Seducing the Beast (26 page)

He kept his arms around her, his eyelids lowered to shelter her from an ardent, heated gaze, but she felt him tremble. Very slightly.

Somewhere inside the Beast there was a fallible human being, but his secret was safe with her. She wouldn’t tell a soul.

And she loved him. Whatever it was he felt for her, she knew now this was deep and everlasting love. But she couldn’t tell a soul that either, because she didn’t belong in his world and he could never fit in hers.

When he was gone on business of the estate, she helped Jennet polish the plate. This time no one stopped her or suggested she stay in her room. Griff must have relaxed his rules for her. It was a pleasing idea, progress at last.

As she and Jennet worked together, there was suddenly a great ruckus in the hall, a clattering of feet and boxes followed by accusations shrieked out in a pitch of such high dimensions they both covered their ears. Maddie’s stomach threw itself into a sideways tumble and she walked into the entrance hall, polishing rag still clutched in one hand.

She hadn’t seen her cousin in--how long? The days merged into one another lately.

Eustacia threw off her mantle as if it contained poison ivy. Her hat was dislodged, disturbing the careful arrangement of her hair, which, as she shouted orders at the bewildered staff, began to uncoil, springing out from her head.

“I’ve been on foot for the last two miles,” she cried, flinging her arms out. “I have been rained upon, windblown, spat at, molested by peasants, chased by geese, splattered with God knows what by passing carts--”

Gabriel sneezed, stepping forward to take her elbow. He smiled uncomfortably at the servants. “There, there, dearest, we’re home now.” His voice was thick with congestion and the flush to his cheeks was plainly the sign of a fever.

Gregory bowed deeply to Gabriel and welcomed him home, followed by rather tardy curtseys and bows from the other staff. Gabriel asked if his brother was returned yet.

“He is, Master Gabriel, but he is presently out and will not return until the morning.”

Eustacia groaned again. “Thanks be for small mercies. The last thing I need now is to face that swine.”

Poor Gabriel looked mortified. Sneezing again, he tried to regain his wife’s arm, but she would have none of it.

“I need a lie down. You know how I am when I’m tired, Gabriel. It was damnably cruel to make me walk. I can’t think why you gave up the horses.”

“They needed new shoes, my dear. And you didn’t want to wait for the blacksmith to be done.”

“Surely you did not expect me to sit in that hot, stinking place and
wait
?” She spat the word as if she’d never waited for anything in her life. “The blacksmith was surly and incompetent. I would’ve struck him if he looked at me once more the way he did. If you had more gumption Gabriel, you would’ve insisted he see to our horses immediately, or else give us those already finished.”

“But Eustacia, dearest,” he said miserably, “those horses belonged to other men.”

“They might have been bought.”

“They might,” he agreed sadly, “had I the coin to do it.”

That silenced her for a moment. Gabriel asked Gregory if the blue chamber might be prepared for his wife in the south tower and he smiled lovingly at Eustacia, even though she pouted, refusing his arm again. “You’ll adore the blue chamber, dearest. It is the prettiest room in the house with a breathtaking view of the grounds.”

“What good will that do me, pray, when I have a head aching fit to burst and shall need the shutters closed to keep out the dratted sun?”

“I’m afraid, Master Gabriel,” Gregory solemnly intoned, “the blue room is occupied.”

The servants looked at Maddie and the new arrivals turned likewise to find her standing there in her fancy new gown, smiling guiltily.

Eustacia immediately forgot her headache and screamed as if she saw a ghost come to haunt her. “Why should she have it? Why is she here? I feel faint, Gabriel.” She covered her eyes with limp fingers, through which she glared at her cousin with the venom of Medusa.

Madolyn apologized demurely. “It was Griff’s choice that I have the blue chamber.” Although she gave it her best effort, she didn’t sound as sorry as she should. The fury on Eustacia’s face and her insistence the room be given up for her at once made her less and less regretful. She gave no explanation for her presence, but the delight she took in saying “Griff” with that degree of familiarity, was worth the burns she received from Eustacia’s scorn-filled perusal.

