Page 3 of The Marquess’s Stolen Bride (Dukes Gone Dirty #3)

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M adeline couldn’t find words. “What are you…who are you…where…?” Her gaze went from the ridiculously handsome man suddenly seated on her floor to the window through which he’d so dramatically appeared.

“I will scream,” she said.

At the same time, he said, “I’m here to save you.”

They both went silent.

“You’re here to…what?” She blinked and stared as if maybe that might help her mind comprehend this turn of events.

Fear took hold as a new idea came to her. “Are you one of…one of them ?”

One of the men her mother was attempting to sell her off to, she meant. One of the buyers, the countess had called them.

As if she were a horse or some cattle.

But he looked nearly as stunned as she felt to find her here. And he didn’t look cruel like the others had.

Not that looks had anything to do with it, but even so…

There was nothing frightening about the way he was eyeing her. Though his eyes did grow dark as he took her in?—

“Oh, good heavens,” she hissed. In her shock, she’d forgotten she’d been in the middle of changing. With quick movements, she threw on the night rail she’d only just discarded.

“Who are you?” she tried again. Her heart was pounding hard in her throat, and she was tempted to scream for help again.

She might have if she believed there was a single soul in this house who’d protect her.

The man ignored her question, throwing his own out instead. “Are you…her? Are you the mad earl’s daughter?”

She straightened, pride and anger churning in her gut. “Who are you, and why did you just crash in through my window?”

He scrambled to his feet. “We heard…that is, I’d heard…” He shook his head, and she frowned.

“Are you…” She recoiled as he drew near. Not because he was so very frightening—he was large, yes, but his face was that of an angel. He was like a prince from a storybook, not some brute of a criminal. But it was the stench rolling off of him that had her stepping back even further. “Are you drunk, sir?”

“Am I…” He laughed. “I suppose I am.”

“You’re a madman,” she whispered.

Of course.

Of course he was.

This was her lot in life. Clearly. She’d been raised by a madman, and now they were flocking in through her window like errant birds.

She shook her head, pointing to the still-open window. “Go. You must go before…” She turned at the sound of voices on the lower floor.

Had someone heard her scream?

“Go,” she hissed. “Go before they find you.”

Alarm lit his eyes, but something else as well. Something much more terrifying.

Something almost…noble.

“Who?” he demanded. His brows came down and that drunken daze seemed gone entirely as he took in her surroundings. It was a pitiful sight, to be certain. She practically felt the jolt when his gaze landed on the thick door with the bars and the key…on the outside.

“Are you a servant?” he asked.

“No.”

His eyes met hers. “Are you a prisoner?”

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened. No. Say no .

But she couldn’t say it. All her life she’d told herself she wasn’t. That she was hidden away for her protection like her father had said, no matter what Albert had told her.

But right now, she couldn’t say no. Because…wasn’t she trying to run away?

He straightened, and she could see him eyeing the door with purpose. Like he was about to burst through it and confront whoever he might find. “Your name, miss.”

“What? N-no.” Without thinking she gripped his arm, as if she could hold him back. He looked down at where her hand rested on his forearm.

He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and the fabric of his shirt was so thin, she could feel the heat from his skin.

“Tell me what is happening here,” he demanded. “I swear to you, I am only here to help.”

“To help…” Her eyes widened with new understanding. “Are you…did Albert send you?”

His confusion gave him away.

She took a step back. But if not sent by Albert, then how did he come to be here? It made no sense. “Who sent you? Why are you here?”

The voices were growing louder. He heard them now, too, she was certain, because they both cast panicked glances toward the door.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I admit my intrusion was not well planned, but I came here with good intentions. Do you wish to stay here? Or do you want to leave?” He winced slightly, and a myriad of emotions seemed to pass through his eyes at once as he added, “With me.”

“With…with you?” What did that mean?

The voices were growing ever nearer, and there was no place for him to hide.

Think, Madeline . She swallowed hard, her gaze landing on the box on her bed. All she owned, and she had no way of knowing how far it would get her, or if she would find safety along the way.

“Love…” He touched her chin, and his smile made the term of endearment feel heartachingly real.

Which was ridiculous. Obviously.

“I’m afraid I need an answer.” He glanced meaningfully toward the door.

“If I go with you,” she started.

She didn’t know how to finish. This decision would change the rest of her life. Her entire future rested on what she said right now.

Because there was no denying the countess’s voice from the staircase. She could put her faith in a stranger who she knew nothing about except for the fact that he was breathtakingly handsome and had for whatever reason broken into her tower room.

Or she could go along with the fate she knew.

“Yes, I’ll go with you,” she said.

He looked nearly as shocked as she felt, but he flashed her a charming grin, as if she’d just said yes to tea and not…what?

Her heart leapt.

She had no idea.

What had she just said yes to? Who was he? What did he do? Why was he here? But most of all?—

“Who are you?” The countess’s high-pitched outrage had Madeline whirling around to face her.

Evil was beautiful. It sometimes shocked Madeline that this could be so. In the storybooks, evil looked evil and good looked good. But that wasn’t the case in real life because the countess was stunning.

