Page 47

M adeleine, greatly fatigued, decided to stop at Swinford for the night. Stepping down from her carriage, she directed the footman she brought with her as escort to take her baggage into the inn, where she requested a room and private parlor to take her meal.

“We’ve only the coffee room, ma’am. There is a gentleman in the private parlor.”

Stripping off her gloves, she smiled and said, “I shall ask the gentleman if he will mind sharing with me,” and sailed off to the private parlor. Knocking lightly and entering on her knock, she paused in the doorway.

“La,” she said lightly, “I am awfully fatigued, and I really do not wish to sit in the public room. Would you mind terribly, sir, sharing the parlor with me?”

The gentleman was seated in a chair before the fire, only his boots and part of his breeches-clad legs visible to her. He rose and turned to face her, and she clutched the door frame. It was her blonde lover!

He clearly recognized her, too, and came toward her immediately, his hands held out. “Madeleine, what a delightful surprise!”

She shut the door hastily on the gaping landlord and moved into the room.

“Rey! What a shock!” she said, letting him draw her nearer to the fire, where she took off her bonnet and pelisse before sitting. “What brings you here?”

“I’m on my way to visit—a friend. I stopped for a meal, only. What a chance meeting. Where are you bound?”

“Back to London.”

The door opened and the landlord bustled in with a bottle of whisky and a glass. “Your meal will be coming shortly, my lord,” he said with an unctuous bow. “Anything for the lady?” He raised an eyebrow toward the gentleman, ignoring her completely.

“Will you join me for dinner?” he asked with a smile that made his eyes sparkle with the light that had captivated her through the mask he had worn that night. Without the mask, he was exceedingly handsome.

“Yes, please,” she said with a demure smile.

“Dinner for the lady as well, and a bottle of wine instead of the ale.”

“As your lordship desires.” The landlord gave him another low bow and left.

“You never did tell me your full name, sir,” she said, smoothing the fabric of her gown over her knees. He was clearly a peer, which she had thought at the time. Perhaps she needed to rethink her plan?

He was busy pouring himself a whisky. Returning to the fire, he gave her a bow. “Reynard Fairbanks, Earl of Lannister, at your service, Madeleine...?”

“Kinsella,” she supplied, her brain running at a hundred miles an hour.

Lannister! She should have guessed! His charm and good looks were as legendary as his financial woes.

But she’d never had occasion to meet him before, and she hadn’t connected the diminutive of his name that he had given her, Rey, with his full name and title.

Despite his apparent wealth, she knew his pockets were notoriously to let.

He would be unlikely to be able or willing to shoulder responsibility for a child conceived in a momentary flurry of lust. He was charming but completely lacking in the moral fiber that made the duke a far better bet for financial stability and reliability.

It was also well known that the two men were not friends.

She didn’t think he would, but if the duke proved recalcitrant, Lannister might be able to help her bring him up to scratch.

A lady in her circumstances needed to cover all eventualities.

“Miss or is it Mrs. Kinsella? I am delighted to meet you again,” he said, kissing her hand with gallantry.

She smiled. “Miss.” She frowned prettily. “But I would be better to be a Mrs., for you find me in a fix, my lord. I can rely on your discretion?”

He raised an eyebrow, and she saw a flash of cynicism in his eyes. Yes, her instinct was right. Robert was the better bet here. “You can,” he said.

Can I though? That might be the fly in my ointment. “Your word as a gentleman?”

He frowned slightly and said soberly, “Yes, my word as a gentleman. What is it?”

She took a breath and plunged in. “I am returning from a visit to the Duke of Troubridge’s estate. I had hoped to have speech with him on a matter of some delicacy, you understand, but he wasn’t there.”

“No, he’s in London. Why did you wish to have speech with him?” Then his eyebrows contracted as if he had just made a connection. “Good God, you’re his mistress!”

