Secrets of the Heart (16 page)

Her thoughts clung to the wave of confusing emotions that besieged her. “I cannot care about him,” she said aloud. “He is the enemy. What am I going to do now? The only man I ever trusted was my father.”

Madeline sat on the edge of her bed and reached for the bottle of laudanum. She swallowed the bitter-tasting medicine and prayed it would help her sleep. She padded to the window in her bare feet. “Oh, Papa, I’m scared. I miss you so much. If I could only talk to you. Mother is not thinking rationally, and I cannot talk to her.”

She wiped a tear away. “God, why do You torture me? My heart aches. I cannot care for this man. I cannot forgive him. Yet my unforgiveness eats away at my soul. Help me, Lord. I feel I’m losing my mind.”

Chilled to the bone, she crept back to her bed and under the covers. Nosey cuddled next to her as though he felt her pain. Madeline slipped her hand around the cat and pulled him close.

In the morning she was wakened by a quick rap on the door. Agnes entered the room, a broad grin on her face.

Nosey scrambled off the bed, and Madeline pulled the pillow over her head.

“Well, that’s a fine welcome.” Agnes put her hands on her hips. “Daisy’s not feeling well, so I’ve come to help ye dress. I imagine your head’s spinning with thoughts of Lord Ravensmoore this morning.”

“My head is spinning. I’ll grant you that.”

“It’s much too difficult to interpret yer words when they are caught under a pillow. Come on out, dearie, and greet the day.”

“I’d really rather not, Agnes. I have a dreadful headache. The light hurts my eyes.”

“I hope you’re not too angry with Edna and me for playing the matchmakers last evening,” she prattled on, ignoring Madeline’s plea. “A blind man could sense that ye were taken with each other right off. And Lady Gilling and Mr. Melton. Another grand couple to be sure.” Agnes continued, oblivious to Madeline’s mortification.

Madeline forced herself to peek from under her pillow, blinking against the sunshine. “I would prefer you not talk about last night, Agnes. It is finished.”

Agnes froze in her duties and stared at her mistress, aghast. “What’s this? Ye can’t mean it. Edna believes Ravensmoore most smitten, and though we frequently disagree, I believe she’s right this time.”

Madeline finally rebelled and sat up a bit too fast. Pressing her palms to her temples, she said, “He may be smitten, but I most certainly am not. He’s smitten with his work as a physician, possibly obsessed. The man is not normal. It’s a wonder he finds time to care for his estate.”

Agnes walked over to the chair where Madeline’s robe lay and picked it up. “He goes home to be certain all is well with his lands, according to Edna, and tends to the business of a gentleman, but he always returns to study in York whenever Langford comes to teach. I’m so happy ye have an admirer, dear.”

“He may be an admirer, Agnes, but he’s not a beau.”

“A very handsome admirer, I must say,” Agnes continued, as if Madeline hadn’t spoken a word.

Madeline slammed the bed with her fists. “Do you forget who he is, Agnes? He let my father bleed to death. I cannot forgive him!”

Agnes carefully laid the robe on the bed. “Eventually ye must forgive those things ye do not understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You needn’t concern yourself, Agnes. I’m all grown up. I can take care of myself.” Madeline said, uncertain if she struggled to convince Agnes or herself.

“Even grown girls need someone to look after them now and then, Lady Madeline. Take yer mother, for instance. She fancies herself taken with Lord Vale. He’s not what she needs, but it’s not my place to say anything.”

“You mean you’ve noticed it too?” Madeline didn’t know if she should be alarmed or relieved. She scooted to the edge of the bed and threw her legs over the side. The cat appeared from beneath the bed and pounced on her cold, naked feet. “Nosey. You bad kitty.” She picked the feline up and gently set him on the bed where he chased his tail with determination. “What do you know, Agnes?”

“She’s happy again.”

“Has Mother shared her feelings with you?”

“No. She doesn’t have to. It shows in her face.” Agnes poured water into a basin. “It would be hard not to notice.” She continued, “Come sit at your dressing table. I’ll brush yer hair. Ye’ll feel better.”

