She swept out of the room without another word, and even Tristan stepped aside to let her go by. The door closed behind her, and silence descended upon them.
“Well,” he said at last, his voice a little less angry than before. “Adam is here, then?”
“Of course he is,” Madeline managed. “Papa and I patronize St. Naomi’s. It’s one of the finest orphanages in the whole country, and we want to support it as best we can. I have been visiting for years, for as long as I can remember. I thought that coming here might clear my head, and I thought it would be good for Adam. And I was right about that, since he is much more cheerful today and has even been crying loudly, as babies are meant to do.”
She gave a nod to punctuate the end of this sentence and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.
He had no right to storm in here—he had followed her, for heaven’s sake!—and demand explanations of her, especially when he would not offer her the same courtesy.
Oh, Madeline was not a fool. She knew that society and the law in general were full of hypocrisy and unfair standards. A woman’s property was not hers upon marriage. She did not even have control of her own body.
A man could keep as many mistresses as he liked, and his wife had no legal right to complain, whereas an unfaithful woman, even once, could be cast out and left to rot. It did not matter whether her husband was a faithless brute who kept a mistress in the same house as his wife; she could not leave. She could not copy his behavior.
Similarly, Tristan had the right to control Madeline’s comings and goings, down to the last detail, but she had no similar right.
It was a worrying thought, knowing that her husband had that kind of power. Of course, Papa had that power too, buthewould never choose to exercise it.
It is not fair.We, women, should not have to build our lives and safety around the forbearance and goodwill of others.
“How did you know I was here?” she said at last.
He sighed. “Charlotte and Isaac.”
“I should have known. I am surprised you could find this place.”
“I am a patron of St. Naomi’s, too,” he snapped.
Madeline blinked, sure that she had misheard. “What?”
“I believe you heard me correctly. My father hated this place and the abbess, so naturally I rushed to offer my patronage. I was thrilled to learn that they were entirely deserving. That was where I had gone the morning of the opera.”
Not,was the unspoken implication,into the arms of an opera singer.
“Oh,” Madeline managed weakly. She suddenly felt very, very silly.
A man who patronizes a place like this cannot be all bad, to be sure.
He held out his arms to the side and cleared his throat.
“Well? Have I your forgiveness?”
Madeline swallowed. “I am not sure that you require forgiveness for much else beyond taking me to that room.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I know you are upset to go to a place that I once frequented with a lady friend. It was perhaps a little thoughtless of me.”
“Alittle?”
“But in my defense,” he continued determinedly, “I was very much preoccupied.”
“Preoccupied?” she echoed. “With what?”
“With you, of course,” he answered.
Madeline flinched at that, reddening. She could recall every detail of their encounter, of course. She suspected that every second of their time in that room was burned onto her mind forever. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the tickling touch of her fingers on hers. She could feel him, see him, almosttastehim. She could…
Enough,she scolded herself, feeling a familiar wave of panic inside her.You must not get carried away.
“Well, then,” she managed at last. “I suppose you are forgiven.”