She flushed faintly. “Yes, I am, or at least I was until recently. Before you and I—”

“Quite!” he said a little grimly. “I’m not in the habit of poaching on another man’s preserves. If I’d known—”

“We had parted company before. It was for that reason I attended that party. I wanted something to cheer me up, as I was quite melancholy.”

“Hm. It would be typical of Troubridge to break things off before he entered into a contract to wed. Why are you telling me this?”

“I have discovered that I am in a certain condition.”

He jerked, spilling his whisky. “And you believe I am responsible—”

“No, you misunderstand me. I had not realized at the time—I was quite distraught, you see—but my courses were late, very late. I had missed them altogether the previous month, before we ah—engaged in our little liaison.”

“The duke. You believe the duke is—the father of your child?” The words came out a trifle strangled. The man looked strangely distraught for one who had dodged a bullet.

“Yes,” she said softly and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“But you haven’t told him?”

“I was endeavoring to do so, but he wasn’t at home. I spoke to the duchess instead.”

“You what?” Lannister rose, spilling more of the whisky. He put the glass down on the mantelpiece in a distracted manner and ran his hands through his hair. His agitation was so odd, she just gaped at him.

“You spoke to Sarah about this?”

“Yes, you know her well enough to use her name?”

“She is a fr—. Never mind!” he waved distractedly, pacing the room. “Good God, what she must be suffering. As if it weren’t bad enough that clod hit Ashford and caused a scandal over nothing!”

He turned back to her as she sat gaping at him, not following half of what he said.

“I apologize, but I must leave you. I shall pay for the meal and wine, so the landlord doesn’t throw you out.

You will find Troubridge in London. If you have any difficulty with him, apply to me in Ryder Street.

I should be back in London in a couple of days, although perhaps not.

I don’t know. Good day to you, Miss Kinsella. ”

He bowed and left the room before she could say anything further.

*

Robert arrived in Berkeley Square after midnight. He was greeted by Em, who had missed him. Truth to tell, he had missed her, too. Her comforting weight on his feet, once he finally crawled into bed, helped him sleep.

The next morning at the ungodly hour of eight o’clock, he was banging on Ashford’s front door demanding admittance. The butler, who knew him of old, was astonished but let him in anyway.

“His lordship’s still abed, Your Grace.”

“Don’t disturb yourself. I’ll wake him,” he said, striding to the stairs and bolting up them to his lordship’s bedchamber. Barging in, he found the room swathed in darkness and rather stuffy. Going to the window, he dragged back the curtains and shoved up the sash to let some fresh air in.

“What the devil?” came the muttered groan from the bed.

He turned to eye his friend, who sat up on one elbow, the sheets at his waist showing an expanse of bare, hairy chest, above a slightly rounded stomach and his unfashionably long hair a tangled mess round his stubble-covered face.

The bruise round his eye had become purplish-green and yellow. He looked a right mess.

Robert crossed his arms over his chest, planted his feet, and said, “Right. I want the truth! What is going on? Is it true Caro has left you?”

Ashford slumped back onto the pillows with an arm across his eyes. “Fuck off, Layne!”

“I’m not budging until you tell me.”

“Yes! Are you happy now? Yes, she’s fucking left me! For Greathouse!”

“What?”

“They’ve been having an affair for months!

I didn’t bloody know until the night of the ball.

I found one of his letters to her. Seems she loved that letter so damned much she needed to carry it everywhere with her.

It’s the one where he declared his feelings for her.

” Ashford swallowed. “They have gone to France. She left the children. I can’t believe she left the children! ”

“Oh God, Emrys, I’m sorry.” Robert came toward the bed and sat on the edge of it.

Ashford blinked hard at the ceiling. “She used the kerfuffle you caused by punching me in the face as an excuse to leave. She felt justified then, like it wasn’t her fault.