“I feel fine.” Ever since Papa died, everything had changed between Mother and herself. He’d been the glue. Without Papa true happiness always seemed just out of reach.

Madeline tried to shake off the gloomy feelings that attacked her. She donned her robe and sat down at the dressing table to let Agnes brush her hair. “Work your magic, Agnes.”

“I haven’t done this for ye in years.” Agnes untangled the mass of dark curls. “Ye still have the most beautiful head of hair, even more beautiful than yer mother’s.”

Nosey jumped onto Madeline’s lap. She stroked the cat as Agnes brushed. Hypnotic movements eased the tension in her muscles. Madeline stared sightlessly into the mirror. “I wish I were a little girl again, Agnes. Everything seemed easy then. Why does life have to be so hard?”

“Sometimes…” Agnes began, and then stopped, as though choosing her words very carefully. “Sometimes we make life harder than it need be.”

After several minutes Madeline took the brush from Agnes. “Thank you, Agnes. That felt wonderful. I think I’d like to go for a ride this morning. Will you help me dress now?”

“Of course.” Agnes looked worried. “I hope I didn’t speak out of turn.”

“No, not at all. I need to go for a ride. I want some time to myself to think.”

“Very well.”

Agnes dressed her mistress in a brown velvet riding habit. “Are ye quite certain ye are all right?”

Madeline saw the concern in the old woman’s eyes. “I am well, really I am. I just need a bit of fresh air.”

“Don’t forget to eat breakfast.” Agnes brightened. “You’d best be on your way.”

Madeline skipped breakfast and headed straight to the stables. The blend of hay, oats, and leather mingled with that of each animal to produce a scent that any horse lover could appreciate. She inhaled a deep breath and smiled a warm greeting at the groom, who tipped his hat to greet her.

“Good morning, Donavan. Would you saddle Shakespeare when I’ve finished grooming him?”

“Yes, yer ladyship. But allow me to ready him.”

“I want to groom him, Donavan. I’ve missed him.”

“’Tis not proper,” the groom mumbled under his breath. “And what would yer father be thinking?”

Madeline ignored the remark. Donavan meant well. He’d adored her father. She headed for the stall, still expecting to see Papa walk through the stable door to go riding with her.

“Good morning, Shakespeare. I’ve brought you a treat.” She held out a purloined carrot from the kitchen, loving the feel of the animal’s soft muzzle against her hand as he munched the offering.

Madeline grabbed a currycomb and brush and made quick work of cleaning him up. She loved caring for her own horse, and she enjoyed doing what others would only consider fit for a groom or stable boy. She sneezed. The hair and dust flew about the stable, sparkling in the rays of the morning sun.

“Bless ye,” Donavan said as he approached her. “Would ye like company this fine morning?” Donavan opened the stall door.

“Thank you, Donavan. I prefer to go by myself.”

“But ye have only one good arm.”

“Now, Donavan. My arm is out of the sling now. I’m much better. You know Shakespeare as well as I do. He’s a safe ride, and his injuries are healed, are they not?”

Donavan nodded. “No galloping yet though. Only walking.”

“We will enjoy a gentle walk. I have no doubt we will both be fine.”

“Still…” Donavan said, rubbing the stubble on his chin and looking thoughtful. “I don’t think ye should go alone.”

Voices of one of the stable boys and a visitor filtered into the barn. She recognized the other voice.

“She won’t be alone.” The deep male timbre intruded into the conversation.

Her thoughts scrambled about like chickens pecking at feed in the stable yard, but she quickly pulled herself together. “Lord Ravensmoore. What an unexpected surprise. You do seem to make a habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. What brings you here?”

“Trying to keep you in one piece. It sounds like you’re trying to break your neck riding off with no escort and an injury that’s not completely mended.”

“My lord.” Donavan bowed awkwardly. “Humph. Exactly what I been trying to tell her meself, sir. Seems ye pull more weight.”

“Your groom is a wise man. You should heed his words. I simply came to check on my patient. I believe I told you I’d visit as soon as possible. I’d be happy to ride out with you.”

