Devil in My Bed (31 page)

“I’m glad of it. At least my neglect did not kill you—as it nearly did yesterday.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This is beginning to sound familiar. Are you feeling competitive? For I warn you, I did much worse things than you did so there’s no point in trying to match my score.”

His lips twitched. “Perhaps I am.” He reached out stroke his knuckles very carefully down her cheek, his gaze fixed grimly on the purplish bruises there. “I pray he burns in hell.”

She smiled. “That’s terribly sweet.” Then she took his hand from her face and enclosed it between both of hers. “But he is quite thoroughly dead and we are not, so let us not speak of him again. I’ll serve no mourning period. I’ve spent enough of myself on that monster already.”

He spread his fingers and watched her lace hers through his from both sides. Then he closed his, trapping her hands gently inside. “Agreed. We do indeed have many years ahead of us . . . and I know what I would like to do with mine.”

She waited, her heart stuttering just a little.

He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I once urged you to become mine forever. I told you I had to have you, that I had to possess you as my very own.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked on his, and waited. Hope bubbled up inside her but she didn’t trust it entirely.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he gazed at her. “You’re very patient. That’s not like you at all.”

She raised a brow but said nothing. His lips twitched. “Right. Out with it, Blankenship.”

He released her trapped fingers and brought his other hand forward, curled around something. “I saw your fire and your brightness and just like Whittaker I wanted to own you, to possess you, to pen you up and keep you forever.” He tilted his head. “I was an idiot. You, my lady, are no one’s chattel.” He paused to take a breath.

She was certain she was holding hers. Things were getting just the tiniest bit fuzzy about the edges . . .

except for his face, his chiseled, handsome face that looked so very wary and shy at this moment.

Heavens, and I thought I couldn’t possibly love him any more than I did five minutes ago.

“So instead of trying to possess you, I can only . . . offer.”

Sliding her off his lap, he settled her in the chair that was still warm from his body. Then he went down on one knee before her. “Lady Madeleine Whittaker, will you consent to wed me and live with me and laugh with me and grow very, very old and wrinkled with me and poke me to make sure I’m still breathing?”

She laughed damply. “I think that’s the most romantic proposal I’ve ever heard. But where’s the ring?”

He smiled. “I have something better than a ring.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew—

A large, shiny, green apple. He placed it in her hand and closed her fingers over it. “I promise to feed you apples forever.”

She smiled and took a large, enthusiastic bite out of the apple. Then she maneuvered the chunk of it into her cheek, looking rather lopsidely beautiful as she did so. “The apple is marvelous, my lord, my love—” Aidan smiled to hear those words from her lips. “—but if I’m getting married, you’d best hand over the bloody ring.”

“At your service, milady.” He reached into his smallest waistcoat pocket, then opened his closed fist over hers.

Something warm and heavy dropped into her palm. The ring, its gold heated from his adorably nervous palm, lay like a brilliant, burning coal in her hand.

She inhaled sharply. “Read the engraving,” he urged, his voice tight.

She tilted the ring into the light. On the inside of the shimmering gold band, where nothing had been inscribed a few days ago, there flowed two words in beautiful script.

I’m Yours.

This time, when they made love on the carpet before the fire, it didn’t even occur to Madeleine to blow out the candles first.

Madeleine was unaccountably sad to leave their chambers.

How strange that two rooms in a gentlemen’s club had become their little home. Yet it had. There was where she had sewn Gordy Ann together forever. There was where Aidan had knelt while he fixed Melody’s braid. There was the closet where—

Her face heated. Well. Back to the matter.

And the matter was that the very creaks and cracks of the building were like the voice of a family member.

She was sure that the house Aidan had found was very nice, but it was in this club where she’d become someone new—someone she liked much better than the Madeleine who had prepared to run away just one short week ago. As she folded her things and packed her valise and Melody’s little satchel, her hands slowed as she remembered her fear.

She knew that no one was ever done with fear. Fear was part of life. She, however, was forever done with running from it. She had challenged the monster and had survived virtually unscathed.

“I can’t say as much for the monster,” she murmured to her hairbrush. Then she raised her gaze to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Behind the bruises and scrapes, there was something new there. A certain . .

. self-possession? She smiled. She was fair to becoming as serene as Wilberforce!

