Madeline smiled wryly at her friend through the mirror. “I have.”
“Well, I don’t believe that Tristan will make youreallymiserable, but if he hurts you or does anything terrible, you must let me know. Do you promise?”
Madeline swallowed. “I promise. Everything will be fine, you know. We struck a bargain not to disturb each other’s peace. Besides, he’d never do anything to hurt me. Heneedsme.”
Charlotte bit her lip hard, her brow scrunched into a frown. She leaned forward, tweaking at Madeline’s hair and pulling a thin part loose from her temple. The hair had a slight curl, and Charlotte wound it around her fingertip to enhance it.
Silently, she moved to Madeline’s other side and repeated the process. It was a worthwhile effect, much to Madeline’s surprise, the thin tendrils of hair framing her face. It suited her more than having her hair pulled straight back, in fact.
However, she had the feeling that Charlotte was trying to gather her thoughts, preparing to say something.
“Madeline,” Charlotte said at last, slowly, “men like Tristan don’t need anybody.”
Madeline was silent for a moment. “And I do? Is that what you mean?”
“No, it isn’t. I just worry about you, that’s all. Oh, you aren’t the reserved little wallflower that Society thinks you are, but you don’t know much of the world outside of your books, you must admit. I don’t mean to be hurtful or unkind, Madeline, but youdon’t.”
Madeline tilted up her chin at her own reflection.
“If I wanted to be a different person,” she remarked slowly, not sure whether she was talking to herself or to her friend, “do you think I could be?”
Charlotte took a moment before responding.
“I don’t know,” she said at last. “It’s a little too philosophical for me.”
Madeline rolled her shoulders. It was an oddly graceless movement. Ladies weren’t meant to roll their shoulders, or stretch, or walk with too long strides. There were a lot of things that ladies weren’t supposed to do.
Did the same rules apply to duchesses?
I am about to find out,Madeline thought, and felt a flush of something giddy inside her. Was it excitement? She conjured an image of Tristan, tall and broad, perpetually amused. Nothing she did seemed to surprise him.
Except when I told him I wouldn’t share his bed,she thought, with a flutter of something deep in her stomach.Not that it matters. I won’t share it, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care in the slightest.
This thought made her feel oddly uncomfortable. Unsettled, somehow. Not wanting to examine the feeling any further, she breathed deeply and turned toward Charlotte. She met her friend’s eye and smiled.
“I know myself, Charlotte. I appreciate your concern, and I love you for it. But I know what I am doing.”
Charlotte eyed her for a moment, then gave a tight nod. “I believe you, Maddy. I do.”
Madeline smiled back. “Then we should leave. I have a wedding to get to, after all. Dukes don’t like being kept waiting.”
CHAPTER 8
Madeline’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt vaguely sick.
Wedding-day nerves were normal, she knew that much, but wasn’t that a guideline for women who were about to marry the love of their life? Or at least for women who hadchosentheir husbands?
A nurse had been procured for Adam. She was a tall, broad, round-faced woman of middle years, who smiled constantly and seemed to get on well with everybody—children, adults, babies, animals, everybody. Her name was Joan, and she seemed nice enough.
This was a surprise, considering that the woman had been hired by the duke and sent over with only a short, terse note of explanation.
The child will require nursing,the note had said bluntly.He will require care. This woman is highly recommended, and is not likely to fall asleep with a gin bottle over our baby.
Our baby. Those words were strange indeed to read. Madeline had read them twice, trying to interpret the strange shivers they gave her.
Of course, Adam was now indeedtheir baby. What a strange thought!
“Let me put a few sprigs of this lavender in your hair, my dear,” Papa said, heaving himself up from his armchair. In a rush, Madeline came back to herself, clearing her throat and shaking herself out of her reverie. Now was certainly not the time for daydreaming.
