Regency Wagers (13 page)

‘Would you return the horses, Bart?’ Devlin asked.

Bart nodded, taking hold of the reins. ‘Dev, a note was delivered for you. It is on the table inside the door.’

Devlin, his emotions in a tangle, ran up the steps and into the house. He had not wanted that time with Madeleine to end. He removed his coat, gloves and hat, and picked up the envelope.

Madeleine and Linette came inside, and Linette ran to the window for her last glimpse of the horses. ‘Bye bye, horses!’

‘What is the note?’ Madeleine asked as she pulled off her hat. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders.

He handed her a piece of paper.

Her eyes grew wide. ‘It is a voucher for Almack’s!’

‘Serena certainly lost no time procuring it for me.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘The other paper is an invitation,’ he said, though she was paying little attention. ‘No, a command, really.’

‘A command?’ She gingerly fingered the voucher.

‘We are commanded to dine with my brother and his wife this evening, at their town house.’ He tapped the card against his palm.

‘You are?’ She said absently.

‘
We
are,’ he corrected. ‘You and I.’

Her face turned pale. ‘No.’

‘O
h, yes,’ Devlin said. ‘The invitation is very specific. It is for us both.’

‘I will not attend.’ Her voice sounded as if she were being strangled. ‘I will not expose myself to…to a society dinner where I do not belong.’

Devlin saw the rising panic in her eyes. ‘It is a private dinner. You and I are to dine with Ned and Serena,
en famille
.’

‘No.’

Devlin rubbed his brow. What the deuce could Ned be thinking of? It was not like his brother to play games. Impossible to believe he would invite Madeleine to his home to dine with his wife. Ned might not love Serena, but he certainly would never deliberately cause her any discomfort. And, then, there was the matter of the voucher to Almack’s. An invitation to bring his mistress to dine, and a blatant entry into the marriage mart in the same package. It made no sense.

Madeleine stared at him, her chin now tilted in defiance, anxiety lingering in her eyes. He looked back at the card, not so much to read it again as to collect his thoughts.

He wrinkled his brow. ‘I think the voucher must mean Ned intends to give me the money, but…’ he glanced up at her ‘…I cannot understand why he wishes us to dine.’

‘I will not go.’

‘I do not think there would be any harm in it.’

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I will not go.’

Devlin attempted a cajoling smile. ‘You would find use for the evening dress.’

She threw the voucher at him and fled up the stairs.

As he bent to retrieve it, Linette toddled in from the parlour where she had been on sentry duty at the window. She pulled on Devlin’s sleeve, her little mouth turned down and her big blue eyes mournful. ‘Horses gone.’

Devlin almost smiled, even amidst his confused thoughts. He picked her up. ‘That’s right, Lady Lin. Horses gone.’

Linette flung her chubby arms around Devlin’s neck. He clung tightly to Linette. The freedom and joy of the ride with Madeleine receded. Walls blocked his escape and the air seemed in short supply.

Run
, he heard himself shout.
Run
. He was on horseback again, this time screaming for his cavalry to withdraw. They had gone too far, drunk with the carnage they’d wrought on the French, still swinging their sabres into retreating backs, until the pounding of fresh French cavalry sounded in his ears.

He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror, Linette’s curly dark head leaning trustingly on his shoulder.

He took a deep breath. ‘Come on, Lady Lin. Let us see if Sophie left us some lemon cakes in the kitchen.’

Madeleine flung herself dramatically on the bed. As a child, she might have indulged in a fit of angry tears, but now she knew tears achieved nothing.

She rose and unbuttoned the riding dress, choosing her yellow muslin to wear. After fastening the laces, she picked up the riding dress again and held it to her nose. It smelled of horse. She closed her eyes. The ride had been glorious. The exhilaration, the freedom of speed, Devlin, hatless and grinning beside her.

Another memory to store. She pored over every detail, fixing each in her mind. With another whiff of the lingering scent, she laid the garment carefully on top of the trunk at the foot of her bed. Later she would brush it off as she had seen Sophie do, and she would hang it up to air out.

The door opened. ‘May I come in?’

She stiffened at his voice. ‘You might have knocked first.’

Devlin closed the door and leaned against it, his legs crossed at the ankles. ‘You might have refused me entry.’

She picked up the riding dress and brushed it off with her hand. It was something to do, to look busy.

‘May we talk, Maddy?’

He looked appealingly long limbed, taut with strength, but infused with gentleness. She did not wish to see him thus. She closed her eyes, but that only brought the memory of him wild-eyed on a galloping horse. She shrugged.

