But then she’d remembered what had happened. He’d become affianced to Lady Nichole instead, without so much as a word to Madeleine, who’d discovered the news in the society column. She’d been devastated of course, but stunned nonetheless when he hadn’t shown up at his wedding. Apparently he’d chosen to go abroad instead. The scandal had been monumental.
Taking a breath, Madeleine smoothed the front of her gown and turned to go down for dinner. Why on earth would Grandmamma have invited such a rogue into her home? Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Madeleine had just decided she would discuss the matter with her at the first available opportunity when she almost collided with a woman rounding a corner. It was Lady Nichole.
Dear God, what was her grandmother thinking?
Surely this had to be as close to hell as he’d ever been, Robert decided. On his right was Lady Madeleine while Lady Nichole had been seated opposite. He’d nearly turned on his heels and ridden away as fast as his horse could carry him when he’d discovered she would be present as well.
“You look well,” he told Lady Madeleine, for the sheer pleasure of hearing her voice.
“Thank you, my lord.” She reached for her wine and took a sip without looking at him.
“I was hoping to speak with you while I’m here.”
“And so you have,” she said.
It was like her front door being slammed in his face all over again.
“I meant in private,” he insisted. “There are things I must explain.”
She turned her head slowly toward him and gazed straight into his eyes. “And what makes you think I’ll be willing to listen, when everything else you have told me was but a lie?”
He glanced across at Lady Nichole, who was smirking most annoyingly. If only she would go away. “Not everything,” he whispered. “I was honest when I said my heart would always be yours.”
Madeleine wanted to believe him, but she feared deep down inside he would only deceive her again if she did.
“No,” she said, looking across at Lady Nichole, “you made your choice once before and even then you had a change of heart. Forgive me for saying this, but you are not to be trusted.”
She felt him stiffen beside her, but he didn’t comment further.
Instead, it was Lady Nichole herself who chose to join the conversation, saying, “Perhaps you’d care to turn the pages for me later while I play the piano, Blakely.” His name slid off her tongue as though it were made of honey.
“Certainly. I would be happy to oblige if your papa will permit it,” Blakely replied.
Madeleine stilled. Was it just her, or did he sound as though he’d rather freeze to death out in the snow? Lord Hammerish glowered as he watched his daughter converse with Blakely. Clearly, he could hardly contain his wrath.
Praying that the evening would come to an end without incident, Madeleine took a bite of her ham and deliberately directed her attention elsewhere.
Early next day, there was talk among the guests of fetching a Yule log from the woods, and since Lady Nichole had declared it too cold to venture out and Blakely had ridden into town, Madeleine chose to join the party.
“I’m sorry you have to suffer Blakely’s presence,” her mother said as they wove a path through the snow. “I spoke to your grandmamma about it last night, after that awkward seating arrangement at dinner. She says she thought you’d be pleased.”
“It’s all right, Mama,” Madeleine said, watching as her nieces and nephews chased each other. “I will simply ignore both Lady Nichole and Blakely while I’m here.”
“You’ve always been so diplomatic, but you–” Her mother sneezed. “Oh dear, I do wish I’d brought more handkerchiefs.”
“We’re not far from the house,” Madeleine said. “I’ll return to fetch some.” Assuring her mother she’d catch up with her soon, she hurried away. But the path was slippery, causing her to lose her footing just as she reached the front doorstep. She landed on her bottom with a thump, pain spearing her wrist.
“Don’t move,” said a voice. It was Blakely, come to witness her humiliation.
Robert had seen Lady Madeleine running toward the house as he’d returned from his errand, but just when he was about to call for her to be careful, her feet flew from underneath her and she fell backward. The expression on her face was painful, so Blakely knew she’d hurt herself badly. Dismounting, he hurried to her. “Stay still,” he said as he knelt beside her and reached out.
“What are you doing?” She gasped as his arm came around her shoulders.
“The gentlemanly thing,” he said, scooping her up.
She grimaced. “Thank you, but I’m perfectly fine. It’s my wrist that’s hurt, not my feet. I can easily walk.”
“And risk falling again? Not if I can help it.” Tightening his hold on her, he made for the door.
“Must you insist when I am trying to turn you down as politely as possible?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
“Then perhaps you’ll think of a way for us to enjoy the holidays while suffering each other’s company.”
Grinning at her, he said, “Indeed, my lady, I can think of plenty.”
Oh, the wicked man! How very like him to make such a suggestive remark.
“Mama is expecting me to return with some handkerchiefs,” she said, hoping he’d set her down and let her leave. Instead he carried her through the front door, holding her so close she couldn’t avoid a whiff of his scent – a touch of spice mixed with a smoky aroma along with the rich smell of wine.
“I’ll ask a footman to complete the errand for you.” He crossed to the parlor and opened the door, revealing Lady Nichole and Madeleine’s cousin, Lady Mildred, both seated by the fire. Lady Nichole frowned at them both.
“Lady Madeleine has been hurt,” Blakely said as he set Madeleine on the sofa and knelt beside her. “She’s in need of rest. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh no,” Lady Mildred said. “Not in the least. Just tell us if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“Nothing just now.” He reached inside his pocket and extracted a small bag that smelled divine. Handing it to Madeleine he said, “I bought these for you. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I must see to those handkerchiefs.”
As soon as he’d gone, Madeleine opened the bag to reveal ten roasted chestnuts. A flush rose to her cheeks. How horrid of him to remember that this was her favorite treat.
After giving a footman eight neatly pressed handkerchiefs and requesting he deliver them to the Marchioness of Holborne, Robert returned to the parlor, eager for another chance to speak with Madeleine. The woman was definitely doing her best to resist him, but there could be no denying the blush in her cheeks or her sharp intake of breath when he’d pulled her into his arms. She’d felt good there too – as if she belonged.
But how was he to charm her, lure her, and persuade her to be his when she insisted on thinking the worst? Granted, she had her reasons, which brought to mind Lady Nichole. Never in his life had he encountered such a conniving harridan. She’d ruined everything for him – his reputation and his chance at love.