Madeleine Page 7

  “Seems to me,” Graham said deliberately, “a girl has knocked you down.”

  “Mind your tongue,” Roderick snapped.

  “Why? So you can walk around feeling sorry for yourself for another six months?”

  “Two days,” Roderick said sardonically. “Give me two days, which is as long as she was here, and I’ll have forgotten her.”

  “You might,” Graham allowed. “But by the time you’ve found out you haven’t forgotten her at all, she’ll be long gone. Would you chase after her into England?”

  “What would be the point? She’d already be engaged to Kintyre or whoever else her brother deems wealthy enough.”

  “She might be at that. Which would be a shame.”

  “I’ll live with it,” Roderick retorted, spinning away from the mirror.

  Graham stared at him. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

  Roderick glared back. He’d asked her to promise to make her own decision, not to be pushed into a marriage she did not want. “What do you mean?”

  “Dear God, sir, it’s as plain as the nose on your face, she likes you!” Graham stomped away, yanking back the sheets on the bed with too much force before crossing to the wash stand and pouring a generous amount of water into the bowl.

  Roderick hated himself for the eager questions that he swallowed back in silence. But Graham answered them anyway. “She looks for you when you’re not in the room, when you are, her face lights up. Everything she says, she says to you. Don’t ask me why, for a bigger lobcock I’ve yet to meet!”

  Ignoring this insubordinate language, Roderick sat on the bed and let Graham pull off his boots. He dragged his hand through his hair and tugged. “Stop it,” he exploded. “I don’t want her to care. She shouldn’t care.”

  Graham straightened. “Why not? In what way are you unworthy?”

  Roderick’s lips twisted again. “You know that better than anyone.”

  “You are a gentleman of birth, property, and character. You were a fine officer, honored by Wellington himself. You’ve recovered from a wound few would have survived. And you have the kind of learning and accomplishments people admire.”

  Roderick almost laughed. “Graham, I’m a mess.”

  “You were a bit of a mess,” Graham allowed with deliberate emphasis. “Now, it’s only laziness that prevents you seeking company or entertainment. There is nothing else to keep you from that girl unless it’s cowardice. If you want her, win her. For her sake if not your own.”

  Roderick frowned at him, his brandy-befuddled brain absorbing the words. “I’m drunk,” he said starkly. “And you are talking more rubbish than I. Good night, Graham.”

  “Good night, sir,” Graham said, sauntering away.

  Roderick was sure he was smiling.

  Lying back on his pillows, he gazed up at the stars. He wished he was sober.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time the carriage dropped them at the New Town house of the Duke of Kintyre, Madeleine had already become acquainted with his grace and several other amusing and eligible young men. They had been encountered at the Theatre Royal the previous evening, and all had expressed delight that she would attend the ball the following evening.

  Daniel had looked on benignly, as though he couldn’t be prouder of his sister’s success.

  “You do like the duke?” he said to her now, just before the carriage stopped.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  She knew perfectly well what his question signified, and in truth, she did not care very much whom she married. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had told Roderick Usher her ideal husband was a man who would allow her to come adventuring with him occasionally. The duke, and perhaps a couple of the other wealthy young men, might be so disposed, but for some reason, it was no longer enough.

  A melancholy lurked in her heart, beneath her smiles and ready laughter. Dancing, bantering, even flirting were her weapons against pain. But inside, even as she curtsied to the dowager duchess and was welcomed with delight by the duke, she felt empty. She did not even care much when she intercepted the hostile stares of a group of young ladies seated together beneath the ferocious glare of a careful dowager.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured to Sonya. “How have I managed to offend the local maidens?”

  “Your gown is superior, as is your beauty and charm,” Sonya said bluntly. “But more importantly, you’ve captured the attention of your host.”

  “I haven’t really. And if that’s all it takes to hate me, then I have no desire for their friendship.”

  For years, she gathered, the Duke of Kintyre had been the biggest prize on the marriage mart. That he had not succumbed to the best that London had to offer apparently only inspired the Scottish gentlewomen to redouble their efforts at home. Of course, he had come north with a large party of London friends, too, some of whom Madeleine had already met.

  The duke was a handsome enough man in his middle twenties, perhaps. He was intelligent and had an inquiring mind and amiable manners, though it seemed to Madeleine that a lifetime of being toadied made him both arrogant and careless of others. She had no real objections to his faults. He was simply not different enough from his fellows, despite his rank, to interest her.

  She knew that by the time she had waltzed with him the first time. Nevertheless, she smiled and danced with other young men, for she was never short of partners. Her grace the dowager duchess even singled her out and sat chatting with her for several minutes before she moved on to welcome a late arrival.

  “Well, done, Maddy,” Daniel murmured enthusiastically in her ear. “If you only knew how rare a distinction that is! Such an honor. Oh, yes, the duke has noticed you and his mother has noticed that. They need not care for the size of your dowry.”

  She glanced helplessly up at her brother. “Daniel…”

  But a shadow fell over him, silencing her.

  “Honor me, Miss Deare, with this waltz, too?” It was the duke, returned to her side.

