Chapter Fourteen
May 29, 1815
Madeline passed a restless night. Sleep didn’t come easily following Ravenhurst’s outburst and his tantrum where he broke things within the dining room. What had happened after she’d fled and then locked herself in her room?
At one point during the early hours of the morning, she could have sworn she’d heard light knocking on her door, but when no one tried the knob or had come in, she’d relaxed into the pillows, but she couldn’t help wondering if it had been the duke at the door. Had he come to apologize? To convince her not to go? To ridicule her for her decision?
Despite the smallest hope her heart harbored, she knew he wouldn’t have come to tell her that he loved her. How silly of her to even think that might be a possibility. The duke was far too troubled for all that, and until he sorted out the mess of his mind, he couldn’t align himself with anyone else.
Please, please don’t throw away your life merely because you believe you haven’t a future.
When the maid came in and helped her with a toilette, she donned the same day dress she’d worn after that first coupling with Alexander when he demanded she put on one of his shirts. Did it make her a silly goose for keeping that garment? Currently, it had been carefully folded and hidden in the bottom of the valise her maid at home had packed for her. It would be the only thing she had to remind her of him, and it still smelled of his cologne. When times were horrid in her immediate future, she could surreptitiously pull that shirt out and remember this extraordinary week she’d spent with the duke, and she could dream that fate might have chosen a different path for her.
If her brother hadn’t been such an arse.
After securing her hair in a loose chignon, and having no more reason to linger in her bedchamber, for her stomach’s growling demanded she find breakfast, Madeline left her room. Though she glanced down the corridor toward the ducal suite, she saw no sign of Ravenhurst. Worry knotted in her belly, and as she went downstairs to the second level, she fought off the urge to cry. No doubt later this afternoon, Ravenhurst would either drive her to London himself or demand that someone from the manor do it for him.
What if I don’t want to go?
As if anyone had ever considered her needs or wants before. Her mother and grandmother had been the only people in her life to encourage her to live her own dreams, to go against the dictates of responsibility and society.
Yet she hadn’t listened, and now she was trapped.
By the time she reached the morning room where she’d taken breakfast for the past two days, it was a battle to keep the tears at bay. Unfortunately for her, Mrs. Duvall as well as Mr. Anders were seated around the round table. With a sigh, Madeline slipped into one of the two free chairs. She bounced her gaze between the housekeeper and the butler.
“Why do I have the feeling you both aren’t here to give me good morning greetings?” And she no doubt looked like a fright. Her face was puffy after last night’s restlessness, and her eyes were red rimmed. “I don’t know either of you well, but I do know you are curious, and you truly care about the people beneath this roof, so if you have a question for me, please ask it.” Her stomach chose that moment to let out a loud growl that tugged a small grin from her. “But do it while I eat breakfast?”
“Of course, dearie.” Mrs. Duvall stood up from the table. “How much of an appetite do you have this morning?”
Madeline shrugged. “My stomach says a large one, but I’m not feeling the same way.”
Then the butler stood. “I shall pour you a cuppa. That always makes everything better.”
“Thank you.” Anders truly was a good man. How he’d become employed in the duke’s household she hadn’t a clue, but Alexander should be truly grateful.
“Um… where is Ravenhurst? I thought he might at least join me for breakfast since he’s said he’s sending me back to London later.” Would the tears ever stop? When she wiped at the most recent one that escaped, Mr. Anders was there with a linen serviette.
“Again, thank you.” She sniffled, but then the butler put a steaming cup of tea on the table for her and added a small lump of sugar to the amber beverage.
“As for His Grace,” the butler said while he resumed his chair. “He rode out early this morning. To my knowledge, he hasn’t returned. Something about wishing to tour the estate before the rain started. Said he might not have a chance to see it again.” Anders exchanged a glance with Mrs. Duvall as she brought over a plate loaded with all Madeline’s favorite breakfast foods. “I hope he’s not planning to do something irresponsible.”
The housekeeper snorted. “Haven’t his actions since returning to England been exactly that? Touting about revenge, kidnapping Miss Hardesty, searching the manor for a pistol?”
Madeline gasped. “He wants a pistol?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Duvall nodded. “Lord only knows why, but I can suspect.”
After she ate a few bites of the fluffy scrambled eggs and the hamsteak, Madeline chased it with a swallow of tea. “The duke wishes to finish having his revenge on the Marquess of Inglehart, whom I’m scheduled to wed in just two days.” The urge to throw up the few bites of food she’d just eaten was strong. After gulping more tea, she had the reaction under control. “I think he wishes to kill the marquess.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Duvall slipped into her chair next to Anders. “His Grace has certainly floundered, hasn’t he?”