Gregory was steadfast. His young charge could not be moved from the coveted blue chamber. His calm, polite smile only put Eustacia in a greater state of apoplexy and this, too, made Maddie gleeful, rather than repentant, cherish the wicked spark of pleasure that came with the attention. For once she was someone special, to be treated with kid gloves. She decided it was far too easy to be seduced and corrupted by power and she chastised herself thoroughly for being swept up in it. But it was hard indeed to feel humble, with Eustacia spitting her hatred across the hall at her.

“I’m sure we can find you a comparable chamber,” Gabriel tried to console his wife, but, having already extolled the virtues of the blue chamber, there was nothing he could say to convince her any other room would do. The mere suggestion that her rustic little country cousin might have a better room than hers was tantamount to treason.

Madolyn suggested she give up the room for Eustacia. “I daresay I can find another,” she said somberly to Gregory. “Truly, I don’t wish to be any trouble.”

Immediately he assured her, “The earl wouldn’t have you moved for all the world, my lady. It’s more than my life’s worth to put you anywhere else. Please don’t fret, the earl wouldn’t want you upset.”

Delighting again in the mischievous, intoxicating thrill, she sighed deeply, “As you think best Gregory, of course. I’ll do as I’m bid.”

He gave her a sly look, knowing the rarity of such a concession from those lips. “Thank you, my lady.”

Eustacia made a sound like a stuck pig and Maddie smiled at her benevolently. Much to her further amusement, they put the newcomer in the north tower. Eustacia didn’t know, and her husband would surely never tell her, that these were servant’s quarters and storage rooms.

* * * *

At supper, Maddie explained to Gabriel how his brother found her at Eustacia’s house in London and brought her to Dorset.

“He wouldn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t Eustacia.”

Her cousin exclaimed sourly. “How could anyone mistake you for me?”

But Gabriel seemed amused. “And you’ve been here, alone with him, this many weeks?”

She felt a little too warm suddenly, as his eyes, bright with fever, gave her a sly up and down perusal. “The staff were here,” she mumbled.

“Hmm.” He grinned. “What has my pious brother been up to?”

There was a short silence before Eustacia never liking the conversation to stray long from herself, began to criticize the lamb on her plate, which she found too tough. “I’m certain they gave me the worst piece.” Her critical gaze leapt between her own plate and her cousin’s.

“You may have mine, if you want it,” Maddie offered.

“I will not have your scraps!” she spat. “Lamb doesn’t suit my stomach and this mint sauce is over-salted. It’s given me such a thirst, I won’t sleep tonight.”

Gabriel blew his nose in his napkin, saying he too had no appetite. Having struggled to remain lively for much of the evening, now he was drained and limp in his chair. The poor fellow could barely raise his napkin to wipe his red nose, and his eyes watered like fountains.

“He’s been like this for two entire days,” Eustacia complained. “Coughing and sputtering. It has quite made
me
ill. There’s nothing worse than the company of a man who constantly complains about his discomforts.”

Gabriel apologized to his wife for being sick and spoiling her journey. He was also sorry her room didn’t meet with her approval and promised they would leave, as soon as he shook off his fever.

Thrusting her hated lamb aside, Eustacia summoned a servant to bring the fruit platter. When it failed to arrive swiftly enough and didn’t carry anything she wanted, her mouth curled into a tight snarl and she snapped at Jennet, “For pity’s sake, stand still, girl. I’m rendered dizzy by your dancing about. Is this the best fruit that can be got? Gabriel, I think they must be hiding the best specimens. Surely the earl’s orchards can provide better.”

“It is not yet full summer, dearest.”

“For sure they keep the best away from us.”

As Jennet withdrew with the fruit platter, Eustacia whined to her husband. “I suppose the locals discuss me already. These people are country yokels. I can’t wait to return to civilized company.”

Maddie looked at her in amazement, for her cousin kept no company in London except a few paunchy, heavily-perfumed gentlemen, hardly to be described as fashionable or discriminate.

“Eustacia,” she said suddenly, “is your father released yet from debtors’ prison?”

She heard Jennet’s stifled giggle and was certain Eustacia heard it too.

* * * *

It was late when she was roused from a dead sleep with news that Gabriel was desperately ill. Gregory feared it might be the smallpox. Apparently, he’d already consulted Eustacia, but she declared it was too much fuss to be made late at night. Morning would be soon enough to send for help.