  Her other admirers, waiting for the duchess’s departure, had given way to his rank which was, she thought, rather pathetic. It was the supper dance, too, so they would spend even more time together. Madeleine began to feel hunted, trapped in this social nightmare of etiquette and expectation, but there was nothing for it but to thank him, take his arm, and walk with him onto the dance floor.

  Her gaiety was a little forced, just a little desperate, for her one desire now was to get through the evening. Only many more loomed ahead of her, days and nights without…

  She refused to think about him, tried hard to concentrate on the duke’s words.

  “Good God,” he exclaimed. “It’s Usher. I thought he was dead.”

  At the sound of the name, she forgot to breathe. Her head snapped around, following Kintyre’s wide stare. Her feet stumbled.

  Roderick Usher stood alone at the entrance to the ballroom. He wore black evening clothes with a snowy white shirt and cravat that were probably new. His raven hair was brushed back from his face and looked almost respectable if still unfashionable. For an instant, he stood straight and somehow stiff, and then the duchess was beside him, holding out her hand with what looked like genuine pleasure, and he bowed over it with grace.

  He came. He came after all! Why would he change his mind? Could it be…could it be for me?

  She swallowed, dragging her attention back to the duke. “Why should you think him dead?” she managed.

  “Haven’t seen him for years,” the duke replied. “And I’m sure I heard he’d been wounded at Waterloo.”

  “I believe he has quite recovered. Daniel and I stayed at Usher House on our way here.”

  The duke blinked. “Did you, by God? Then you are old friends?” He sounded almost jealous.

  “Daniel was at school with him. But your grace must surely have invited him?”

  “Oh, I leave most of that to my mother,” Kintyre said carelessly. “It’s her party after all.” He smiled, his gloved fingers g
iving hers a gentle squeeze. “Although I did make sure you were on her list, along with your brother.”

  “How kind of you,” Madeleine said politely.

  “Not kind,” he argued. “Selfish.”

  As he turned her in the dance, she glimpsed Roderick again, with two army officers enthusiastically shaking his hand and thumping him on the back. Her heart soared at his welcome. At his presence. Suddenly, everything was different. Her melancholy had vanished, along with her emptiness, for hope was back. Roderick was here.

  In fact, before they went in to supper, the duke led her across the ballroom to speak to him. Two more gentlemen, one of them in uniform, had joined Roderick’s group by then, and a lady who seemed to Madeleine’s jealous eye, to be a little too friendly with him.

  “Usher, what a pleasant surprise,” the duke greeted him, offering him one gracious hand.

  “Kintyre,” Roderick said with a civil bow that included her. He shook hands briefly with the duke. “I’ve just been apologizing to her grace for failing to reply to her invitation. She has graciously forgiven me, as I hope you will.”

  “Of course, dear fellow. Just glad to see you among us once more! I believe you are already known to Miss Deare.”

  She offered her hand. “An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Usher,” she said politely, and his long, strong fingers closed around hers.

  His eyes met hers at last, and the blazing intensity in them nearly knocked her backward. It swept her breath away and sent joy soaring. Oh, yes, he had come for her.

  “Excuse us, if you will,” Kintyre said amiably. “Supper, you know!”

  Although every instinct drew her to Roderick, she could hardly refuse to accompany her host in to supper. It passed in a blur, the only vivid moments being when she caught sight of Roderick entering the supper room.

  He sat with his friends, a faint smile playing on his sensual lips. Her every nerve tingled, but he seemed contented, and she rejoiced that he’d come, for his own sake as well as for her own disproportional excitement. Without warning, his gaze lifted and caught hers, holding it for one breathless moment.

  “Madeleine.” Sonya’s voice seemed to speak from very far away.

  Reluctantly, Madeleine dragged her gaze free and turned to her friend. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said, I’m going to the cloakroom. You should come with me.”

  She rose at once. “Of course. Excuse me, your grace.”

  As they walked across the supper room to the door, it was Roderick’s gaze she felt burning into the side of her face, but she refused to look at him again.

  “What are you going to do?” Sonya demanded.

  “I’m going to wait,” Madeleine said firmly. “I won’t throw myself at his head just because he chose to attend the same ball.” All the same, she felt her heart about to leap out of her breast.

  Sonya nodded with approval, even as she peered at Madeleine with some anxiety. “You do know you have a chance with his grace?” she murmured, low. “It’s the match Sir Daniel favors.”

  To be a duchess was no small thing. She was aware of it. But perhaps she had been too used to moving in the glittering courts and ballrooms of St. Petersburg, among counts and princes and dukes, and even the emperor. Titles did not excite her any more than wealth.

  The cloakroom was busy with women who hovered between the condescending and the suspicious, so Madeleine merely refreshed herself as quickly as she could and slipped out to wait for Sonya in the lit passage beyond. She paced the length of the lit area, vigorously fanning herself until, at the dim far end, a large male figure strode past and stopped dead at the sight of her.

  She stared at him, her fan frozen, for this was female territory. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  “Looking for you.”

  “Why?” she asked starkly.

  “To ask you to dance. I thought I’d get ahead of the pack.”

  “I’m waiting for Sonya,” she said, sounding lame to her own ears.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She stared at him. “You think I should dance with you just because you are here?”

