“Naturally, it is not true, but that is the gossip, Madeline. I’m sorry to tell you this. I… I didn’t want to ruin our day.”
Charlotte looked genuinely miserable at this, and Madeline impulsively hugged her.
“You haven’t ruined anything,” she said fiercely. “I am glad to see you, and I am glad you were honest with me. I understand why you did not want to tell me that. Butsurelynobody can believe this nonsense. I am respectably married, and AdamisBetty’s child. I can just… just weather all of this, can’t I?”
“I’m sure you can,” Charlotte answered, encouraged.
A pair of ladies stalked past, tall, willowy beauties in matching white pelisses, fur-lined. They stared hard at Madeline to the point of rudeness and glanced hastily away when she looked back at them. Almost as soon as they’d walked past, they lifted their hands, earnestly whispering to each other.
There was no question in Madeline’s mind that they were whispering abouther.
Are they all wondering whether I had a baby in the countryside, then came home to marry a duke?She thought, bewildered. It didn’t seem fair.
“I… I think I would like to go home now,” Madeline managed at last, her voice catching. “I want you to come back for tea, Charlotte, but I’ve had quite enough of being in public now.”
“So have I,” Charlotte muttered, looping her arm firmly through Madeline’s. “I wish I hadn’t told you. There was no need for you to know something so awful.”
“No, I am glad you spoke to me. When I can, I’ll talk this over with the duke. Tristan, I mean,” Madeline corrected herself, glancing nervously at her friend. It felt silly to call her husbandthe duke. Their marriage was one of convenience, but she had made Tristan promise that they would at leastpretendto like each other.
However, if people believed that Madeline had given birth to Tristan’s baby in the countryside and then married him, they seemed to think they liked each other a little too much.
And then there was the business of Miss Juliana Bolt. In her mind’s eye, Madeline could see Miss Bolt and Tristan sitting side by side, her hand on her arm. How could she ever have forgottenMiss Bolt?
“Madeline?” Charlotte prompted. “You look preoccupied.”
Madeline cleared her throat, flashing a weak smile at her friend. “I’m just keen to get out of the park.”
They were passing more people now, ladies and gentlemen coming for the fashionable hour, and most of the people were gawking quite openly at Madeline. It was getting harder and harder to ignore them. In fact, Madeline felt like turning around and screaming at them, or perhaps throwing her parasol onto the ground and stamping on it. That would give them something to look at, wouldn’t it?
Instead, she tightened her grip on Charlotte’s arm and walked faster.
“That woman,” Charlotte remarked slowly, “Miss Bolt… did I hear her say that she was Tristan’s friend?”
“Yes,” Madeline answered shortly. She could feel Charlotte’s eyes on her. “And I know what that means.”
“Oh, Madeline.”
“I don’t need pity. I am quite aware of Tristan’s reputation. He has had mistresses, and everybody knows it. It is not my concern. As I said, we do not have that kind of marriage.”
They finally passed through the gates of the park, and Madeline let out a sigh of relief. The crowds were thinner here, and soon they would dissipate altogether. And soon enough, she wouldbe home, where she could shut the doors against the intrusive stares and simply forget it all.
It was not her business what Tristan did, or where he spent his time. Or with whom he spent his time. So long as he did not humiliate her, that was that.
Charlotte was still looking at her.
“This Miss Bolt,” she said slowly. “Are you jealous of her?”
“Jealous?” Madeline sniffed. “No, of course not. Why would I be?”
“Well, he is your husband.”
“Yes, but he is not mylover,” Madeline snapped, suddenly angry. She could not work outwhyshe was angry, and she only knew that she wasnotangry at Charlotte. “Lovers and husbands are very different things, you know. They have different claims on each other.”
Charlotte was quiet for a moment. “But perhaps they should not be different things.”
Madeline swallowed, keeping her gaze fixed on the path ahead. Her vision was beginning to blur slightly, and she was suddenly afraid of the prick of tears.
“For you perhaps not,” she murmured. “But we are not the same, Charlotte. Our lives and destinies aren’t the same.”
