"The people of Telford wouldn't know that. They aren't familiar with society's ways. They're still clinging to the superstitions of their neighboring Welshmen. So if the great Sir Humphry Davy were to come and explain how my father was acting upon sound medical assumptions regarding the effects of the gas, they would probably listen."
He hunched down in the chair. "Or they would claim that it was my foolish statement about its pain-relieving effects that had caused this woman's death— the one you wrote to me about. Then
I
would be vilified in the press."
"I don't think that would happen, sir— "
But he was already shaking his head. "I'm not taking that chance. I've got a reputation to uphold. I can't be haring off to some provincial town on the word of some friend's friend." He nodded to Norcourt. "No offense, sir."
"I would pay for your expenses," Anthony persisted, "and arrange for you to stay in a comfortable inn. It would take a few days at most."
"That's not the point!" Sir Humphry shouted, then lapsed into a fit of coughing that shook his spindly frame. When he could speak again, he glared at them both. "Don't you understand? I can barely drag myself from the bed each morning, and rarely go more than an hour without a fit of coughing. Such a journey, into the wilds of Shropshire, is likely to kill me."
Madeline stepped forward. "But, sir, the newspaper said you're planning a trip to Penzance this week."
"The paper lied. My wife planted that tale to keep people from importuning me. My mother is ailing, but I have yet to see her. These attacks keep me from it."
"Humphry, this is a dire situation," Anthony said.
"And so is mine," the chemist shot back. "Forgive me, but I cannot do it."
"Then perhaps if you were to write a letter— " Anthony began.
"Without first speaking to the individuals involved?" Sir Humphry regarded the two of them with a skeptical eye. "How do I know you haven't been gulled by this woman into participating in a matter better left to the authorities of her town?"
Anthony bit back an oath. "Does a man offer marriage to a woman who gulls him?"
Sir Humphry blinked.
"She is to be my wife," Anthony went on. "Surely you would help the wife of a friend."
"If you're marrying her, then you can bloody well use your own influence to save her father," the chemist ground out. "For myself, I want none of it."
"Damn it, Humphry— "
"Anthony," Madeline coaxed in a low voice, placing her hand on his arm. "We've tried our best. It is time we leave Sir Humphry to his conscience."
That made the chemist's face darken into a scowl. "My conscience is clear, madam. So I suggest you take my friend away before I lose my temper entirely."
Anthony's own temper was perilously close to exploding, but he still had enough presence of mind to allow Madeline to draw him from the room. They passed through the house and out to the carriage in silence, but once they reached it, he turned to her, her expression of defeat rocking him back on his heels.
"Where to now, sweetheart?" he asked hoarsely. "Have you some other alternative you'd planned to pursue if Sir Humphry could not help you?"
She shook her head, her eyes sadly distant. "I don't know…I hadn't thought beyond…"
"I'll take care of it." He barked a direction to the coachman, then helped her into the carriage, alarmed by her dazed expression. The only time he'd seen her like this was when Stoneville had been forcing nitrous oxide on her.
They traveled a short way in silence. Then she seemed to muster herself, for she cast him a glance so pitiful it clawed at his insides. "Where are we going?"
"My old bachelor quarters are nearby. The entrance is discreet, so no one will see you enter, and no one will disturb us while we talk."
His coach stopped outside an alley, blocking entrance to it except from the carriage, and he leaped out, then handed her down. Momentarily grateful to the women who'd demanded discretion of him in their liaisons, he hurried her the few feet to the private door, unlocked it, then hustled her inside before waving the carriage on. His coachman knew where to wait for a summons.
While he closed the door, leaving them in a dim stairwell lit only by a transom above their heads, Madeline watched him in clear confusion. "You kept your bachelor quarters? But surely your family has a town house."
Debating whether to tell her the truth, he led her up the spindly stairs to his modest rooms on the next floor. As he let her into the suite and locked the door behind them, her gaze fell on the licentious prints hanging on his walls.
When she shot him a questioning glance, he sighed. No point in hiding any of it from her now. "I initially kept my rooms with the intention of using them once I gained guardianship of Tessa. But I haven't been here since I began that process, for fear that my uncle might be having them watched."
Alarm flickered in her eyes. "What if he is? Now that he's seen
me
— "
"It no longer matters."
"Of course it matters! I don't want to cause trouble for your niece. You've already done too much for me as it is, by introducing me to your friend."
"Which did you no good," he pointed out, still angry at Sir Humphry.
"That's not true. You believed in me even before he revealed he'd received my letters, and that touches me more than you can imagine. I'm so sorry you've been forced to lie for me twice today, inventing an engagement and— "
"That wasn't a lie." The words left his mouth before he could consider them, but he wouldn't take them back. "Sir Humphry is right, you know. The best way to combat my uncle is for you to marry me."
She paled. "I couldn't allow you to make such a sacrifice, Anthony."
"It's not a sacrifice, damn it!" Striding up to her, he seized her hands. "If anyone would be making a sacrifice, it would be you, having to put up with me."
A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "That's very sweet of you to say, but we both know you could do much better."
"I don't know that at all. You're an amazing woman, Madeline. I knew it the moment I met you. So please don't punish me for briefly losing sight of it in my madness this afternoon."
"Punish you! By keeping you from yoking yourself to a woman whose family is steeped in scandal?"
