Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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      ‘And if he should ask me to dance, or to walk outside in the air?’ She was trembling with indignation that he should ask such a thing of her but managed to hold her disgust inside.

      ‘Anything within reason. You will not allow him to bed you, Madeline, but if he imagines you might so much the better.’

      ‘I find your suggestion insulting, sir.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Lethbridge moved closer, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘You know how to smile and charm, Madeline. You deceived me into believing you warm and loving before we were wed. Now I ask you to do the same to the marquis.’

      Anger raged inside her as she said impulsively, ‘And if I do—what will you give me?’

      His mouth tightened. ‘Do I not already give you sufficient, madam?’

      ‘I want nothing for myself, but I would have my father’s notes. You promised them when we married, but you reneged on your bargain. I ask for no more than my rights. My father lives in fear of you. Give me the notes and I shall do as you ask.’

      He glared at her, reached for her wrist as if he would subdue her, then changed his mind. ‘Very well. Charm Rochdale into accepting an invitation to dine at our house and I will give you the notes.’

      ‘I do not trust you. Give them to me now and I swear I will do as you ask.’

      ‘You deserve that I should teach you a lesson,’ he threatened. ‘However, I need you to look at your best this evening. I will give you some of the notes now and the rest when you have finished your work.’

      Madeline held out her hand. ‘Give me my father’s notes and I shall make every effort to charm this man for you.’

      Lethbridge swore under his breath and went into the dressing room and through to his own chamber. Madeline could hardly believe that she had won and held her breath until he returned. He was carrying a bundle of notes, which he thrust at her.

      Madeline glanced through them. Her father’s signature was scrawled on a dozen notes of sums from five hundred guineas to two thousand. Her fingers closed over them and she felt a thrill of triumph.

      ‘Is this all of them?’

      ‘Most,’ he said, clearly furious, but with a look in his eyes that told her he was lying. He held many more notes, she was certain, but she had recovered at least a part of her father’s debt. ‘You will get the rest when you’ve done as I wish.’

      ‘Thank you. You will not be angry if you see me dancing this evening, sir? I must make this gentleman a little jealous if you wish him to fall in love with me.’

      ‘Do whatever you need to bring him into my house and I shall do the rest.’

      ‘Very well,’ Madeline said, raising her head proudly. She had no idea why her husband was so eager to have the marquis dine with them, but she would find it a small price to pay if she could free her father from the shadow that had hung over him for so long. ‘Just one moment...’ She walked to the fireplace and cast the notes into the fire, watching with a smile as the flames consumed them. Had she left them in her drawer her husband might recover them by force or stealth. ‘I am ready now.’

      Walking from the bedchamber with her husband close behind her, Madeline’s thoughts were racing. If she could but obtain the remainder of her father’s notes, she would be free. Money and jewels meant little to her. If her family were safe, she would leave her husband and go away somewhere quiet. She was not sure how she would live, but perhaps she could earn her living with her sewing needle.

      * * *

      Hallam saw Madeline almost as soon as he entered the ballroom. She was the centre of a small group of gentlemen, laughing as if she had not a care in the world. A picture of loveliness in white silk and lace embroidered with beads that sparkled like diamonds, she was magnificent, so far removed from the pale shadow of the girl he loved that he’d seen at Adam’s wedding that he could scarce believe his eyes. She’d wept and told him that she feared her husband’s jealousy if he saw her speaking to Hallam and yet now she was flirting with the men that clustered about her. Had she deceived him to the true nature of her life?

      Just what kind of a woman was she—and could he trust anything she said?

      He stood for several minutes just watching her laughing and teasing one of the men in particular—by his elaborate clothes and exquisite laces, he was a wealthy nobleman. Hallam had never met the gentleman, but his jewels flashed in the light of the candelabra and his clothes were fashioned by the best tailors, though in Hallam’s eyes his cravat was too high, his collars too wide for taste. He was one of the dandy set. Hallam’s lips curled in disgust as he saw the man carried a fan and, still worse, wore rouge on his cheeks—a fashion that had long since been discarded by most men in England. He was a man of middle years, thin with a cruel mouth, and he wore a powdered wig. Another fashion Hallam scorned as being foppish.

      He preferred the clean, plain look that Mr Brummell had brought into fashion before he’d fallen so deep into debt and been forced to flee abroad, leaving an unpaid gambling debt—something no gentleman would ever do unless forced. Society had turned against Brummell, though Alvanly and some others were known to speak of him kindly and to send him money in his exile in France.

      Why was Madeline looking up at that fop in such a coquettish manner? He had never seen her flirt with anyone so outrageously. As a girl she’d had shy pretty manners that had touched his heart, but now...he hardly knew her. If her husband were truly the brute she’d described to him, how dare she behave so recklessly?

      A glance around the ballroom told Hallam that Lethbridge was not in the room to witness his wife flirting with the fop. Frowning, Hallam watched as she gave her hand to one of the other gentlemen and was whisked off to the dance floor. Her ardent suitor seemed annoyed—or perhaps frustrated. He had the look of a hunter intent on cornering his prey.

      ‘How are you, Ravenscar?’ The voice at his elbow distracted Hallam. He turned to look at the gentleman, a fellow officer who had seen service in France with him. ‘She is a beauty, isn’t she? But off limits unless you wish Lethbridge to call you out. I’ve heard he is like a dog with a bone over his wife as a rule.’

      ‘Good to see you, Mainwaring. Who is the wealthy fop?’ Hallam nodded in the direction of the frustrated suitor. ‘He looks dangerous.’

      ‘Yes, I dare say he might be. I’ve heard he is a crack shot and even more deadly with the sword. He was in France with us, though a line regiment, has some French relations, I understand. Rich, they say...some whisper he absconded with jewels, objets d’art and pictures that belonged to Napoleon in the last days of his reign. They also say his relations worked for the secret police in the time of the Terror and became rich by robbing the wretches condemned to be guillotined. Marquis of Rochdale...the third of his line, I believe.’

      ‘A pretty fellow, by all accounts, and old enough to be the countess’s father.’

      ‘Perhaps she likes them that way. Lethbridge must be twelve years her senior.’

      ‘She married to save her family from ruin,’ Hallam replied, stung to defend Madeline, even though he felt annoyed with her for flirting so openly—and for spinning him that tale at the wedding.

      Yet she had been crying when he discovered her in the rose arbour. Something was wrong, but he СКАЧАТЬ