Heiress Without a Cause (35 page)

Ferguson caught Madeleine’s eye. She choked back a laugh as he rolled his eyes at the lovers’ spat unfolding in front of them. The situation was awful, but at least she could still find humor as long as he was with her.

Caro heard Madeleine’s smothered giggle. “If you slept with Westbrook, I swear I will ruin you before the night is out,” she said, her color still high.

“I am confused,” Madeleine said, some of her daring returning to her, as though she were still Marguerite instead of Madeleine. “Are we here because you hate Ferguson, or because you want to keep Westbrook to yourself? It appears Ferguson may not be the only one who has struggled with love and honor.”

That brought the woman up short, and she gaped at Madeleine like she couldn’t believe anyone would talk to her like that. Either Madeleine was a proper lady, or she was a trollop of an actress, but either way, Caro’s understanding of her could not accept Madeleine’s frank assessment.

Ferguson stepped in then, placing a hand on Madeleine’s shoulder in a gesture that unconsciously mirrored Westbrook’s earlier attempt to soothe Caro. But Madeleine didn’t pull away from him — she leaned into him, taking solace in his touch. He shifted his hand to the other shoulder, making the gesture more of an embrace, and she sighed. Caro followed the movement with her eyes, and her lips tightened.

“You have every right to hate me, Caro,” he said. “I was determined to anger my father beyond repair ten years ago, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your desire to experience something better than the lout you had married. You never said your husband would be so unaccommodating if we were caught, and I didn’t realize that my departure would affect you so much. I paid for my desperation to leave, though. I never thought I could come back. I gave up hope of having friends in the ton, or finding a wife who might suit me...”

He broke off, and Madeleine reached up to caress his hand with hers. Steadying himself, he continued, “But I have a second chance now, and I refuse to run away from it. Madeleine is the only woman I have ever loved, the only woman I will ever love, and I’m not going to subject her to a lifetime in exile just because of who I used to be.”

His hand slid away from her shoulders, and Madeleine made a small sound of distress. But his next move shocked her to the core.

He dropped to one knee beside her, holding her left hand like a knight about to pledge fealty. “Caro, I want your forgiveness, but most of all, I need your promise not to hurt Madeleine for my mistakes. But if that’s not possible,” and Madeleine felt him squeeze her fingers, “then Mad, I’m begging you — let me go so that you are not ruined in the bargain.”

His movement caught her so unawares, and the emotion threaded through his voice surprised her so much, that Madeleine felt her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t let you go, Ferguson,” she whispered, and it felt like the conversation was just for them, that their worst enemy wasn’t watching. “I would rather leave everything I know than watch you leave London without me.”

He bowed to kiss her hand. “And I would rather spend every godforsaken night alone than see you cut by your family and friends.”

He turned his head to meet her gaze, and she saw he meant every word of it. “You can’t leave me. I won’t allow it.”

Ferguson grinned, amused despite their predicament. “And now who’s the autocrat, my love?”

She wanted to kiss him then, if only so he would stop talking about leaving her, but they still had an audience. She turned toward Caro, who watched in amazement, and gave the woman her best glare. “What say you, Lady Greville? Will you give us time to flee the country first, or do you intend to sound the alarm as soon as you leave this room?”

Caro’s face was no longer the angry red of a woman scorned. Pallor replaced her high color, and she was rigidly still as she watched them. She looked like she had just witnessed her own death, and the knowledge of it did not make her happy.

Finally, she said, “Perhaps you are right that people can change, Ferguson. I never thought I would ever see you beg, or sacrifice yourself for someone else.”

Ferguson inclined his head. “Escape from the past is possible, Caro. Particularly if you find the person who will love you in spite of it.”

That stark look was back on her face. “That may be true, at least for you. Knowing that your intentions have changed...” She broke off for a moment, twisting a ring on her gloved finger. “If you are no longer the devil I knew, you’ve nothing to fear from me any longer. I’m sure I wish you very happy.”

Madeleine wanted to shriek with delight, but the other woman was too devastatingly solemn for such celebration. She looked at Madeleine, and her expression softened just slightly. “If only we all had your daring, Lady Madeleine. Imagine what we might do if there were roles beyond wives and widows to aspire to.”

