasn’t merited.
“But?” Luke’s negligent pose was feigned. He always valued Michael’s opinion.
“Have you ever read
The Merchant of Venice
?”
Had he not been used to the leaps necessary to follow Michael’s thought processes, he would have blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Shakespeare? Of course.”
“ ‘To do a great right, do a little wrong,’” Michael quoted softly.
“Is this a lecture?” Luke grimaced. “If so, stop quoting literature and just speak plainly.”
“I never lecture.”
Then the enigmatic Marquess of Longhaven straightened from his negligent pose by the pillar and strolled away into the crowd.
What the devil was that all about?
Damnation. Luke refused to feel guilty about all this. If Madeline hadn’t pursued him out of the dinner party, he’d have been perfectly willing to keep his distance. More than willing—he’d done his best to stay clear of her, for both their sakes. If memory served,
she’d
propo sitioned
him
, and . . .
“I take it I am the appointed male of the evening again to see Elizabeth and Aunt Suzette safely home in the wee hours.” The droll voice interrupting his silent rationalization belonged to Miles, dressed similarly in tailored, dark evening wear, his eyes holding a certain muted curiosity.
“Did you have other plans?” Luke asked, realizing to his chagrin that for the first time all season, he hadn’t taken his sister’s social schedule into consideration when he decided to visit Madeline and suggest they attend the ball together.
His young cousin shook his head and leaned against the pillar in Michael’s place, idly lifting his champagne flute to his mouth. “Nothing more pressing than a visit to Brookes. I can do that anytime.”
Luke didn’t relish his duties as chaperone, but nor mally he didn’t shirk them either. There was no rule to say he had to accompany his mother and sister on the round of
ton
activities, but he’d made it a point since Elizabeth’s coming out in the spring. His sister’s future was important to him. Miles, however, was trustworthy. The lecture he’d given Elizabeth on not being alone with him had been based on what others might think, not any personal doubts. Besides, his mother would be with them, and that was perfectly acceptable. “I’d appre ciate it, then. I’m otherwise engaged this evening.”
“So I gathered.”
He no doubt deserved that dry inflection, but he’d never made apologies for how he lived his life and wasn’t about to start now. Besides, Miles was unlikely to say anything more. Other than Luke’s concerns for Elizabeth’s carefree, innocent assumption that she and Miles could enjoy the same camaraderie as they had when they were children, Luke was pleased to have another male family member in London. “Speaking of which, I think if I can capture Lady Brewer’s attention, it might be time to take our leave.”
His passage through the crowd was delayed by greet ings from friends, and another waltz was in full swing by the time he got to the edge of the dance floor. Luke waited patiently enough, but the minute the music ended, he purposefully edged through the dancers be fore another partner could claim Madeline for the next dance, intercepting with a scathing glance a young man he didn’t recognize. Only barely did he resist the im pulse to possessively put his arm around her waist and guide her off the floor, instead choosing to offer his arm at the last moment. “I thought you look tired.”
“And you’re bored,” she said with gracious under standing.
“Considering the alternative to being around all these people, yes. Our point has been made, and I’d rather be alone with you.”
Slender fingers settled on his sleeve, and though she was already flushed from dancing every turn since their arrival, he thought her color deepened. “I am ready to depart if you are.”
“With all of London watching, I warn you.” He fixed his gaze on the doorway and the gauntlet of guests be tween them and their quick escape.
“So it appears.” She sounded quite composed as they navigated the crowd. “You needn’t act as if you are ex ercising seigneurial rights just to intimidate Lord Fitch, though. I am more than willing to leave. If I trip over my skirts, I believe that will draw even more attention, and we have enough already. Must we exit at a dead run?”
She was right, of course; he was being unforgivably presumptuous and in an undeniable hurry. Luke short ened his stride, amused at himself, and yet at the same time, unaccountably disconcerted. “My apologies.”
Moments later, when they were able to gain the door way and his request for his carriage brought the convey ance around, he handed her in with a bit more restraint, though he couldn’t answer for the rest of the night. Luke settled on the opposite seat and rapped on the ceiling of the vehicle to signal his driver. “Maybe tomorrow I should look for neutral ground.”
