Chapter 4
ALEXANDER
Barnett eyed the pile of markers on the table, his greed evident.
Only the two of us were left, the stakes high now.
Our third had just lost his winnings and chosen to sit, sipping his brandy and watching.
The money he had lost meant nothing to him, but he was eagerly waiting to see the outcome of the last hand.
If I actually lost, the money would dent but not break my accounts.
If I won, the money meant nothing. It was the land I wanted.
Why the old fool wouldn’t simply sell it to me, I had no idea.
Edward had joined us for the evening’s play, and I was grateful for his presence now as I laid the final trap for Barnett.
“I raise,” I said, knowing this was the moment, as I added my markers.
I knew he didn’t have any of the funds laid on the table and was playing his role well.
I had purposely complained about the cards feeling off, and he had generously opened a new deck.
He had no idea it was not the one he thought it to be. It was time to end this charade.
He narrowed his eyes, and I knew he was looking at the marks on my cards, thinking I was bluffing. Thanks to the special cards and the sleight of hand that Edward had taught me, I was ready for him.
“You were interested in the land I hold beside yours at one time,” he said slowly.
It took everything in me not to react. I lifted one shoulder as if bored. “It was a boy’s idea, which has passed. Now, the state it is in, it has become no longer useful to me.”
“Your farmers could change that.”
“Is that your offering?” I asked, making my voice sound disinterested. “It hardly has much value.”
He nodded, instructing a servant to bring him the deed. When he set it down, I sighed, making it seem as if I was unsure.
“I will add one more thing,” he said abruptly.
I frowned at the unexpected offer.
“Which is?”
“A servant for you.” Something in his voice set my teeth on edge. He looked delighted, as if he had suddenly thought of a plan.
“I have no need of any servants.”
He waved his hand. “This one is special. Been in my house her whole life.” He paused. “Untouched. She will be yours to do with what you wish. In fact, I hope you use her then cast her aside when done.”
I was shocked at his callous tone. Horrified at his suggestion. I met the eyes of Edward, who also looked dismayed.
“I beg your pardon,” I snapped.
He held up his hand. “I mean no disrespect. I know you are a man who prefers experience. Consider this a gift. Whether you win or not.”
I realized he fully expected to win. That, in his twisted mind, I would accept a servant in lieu of funds, never suspecting his fraud.
“Bring her in,” he ordered his butler.
Once again, I met Edward’s gaze, a silent conversation flowing between us. Whoever this servant was, it was obvious Barnett despised her. Wanted her gone and wished for her to suffer.
Nothing prepared me for the young woman who was dragged into the room and pushed in front of me.
I automatically rose to my feet as any gentleman would do when a lady entered.
I had to grab the edge of the table to remain standing.
It was the chit I had seen scurrying away—the one who had captured my interest for some reason. Seeing her fully was a shock.
Draped in a gown that was threadbare and far too large on her small frame, she shrank into herself, as if used to hiding.
Her head was bowed, her shaking arms wrapped around her torso.
Small feet covered in torn boots peeked out from under the useless garment.
It did nothing to hide her form or protect her.
I wondered what the greatest motivation behind her trembling was.
Cold or fear?
I noticed how tiny her hands were that clutched her gown.
Surprisingly long fingers gripped the material—digits so slender they were noticeable even through the gloves she wore.
That oddity caught me off guard, making me wonder why she would have such heavy gloves on at this time of night.
Her arms were rail-thin—in fact, her entire body seemed more childlike than that of a maiden.
Unbound wild, dark hair hid her face. I crossed my arms, feigning disinterest.
“I have no need of a child,” I growled, furious.
Lord Barnett leaned forward, his voice dripping in anger.
“Show yourself, girl. Push that horrid mane behind you and look up. Or bear the taste of my displeasure.” When she didn’t move, he stood. “Your father is speaking!” he roared.
Another jolt of shock hit me.
This was his daughter? Why was she being treated as a servant?
Slowly, she straightened her shoulders, using one hand to push away the heavy tresses. She lifted her head, and our gazes locked. I stepped back in disbelief, barely able to hide my horror and shock.
The face she revealed was that of a beautiful skeleton.
White skin, beyond pale, stretched taut over high cheekbones.
A perfectly formed nose. Small ears. A swan’s neck.
In contrast with her paleness, her lips were full and red, akin to a slash of crimson on snow.
Hers was one of the loveliest faces I had ever beheld with my eyes.
Her hair tumbled past her slender shoulders, and my eyes were drawn to her bosom.
Her breasts were large, heavy. Far too large for her tiny frame. Even standing straight, she tried to hide them, obviously ill at ease.
Her trembling increased as I drew closer. Our eyes met, and I felt the stirrings within my chest as I took in her weary, ancient gaze.
Her eyes were blue—but not the simple blue of the sky or water. They were a shade I could not even describe, that of the ocean on a stormy day, blues and grays mixing and crashing together. Framed by long lashes, they were filled with pain and trepidation.
And pure, abject terror.
I had seen that terror in one other set of eyes. It was a memory I carried close to my heart—which after all these years still had the power to bring me to my knees.
I hadn’t been able to comprehend what I was seeing then, but I recognized it now. And I refused to turn my back on that emotion.
“She’ll do.”
Her eyes widened, her trembling increasing. I wanted to step forward, whisper reassurances that all would be well, but I could not. Any sign of weakness would put both her and me in danger.
My gaze flickered to Edward. I lifted one eyebrow, and his nod was evident only to me.
He would watch her until this was done.