Now, in the earl’s absence, Maddie had been sought out and woken. Pleased to be of use at last, she sent Gregory for the apothecary and ran down to the cookhouse herself to supervise the making of a compress for Gabriel’s fevered head and an herbal elixir for his sore throat, both recipes she’d learned from her mother.

She sat with the patient, spooning the concoction between his sad lips, promising he’d feel much better once he slept. No one expected Eustacia’s help, and they made an unspoken pact to let her sleep on. When Gabriel asked for his wife, she told him they thought it best if Eustacia stayed away rather than risk contagion.

The heat of his fever could be felt even without touching his skin, but she tried not to let him see her concern. They had only two candles lit in the room, as he said the light hurt his eyes, but they burned incense, which she’d heard might help in cases of smallpox. Two years ago they’d had an outbreak in her village at home, and several folk died of it. A few others were left scarred.

She thought of those dreadful three weeks when she’d nursed her sweetheart, praying he might be saved. She’d always taken charge of him, in the same way as she did anyone she cared for. Sometimes she wondered why he’d let her boss him about, but he was a content, easy sort of person, rather like Gabriel, in fact. Once or twice she might secretly have wanted her sweetheart to stand up to her, but he never did. He took the easy route in life and would have married her, she realized, for that reason. They were of the same age, had celebrated their milestones together and people always expected they would marry. She remembered the vague feeling of being rushed down a corridor that became narrower and darker, closing in on her.

When he died, suddenly the tight corridor had opened out again into daylight and she was free. The guilt was unbearable, another layer atop the grief. But life went on and there was always another battle to fight.

As she held Gabriel’s hot hand that night, he talked of his brother and their childhood together. The two men had a close bond it seemed, and as much as they were often frustrated by one another, they remained devoted brothers. Maddie understood completely.

“Master Gabriel,” she said solemnly, “I must ask you not to reveal my identity to your brother.”

He frowned slightly. “He doesn’t know who you are?”

She shook her head.

Gabriel’s brows arched high. “He didn’t even ask your name?” And he chuckled. “Tsk, tsk!” But he promised to keep her secret. “Don’t worry,” he said thoughtfully. “My brother can solve this mystery alone. At last he has more to fret over than
my
love life.”

* * * *

Griff returned to the manor in the early hours of the morning. Upon hearing of Gabriel’s sickness, he came directly to his brother’s chamber, but Madolyn sent him out again, worried about the risk of contagion.

“What about you?” he exclaimed fiercely.

“I don’t matter,” she replied, shoving him back into the corridor. “We can’t have both of you dying can we? What happens to the Swafford estate then?”

He stumbled back, staring at her, but silenced.

“One of you has to survive,” she added simply.

Returning to Gabriel’s bedside, she thought how odd it was for the Earl of Swafford not to want children. He was such a stickler for tradition and duty, it seemed strange he didn’t have at least one child with his wife, just for the future of the estate. And despite those rumors of the earl’s “incapability”, she knew now that was a lie.

What if something happened to him? And to Gabriel? It was too much to consider, too horrible to contemplate.

She stayed at Gabriel’s bedside until the apothecary arrived, by which time his temperature had receded. There was no sign, fortunately, of the smallpox pustules. At last, assured he was no longer contagious, she gave up her vigil and let his brother take over.

* * * *

Having fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, she was roused a scant few hours later by sharp fingernails digging into her shoulder, followed by a shrill hiss,

“Wake up at once, Madolyn Carver! I must know instantly everything that happened.”

Much preferring the song of the marsh warbler to wake her through the window rather than this discordant screeching, she sat up and tried to peel her eyelids open. “Eustacia,” she groaned, “Can we talk later? I’ve had no sleep.”

“And how much sleep do you think I’ve had, with so much pressing on me?” She held a hand to her bosom. “I couldn’t set my head down all night. The room they gave me is cold and dreary, little better than a dungeon. I’ve had nothing to comfort me, but lain fretting. I’ve never felt so ill.”

Despite her protestations, she looked rested. Her eyes were a great deal clearer and sharper than Madolyn’s felt. Of course, with her cousin’s face coated in a thick, snowy powder, there was no telling if she was uncommonly pale or fraught. She always looked that way.