Tall, blonde, and with the sort of fine features that drove men to write poetry and carve statues. Or, in the case of her father…go mad.

“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed, her eyes wide with shock and rage.

Madeline opened her mouth but found herself blinking in shock as the newcomer beside her bowed low and gallant.

She blinked a few times and caught her mother doing the same.

One simply did not expect an intruder to bow.

“Pardon the intrusion, my lady,” he said. And he winked.

The man winked.

Madeline now knew for certain that she was the one who’d lost her wits. Perhaps that was why they’d locked her in here all these years. Or maybe going mad was hereditary or?—

Oh, what did it matter?

All that mattered was, delusion, dream, or reality, the most handsome man she’d ever seen was now striding toward her mother with a smile as that wretched Mr. Foley entered with several footmen.

The newcomer stopped short. “Foley.”

It was said with a sneer, but after recovering from a moment of shock, Foley smirked. “My lord. What an unexpected turn of events.”

“My lord?” The words slipped out before Madeline could stop them.

Her new protector—if that was indeed what he was—turned to her with a gentle smile that seemed utterly at odds with the sneer he’d worn when he’d first caught sight of Foley.

A sneer that was back in place as soon as he turned back.

“I should have known you’d be involved with this,” the newcomer said to Foley. “Whatever this is.”

Madeline’s head whipped back and forth. What was she missing?

Foley’s smirk made her cringe. He’d been downstairs before. He’d led those men in, he’d?—

“I must admit,” Foley said coolly. “You have me beat. You might have expected my presence, but I never would have imagined I’d find you here.”

He chuckled as he held his hands out to encompass her cold, miserable chamber.

“Foley,” the countess snapped. “What is the meaning of this? Who is this man?”

“My lady, allow me to introduce you to The Marquess of Hayden.”

Madeline gasped and got another warm smile in return. What the…

“Marquess?” The countess looked wary. A sight Madeline had never seen before, and it had Madeline shifting closer to the newcomer.

Any man who could make the countess second guess herself was an ally. Of this she was certain.

Or…she was almost certain. Madeline glanced at…Hayden, was it? He was giving her an encouraging smile, reaching for her hand.

“Have you come for the auction?” the countess asked.

Ice slithered through Madeline’s veins. The auction. That’s what her mother was calling it? She wasn’t even pretending it was anything other than it was.

She clutched at her night rail—belatedly. Everyone in this room had already seen far too much of her.

She dipped her head, wishing she could disappear.

“The auction,” Hayden repeated.

Madeline stiffened, her head snapping up to look between him and Foley and then to her mother. No. No! Surely not. He couldn’t be one of them. She couldn’t have just agreed to go off with another of her mother’s buyers.

But Foley cut in, allaying that particular fear, at least.

“He was not invited here this evening, my lady. If I’m not mistaken, I believe his lordship was here to woo your daughter.” He was eyeing Hayden with a knowing smirk that made her feel ill.

The countess frowned, and after a moment of indecision, she seemed to decide that Foley was the safest bet to vent her frustration. “This will not do, Foley. You assured me you’d be bringing only those who would pay top dollar?—”

“And he will, I am certain.” Foley’s gaze grew calculating.

Hayden’s brows drew together. “Pay? For what? What is this auction?—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Foley said. He drew her mother to the side and whispers began.

Hayden turned to her. “Auction?”

She shook her head as if she did not know. In truth, it was too demeaning to say aloud.

“Well,” her mother finally said as she moved back toward them, her head held high and her tone genteel. “You must understand, my lord. We cannot have a gentleman alone in my daughter’s room. My husband, God bless his soul, is not fit to defend her honor, but that does not mean?—”

“No, of course,” Hayden was saying. “You did not give me a chance to explain.”

“Explain what?” the countess said.

Yes, explain what? Madeline had to bite her tongue to keep from echoing the question.

She had the horrible sensation that a pantomime was being performed all around her and she was the only one who hadn’t read the script.

Everything about this was wrong, and yet everyone was acting like it was all right. Like this was how society conducted its affairs. In young ladies’ bedrooms in the middle of the night.

“My apologies for alarming you,” he said to the countess, but his gaze flickered over to Madeline. She saw a question there, and she nodded.

What was she agreeing to? She wasn’t certain.

But did she have any choice?

“I ought to have announced myself properly,” he was saying. And oh, his manners. His speech was fine and his smile so charming. “I was not certain if I ought to speak to your husband, your son, or you yourself, you see.”

Her mother’s smile reminded Madeline of a snake about to strike. “And what is your offer?”

“My offer?” He turned to her with a smile she couldn’t match. “Why, it’s marriage, of course. If she’ll have me.”

Madeline’s lips parted but no sound came out.

What was happening?

This man didn’t even know her. And he was a marquess. Why was he proposing marriage?

Because he has to, you ninny.

Some part of her mind was still able to reason. That part of her brain felt suddenly removed from the situation. Like there was some corner of her mind watching this entire scenario unfold from a distance.

Almost as if it were all happening to a stranger.

