Chapter 14
Madeline told herself repeatedly how glad she was that Tristan was at his club all day. She took Adam back to Joan when he began to cry, and Joan assured her that ‘the little master’ only wanted his luncheon and would nap for a few hours afterward.
That left Madeline free to wander around the house. If only she had something to do.
To begin with, she went down to the library once more and tried to read Much Ado About Nothing.
The familiar words would not soothe her, however.
She only heard Tristan’s mocking voice echoing the familiar refrain: God keep your ladyship still in that mind; so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face.
Oh, the man was frustrating. She put the play aside with a growl of annoyance and set herself to find a new book. Despite all the exciting-looking books on the shelves, Madeline found that none of them intrigued her. She could not seem to concentrate.
She moved from the library, full of books, which seemed to taunt her, to the large, fancy parlor at the front of the house. She threw herself down on a wide sofa and slumped back.
Now what? She thought miserably. At home, there was always something to do.
The house did not run itself, after all.
There was always Papa, or her books, or something.
The duke’s house ran like a well-oiled machine, without any need for her help.
She wouldn’t even know where to begin if she wanted to help.
A tap came on the door, making her flinch. She straightened up just as a butler—she thought his name was Brown—entered.
“Your Grace, a visitor for you,” the man intoned gravely. “The Duchess of Arkley.”
Madeline beamed. “Charlotte?”
“You’re in there?” came Charlotte’s muffled voice. A moment later, she elbowed past the butler and came bustling into the room. Madeline was on her feet in a moment, wrapping her arms around her friend.
“It feels like an age since I saw you,” Madeline said, her voice muffled in her friend’s shoulder. “How can it only be one day?”
“Your Grace, shall I send in tea and cake?” Brown asked gently. When Madeline pulled back from her friend and caught his eye, she thought she saw a twinkle there.
“No,” she found herself saying. “Charlotte and I are going for a walk. A breath of fresh air, that’s what we need. Perhaps we’ll have tea when we come back.”
“Perfect, Your Grace,” the butler answered, making a neat bow. He retreated, closing the door gently behind him.
“A walk, eh?” Charlotte laughed, catching Madeline’s eye. “I thought you might be too tired.”
Color rushed to Madeline’s face. “I told you, it isn’t that kind of marriage,” she responded tightly. “And I need to stretch my legs. This house is very nice, but there is nothing for me to do inside it but wander around all day. I want air.”
Charlotte gave an understanding nod, but there was a strange look in her eye, as if she could see something Madeline could not.
“Then let’s go,” she said at last.
Fifteen minutes later, the two women were walking, arm in arm, down the street toward the park. It wasn’t quite the fashionable hour for promenading, but the hour was coming soon. A good many people were there already, preparing for the social event that was a walk in the park.
“That’s a pretty pelisse,” Charlotte commented, nodding at Madeline’s gold and brown brocaded pelisse, very neatly matching her gown. “Is it new?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Madeline responded, smoothing the front of the pelisse. “The duke bought it for me.”
“Presents already? Heavens.”
“He bought me dresses and that sort of thing,” Madeline burst out, frowning. “He didn’t tell me. He just had them put in my closet for me to find. Is that normal, Charlotte? This is a marriage of convenience. We aren’t in love. He doesn’t care for me, so why is he doing all of this?”
“Perhaps he likes you more than you think.”
Madeline shuddered. “Don’t say that.”
Charlotte stopped, turning to face her. Her expression was serious and a little perturbed.
“Do you truly hate him?” she asked softly. “If you cannot stand him, Madeline…”
“No, no,” Madeline interrupted. “I don’t… I don’t hate him. It’s complicated.”
“Well, I am your friend. You can explain it to me.”
Madeline closed her eyes briefly. How did she feel about Tristan?
There was no denying that she was attracted to him.
His kiss had seemed to warm her whole body, the heat flying from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet in an instant, sending rushes of sensation everywhere.
It was intoxicating, like how she imagined it would feel to be drunk. Or something along those lines.
He was infuriating, and sometimes he even frightened her a little, but there had been such softness in his eyes when he looked down at Adam.
He cared for his little nephew; that was undeniable.
And he’d done kind things for her, too, like buying all those gowns and whatnot for her. They were beautiful.
Why did he kiss me? That made everything strange.
