Anthony clearly had some plan up his sleeve, something beyond seduction. Another woman might have been lulled into complacency by his gentlemanly behavior since the outing, but not Madeline. She didn't trust him one whit.
Well, not much, anyway. All right, so he could be rather…wonderful at times. During their spirited discussions about science, he never dismissed her opinions as those of a "mere woman." He showed her the utmost respect around her pupils. And his behavior to the girls was downright admirable— gentle but not weak, firm but not harsh. Miss Dalton would be very lucky to have him for a guardian. He'd even found a cook for the school.
A pity that he excelled at being a rakehell. And that even his rakish qualities appealed to her. She would have to be very careful not to land in his bed, especially since she'd spent the last three days reliving that cursed lesson in seduction.
She wasn't fool enough to let the man seduce her again. No, indeed. No more kissing, no more caressing…no pleasuring him with her hand.
Or her mouth.
With a blush, she reached for the slim volume of harem tales in her apron pocket, the one she'd now read cover to cover. With her blood running hot, she reread the part about a woman bringing a man to "raptures of joy" with her mouth. It sounded absurd— Madeline had never witnessed animals doing such a thing.
Yet the very idea sent a delicious tremor along her spine. Having Anthony reduce
her
to a quivering mass of "rapture" with just his mouth proved it could be done. Also, it would preserve her innocence if she should happen to—
She closed the book with a snap. What was she thinking? She must never attempt such a thing. It could only lead to more recklessness. Besides, she didn't understand how it worked. The dratted book didn't explain the mechanics.
How did a woman fit such a large appendage in her mouth without choking? Why was having his penis in the woman's mouth pleasurable for a man? Yes, a mouth was soft and wet like…like a woman's inner passage, but the presence of teeth so very near a man's tender parts couldn't possibly be pleasant. Although Anthony had used
his
teeth to good effect on her own tender parts.
She groaned. Bad enough she spent half of every night replaying what they'd done; she mustn't do it during the day as well.
"This way, sir," came Mrs. Jenkins's voice through the kitchen door, "we've got some nice soup for you."
Madeline shoved the book into her pocket just as Mrs. Jenkins and Papa came through the door.
"I don't want to eat, I tell you," he complained, as Mrs. Jenkins led him to the table. He pulled his arm from her grip. "Leave me be! I'm not hungry."
That was why his clothes hung on him. "Come now, Papa, it's barley soup, your favorite." Madeline ladled it into two chipped china bowls and carried them to the scarred oak table. "And you know how I hate to eat alone."
Scowling, he sat down, gazing into the bowl as if it held the answers to combating his misery.
She glanced over to where Mrs. Jenkins waited in the doorway. As soon as he lifted his spoon, Madeline gave a tiny nod, and the woman slipped out.
"Where's
she
going?" he snapped, taking Madeline by surprise.
"To tidy up," Madeline lied. If he realized that the woman was pressing Madeline's satin evening gown in the adjoining room, her plans would be ruined. He might demand answers, and she'd be forced to reveal the truth.
He glowered down at his soup, then stirred it. "I don't know why you hired that female. She's trying to kill me with all her walking me up and down the road. She always needs something from the costermonger and orders me to go with her."
Madeline was about to say that exercise was good for him, when he lifted his spoon, then froze with it midair as he gazed out the kitchen window. A chill swept over her. His vacant stares were more disturbing than any tantrum.
"Though perhaps she's got the way of it," he said in a faraway voice. "It might be best if I died."
Madeline's stomach roiled. "That's not true, Papa."
His spoon dropped into the bowl. "Your life would be better without me. You could live and work at the school, have some beau to squire you about— "
"Don't be absurd." She grabbed his hand, which lay cold and clammy beneath her fingers. "I'd rather have you alive than any beau."
"It would be so easy to manage," he murmured, still in that eerie voice. "I'd only need some laudanum to mix into my sleeping draught, and I'd slide into— "
"Don't say that, Papa," she hissed, jumping to her feet. The very fact that he would mention laudanum, which he'd always disapproved of, sent her into a panic. "Don't you dare even think it!"
He blinked. Then his gaze met hers, vaguely surprised. "But I am such a trial to you. It would end your suffering. And mine."
"It might end yours, but it would increase mine threefold." Her voice shook as she laid her hand on his shoulder. "Promise me you won't consider laudanum or any other…" She couldn't even say it. "Promise me you won't leave me."
He looked as shaken as she felt. "Very well."
"Swear it! Swear you'll never consider such an awful thing."
"I swear," he said, then covered her hand. "I swear, my little Maddie-girl."
Her breath caught at the endearment. He hadn't used it in months. "Good." When he squeezed her hand, then turned to eating his soup, she was able to breathe again. Pray God he kept his word. Anything else was unthinkable.
As she sat beside him again, she said, "This will pass with time, you know."
He grunted in answer.
It
would
pass. With any luck, tonight would signal the beginning of that.
Unfortunately, much as she hated to leave just now, she had no choice. "Papa, I need to go to the school tonight to balance the account books."
She abhorred lying to her father, but he would never let her attend a nitrous oxide party, no matter what famous chemist she meant to meet there. He would certainly not approve of her going alone with a rakehell like Anthony.
Focusing on her soup, she strove to sound casual. "Mrs. Jenkins will keep you company. I thought it might make a nice change. You can play cards."
He frowned but made no protest. She almost wished he would. But he was too absorbed in his own misery to notice anything odd in her life. Why, he hadn't even asked how she would get home after dark.
The kitchen door cracked open, and Mrs. Jenkins nodded to indicate that the gown awaited her in her bedchamber. Madeline rose and took the bowls to the washbasin.