"I don't care."
"Your niece will care," she said softly. "If you marry me, you'll lose custody of her for certain. Sir Humphry's comments about my gulling you are only half of what your uncle will say to the world. He'll claim you're helping an evil man, that I sold myself to you to gain your influence on my father's behalf…He'll make you out to be a wicked reprobate allying himself with another wicked reprobate."
That she was right didn't alter his purpose. "We'll fight my uncle together, then. We'll keep fighting until we get her back, even if it takes years."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "So she can suffer the same things you suffered all those years ago? Would you see
her
tied to the bed at night as well?"
His heart dropped into his stomach. "You know about that?"
"I asked Papa about it yesterday after what you said about his abandoning you. He didn't, you know."
She related a sequence of events that made perfect sense and absolved her father of blame, but he heard them with only half an ear.
No wonder she hesitated to marry him. His secret was out.
Chapter Twenty-three
Dear Charlotte,
If you mean Miss Prescott, then I should warn you that even if his lordship professes an interest in marriage, you should advise her against it. Rakehells are rarely faithful to one woman. As for my being upset about his drawing your attention from me, that wasn't the case, but think what you will if it soothes your pride.
Always your concerned cousin,
Michael
A
nthony?" Madeline cried, alarmed when he dropped onto a divan that had clearly been designed for seduction, sudden despair sweeping his face.
She hurried to sit beside him. "Anthony, what's wrong?"
He stared at the empty fireplace. Ample light from the windows fronting the street turned the walnut furnishings and rich yellow walls into a cozy blend of amber and bronze. It contrasted sharply with the desolation in his eyes. "How did you find out about my being tied up?"
Why was he so upset? He'd just asked her to marry him, for heaven's sake—
that
was more astonishing than anything she'd learned about his childhood. Marriage between them was impossible, of course, but the fact that he'd asked warmed her to her very soul.
"My father told me what the Bickhams did," she said. "I just explained that."
"So he knew
why
they tied me up?"
"Because you kept trying to run away. Sir Randolph said you missed your mother."
A strange relief suffused his features. "Ah. I did miss my mother, that's true." He dropped his eyes to where his hands gripped his knees. "So…er…that has naught to do with why you won't marry me."
"It has
everything
to do with it. The thought of them tying your niece to a bed is appalling! You have to save her."
"I intend to save her." His gaze shot to hers. "And I intend to save you, too. I took your innocence. I won't let you suffer the consequences of that. We'll be married, and that's an end to it."
So
that's
why he wished to marry her. Tears welled in her throat that she ruthlessly squelched. What had she been thinking? Of
course
that was his reason. He was an honorable man— that did him credit. She mustn't be hurt by it.
She would simply ignore the part of her hoping that he could feel more.
"The thought of living my life without a husband doesn't frighten me." Not much, anyway. "So don't let my loss of innocence prod you into offering for me."
"I'm not," he said fiercely.
His answer perplexed her. "If you're worried about my bearing a child, you shouldn't be. We used that contraption of yours, so we're safe."
"That's not why I'm offering, either." He settled his arm about her shoulders. "Can't you see, dearest? I want
you
. You're the only woman I can imagine marrying." His voice roughened. "Surely the advantages to you are enough to outweigh your scruples about marrying a man as wicked as I."
She placed a finger against his lips, her heart breaking for him. "Don't say such things." He
did
care. Perhaps he hadn't yet said he loved her— perhaps he never would— but at least he wasn't proposing merely out of a desire to behave honorably. "You aren't wicked. I don't care what you did before— in the past week, you've proved yourself to be a good, and, yes, moral person. And if not for your niece— "
He cut her off with a long, needy kiss that seared her to the soles of her feet. Several moments passed in which he possessed her mouth so thoroughly she actually forgot to breathe. She even forgot her objections.
Until he drew back and released her from his spell. "Marry me," he urged.
"Oh, Anthony, if you only knew how badly I want to be your wife. But we have time for that later. Your Tessa doesn't."
"Time? How long will it be before my uncle wins his attempt to have your father charged with a crime? Once that happens, saving him will become harder." He stroked her cheek tenderly. "Uncle Randolph's desire to ruin your father is likely born of revenge for the help your father gave me years ago. I won't repay his kindness by doing nothing to save him."
"Then pay for Papa's lawyer if I have to hire one. But marrying me— "
"Might make a lawyer unnecessary. Your vicar may bring charges against a defenseless physician with a spinster daughter, but I doubt he'll bring them against a viscount's father-in-law."
That was true, and Anthony's willingness to throw his rank behind Papa touched her to the heart. Made her want to give in. Except for one thing. "If you involve yourself in this, it will almost certainly mean the end of your chances to gain Tessa. Your uncle will gleefully point to your scandalous association as proof that you're unfit to be guardian to a child."
"Yes, he will. And I'll argue that being a respectably married man counts for something. After all,
you
aren't the one accused of scandalous behavior, only your father. And I have Mrs. Harris on my side, too." He seized her arms. "I can help your father and Tessa both. It's better than taking a chance on his life, isn't it?"
"If it comes to that, you may handle it however you please. But until it does, work to gain guardianship of your niece first. I can't bear to think what she might be suffering even now. The thought of them tying
her
to the bed every night— "
"They will not tie her."
"How can you be sure?"
