Chapter 15
“Iam certain that the dressmaker purposely designed this garment to induce apoplexy in the local clergy,” Madeline murmured at her reflection. “And the elderly dowagers.”
She preened in front of the full-length mirror, having never owned one before. Gertie was at her back, a silver-backed hairbrush at the ready in her hand, her eyes taking in the purple silk.
“It is very fashionable, Your Grace,” she murmured with admiration. “It is the French style, is it not? The lace is beautiful, and the purple stands out because you rarely use the color.”
“You are right. I often use yellows, oranges, and pinks,” Madeline confirmed, as she smoothed her palms down the exquisite fabric. “This is a change, and I am surprised that I like it. Do you think it is too daring?”
The dress was not immodest, but it did skim the very edge of appropriateness, exposing more of her décolletage.
She told herself this was her best move after that night. It had been a few days since Kenneth tormented her with his fingers. She could still remember how the pressure coiled in her belly built to a crescendo.
It is unfair that I must bear these maddening thoughts while he remains so unaffected!
Kenneth continued with his usual tasks and responsibilities as if nothing had happened. The way he greeted her coldly remained. She would not wait for him to change the way he treated her. She had to do something.
“I do not think it is too daring, Your Grace,” Gertie said, as Madeline retreated to her seat so that her maid could finish styling her hair. “It suits you perfectly.”
“Thank you, Gertie,” Madeline said, as the last pins were placed in her hair. “I think I need to pinch my cheeks a little so that I will not look like a ghost, though.”
“You look wonderful, Your Grace, if I may say so myself,” Gertie said with a grin.
For the past few days, Madeline had been distracting herself from the phantom ache that seemed to have lodged itself in her core. The mere thought of her husband made her squeeze her thighs together.
What has become of me?
The best distraction was the most boisterous members of the household, Alexander and Emily.
She had been wandering the gardens with the children.
She told them stories, some from her own books and some from Portia’s when she was much younger.
In turn, they relayed stories of their little adventures.
“That was how I got this blasted scar, Aunt Maddy,” Alexander ended a story of him climbing up one of the trees in the garden.
“It is a reminder not to do it again,” Emily said with a mischievous grin. The little girl also had her own share of misadventures, with bruises and scars to remind her, but she felt she just had to tell her brother to behave better.
“Please, Alex. No more swearing,” Madeline gently said with a wagging of an index finger. “You are a gentleman of the house. You do not require such language to make yourself understood. People will more likely want to hear what you have to say when you are not coarse or rude.”
“Understood, Aunt Maddy,” he said with a suspiciously angelic smile.
“And Emily. A young lady should not wipe her ink-stained fingers on her skirts,” she said to the older child.
“Yes, Aunt Maddy.”
To her delight, the children seemed to be willing to listen to her.
They had leaned into her warmth like little seedlings that had not received proper care beforehand.
Laughter replaced their solemn silences and enthusiastic swearing.
They had promised, by crossing their fingers over their hearts, to guard their overall behavior.
It was all that Madeline could wish for.
It made her days so much easier, with the children so amiable and obedient.
The dress, though, was only half of tonight’s plan.
Fear had failed her, so she had moved down her list to disgust, which seemed a far simpler emotion to provoke. No man could school his face into stone when something truly vile touched his tongue. Even Kenneth, she reasoned, must have a limit.
To that end, she had spent the better part of the afternoon in the kitchens, producing what Madeline privately judged to be the most revolting dessert ever to leave a ducal kitchen.
She had been rather liberal with the salt.
And the vinegar. And one or two things she suspected did not belong in a custard at all.
If the purple silk did not crack him, the custard surely would.
That night, the dining room felt more cavernous than ever. She and Kenneth contributed to the illusion of expanding space with their silence. Only the gentle, somewhat refined clattering of silver against porcelain could be heard.
Madeline’s sharp eyes noticed that when she entered the room, Kenneth’s movements became more rigid.
He held his wine glass tightly but refused to look at her directly.
She tried to hold back her frustration, remaining unnoticed in her purple dress for a while.
Even silence was not permanent because Malcolm, Alexander, and Emily were with them.
The space between her, seated at the foot of the table, and Kenneth, at the head, kept her from making any contact with her husband.
To Kenneth’s right, Malcolm was already dozing off like an old man.
By the time the main course and the heavier dishes had been cleared, he had already succumbed to the spirits.
His chin rested against his chest, and a snore escaped his lips.
Across the table from him, his children exchanged a look of mischievous understanding.
Madeline could only hope that they would be content with just a look.
“Alex,” Emily whispered, nudging her brother with her elbow. “Papa is fast asleep!”
“I think we should wake him up,” Alexander whispered back. “I bet I can hit him on the nose.”
Alexander then did what Madeline never expected. He took a piece of roasted chestnut and threw it at his father.
“Alex, no!” Madeline began as she reached out to the boy. However, she was a couple of seats away and too late.
Thwack.
The chestnut did not strike Malcolm on his nose, but it did hit right on his chin.
He groaned, mumbling something unintelligible.
Madeline could swear he was talking about horse racing, but it could be something else entirely.
Emily was giggling, barely even hiding it.
Then, she threw bread crusts three times in a row before Madeline could do anything.