And so, yes, she could understand now why he’d so willingly go along with her mother’s suggestion of marriage. It was either that or have his reputation destroyed and quite possibly die in a duel.

Marriage or death. And he’d chosen her.

She supposed she ought to be flattered that marriage to her was preferable to death.

Bitter humor made her lips twitch even as horror rose. Because the countess and this strange man were now making arrangements to meet again in the morning when they could discuss it properly.

Properly. As if anything about this was proper. Or even sane.

“We shall have to discuss the terms,” the countess was saying. “But considering I found you alone in my daughter’s room, I imagine you will be quite amenable to my offer.”

It wasn’t a question so much as a threat, but this blasted man—this marquess—smiled benignly as if this were all a common event for him. “Of course,” he said.

He must be deep in his cups.

He reeked of liquor, certainly, but also that was the only explanation for his easy demeanor in the face of this absurdity. The man had stumbled through her window, and now he was walking away engaged. To the mad earl’s bastard daughter.

But for the love of God, why had he climbed into her room in the first place?

It seemed the countess shared her curiosity because she finally asked what Madeline had been dying to know. “Well, now that we’ve established that you’ll be marrying my daughter just as soon as you’re able, would you mind telling me just what you were doing in here?”

Her gaze was cold as ice as she shot a fierce glare in Madeline’s direction.

Madeline shrank back, but then Hayden caught her hand in his and tugged until she was standing at his side.

Madeline blinked up at him in shock, but he was still smiling charmingly at the countess. “You see, my lady, there are rumors about that the mad—er, that is, the Earl of Ashburn has a daughter…”

The countess’s lips curved into a sneer.

Madeline frowned. A rumor? Yes, her father had been overprotective and had kept her from society but…did truly no one outside these walls know that she was here?

To have this confirmed only solidified the hard knot in her chest. She’d been left here to rot, entirely at the countess’s mercy, such as it was.

His grip tightened on her hand as he continued. “I’ll admit, I’d thought it all a fantastical tale. After all, a sweet young damsel in distress locked away in a tower? Such a thing only happens in storybooks.”

The countess’s whole face was twitching with anger now.

“But here we are.” He said it with a flippant air, yet Madeline could feel the shift in him. The crackle of energy and the new tension that had her holding her breath. Nervous, for some reason, but not on her own behalf.

It was the sensation that always happened before violence broke out…

And Madeline knew it well.

She started to tremble, and that earned her a quick look of concern from Hayden before he turned back to face her mother, who was blustering through her rage.

“Those tales are ridiculous,” she started.

“Are they?” His voice was so unnaturally calm, so terrifyingly gentle.

Her mother seemed to sense it, too, because she did not take the bait.

Mr. Foley, though, was foolish enough to step into the fray. “As you can see, my lord, the girl is alive and well.”

Hayden barely acknowledged the gentleman who’d become her mother’s eyes and ears in society. “Do not address me directly, Foley. Not if you wish to keep your life this evening.”

Foley’s lips curled in a sneer, but he took a step back in self-preservation.

“So, you came here,” the countess said, waving toward the window. “You had the gall to break into my home to…what? See if the rumors were true?”

“I came here to save an innocent young lady,” he said.

Oh dear. Madeline’s legs trembled even more, but not out of fear. Something warm and sweet and completely unfamiliar unfurled in her chest and spread throughout her limbs.

“You came here looking to wed?” the countess scoffed.

“I came here to do whatever it took to save the girl. I have no objection to marriage.”

That cut the countess down a notch, and Madeline felt a flicker of satisfaction seeing her mother’s cold sneer falter.

His grip tightened on hers. She couldn’t have escaped if she’d tried.

But she didn’t try. Where would she go?

It was him on one side and her mother, who intended to sell her off, on the other.

Or you could run away , the voice of reason persisted.

Yes, she could at that.

But surely Hayden would not lock her away in a tower as well. She’d have time to formulate a plan, and?—

“I came here to steal your daughter, if you must know.”

She blinked up at him, that warm feeling fading fast. Steal her? Like she was a treasure chest or a pot of gold? She tugged on her hand, but he refused to let go.

“But you were caught,” the countess taunted.

“Indeed. But that does not change my plan.” He looked bored as he eyed the door behind them. “I’d prefer to leave by the front door, however, if it’s all the same to you.”

“What? You cannot?—”

“I can, and I will take her with me when I leave,” Hayden said. He eyed the countess and then Foley consideringly. “Unless you plan to stop me.”

The countess gasped and sputtered, but Hayden turned to face Madeline with that charming, roguish grin that made her belly flutter. “My dear, is there anything you’d like to bring with you?”

For a moment, she froze.

This was happening.

She was leaving.

She couldn’t breathe or think or react. Until he squeezed her hand. And that was the impetus she needed. “Just this,” she whispered as she held up the small box. He took it from her and tucked it under his arm. “Allow me.” He had to all but drag her toward the countess, who still blocked the door. Her feet and legs refused to work properly.

Madeline flinched away when they got close enough that the countess could strike.

But the countess ignored her and focused solely on the marquess who towered over her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

“Simple.” He grinned. “I’m stealing my bride.”