Chapter 14
Madeline followed in Rosalie’s wake as the duchess swept down the dimly lit hall towards the drawing room.
Both ladies were dressed for dinner, Rosalie in a very fine gown of sapphire, trimmed in gold thread, and cut to accommodate her growing size.
Madeline wore Rosalie’s emerald gown with the square cut bodice that was cut a little too low for Madeline’s comfort.
“Are you sure about this?” Madeline murmured.
“Absolutely,” Rosalie replied, smiling at a passing maid. “No one is so capable as Burke at assisting with an intrigue.”
“I’d hate to bother him with my troubles.”
“Nonsense,” she said with a laugh. “He’ll be thrilled. The man lives to meddle in other people’s lives.”
Madeline didn’t doubt it. Horatio Burke was an enigma. He fit into any room, and he knew everyone. She shuddered to imagine the secrets lurking behind those stormy grey eyes.
A pair of footmen opened the doors to the drawing room, letting the ladies enter. It was a beautiful room, comfortable and well proportioned, with a blaze of a fire and several candelabras offering warmth against the winter chill.
“Well, this is a surprise,” called Mr. Burke.
“You’re never down this early.” He was on his feet, a wide smile on his face, eyes only for the duchess.
Heavens, but he was handsome. Tall and broad shouldered, with a full head of inky black hair and those striking grey eyes.
They narrowed under dark brows as his gaze fell to Madeline.
“Ahh, so it is true. Madeline, how wonderful to see you again.”
“Mr. Burke, good evening,” she replied, dipping into a slight curtsy.
Mr. Burke pursed his lips in annoyance. “How many times must I ask you to drop the formalities and call me Burke?”
She couldn’t help her smile. It had always been his way to be overly informal with everyone. “At least once more, Mr. Burke.”
“The house is positively abuzz with gossip,” he said, coming around the sofa with a hand outstretched towards Rosalie. “The footmen were telling such a tale. Lady Madeline Blaire arrived from London unexpected and unchaperoned. I had to see it to believe.”
Madeline stilled. Who was gossiping about her?
Mr. Warren? Could the staff really be trusted to keep the gossip within the boundaries of the estate?
Oh, this was a disaster. The gossip would surely spread back to London like a wildfire.
How many days did she have before her father descended in a red rage, determined to drag her off.
Rosalie took Mr. Burke’s hand, and he led her to a chair. “Don’t tease her, Burke. It’s been a trying time.”
Madeline sat on the sofa opposite them.
Mr. Burke glanced from Madeline back to the duchess, dragging a hand through his hair in that practiced way of confident men. “Well, I can tell by your faces that this is serious. So, tell me, are we getting Madeline into trouble or out of it? Either way, you have my help.”
Rosalie flashed him a warm smile. “We knew we could count on you.” She turned to Madeline. “Why don’t you fill him in.”
Madeline swallowed her groan of frustration. How many times was she going to have to recount this drama? “I suppose the long and short of it is that I need to get married as soon as possible.”
Mr. Burke let out a soft chortle. “Well, that’s hardly news. What unmarried lady doesn’t seek a proper match?” He glanced over at Rosalie and winked. “Apart from you, of course, Your Grace.”
“You’re not listening,” Rosalie replied. “She needs to be married as soon as possible, Burke. We cannot delay.”
He sat forward, glancing at Madeline again. “Legally married?”
Rosalie huffed. “Of course, legally, Burke.”
He was quiet for a moment, his brows lowering. Suddenly, they shot up. “Ohh, so are you . . .” He let his gaze point to Rosalie’s hands folded demurely over her ample middle.
Madeline gasped. “I am not with child, sir,” she cried, heat blooming in her cheeks.
“There are other reasons for marriage, Burke,” Rosalie added.
“Sorry,” he replied, raising his hands. “I’m just trying to puzzle it out.” He glanced back at Madeline. “So, you need to marry. Does it need to last?”
Madeline blinked. “What can you mean, sir?”
“I’m assuming, with such a short time frame, and no impending happy announcement, that there is some other more urgent business attached to the being married,” he explained. “Why must it happen now? What will you escape or stand to gain?”
She glanced at Rosalie and the duchess gave her a little nod.
“An inheritance,” she replied. “My late aunt left me her fortune. To claim it, I must be married before the end of my twentieth year. So, I need a husband,” she finished with a shrug. “Now.”
Gracious, when she said it aloud, it made her feel no better than any of the dozens of men who sniffed about her in search of a dowry.
