Page 46 of What A Rogue Wants (Lords Of Deception #1)

Twenty-Eight

Madelaine bit her lip with uncertainty. Even if she could bring herself to abandon her father, would Grey let her escape?

She harbored no illusions that she could get away from him unless he willingly let her go.

If he had really loved her he might, but if he’d been using her, she didn’t stand a chance.

How to ferret out which was the truth. Before she could decide, he faced her and stared for a long moment like he might stare at a snake set to strike.

“Come.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

She didn’t resist. What was the point? His look of disgust said everything.

He’d never let her escape. As they entered the house, angry voices drifted toward them.

Grey paused midway down the hall as if trying to decide whether to take her with him or leave her here.

Making up his mind, he tugged her down the hall and stopped in front of a door that led into what appeared to be the king’s audience room.

Madelaine gasped as she peered into the room.

His Majesty’s hair stuck out in spiky patches from his head.

He seemed nothing like the orderly king she was used to seeing.

His clothing was a wrinkled mess and a shadow of stubble covered his normally rosy cheeks.

And his eyes… She shivered at the sight of his wild eyes.

He looked angry enough to kill someone. He struck out at one of his pages while the other one advanced toward the king.

“You deceived me,” the king said to the room full of men. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the dark, unyielding tone held the promise of retribution. The king’s sudden change of demeanor made the hairs at the back of her neck rise.

She tensed, expecting someone to demand she and Grey leave at once, but no one spared them notice. She tried to capture Grey’s attention, but his focus was riveted to the scene before him.

The king advanced once again on the servant. “You cannot keep me here.”

In answer, the taller of the two pages reached out to restrain His Majesty.

The king slapped the man’s hand away. “You dare to touch your king!”

The page’s eyes widened as if he was at a loss for what to do. A man with a shock of white hair moved cautiously toward the king, a needle gripped in his hand. “Your Majesty,” he implored.

The king jerked toward the man. “You cannot make me eat! You cannot make me sleep!” The king pounded his fist against the chair he stood in front of. “Where is my queen? Where are my daughters?”

“Please, Your Majesty.” The physician, because surely he was one, tried to inch toward the king once more.

“Stay back,” the king hissed. “I don’t trust you. You lured me from my home with lies.”

Madelaine’s blood ran colder than the wintery waters of the river by her house. Beside her, Grey tensed. Was the king now insane? Was this what her father feared would come to pass and why he’d betrayed his liege? She swayed with the emotions of relief and pity.

“Your Majesty,” the physician tried again, his tone dropping close to a whisper. “No one wants your throne.”

A strangled laugh escaped the king. “Everyone wants my throne, right down to my eldest son.”

Madelaine nearly gasped. How right he was. She didn’t think the king was insane. He was sick, and he was angry because he knew many of those he needed to trust most were untrustworthy. Would turn on him. As her father had.

The king swung toward the door, and Madelaine hurried to scurry out of his way and the fury blazing from his eyes. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze widening for a moment as he assessed her, and then he inclined his head, once again every bit the strong leader, the noble king.

Her heart squeezed for him and what he must be enduring. To be unsure of your own mind and then to think you could not count on those around you to stand by you, her father included. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Lady Madelaine, to what do we owe this honor?”

She dropped to a curtsy, unsure what to say.

When she stood, it was as if the tension of the room had drained away.

“Your Majesty, I’m being escorted back to the castle by Lord Grey.

” She regarded Grey. Let him tell the king she was a traitor, she’d not name herself so, even if it was now true.

She loved the king, and if the decision had been hers alone to make—the truth struck her.

By God, she would have never made the decision her father had.

“Lord Grey? I thought not to see you for some time. Do you not have business elsewhere?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but Lord Pearson charged me with seeing Lady Madelaine to her home and then back to Windsor first.”

The king’s mouth turned downward. “Come to my chambers. It seems we need to talk.” Command given, he exited the room, his gold-threaded robe flying out behind him.

Grey grabbed Madelaine’s hand and pulled her behind him, and within a few moments she sat in a room and wrapped her hands around her waist to hide their shaking.

The king swept his gaze over her. “You have your mother’s eyes, rich amber like the finest tea in the kingdom.”

“You remember my mother?” Madelaine asked in surprise.