Melody blew through the room, a whirling dervish of unbraided hair and bare feet. Aidan was close behind her with a pair of tiny boots in one hand and a hair ribbon trailing from the other. He swept Melody into his arms. “Got you now!”

“No!” Melody protested. “Captain Jack doesn’t have ribbons! Captain Jack doesn’t wear shooooees!”

Aidan swung the protesting toddler under his arm like a parcel. “I’m going to murder Sir Colin Lambert,”

he informed Madeleine in exasperation.

She smiled and nodded. “Just wait until after the ceremony this morning. We need at least one witness.

I think the bishop would prefer that witness be breathing.”

When they left the rooms, they found Colin himself lurking outside their door. He took Melody without a word and held her close as they all descended the many stairs to the main floor.

Madeleine knew that Colin was miserable. Yet he’d agreed with them that Melody was better off in the house with temporary parents than left in the club with a bachelor.

At the bottom of the stairs, Colin set Melody on her feet and busied himself fixing her braids. “He mucked it again, didn’t he, Cap’n Melody?” he whispered, making her giggle.

He didn’t want to let her see his sadness. Eventually he’d get used to not seeing his little partner-in-crime every day. Eventually he’d get used to not having her just up the stairs.

He simply didn’t think he was going to get used to the fact that he couldn’t dislodge one particular thought in his head. It was not an impossible thought. He’d done the arithmetic a dozen times. There had been a time that might have made it possible.

What if she’s mine?

Melody snuggled into Uncle Colin’s arms, Gordy Ann tucked under her chin. She didn’t understand why she had to go to a stupid house. She loved the club—loved the smell of it, loved the dark wood and the musty carpet and way Wibbly-force always winked at her when no one else could see.

And why couldn’t Uncle Colin come too? Why couldn’t Grampapa Aldrich come? Why couldn’t Billy-wick?

She stuck her little hands into Uncle Colin’s waistcoat and held onto his shirt. She heard him breathe really deep and long as his arms tightened about her.

Aidan tried to put a smile on the way he felt at abandoning their cozy little haven. “We’ll be able to stretch out at last,” he told Madeleine cheerfully as he gathered her things to carry.

She reached up to stroke a gentle hand across his cheek. “Don’t try to be jolly, darling.” She smiled lovingly. “You haven’t any practice.”

As they made their way to the front of the club, two of the stuffy old fixtures from the chessboard by the fire blocked them from the door.

“Won’t let you go,” Sir James declared.

Lord Bartles nodded. “All this sneaking to and fro and hiding.” He harrumphed. “Murderers in the attic!

Won’t allow it.”

Sir James agreed, nodding continuously. “You’ll stay put.”

“I agree,” came a raspy voice from behind them. They turned to see that Lord Aldrich had taken up the flank position, his cane held sideways like a guard stick. “You should stay, the lot of you. This club has never been so interesting.”

Aidan frowned in confusion. “You want us to stay?”

Madeleine dimpled at Lord Bartles. He huffed and blinked rapidly.

“Of course they do,” she informed Aidan. “This place is crying out for a woman’s touch.”

Aidan’s jaw dropped. “But—I rented a house—”

She grinned up at him. “So unrent it.” She took her parcels out of his arms. “Change of plan, my love.

Really, one must get used to life’s unpredictable currents. It makes steering ever so much easier if one does.”

Aldrich nodded. “Your lady is a very wise woman, Blankenship.”

Lord Bartles huffed again. “Currents, boy, that’s the thing.”

Aidan stared at Bartles. “You’re instructing me about change? You haven’t budged a pawn since Waterloo!”

Madeleine shushed him. “Let me translate, my lords. He means, thank you very much, we joyfully accept the invitation.”

“I’m for it.” Colin swung Melody up to sit on his shoulders. “How about you, Cap’n Mellie?”

Melody gazed at all of them with large blue eyes. “I want to stay here . . .” She bit her lip. “But can I have a kitten?”

“Good for you, mousie,” Madeleine murmured.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot allow it.”

They all turned to see Wilberforce behind them, followed by several curious footmen.

“What do you mean?” blustered Lord Bartles.