I—” He cleared his throat. “She could blame me instead. I was telling Sarah about the letter when you found us. That was what we were talking about. Neither of us realized the letter dated back several months. I thought there was some hope, that things hadn’t gone too far. ”

“If I hadn’t hit you and caused a massive scandal, perhaps—”

“No, it was too late. They’ve been carrying on for months. I just didn’t know. I thought we were having a rough patch, is all. You know the night we were at the club and Greathouse and Lannister asked if we wanted to play cards?”

“The night before I went to Almack’s and met Sarah?”

“Yes. Caro stayed at home that evening because she had a headache.”

“I remember,” said Robert slowly.

“Greathouse was with her before coming to the club himself. While I was at the club with you fellows, he was with her. Do you remember what he said when I mentioned she had a headache?”

“Something about being sorry to hear it?”

“And to give her his regards and his hope that she would feel better soon!” Ashford looked as if he’d tasted something bitter.

“The gall of the man!” Robert let out a breath. “You’ve more self-control than I do, Emrys. Once you found out, what stopped you calling him out?”

Ashford shook his head. “Apart from the fact that I’m a lousy shot,” he said with a wry grimace, “he was my friend.”

“Some friend!” snorted Robert.

“And Caro loves him,” he added quietly.

Robert just stared at him in silence, letting that sink in. That. That right there was real love. He swallowed.

“And besides, even if I was capable of that kind of violence, which I’m not, I’m a father. My children need me. Now more than ever.”

“How are the children?”

“They don’t know. I’ve told them Mama has gone to stay with a friend and threatened the staff with dismissal if they breathe a word to any of them. I’ll have to tell them eventually, but not yet.”

Robert nodded. “I’m so sorry, old man.”

Ashford sat up and looked at him frowning. “Just tell me you’ve made it up with Sarah?”

Robert shook his head.

Ashford groaned. “Why the hell not? And don’t tell me you’re not crazy in love with her because you fucking are!”

“I know, I’m an idiot!”

“Well, I told you that!”

“The trouble is, I don’t think she loves me,” said Robert in a hollow voice.

Ashford snorted. “You’re a double idiot!” He poked Robert in the chest. “She’s been in love with you from the first!”

“No.” Robert shook his head mournfully. “You’re wrong. I behaved dreadfully. My cursed bad temper—”

“Blind, stupid idiot!” The viscount hauled himself out of bed and went to the washstand where he poured water into the bowl and plunged his head in it.

Dripping water, he groped for a towel, which Robert handed to him, and drying his face he said in a muffled voice, “Everyone can see she loves you—except you!”

Robert stared at him. “How do you know?”

Emerging from the towel, he scrubbed his hair, making it stand on end. “The way she looks at you, the way her eyes follow you round the room, the way she defends you. A million things.”

Robert groped for a chair and sat down. “Oh, God!” he groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I’m such a fool!”

Ashford rubbed behind his ears and said, “Well, you’d best get back to her then, hadn’t you? And for fuck’s sake, tell her how you feel!” he said to Robert’s retreating back.

At the door, Robert turned. “If there is anything I can do about the situation with Caro—?”

“There is. Return to town with Sarah, your mother, and Ava, and carry on as if nothing happened at The Castle. Once the ton figures out we’re friends again, I at least won’t be a pariah. There isn’t much anyone can do to save Caro from the scandal she is determined to make.”

“Will you divorce her? You’ll have grounds.”

A spasm of pain crossed the viscount’s face. “If I can’t persuade her to come back for the children’s sakes, probably. She wants to marry Greathouse.” He swallowed hard.

“I’ll support your petition in the House of Lords,” he said, coming back to his friend’s side. “Ravenshaw and Pendrell will, as well.” He hugged the other man. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“So am I,” said Ashford with feeling.

Robert grimaced and slapped him on the arm affectionately. “And bloody shave and get a haircut. You look like the devil!”

“Go and fix your marriage you grumpy-arsed marplot!” said the viscount with a half-smile and punch to the shoulder. “And give Sarah my regards.”

“I will.”