“Emily! What did we say? Ladies do not—”
“Yes, I know, Aunt Maddy. But gentlemen should not fall asleep at dinner either!”
“Damned right!” Alex chimed in to Madeline’s absolute horror.
“Alexander. Emily.”
Kenneth’s voice barely rose. It was his normal volume, with an icy edge. It cut through the dining hall like an icicle. The children instantly stopped, one last bread crust slipping from Emily’s fingers onto the table’s linen cloth.
Kenneth looked especially grave as he set his fork down on his plate. It was gentle and soundless, but the children followed his every move with wide eyes. There was not one shred of amusement in his expression.
“You have broken the rules once more at the dining table. You have played with your food, forgotten your manners, and disrespected your father and aunt. Because of all this, you are excused from the table and must go straight to your room with no toys or books. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Uncle,” both children replied.
“Nanny,” Kenneth addressed the shadow waiting at the doorway. “Take the children upstairs. They will be retiring tonight without any dessert.”
There was a stifled groan from Alexander, and Emily looked like she might burst into tears, but neither complained. Eyes downcast, they slid from their chairs noiselessly and followed their nanny.
Once the two children were gone, Kenneth turned to his brother. He reached out, one large hand shaking Malcolm’s shoulder.
“Wake up, Malcolm,” he said, a little louder than he usually talked to his brother. He never shouted. For that, Madeline had to admit she could admire him.
“W-what? Did everyone leave already?” Malcolm asked, his eyes unfocused. “Are we going to the races now?”
“Races? You are in the dining room, Malcolm, setting a terrible example to your children,” Kenneth corrected, his voice nearly a low growl that made Madeline shiver a little. “Go to your room, and sleep in your own bed.”
Malcolm groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
He looked miserable, broken, and still inebriated.
He did not argue with his brother at all.
Instead, he simply pushed himself up from the table, nodding weakly at Madeline before stumbling out of the dining room.
One footman looked like he wanted to help Malcolm, but Kenneth shook his head.
“Let him be.”
Madeline stayed quiet and still in her seat.
She suddenly realized she had not been eating the entire time.
She was surprised to find herself walking into the dining room defiantly, but now she felt a warm undercurrent toward the man who had made her feel like she was on a battlefield.
He commanded authority, as expected, but he genuinely seemed to care for his family.
“That was very... caring of you,” she murmured.
She did not intend to say those words out loud. Kenneth did not look at her. Instead, he picked up his wine glass again, gripping it as if it might escape.
“I was merely maintaining order.”
“Yes. That is true. But you also cared for them,” Madeline insisted. She leaned forward, a movement she did not exactly plan. When she moved, she realized her neckline was lower than usual. “May I ask about Malcolm’s wife? I do not know exactly what happened to her.”
Kenneth’s jaw clenched. The subject was obviously not something he would like to talk about.
In a flat voice, he replied, “She left them two years ago. It broke Malcolm. He has not been the same man since then. It is why he seeks the comfort of his bottles, not that I am condoning such self-destruction, but he is having a hard time coping with this.”
Madeline felt a twinge of sympathy. It was a situation that she could relate to.
“I have seen the same thing happen to my father. After our mother died... He lost himself in drinking and gambling as well. Like you, I do not condone his actions. He could have been a better father to us. However, he is still struggling with finding his way back to full sobriety.”
“I hope Malcolm gets better,” Kenneth said quietly. “For his children’s sake. Also, for his own.”
“He might, in time.” Madeline turned her glass slowly between her fingers.
“Though I think that the not knowing is the cruelest part of it.
With my father, at least we understood what had broken him.
My mother died, and he was grieving. But Malcolm's wife simply vanished, did she not? With no word, no reason given.” She shook her head.
“To be left in the dark like that, never knowing why, must be a torment all its own. Sometimes I think people believe they are being kind by withholding the truth, sparing someone pain. But a person can come to terms with a hard truth. It is the silence that festers.”
Kenneth went very still.
“You think it kinder to tell a man a truth that will wound him?” he asked.
“I think a man deserves to know the truth of his own life,” she said simply. “However much it hurts. How else can he ever move past it? You cannot mend a wound you are not permitted to see.”
For a moment, Kenneth said nothing at all, and he pushed his chair back, ready to rise and retreat from the difficult conversation.
“Kenneth, wait.”
“What is it, Madeline?”
Kenneth watched his wife. There was certainly something different about her tonight. Yes, she seemed to have come with her own arsenal of seduction. Her neck was bare, and her cleavage more than hinted at the swells of her breasts, which he had not yet touched.
Willpower and pride perhaps gave him the strength to resist her. His nephew’s and niece’s antics, along with his brother’s drunkenness, somehow helped him distract himself.
Madeline was not making it easy for him.
Tonight, she had chosen a color and style so unexpected that he had to stifle a gasp when he saw her.
He hoped she had not noticed. Every primal instinct within him wanted to take her then and there, on the dining table.
He was close to forgetting about all consequences and rules, especially now that the servants had begun leaving with the plates.
Once left alone, he did not know how much he could control.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said innocently. “The servants might be done with us, but that is because I have personally prepared your favorite dessert. I expect you to remain here to enjoy it.”