The king smiled, the act transforming his haggard face and making him appear almost healthy for a moment.

“But of course. I remember all beautiful women, but especially one who served my queen with such graciousness.”

Madelaine caught her breath. Thank goodness the king didn’t know how her mother had really felt about the queen. That would not help Madelaine to plead her case now. “My mother was very pleased to serve you,” Madelaine said, glad she could craft an answer that was not a lie.

The king leaned back in his chair. “I know. I admired your mother. It’s why I married her to your father. I thought to do her a service, but I fear I dealt them both a disservice.”

“I never knew you suggested my father marry my mother.”

The king chuckled. “I didn’t suggest it, Lady Madelaine.

I commanded it, which is what kings do. Yet sometimes, even kings make a mistake, which is why I surround myself with wise men to counsel me.

” The king focused on Grey. “Lord Grey, see Lady Madelaine to the library and then you and I shall speak.”

Madelaine stood and curtsied. Her eyes watered with emotion.

His Majesty was obviously very astute when he was in his right mind.

Anger flared in her. Her father was wrong.

The king could rule, if strong men would help him as her father should have kept doing.

Had he tried? Had he tried and the king refused?

If not, she couldn’t fathom what had turned her father against the man he’d served his entire life.

Madelaine stayed in the seat where Grey had deposited her with instructions not to move a muscle.

But the more she thought things over the more she decided she had every right to know what her fate was going to be.

She eyed the closed library door and then the closed door that led to the king’s private chambers adjacent to the room she sat in.

One thing she’d grown good at over the years was eavesdropping to learn if her parents were fighting.

That way she knew when to try to avoid her mother.

She could hear secrets outside the thickest door so long as there was a crack at the bottom.

The ornate door to the king’s private chamber with the sun filtering into the library from the bottom was no different than the less expensive door in her home.

She rose, careful not to make a sound, and crept over to the library door where she turned the lock to ensure she would not be discovered.

Then, with a thudding heart, she tiptoed to the adjacent door and sinking to her knees, pressed close to the ground and the space where the sun shone in.

She couldn’t see anything but that hardly mattered, she knew the king’s voice.

“Terrible business,” he said, paper crinkling on the other side of the door. Had Grey given the king back his paper? Was her father now condemned? Was she condemned?

“Sire, what do you wish me to do?” Grey asked.

Drumming—fingers on a table perhaps—came from the room.

“I don’t know. I cannot ignore my own culpability.

I knew Stratmore was angry when I forced him to leave France.

He was sure Sutton was alive, and he could save him.

I was sure I’d lose one more good and loyal spy if Stratmore stayed to try to find Sutton.

Even after we found Sutton’s ring, I could see the anger toward me in Stratmore’s eyes.

I think he blamed me for Sutton’s death.

He thinks I made the wrong decision, but damn it—”

The bang on the other side of the room was followed by the sound of something—glass—which fell and shattered. Madelaine inhaled a steadying breath and pressed closer to the floor.

“I didn’t make the decision alone. I sought your father’s advice as I will now seek your brother’s. I know my limitations with my malady.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

A chair squeaked, and suddenly the shadow of shoes fell by the door. Madelaine rested her hands against the floor, held her breath and prepared to jump and run to her chair if the door started to open.

“I want you to vow something to me, Lord Grey, as I made your brother vow and your father before him.”

“Of course.”

“If you see that my mind is too addled to rule, and your brother agrees, I have written my express wishes that my son rule as regent. The paper is locked in the gold box in my room at Windsor. Your brother knows the box. Take the paper, get it to the prince, and I’ve no doubt he’ll be happy to take my throne from me. Vow this to me.”

“I vow it,” Grey swore, his voice trembling.

Madelaine rose on shaking legs and made her way to the chair.

She sunk down and buried her face in her hands, struggling to contain her sobs for her king, her father and herself.

Father was a fool. He’d betrayed his king when there was no need, and she’d willingly gone down with him. Maybe she was a fool too.

What had driven Father’s choices? Had he done it because of an old anger about being forced to marry Mother?

Or maybe the king forcing Father to leave a comrade he didn’t know for certain was dead?

Had that been the thing that turned Father?

It didn’t matter. The deed was done. Even now, Grey was probably telling the king of her part. Soon she’d be locked in the tower.