"You didn't eat your soup," Papa said. "Are you well?"
The question was so much like his old self that tears stung her eyes. She flashed him a watery smile. "I'm just not very hungry." She walked to the door. "Why don't you come sit by the fire in the parlor? I have to pack my satchel."
With a mute nod, he followed her. Once he was settled in his comfy chair, she knew she could safely leave him. He would sit staring for some time.
As soon as she entered her room, she and Mrs. Jenkins sprang into action. They peeled off her day gown, then got her into the golden satin gown she'd brought from Telford.
As Mrs. Jenkins began to fasten it up, Madeline said, "I appreciate your coming this afternoon to help me prepare for tonight and look after Papa. I know you probably went to some trouble to arrange it."
"Nonsense, what else would I be doing of a Saturday? It's not as if I have suitors beating down my door, dearie." Mrs. Jenkins fastened the last hook. "I'm pleased you're finally attending a social affair, even if it
is
only a fellow teacher's party. But if your friend can introduce you to Sir Humphry, it will be worth it."
"Indeed it will." If Mrs. Jenkins knew that the "fellow teacher" was a notorious rakehell, she would worry, but Madeline dared not take the widow too much into her confidence.
Mrs. Jenkins puffed out the cap sleeves. "Now, that's lovely, isn't it?"
As the widow dressed her hair in the simple chignon they'd agreed upon, with sprigs of white lilac blooms interspersed, Madeline stared at her best dinner gown in the mirror. Her heart sank. It was almost
too
lovely. Of course she must dress appropriately for Anthony's circle of friends, but she did wish she owned a gown a bit less…provocative.
Odd how she'd never thought of this gown that way before. Though it was cut low enough to show her bosom quite effectively, that differed little from most evening gowns. Indeed, her only ball gown was cut exactly the same. She'd worn both of them without a thought in Telford.
But now she knew how dangerously thrilling it was to have a man admire her breasts, first with his gaze and then with his touch. Now she knew Anthony.
"What time is your friend's carriage calling for you?" Mrs. Jenkins carefully laid Madeline's French cloak about her head and shoulders, completely encasing her in black glazed cotton.
"In half an hour. But it's not coming here. I'm meeting it on the outskirts of town. I didn't want Papa to be suspicious of why I'm not walking to the school."
Aside from not wanting anyone in town, including Mrs. Jenkins, to know that she was going out alone with a man, she didn't want to risk Anthony's meeting Papa. Ever. There was a chance that Anthony might recognize him, and Papa would certainly recognize Anthony's name if she had to introduce them.
"That's probably wise. You don't want to get your father's hopes up about Sir Humphry. Still, what about when you return?"
"He'll be asleep by then, and I'll have my friend leave me here." Actually, she intended to slip out of the party without Anthony's knowledge and take a hackney home. It would cost her dear, but at least she'd keep her secret.
"Well, if you're walking to the edge of town," Mrs. Jenkins pointed out, "then you'll need pattens with your cloak. Can't have you dirtying up your pretty shoes before you get there. I'll go lay them outside, so your father won't see."
Before Mrs. Jenkins could leave, Madeline squeezed her hand warmly. "You don't know how much I appreciate the trouble you go to for me and Papa."
"Nonsense, it hasn't been a bit of trouble, dearie." With a kind smile, Mrs. Jenkins squeezed her hand back. "Besides, I never had children of my own to fuss over. This is the next best thing."
Tears clouded Madeline's vision as she remembered Mama's fussing over her.
"None of that now," Mrs. Jenkins clucked. "You just go off to your party and don't be worrying about us. Your father and I will play cards until he dozes off, and I'll make sure he doesn't notice if you come in late. We'll be fine, I swear it."
Madeline hoped so. Because tonight might be her one chance to change everything. And no matter what, she meant to make good use of it.
Chapter Fifteen
Dear Charlotte,
Yes, girls can be a trial. So I hope you know what you're doing by having Lord Norcourt at your school. What little I've heard of the man makes me wonder if he is capable of behaving himself around any woman. How did he acquit himself during your outing?
Your concerned cousin,
Michael
A
s the hackney sped toward Richmond, anticipation built in Anthony's chest. Three days of hell were near an end. He'd acted the consummate gentleman with Madeline, he'd danced to Mrs. Harris's tune, he'd given their girls lesson after lesson, and he'd arranged Madeline's damned party. Now he deserved a reward.
Madeline. At last she would be his.
She'd as much as said so at Godwin's. And even if she came to the party determined to resist him, that would last only until he got her alone and kissed her. Her natural sensuality would lead her right to his bed.
Then perhaps he could return to being himself, to seeing her as merely a lover. Perhaps he could return to when he didn't crave the sight of her, didn't wonder how she would respond to someone's idiotic comment at a party…didn't consider whether she'd approve of the renovations at his ancestral manor.
Good God, he sounded like a besotted fool. But it would end tonight. It must.
Jerking the curtain open, he scanned the roadside for the curve near the school where Madeline was supposed to meet him, with two oaks marking the spot. And there she was, emerging from beneath the sheltering trees.
Swathed in a voluminous black cloak, she awaited him nervously. But beneath the cloak's hem peeped a pair of pattens attached to evening slippers, and just that glimpse of her formal attire had him wondering what gown she wore, how well it might skim her curves…how easy it might be to remove.
A pity they had no time for private enjoyments between here and Stoneville's estate. But tonight…
He grinned.
Signaling the coachman to stop, he didn't even wait until it completely halted before leaping out. "May I offer you a ride, good lady?" he said, gesturing to the coach with a courtly flourish.