Ferguson rose to his feet, pulling Madeleine up with the hand he still held. “I wish you happy as well, Caro. I never intended for anything that happened between us to affect you for even a day, let alone how long you’ve lived with this burden. But if you can lay aside the past, the present may contain happiness you haven’t even dreamt of.”

Madeleine felt like he was talking to her again, but Caro heard the words and nodded. “Westbrook, may I have a word with you, if you please?”

“I do please,” he said, striding over to the door as though he could not wait to escort Ferguson and Madeleine out of his domain. But just before he turned the handle, he said, “You’ve nothing to worry about from me, either. This was never my fight, and I don’t care what Lady Madeleine has been getting up to with her spare time these days. I would rather see her onstage than having the future duchess of Rothwell dunning me for the latest ladies’ aid subscription.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said this, and Madeleine felt the last bit of tension draining out of her. “I shan’t step foot on the stage again, but I will be sure to bring the army with me if I need your charity.”

He bowed to her, then nodded at Ferguson. “We should dine at White’s now that you are returned permanently, Rothwell. Perhaps after the honeymoon?”

He glanced at Caro as he said this, and Madeleine wondered whose honeymoon he contemplated. Ferguson didn’t comment on the glance, merely accepted the invitation with much better humor than she had seen him use with others who invited him to dine.

After they said their goodbyes, he pulled her out of the room. The speed of his exit was matched by the slamming of Westbrook’s study door. Ferguson didn’t take her to the carriage, though — he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her. Pressed against him, in that bit of fabric Ellie called a dress, she could feel every muscle, every ridge and plane, every beat of his heart.

And even though he would be hers forever, without fear, she was too impatient to wait.

So when he gave her his wickedest grin and whispered a dream about a garden — she placed her hand in his and followed him out into the darkness.

A week later, Madeleine sat on the edge of Rothwell House’s grand ballroom, watching the growing crush. It had been nearly half a decade since the house had been opened on this scale. Everyone who received a coveted invitation would attend — it vied to be the premier event of the month, if not the season.

The ballroom had been kept in perfect condition despite its disuse, and its beauty was unparalleled tonight. The reds and golds of the Rothwell coat of arms glowed in the light of thousands of candles, and the gilded edges of trim around the room were like little lines of fire. The orchestra hid in its own balcony overlooking the dancers, cleverly screened off so that the music seemed to float out over the crowd from a mystical source.

The ball was fit for a princess — or two princesses. Kate and Maria had delayed their debuts, but their added maturity suited them. Rather than attempting to look different from each other, they chose to highlight their striking similarities. Their blonde hair was piled high, matching diamond drops hung from their ears, and elegantly spangled white ball gowns grazed their delicate slippers. The sashes wrapped around their waists were the only way to tell them apart; Kate’s sash was a dramatic dark blue, while Maria wore a more romantic rose. The sashes accentuated their figures, and the men enjoyed the effect — the girls hadn’t lacked for partners since standing up with Ferguson and Alex for the first dance.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing?” Prudence asked as they both watched the crowd.

They sat together, as usual. Madeleine had danced the second dance with Ferguson, and several more dances with a variety of partners, but she was thankful for the lull in her dance card. “Do you know, I used to ache to dance? And yet I’ve no desire to be out there anymore.”

“You would if Ferguson were partnering you,” Prudence teased.

That was true. She was saving her supper dance for him, but they had separated for the past hour so he could play the gracious host. A few mamas had thrown their daughters at him, no doubt hoping he would realize his terrible mistake in becoming affianced to Madeleine, and for once he was too genial to refuse the blatant attempts to solicit his dances.

“The duke does seem less dangerous, though, don’t you think?” her friend continued, watching him lead a particularly foolish ninnyhammer through the steps of a cotillion. “If he had been partnered with that poor girl two months ago, he would have teased her into such a state of distress that she would have been in the retiring room the rest of the night.”

“You aren’t saying I’ve tamed him, are you?”

“Tame a man like the duke of Rothwell?” Prudence said, laughing. “Never. If anything, he’s tamed you, now that you aren’t longing to do something scandalous.”