“He has,” Anders said with a sage nod. “I tried to talk some sense into him.”
“As did I,” the housekeeper said with a frown.
“It hasn’t done much good, I’m afraid,” the butler continued. “Neither have visits from his friends. I despair of him being the duke that his father was.”
“That’s largely unfair.” A bit of Madeline’s newfound spirit rallied as she bounced her gaze between them. “Of course he won’t be a duke like his father was. It’s impossible. Too much has befallen him, and those experiences have shaped the man that he is. However, he can be as good a duke as his father or perhaps he can ever surpass what his father did, but none of that will happen if he doesn’t pull his head from his arse.”
Silence followed her statement, which made heat fire through her cheeks.
“I apologize. That wasn’t well done of me.”
“It was quite appropriate under the circumstances, dear.” Mrs. Duvall patted her hand. “We all agonized about his whereabouts when he was gone. It was Mr. Anders’ father who had been incapacitated when the two men broke into the townhouse that fateful night.”
“Oh, my.” Madeline hung on the other woman’s every word. “Then what he said was true? It was Inglehart and a friend who killed Alexander’s—er I mean Ravenhurst’s—parents?”
“It was.” Anders nodded. His long hands remained wrapped around his teacup. “There had been snatches of rumors for years, but over time, everyone forgot about His Grace. They forgot about the murders. Forgot about what Lord Inglehart did.” His shrug lifted his bony shoulders. “But when His Grace returned, we considered it a miracle, and we welcomed him back with rejoicing.”
“Except it is all too obvious he has changed,” Mrs. Duvall interrupted with a frown. “There is no longer any happiness in him, I fear, any goodness. Why, he made quite a mess of the dining room last night.” She tsked her tongue. “After he ordered you out, he destroyed another shelf as well as beat a chair into the table and wrenched a painting from the wall. Hundreds of pounds in damage, I’ll wager.”
“That is unfortunate, and his temper is an issue.” Again, Madeline shook her head. She quickly swallowed the mouthful of eggs she’d just eaten. “But you’re wrong. Deep down, he is still a good man. I have seen that in his eyes. It is merely buried under years of grief, anger, and confusion.”
For long moments, the two stared at her. Then the housekeeper spoke, “After everything he’s done to you in his twisted plans, you will defend him?”
“I must. After everything, he has shared so much of himself. I understand him so much better. Of course, I don’t condone his need for revenge or even for killing, but that is a choice only he can make.” She pressed her lips together. “I have only known him for five days, but in that time, I’ve…” A sigh escaped. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”
The housekeeper exchanged a speaking glance with the butler. “Can you find it in your heart to stay with him, Miss Hardesty?” The pleading in her tone spoke volumes, as did the sadness in her eyes. “His Grace is a much better man with you here. Why, I have even seen him smile a few times while walking through the corridors.”
“Yes.” Anders nodded with enthusiasm. “And once I heard him laugh when joking with one of the footmen. Laughing!” He chuckled himself. “It has been an age, certainly.”
“Thank you for telling me that. It means so much.” Once more, tears sprang into Madeline’s eyes. “If he would only believe that he’s a good man, he would see things differently.”
“Please stay on, Miss Hardesty,” Anders implored. “You are of the beau monde . Far beneath his circle, of course, but that shouldn’t matter if love is involved.”
Heat seeped into her cheeks. “But it’s not, so there is no reason for any of that. I don’t belong here or with the duke, which is why he is sending me back later today.” Which brought home the desperation of her situation. “I have no choice. If I don’t marry the marquess, my brother will find trouble from Inglehart’s reach. He owes coin to many, many men, and if the marquess reneges on buying those vowels, I can’t imagine what will become of Richard.” She swallowed around the ball of tears in her throat. “It’s an impossible situation, and one in which my father’s memory will be tainted, the family name stained, while I’ve been ruined beyond what anyone would overlook.” A sob escaped her, and she sniffled into the linen serviette. “As much as I don’t want to do this, I must. At least I will circumvent scandal, even if it puts me in the proverbial fire.”
Not even love could unravel the mess she’d landed in.
“Well, don’t cry, dear.” Mrs. Duvall patted her hand again. “We shall continue to go forward, just as we have always done. And we shall not give up on our prayers.”
Madeline nodded. “Promise me that under no circumstances will either of you let him have a pistol. I… I couldn’t bear it if he did something to himself that resulted in death.”
“We will work to make certain that doesn’t happen,” Anders assured her, but they exchanged frowns.
What would become of Alexander after she was gone?