“No. That is not necessary.” Madeline turned and brushed out Shakespeare’s tail.

Donavan said, “Now there’s a fine idea. His lordship’s a doctor. I should think ye couldn’t be in better hands. I’ll tack up Shakespeare for ye now.”

“I am honored to be of service, Lady Madeline.” Ravensmoore smiled at her as the groom slipped a bridle over the horse’s head and quickly saddled Shakespeare.

She frowned at her escort. “So it would appear.”

Madeline led Shakespeare from the stable, and Ravensmoore retrieved his mount from the stable boy. “Shakespeare seems much improved. It appears you are both on the mend.”

“Yes. I thank you for your help the day of the accident. I’ve been told I can be quite stubborn, and I’m afraid you received the brunt of my distress that day.”

“It was a difficult time. Allow me to give you a leg up.”

He easily boosted her into the saddle and gave her time to arrange her skirt. As they rode across an open expanse of meadow at a leisurely pace, the smell of spring danced in the air, a mixture of nature’s perfumes blended into a glorious outdoor bouquet.

Madeline struggled with her thoughts, what to say. Finally she said what she was thinking. “I thought we agreed that it was not a good idea for us to meet.”

“
You
thought it wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t agree.” Devlin moved his horse closer to her. “Actually, I received an unexpected reprieve from Dr. Langford.”

Madeline cast him a suspicious glance. “How nice.” She maneuvered Shakespeare away to a safe distance. His closeness and the rich smell of spices he wore created a jumble of emotions, emotions that warned of feelings she couldn’t accept or condone.

“Fortuitous, really. I barely slept last night. Lack of sleep can be dangerous in medicine.”

“I should think you’re accustomed to it.” Madeline brushed an annoying tree branch away from her face as the trail narrowed.

“Unfortunately, lack of sleep is something I will never get used to.”

An awkward silence punctuated the early morning mist. They crested a hill and stopped the horses at a beautiful pool of water. The sun glinted over ripples that lapped gently onto the ridge of the pond. Two blue birds fluttered over the water in a mating dance.

“Why did you come here?” Madeline asked again. She did not want to discuss anything of importance with him. She didn’t trust him, and she didn’t trust herself.

“Since I attended your injury, and you shared that sometimes your arm pains you in the evening, I thought I should check in on you. Did you use the laudanum last night?”

“Yes, I did. A nasty concoction. Left me a bit muddleheaded this morning. But it did help ease the ache.”

“I’m glad of that. Not the muddleheaded part, of course. I meant the relief of pain.”

Madeline noticed the twinkle in his eye and a slight blush to his credit as well. “I understand your meaning, Lord Ravensmoore. I do appreciate your concern, but there really is no longer a need for it. I am certain all will be well.”

They moved on in silence for several minutes. Madeline watched him now and then from the corner of her eye. What was it about him that intrigued her so? Granted he was good-looking, but handsome looks alone would never be intrinsically important to her. And her father… she would never forget. So how could there be any attraction?

“Should you ever need anything… anything at all, I would be most happy to be of assistance. Last evening I suggested that we should talk about your father—”

“And I told you that I do not wish to talk about him. Not with you. I know I must sound dreadful, but I miss my father more than you could ever understand. When he died at the Guardian Gate, I thought I would die as well. And not to be with him as he breathed his last breath… At least if we’d taken him home he could have died in his own bed and been surrounded by those who loved him. It was a mistake.”

“It’s only natural that you should feel that way—”

“Natural?” Madeline went rigid. “There is nothing
natural
about it. Death is a horrid, wicked thing that robs those left behind of happiness and robs the one that dies of a future. It leaves a gaping hole in the soul that is constantly looking to be filled. What, sir, is so natural about that?” Madeline wiped angrily at the tears she could not prevent.

“I am sorry.” He took a silk handkerchief from his pocket. “Please, take this.”

Despite her anger and humiliation Madeline accepted the handkerchief and dabbed at her tears. “Thank you.”