  “No. But I’m hoping you will.”

  “Go away, Rod—” she began.

  “Your duenna is coming,” he interrupted, bowing in the direction of Sonya who scuttled up the passage toward them. And then he strolled away.

  Madeleine hurried to meet Sonya, who immediately demanded, “Who was that?”

  “Mr. Usher. It was an accidental meeting, but he was looking for me.” Or said he was.

  “Why?” Sonya demanded suspiciously.

  “To ask me to dance, apparently.”

  “Did you say yes?”

  “I didn’t say anything at all.”

  As they approached the ballroom once more, several young men sprang from different directions to close in on her—like fleas to a cat, Madeleine thought unkindly. She tried to sail through them, but by the time she reached the ballroom, two were talking on either side of her so that she could hear neither. A third leapt in front of her.

  It came to her quite suddenly that this was neither civil nor respectful. Sonya obviously agreed. Though separated from her, she was drawing herself up to her full height to deliver some blistering set down that Madeleine feared they would not even hear, let alone heed.

  Madeleine stared at the young man on her right until he stopped talking, though he still grinned at her. Perhaps he imagined he had won.

  The man in front of her suddenly staggered backward, clutching his throat and a very different man stood there instead, at a more proper distance.

  Roderick Usher lashed them all with the contempt in his eyes. They fell back, their smiles vanishing. “Miss Deare has a prior engagement.” There was a chilling danger in his quiet voice that she had never heard before. “In the face of such ludicrous ill-manners, I imagine she will always have a prior engagement.”

  He stepped forward and offered her his arm. She took it immediately. “Madame Kosara, may I escort you and Miss Deare into the ballroom?”

  “Thank you,” Sonya said faintly. As they moved inside, she added, “I have never encountered such behavior! Are they drunk?”

  “I imagine so,” Roderick replied. “But they need not spoil your pleasure in the evening.”

  The soldier in him had dealt with the importunate young men. Another part of him Madeleine had never suspected, a socially adept part, now led them to sit comfortably beside people they already knew, found Sonya a glass of wine, and Madeleine some lemonade. And by the time the ballroom was filled once more and the orchestra had struck up another waltz, he had received Sonya’s permission to ask Madeleine to dance.

  “I did not know this was to be another waltz,” Madeleine said, hiding her sudden nerves as they walked onto the floor with several other couples.

  “It wasn’t,” Roderick admitted. “I bribed the orchestra.”

  A surprised laugh broke from her.

  In response, a smile flickered across his face. “Well, everyone prefers to waltz anyway.” He came to a halt and turned toward her, taking her into his arms, and everything else fled from her mind.

  This was nothing like dancing with the duke or with anyone else either here or in Russia. The trouble was, her body remembered being this close to his the night he’d kissed her. Flame licked through her. Memory and desire and temptation. Especially when he stepped her backward, his thigh brushing against her skirts, and turned her. With him, the grace and rhythm of the movements were exquisite pleasure and torture combined, and she wouldn’t have changed her place for the world.

  For several minutes, they didn’t say anything at all. She could have drowned in the dark, turbulent depths of his eyes. She could almost feel herself falling further in thrall, but she refused to be helpless.

  “Why did you change your mind?” she blurted. “Why did you come?”

  He didn’t blink. “You know why. Because of you.”

  Sweet pleasure swept throug
h her, and yet she could not simply accept. “I don’t think I do know. What do you want of me, Roderick?”

  “Everything,” he said fervently. “More than I have a right to, more than anyone can. I want you to love me. I want you to marry me. And yet, I can’t ask you.”

  She refused to acknowledge the pain. “You have a wife hidden behind one of those many locked doors in Usher House?”

  His lips quirked, and he spun her around just a little too wildly. When he guided her backward, she was too close to him for propriety, and that was even more delightful. “No.”

  Her heart beat and beat, and still he didn’t speak. “Then screw your courage to the sticking place,” she managed. “Or you will never know the answer.”

  “You don’t yet understand the question.” He took a deep breath. “Madeleine, Madeleine, you fill me with hope and life and sheer gladness. I have no idea why you like me, or even look at me, but for some reason, I believe…I hope…that we have a future together.”

  “Not if you never get to the question.”

  “The question I want to ask I can’t.” His eyes bored into hers. “As I said, I have no right yet to ask that question. We have known each other a week and I am not…”

  “Not what?” she whispered when he trailed off into silence.

  He drew her into a quieter space of floor in two turns. “Not entirely…well. Since meeting you, the clouds have drifted away, the nightmares barely trouble me. I want my life back, and I want you in it, with me, more than anything or anyone I have ever… Madeleine, will you wait for me?”

  She searched his eyes. “Are you asking for a long engagement?”

  “Nothing so formal. I want you to be able to back out easily if you ever wish to.”

  “And if I marry his grace instead?” Madeleine said with deliberate brutality.

  “You won’t,” he said with a certainty that stung her.

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I can. I watched you dancing with him. And your attention was all on me.”

  The heat of embarrassment flooded through her, along with indignation. “So, you think I love you and will wait for you indefinitely because you ask it?”