Madeline, striking even in the muted light, dangling sapphire earrings complementing her gown, sounded baffled. “I beg your pardon?”
The luscious swell of her bosom was infinitely distracting. His gaze traveled back up to her face and he clarified. “A place where we can meet and stay together that does not involve our normal household staff or our neighbors.”
Lush lashes lowered a fraction over her beautiful eyes. “No. While I appreciate the offer—since I know it is for my sake, as I believe you abandoned the notion of propriety and embarrassment years ago—it isn’t necessary.”
He wanted to promise her the world would forget their indiscretion or not label it as such, but the world—their world—wasn’t so forgiving. Still, he’d make sure he was gone in the morning. Many illicit romances were twittered over, and servants often knew more than the most accomplished gossipmonger, but the urge to protect her wasn’t just limited to foiling Fitch’s nefarious advances.
“We’d have more privacy.”
“I very rarely spend the night away from Trevor. We always breakfast together. As he gets older it isn’t as often, but sometimes he needs me at night if he has a bad dream or feels ill. Please understand.”
“That hadn’t occurred to me.” His smile was almost involuntary. She was close, warm, all scented, opulent flesh with her bared shoulders and lustrous hair. He didn’t think of her as a mother, but as an alluring woman. “I made arrangements for someone to see Elizabeth home, but my responsibility for a nineteen-year-old woman is not at all the same as yours for a little boy. Forgive my ignorance.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. When you have children of your own, perhaps you’ll understand how ...” She trailed off, averting her gaze for a moment.
She couldn’t know that would cut through him. Luke merely said, “The measure of his need for you is magnified, I would guess also, by your independent state.” He did his best to smooth over the awkward moment. Did she want more children? That hadn’t occurred to him either. She’d given her husband his heir, but perhaps she desired a larger family. Did women desire daughters the way men wanted sons?
He didn’t know. The image of Madeline, lush and ripe with his babe, invaded his mind before he obliterated it as quickly as possible. He’d lost the woman he loved and the child she carried once before. There was a part of him that knew he couldn’t endure it again. At least Madeline had her son.
“Yes.” The reply was one word, firm and with conviction. “He doesn’t remember losing his father because he was too young.”
“It might be just my own experience, but it isn’t much easier when you are older and do remember.” Luke moodily contemplated the passing houses, the shade raised on the carriage window since the night was pleasant. “I was in Spain when I received the letter. We’d just fought a bloody skirmish and hundreds had died, and that I could understand, because it was war, but I couldn’t comprehend how a perfectly healthy man like my father could suddenly succumb to what the doctors thought was little more than a slight cough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So was I. Imagine a grown man—one who was used to dealing with the destruction of war—so struck he retired to his tent and wept like a bereft child. I suppose nothing can prepare you for it.”
“No one expects you to be made of stone, my lord.” She spoke very softly.
Perhaps not, but there were times when he wished he didn’t feel so deeply. The brittle facade did not match the inner man. “However we appear, we all have our demons.”
“I agree.” Madeline hesitated for a moment and then added, “I disliked being manipulated by Lord Fitch in the extreme. I kept asking myself what was the worst he could do to me besides humiliate me publicly, and then I discovered, when he accosted me, there
was
something worse he could do.”
“And you handily conked him over the head with a poker,” Luke pointed out with a straight face, relieved the discussion had moved on. Besides their foolhardy mutual attraction, both he and Madeline had experi enced too much loss too young. There was no need to dwell on it.
Her answering look was reproving, but her mouth twitched. “I was going to say the debacle made me reas sess my life.”
“How so?”
The cobblestone streets were loud under the wheels of the vehicle, the night air warm, the moment poignant. He’d been in that definitive place—where circumstance met fate, and yet he didn’t say so. He wasn’t ready to explain himself. He might never be ready.
Madeline adjusted her skirts with a languid hand, her face averted again just enough so he could see the clean outline of her profile. She cleared her throat. “Like I said before, Altea, you are a personal indulgence, and though I hate to admit it, maybe even a necessity against Lord Fitch. I am not worried about hiding our affair if it protects me, and in due course, my son as well. I refuse to give in to blackmail just to avoid a scandal. “

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