“I must object,” Wilberforce said calmly. “I regret to inform you, my lords, my ladies, that the Brown’s Club for Distinguished Gentlemen provides hard and fast rules on the matter. No ladies may visit the club for any reason.”

There was an outcry from the several members who had gathered in the hall. “Then change the bloody rules!”

Wilberforce cleared his throat. “There is a proviso for changing the original club charter—”

“Then we’ll change it!”

Wilberforce went on. “But it requires a unanimous and undisputed vote by the original charter members themselves.”

They all gazed at him in horror. “That was a hundred years ago!” Colin protested.

“One hundred and twelve, to be precise, Sir Colin. As per the charter, if a charter member is deceased, the vote may be utilized by their nearest male descendant—”

Lord Bartles stepped forward. “That’d be me, then. My grandfather was a charter member. I so move that we change the bloody rules.”

“I believe I qualify as well.” Lord Aldrich stepped forward. “I second the motion.”

There was a rusty cheer that faded as Wilberforce shook his head. “My lords, I regret that you do not form a unanimous ballot. There is one other descendant of a charter member . . .”

“Well, man, who is it? We’ll get him down here and make him vote yes.”

“Why, the third member is—”

Colin snorted. “It’s Jack, isn’t it?”

Wilberforce continued, not dignifying Colin’s rudeness with any notice at all. “—is Lord John Redgrave, heir to the Marquis of Strickland.”

Aidan blew out a breath. “And Jack isn’t here.”

Colin narrowed his eyes. “Wilberforce, you know perfectly well how Jack would vote here.”

Wilberforce actually seemed slightly uncomfortable. “It is not my place to say, Sir Colin. And until such a vote might be cast, I must abide by the rules of the club. No ladies may visit Brown’s at any time.”

The tide of dissent rose. A few of the footmen, led by Bailiwick, moved to stand behind Wilberforce as he faced the fuming silver-haired mob.

Madeleine stepped forward. “Now, gentlemen, this is getting a bit silly.” She beamed a smile at them all.

There was a visible thawing and even a bit of abashed foot-shuffling. “The earl has found us a very nice house and it isn’t far from here. You’ll all be perfectly welcome to vi—”

“Ahem.” Wilberforce cut her off. “If you’ll pardon the interruption, my lady. It suddenly occured to me that while the charter forbids that any lady be allowed to visit the club, nowhere does it provide a ruling on ladies being allowed to reside at the club.” He eyed them all serenely, as if he hadn’t just narrowly avoided being hanged from the flagpole.

“Hurrah!” said Lord Bartles, and Sir James led another croaky cheer.

Melody cheered along. “We’re staying! We’re staying!”

Wearied by all the unusual activity, most of the members then shuffled back to their normal occupations. Bones creaked as they settled into chairs, papers rustled, and coffee cups clinked.

Madeleine blinked at the immediate, albeit unhurried, desertion. Only Aldrich, Colin, and Wilberforce remained in the entrance hall with them. Bailiwick took up a dignified stance at the door, his proper demeanor marred only by the slightly conspiratorial grin he cast at Melody, who giggled.

Was that a tiny pained grimace crossing Wilberforce’s face? Impossible. However, Aidan decided to keep an eye on Melody and Bailiwick. One child in the club was exertion enough!

Madeleine tucked her hand into his arm. “I suppose we ought to go unpack now,” she said with a smile.

Then she turned to Wilberforce. “I don’t suppose we could put a door through to the next chambers?

Melody needs a nursery and—”

She was interrupted once again, this time by a vigorous hand at the knocker. Bailiwick jumped to attention and opened the door.

Unfortunately, the young footman wasn’t man enough to halt the purple satin storm that was Lady Blankenship. She swept past him like a rustling, perfumed hurricane headed straight for Aidan.

Aidan’s grip on Madeleine tightened. “I’m apologizing for my mother in advance,” he murmured to her.

Madeleine gazed wide-eyed at the impending storm. “Make it up to me later,” she whispered.

“Diamonds are nice.”

Aidan tried not to laugh as he bowed to the oncoming figure of his matriarchal disaster. “My lady, what a pleasant surprise.”

Lady Blankenship came to rest in a whirl of rich fabric and even richer fury. “Blankenship! What is the meaning of this!” She thrust out a begloved hand. Resting in her palm was a wadded and crumpled ball of paper.