But this money was hers by right, and that made all the difference.
Aunt Maude wanted her to have it. The men of the ton were constantly chasing after money that wasn’t theirs.
How ludicrous that she lived in a society where a law could force her to marry in order to claim a fortune legally left to her!
“Damn,” he muttered. “That’s . . . well, if you expect the banns to be read you only have . . .” He did the mental math, his frown deepening.
“Today,” Rosalie replied for him. “The banns would need to be read today to make it by the end of the year.”
Madeline groaned again, pressing the palm of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, this is impossible, isn’t it? I’m mad, aren’t I? There’s no way we can find a man in less than three weeks. Not a man of mind sound enough to ever consider me!”
Rosalie and Mr. Burke were both quiet, which was not a comfort.
She dropped her hand to her lap, glancing from one to the other. “Please say something.”
Mr. Burke cleared his throat. “I think this calls for a drink,” he announced, getting to his feet.
The ladies watched as he sauntered over to the sideboard.
He snatched up a carafe and three glasses.
He handed the first off to Madeline, pouring a measure of Madeira into her glass.
Not waiting for the others, she brought the glass to her lips and took a deep sip.
The fruity notes were teased with spiciness.
Before he sat, Mr. Burke topped off her glass with a wink.
He shifted back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee.
“So, you intend to get yourself married in under three weeks, and you’ve come to me to seek out a list of eligible suitors?
You want a man’s opinion on which bachelors of the ton might consider such a rushed affair? ”
“Precisely,” the duchess replied. “You’re far more connected than James. He can’t be trusted to know who the truly intolerable candidates might be. If this were a land deal, then yes. But this is about Madeline’s future happiness, her safety and comfort. We need you, Burke.”
He frowned, taking a sip of his wine. “But the timing doesn’t quite work out. Not with the banns—”
“Banns are not necessarily needed,” Rosalie cut in, clearly trying to bolster Madeline’s hope. “A special license could be obtained. And if he’s not a peer, it’s not necessary at all. They could marry on the morrow without batting an eye.”
Mr. Burke huffed into his glass. “I hardly imagine Viscount Raleigh will be pleased to see his only daughter marry outside the peerage.”
“My father can’t know about this,” Madeline replied quickly.
“He—he would not—” She fell silent, not quite ready to admit to the cruel truth that her own father was in competition with her.
He wanted to see her fail. The pain of that truth was still too raw.
“I am here on my own,” she murmured. “I’m .
. . I do this on my own. I will do what I must to earn this chance at freedom.
If you know of a man, I ask you to tell me. Please, Burke—”
The man was utterly solemn. It was such a strange look on him. He usually overflowed with charm and wit and ready smiles. His eyes looked shadowed as he glanced from Rosalie back to Madeline.
“She would need just the right kind of suitor,” Rosalie explained. “One who can understand her predicament . . .”
He narrowed his eyes at Madeline. “Well, do you have anyone in mind? Anyone you fancy? If we can manage a love match, that would be—”
“No,” she said quickly. “I’m not—that is to say—I’m not the type to go about fancying men. I’ve hardly spoken to a man outside my family, and never without a chaperone present,” she added.
“Hmm, that complicates things,” he admitted. “This would be easier if you had someone in mind.”
She swallowed down her nerves. It was now or never. “My cousin Patrick had a thought.”
They leaned forward with interest.
“Tell us,” said Rosalie.
Biting her lip, Madeline dove in. “Well . . . he suggested that I ask . . . Captain Renley.”
Rosalie’s dark eyes widened while Mr. Burke’s grey ones narrowed.
“Renley as in Tom?” he asked. “Our Captain Renley?”
Madeline shrugged, already sensing the direction this was going.
If she was perfectly honest with herself, she’d been more curious to test the theory than she had been seriously considering him as a suitor.
“Yes, well, he’s always been kind to me.
And as a naval officer, he would understand the nature of a business arrangement such as this.
We could help each other. My dowry could pay for a commission and—”
“No,” came Rosalie’s sharp denial.
At the same time, Mr. Burke huffed and said, “It’s completely out of the question.”
Madeline sank into silence. After a moment she murmured, “What is so ridiculous about the notion?” She dared to glance at Rosalie.
But Mr. Burke spoke first. “Tom is not an option, Madeline. Besides, he’s not even here. How are you to marry a man without him being present for the saying of the vows?”
She glanced sharply at Rosalie. “He’s not? But I thought—”