No, that wasn’t true. Things had felt strange between them before the kiss. The simplest thing to do, in Madeline’s opinion, would be to avoid him. Yes, that was the key. If she kept away from him, that unsettling sensation would leave her alone.
She glanced up and met Charlotte’s eyes, narrowed in something like suspicion.
“Don’t worry about me,” Madeline said at last. “I’m safe, and I do not hate him. I don’t hate anyone. Everything is fine.”
“Hm,” Charlotte said, with a disbelieving sniff. “If you say so. Well, let’s go inside, shall we?”
Madeline followed her friend into the park.
There were neat, gravel-laid trails meandering all over the grass, and hard-packed dirt tracks that led through trees and foliage.
Ladies and gentlemen wandered around in the distance, in twos and threes, craning their necks to see who might be promenading early.
“I don’t much like coming into the Park during the fashionable hours,” Madeline confessed. “It’s too busy, and everybody is looking at me.”
“I hate to tell you, but you’re a duchess now,” Charlotte sighed. “You’ll be looked at very often for the rest of your life. Best to get used to it.”
Madeline didn’t bother arguing. It seemed best to conserve her energy.
They toiled up a long slope, which crested at the top of a low hill overlooking the rest of the park.
Colorful gowns made their slow way along the paths below, some in twos, others escorted by gentlemen.
A gaggle of girls, debutantes, shuffled along, deep in conversation, giggling between themselves and flanked by a tired-looking chaperone.
A sense of unease landed on Madeline’s shoulders. She rolled them, trying to shake off the discomfort. Almost at once, she understood where the feeling had come from.
Almost everybody close enough to glimpse her and Charlotte was gawking at them. One dandy raised a quizzing glass. Madeline felt her cheeks redden and glanced away.
“They’re all looking at me,” she whispered. “Charlotte, I can’t stand it. Let’s go home.”
Before Charlotte could respond, an unfamiliar voice broke into their conversation.
“Ah, Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”
They flinched, spinning around. A tall, curvaceous woman stood there, looking down at them both.
She was exceptionally beautiful, with features that would not have been out of place on a Grecian statue, and a mane of red hair barely contained by a simple knot at the back of her head.
She stared at Madeline, a faint frown between her brows, as if she were trying to work her out.
I have seen her before, Madeline thought, faintly confused. Where have I seen her before?
Charlotte gave a squawk. “I know you! You are Miss Bolt! I saw you perform at the theater last year.”
The woman inclined her head, and at that moment Madeline knew where she’d seen her. This was the woman who had sat beside Tristan at the poetry night.
“Yes, Miss Bolt,” Madeline managed. “I saw you at La Vestal. You were very good.”
“Yes,” Miss Bolt answered simply. “I was. Forgive my speaking to you without an introduction, but you must know that people in my circle do not bother with such formalities. It slows things down, you know.”
“I’m sure,” Madeline echoed. She felt the urge to stand on her tiptoes, although that would still not put her on Miss Bolt’s eyeline. Not even close.
“I came to speak to you because I simply had to offer my congratulations,” Miss Bolt continued, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “You are a duchess now, and you caught a man deemed uncatchable.”
Madeline blushed. “I did not catch him.”
“I was acquainted with your husband, you know,” Miss Bolt added after a moment. “He has many unusual hobbies that society is unaware of. A love of poetry, for example.”
The hair on the back of Madeline’s neck began to prickle. She was aware of Charlotte stiffening beside her. Swallowing, Madeline glanced at her friend.
“Charlotte, would you give Miss Bolt and me a moment?”
Charlotte did not seem pleased, but she gave a brusque nod and stamped off to a respectable distance, her arms folded tight. Madeline turned back to Miss Bolt, who was smiling faintly.
“They say you are a dull little wallflower, Your Grace,” Miss Bolt remarked. “But I suspect you have hidden depths. Are you fond of poetry?”
Madeline reminded herself that Miss Bolt could not possibly recognize her from that poetry night, as they had all been masked. To be sure, Madeline’s mask was only a domino, and perhaps she had caught a glimpse… no, that couldn’t be true.
She lifted her chin.
“As much as anyone is. What do you want, Miss Bolt?”
The taller woman looked distinctly amused at this. “You can be sharp when you want to, can’t you? If the circumstances were different, perhaps you and I might have been friends.”
“And what are these circumstances of which you speak? I shall assume you were once an intimate acquaintance of my husband’s.”