She whispered the last bit — not that anyone around them would have believed Madeleine capable of bad behavior anyway. To the other chaperones and matrons, Madeleine was still a paragon of virtue, even if she had snagged the most illustrious catch of the season without even seeming to try.

Still, Madeleine pretended to take offense. “As though I could ever be as scandalous as the duke. What kind of lady do you take me for?”

Prudence grinned, but her smile turned sad as she watched the next pair of dancers move down the line. “I will miss you, you know, whether you’re scandalous or not.”

“I’m not leaving London for the ends of the earth,” Madeleine said. “If anything, Rothwell House is closer to your mother’s than Salford House is. And I will be desolate if you and Amelia abandon me. Imagine if my only recourse is to form one of those dreary ladies’ circles a duchess is supposed to create.”

“You’re right, of course,” Prudence said brightly, but Madeleine saw a shadow in her eyes. “But I may not be in London next year. Mother says we may not come to town next season, since ‘it’s clear Prudence will not be making a match, so no sense in wasting the money.’”

Prudence’s impression of her mother’s bluntly harsh tone usually made Madeleine laugh, but there was nothing funny in what she quoted. Before Madeleine could speak, though, Prudence rushed on. “Still, you will be in England, which is a comfort. I’ll still have Amelia, too, if she doesn’t do anything too foolish. And if she is too foolish — well, there is always the marchioness of Folkestone. I quite liked her when she came to our club’s meeting last week.”

Madeleine was glad Ellie had attended, even though she walked through the door like one who had made an impulsive decision and already regretted it. She had not brought any paintings and was reluctant to talk about her work, but she did warm up by the end of the meeting and readily agreed to attend the next one. And the fast crowd she ran with gave her better gossip than any of the rest of them ever heard, which made for one of the most entertaining meetings they had had in months.

But Amelia was another matter. The cotillion ended, and Amelia wove her way toward them, abandoning her escort somewhere in the crush. Her face was flushed, and the stain of pink on her cheeks only heightened her loveliness. She usually looked bored at these functions, even though she danced every time she was asked.

Tonight, though, her blue eyes sparkled with barely-suppressed joy and her mouth quivered on the edge of a smile. If Madeleine didn’t know better, she would have thought that Amelia had finally fallen in love.

Madeleine did know better, though. She was worried, not pleased, when Amelia dropped dramatically into the chair on her other side and said, “Isn’t this the most wonderful ball ever?”

“I prefer Lady Spencer’s ballroom myself, although the supper here could tip the balance in Rothwell’s favor,” Prudence said solemnly, pretending not to notice that Amelia was nearly mad with happiness.

Amelia laughed. “But the conversation here is delightful.”

“Weren’t you just dancing with Sir Percival Pickett?” Madeleine asked dubiously. Sir Percival was one of Amelia’s least favorite suitors, but the man had never quite taken the hint and Amelia was too conscientious of propriety to reject an offer to dance.

“Yes, and he still has pretensions to literary grandeur — claims he’s writing a poem for me that will set the whole ton on its ear,” she said with a grimace. “If it sets anyone on their ears, it will be in an attempt to drown out his awful rhymes. But he had the most wonderful things to say about a new book he found in a shop on Bond Street. He said it was the most daring satire of the ton that he’s ever read, and predicts it will take everyone by storm.”

“Sir Percival’s opinions on literature surely don’t sway you,” Madeleine said, hoping that her guess about the provenance of the book would prove incorrect.

“He actually does have reasonably good taste in what others write — it’s his own talent that is lacking,” Amelia said. “But we really must find a copy of
The Unconquered Heiress
. We wouldn’t want to be the last souls to have read it, after all.”

Madeleine felt her stomach drop. Prudence frowned as she leaned in to close the circle between them. “Don’t say it’s already popular?”

Amelia grinned, and Madeleine knew why she was in such high humor. It was the same effervescent wonder Madeleine had felt during those first few weeks on the stage — like she had accomplished something no one else had ever done, conquered a fortress others had thought impregnable. Keeping the secret of her success had only added to her joy at first, but as the secret became more dangerous, the accomplishment lost just a bit of its luster.