With determination, I returned to my chair, lifting my brandy and tossing it back. “The bet is agreeable. The sum on the table, your deed to the scrub-brush piece of land, and your servant.”
The greedy, inept fool grinned. It was malicious and filled with preemptive victory. “If I win, five thousand pounds is mine.”
I filled a marker and tossed it in the pile. “Agreed.”
MADELEINE
Dismissed from the den of vice in the drawing room by my father, I hastened through the maze of halls belowstairs, tears blurring my vision.
With shaking fingers, I tucked my hair back up into my muslin cap, which had been torn from my head before I entered the room.
The Marquess of Wheaton’s words echoed in my mind, fear clawing at my throat with each hurried step.
She’ll do.
His voice had been deep and mellifluous, but it had been his dark, impenetrable stare that had worried me, as impossible to read as his grim, harsh countenance had been.
He was a much larger man than my father, tall and broad of shoulder with a lean yet muscular build. A man who could overpower me with ease.
I was being presented as a prize to him, as if I were an object or a piece of land. As if I were incapable of feeling. As if I were less than a person. And by the man who had sired me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. My father’s disdain for me was as plain as the nose on my face. But when I had been forced into the drawing room by Mrs. Wells, I hadn’t anticipated the true purpose for my presence would be so horrifying.
I had not been called to clean up spilled wine or to attend to the hearth or to sweep the carpets. Instead, I had been hauled into the room as an offering.
The eyes of every man in the chamber had been upon me, assessing me as if I were a horse on the auction block at Tattersalls. But I was only being presented to one of them. To the marquess.
What manner of man was Lord Wheaton? And for what purposes would I do, as he had so callously stated? If the marquess emerged the victor from the gaming table, would I be forced into servitude at his estate instead of my father’s?
My stomach twisted with dread. Or would I be expected to perform other duties for his lordship?
As I rounded a corner in the dank hall, the sound of a mouse scurrying away distracted me. I turned toward the noise and collided with someone. Fresh alarm crept up my spine as I jerked my head forward, struggling to keep from tumbling to my bottom.
The visage before me was concerned and kindly, thank heavens.
It was Geraldine, an older and experienced maid who had been here at Cliffwood before I was born.
She had been my mother’s lady’s maid, and though my mother was long gone, Geraldine had remained, despite the lesser position she now held as a housemaid.
“Madeleine. Where are you running to in such a state?”
My heart pounded, and my tongue was thick from shock.
I blinked furiously, struggling to catch my breath. “Forgive me, please. I didn’t intend to run into you.”
“You needn’t apologize, dear girl.” Geraldine’s brow creased as she studied me with a concerned expression, her slight French accent easy to discern. “What’s happened?”
“Mrs. Wells ordered me into the card room,” I managed to explain, finding my voice.
“Another spill?” Shaking her head, Geraldine clicked her tongue in disapproval.
“Such careless ways, those gentlemen. I suppose I ought not to be surprised, given all the spirits they’ve requested.
We’ll be needing to haul out the Axminster after this house party, to be sure.
They’ll be requiring more than just a sweeping or a beating with all these stains. ”
I shook my head. “It…it wasn’t for a spill. The baron has wagered me to the Marquess of Wheaton.”
Geraldine’s gray brows snapped together. “Wagered you? What do you mean by that?”
I swallowed hard against a lump of rising panic. “The baron has offered me to Lord Wheaton, along with a piece of land and a sum of money.”
“Offered you?”
Geraldine was aghast.
It was a mercy that my father’s actions were still capable of astonishing her. But then, in my experience, I was alone in bearing the full brunt of his wrath.
I nodded again, incapable of answering.
“But the marquess is a gentleman,” Geraldine protested. “A fine lord, I’m told, with a good reputation. Surely he wouldn’t accept a maid as gaming spoils. Such a thing isn’t done.”
“If he were a fine lord with a good reputation, would he be at the baron’s table?” I asked, giving voice to the fears churning through me.
She faltered, clearly lacking an answer.
“I think not,” I said grimly.
“Oh, my dear girl.”
Geraldine startled me by taking me in an embrace.
Displays of emotion were not tolerated in the baron’s household.
If Mrs. Wells were to come upon us standing idle, putting our own concerns before those of Cliffwood, her rage would know no bounds.
Geraldine did not deserve to suffer a punishment on my behalf.
But I selfishly clung to her anyway, holding her tightly. It wasn’t the first occasion upon which I had needed comfort, but it was the sole time in many years that I had accepted it.
I had endured much during my time at Cliffwood. The prospect of being taken away by a man I didn’t know, however, frightened me more than facing my father’s wrath ever had.
“Perhaps leaving this place isn’t as dreadful as it may seem, Madeleine,” she sought to reassure me. “From all accounts, the Marquess of Wheaton is a man of honor. If he were to take you from Cliffwood, at least you’d finally be free of Lord Barnett.”
I stiffened and slipped from her embrace. My father despised disloyalty. Any hint of it was ruthlessly punished. “You mustn’t say so, Geraldine. ’Tis wrong.”
“It isn’t wrong if his lordship doesn’t hear it. Even if the marquess were to take you as his mistress, it would be a far better life than the one you’re living here. Your dear mother would have wanted more for you than being reduced to Lord Barnett’s servant.”
“My father would not give me to the marquess with the intention that I should become his mistress,” I denied dutifully, although I had already considered the possibility.
I wasn’t sure which knowledge terrified me more, that my father was capable of anything, or that my entire future now depended upon a game of chance.