‘First, let me assure you that the decision is yours. I will not mention this matter again, do you understand?’

She nodded, but did not look at him.

‘I do not know why my brother made this invitation, but I cannot believe he would mean any harm. He is a good man.’

‘I am not so certain of that.’ The Marquess represented danger to her, even though he had been gentle with Linette.

Devlin continued, choosing not to argue the point, ‘The invitation must have something to do with Ned advancing my money, or else why would he include the voucher? I think that in order to get the money, we must do as he says.’

She stiffened. ‘I do not have to do as he says.’

He softened. ‘Of course you do not. But I wish that you would. Nothing is more important to me than securing your future. And Linette’s and Sophie’s and Bart’s.’

‘Why?’

He looked surprised.

Her vision blurred with useless tears. ‘Do you wish to go to Almack’s and search for a wife?’

She watched one of his hands clench into a fist, then relax again. ‘I do not
wish
to do so, but I must.’

‘I cannot like it,’ she said lamely.

One corner of his mouth turned up in an ironic smile. ‘I cannot like it either, but we must do it for Linette’s future.’

Did he mean this, or was he saying it because he knew she would do anything for Linette’s sake? Her child was more important than all the rest of it. Even more important than Devlin’s happiness, though it killed her to have to make that choice. She truly wanted to believe that Devlin cared so much for Linette, but men had said many things to her over the past years and she’d learned not to believe any of it.

‘Linette is my concern, not yours.’ She strode to the window and looked out.

He came behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I have told you before. You all are my responsibility. You. Linette. Sophie. Even Bart. What kind of man would I be if I did not see to your well-being? But I need the means to do so.’ He gently rubbed the tender skin of her neck with his thumbs. ‘My brother controls the money, so I must do as he says for the time being. It is the price of my independence and your survival.’

‘He is making you marry and you do not want to do so!’ she blurted out. ‘And the fault is all mine.’

He put his fingers to her lips to silence her. ‘I choose to do this. Ned does not make me. Just as I will not make you go to this dinner, though I want you to do so.’

With all her heart, she did not want to go. She did not belong in polite society, and she did not trust the top-lofty Marquess, even if he did show a soft spot for her daughter.

It was unfair of Devlin to ask her to do such an unsuitable thing. How would she endure it? Madeleine pursed her lips. She had managed more unendurable things. She could manage this.

‘Very well, I will attend your brother’s dinner. For Linette’s sake.’

‘That is also why I attend,’ he murmured, gazing into her eyes with a softened expression. ‘Madeleine,’ he whispered, his lips inches from hers. His fingers gently stroked her cheek.

The passion flared inside her, making her ache for him here in the middle of the day with the whole household up and busy. She had lost all claim to respectability with her wantonness. Worse, she had tied herself to him with her body.

He leaned closer. She felt his breath on her own mouth. She wanted him again, felt urgent for his kiss. She considered how to loosen his buckskin breeches.

Small steps pounded on the stairs. ‘Mama, Mama!’

Devlin took a step back, a rueful smile on his lips. ‘In here, Lady Lin.’

The Marchioness of Heronvale felt uncommonly nervous as she waited with her husband for the arrival of their dinner guests. She was anxious that her new guest approve of her, a silly worry. Since when did one concern oneself with the approval of a…such a woman?

Her husband’s plan filled her with excitement, but she was afraid to even think of that, so huge were the hopes that could be dashed. So she thought instead about how scandalous it was to invite to their respectable home a woman whose attachment to a man involved carnal matters. Serena put her fingers to her cheeks to conceal her blush. What would Devlin’s woman be like? What would be different about this woman that she could hold a man by bedding him? Serena felt almost unbearably wicked for pondering such things. What would Ned think of her if he knew?

Rarely did Ned require her to face the carnality of the marriage bed. When he did, all she managed to feel was anxiety that she would displease him. Displease him she always did, though he was too much of a gentleman to tell her so.

She wondered if Ned would look upon this mistress of Devlin’s in that sensual way she had often glimpsed at the opera, where young dandies eyed gaudily dressed women in the pits.
It frightened her unbearably that Ned might do so, just as it frightened her to think he might have a mistress of his own. He gave her no signs of doing so, but how would she know?

As usual when she let herself dwell on such matters, she felt her eyes sting and her throat tighten. Ned would not approve if she looked as if she might cry. She steeled herself to assume a placid expression.

‘My brother is late.’ Ned stood at the mantel where the clock had chimed the half-hour.

Ned was always prompt, sometimes embarrassing Serena when they arrived first at a social gathering. She could never convince her husband that the time on the invitation was not the time one was expected to arrive.

She opened her mouth to make an excuse for Devlin, but shut it again. For some unknown reason, Ned lately became angry whenever Serena spoke on Devlin’s behalf.

She was glad, though, that Ned had decided to advance Devlin his allowance, but it puzzled her why Devlin had now decided to pursue a wife when he was obviously involved with this mysterious woman, Miss England. It was hard to reconcile the idea that the pretty girl she’d met with Devlin was a wanton demimonde sharing his bed.

Barclay appeared at the door. ‘Lord Devlin and Miss England,’ he announced.

Serena rose, her heart pounding with excitement.

Devlin entered, looking handsome in his evening attire. It had been a long time since she’d seen him dressed so. His plain coat of black superfine complemented his dark hair and superbly fit his soldier’s broad shoulders. Still, he managed to wear the formal clothes in that careless manner so typical of him. Serena fixed her gaze upon the young woman who stood a step behind him.

She was dazzling. Her hair, as dark as Devlin’s, was piled high on her head. Natural curls framed her face and caressed the nape of her neck. She wore a delicate pearl necklace and matching teardrop pearl earrings. Not at all the jewellery one
would expect of a mistress, more like a set Serena had received on her twelfth birthday.

The gold silk evening dress Miss England wore was cut in classical lines and free of adornment except for matching gold beading around the neckline and hem. Serena had seen more revealing necklines on the
ingénues
at Almack’s, but this young woman’s figure was such that a man’s eye would certainly be drawn to that part of her. Serena glanced hurriedly at Ned, to see his reaction. He merely lifted an eyebrow.

‘Ned. Serena. How good to see you!’ Devlin spoke with cheerfulness. ‘Let me formally present to you Miss Madeleine England. Miss England, the Marquess and Marchioness of Heronvale.’

The young woman curtsied perfectly to each of them and then stood regally, directly meeting their gazes. ‘I am pleased to renew your acquaintance.’ Her voice was cultured and correct, indistinguishable from one who’d had a respectable up-bringing.

‘Good of you to come,’ Ned said stiffly. He turned to Devlin, just of hint of worry in his eyes. ‘Are you well, brother?’

Devlin rolled his eyes. ‘Good God, Ned, I am no longer at death’s door, you know.’

Serena watched Miss England glance in surprise at Devlin’s comment, concern flashing across her face. Devlin caught the look and disarmed it with the hint of a smile.

Serena was fascinated.

Barclay entered with a tray of aperitifs. They were still standing. Serena was embarrassed at her lapse of manners.

‘Barclay, Miss England and I will sit on the sofa. Come, Miss England, let us sit and become better acquainted.’ Serena led her guest to the sofa. The two women sat and accepted the small crystal glasses from the butler.

Serena had no idea how to converse with this beautiful young woman. ‘I hope our coach brought you here satisfactorily.’

Miss England smiled cordially. ‘It was kind of you to send it.’

‘Well, we could not have you walk, and Devlin could not hire—’ Serena stopped. It was poor manners to refer to Devlin’s lack of finances, especially since Ned was the cause.

Miss England seemed to ignore her embarrassment. ‘Indeed. It was most generous.’

Serena listened carefully to the expression in Miss England’s voice. She was not sure what she expected—for the girl to be nervous? She did not seem so. For her to be insolent and mocking? There was none of that. Miss England seemed perfectly composed.

‘I must also compliment you on your appearance,’ Serena said, searching for conversation. ‘Your dress is lovely.’

Miss England blushed at this and seemed for the first time to look ill at ease. What woman was not pleased with a compliment to her clothes?

‘Thank you,’ the girl murmured.

Serena’s distress increased. She was not handling this well at all. She glanced to see if Ned noticed, but he was deep in conversation with Devlin. It pleased her to see the two brothers not slamming fists into each other. Ned loved Devlin more than he did anyone else in the world, Serena knew.

‘They had a disagreement, I believe,’ Miss England said, turning her head toward the two men.

The directness of this statement surprised Serena. She would never have mentioned the topic to anyone. ‘Yes, they did.’

Miss England gave a faint smile. ‘Perhaps Lord Devlin lost his temper with his brother.’

‘I believe my husband provoked the trouble,’ Serena said.

‘It seems forgotten now.’

Barclay announced dinner.