“What is that supposed to mean?”
She shook her head. “I mean that I am tired, I have the beginnings of a headache, and I want to go home. You cannot leave your cousin and mother here alone, so please, Tristan, get out of the boat.”
There was an exhausted resignation in her voice, a flatness that concerned Tristan more than any flights of temper or declarations of hatred.
He obeyed mechanically, clambering to his feet and stepping back onto dry land. The boatman, who had made a heroic effort not to notice what was going on, cast off and pushed the boat away from land. Tristan watched him row strongly toward the opposite bank.
He watched Madeline’s cloaked form recede over the water, her head hidden in the folds of her voluminous hood.
Look back at me, damn you,he thought, with a fervor that rather shocked him.Look back, even once.
But Madeline did not look back, and the boat was slowly but surely rowed out of sight, eaten up by the river mists.
CHAPTER 25
FOUR DAYS LATER
The christening was tomorrow. Madeline’s beautiful green-gold gown hung in her room, freshly pressed and arranged, ready to wear.
She had not seen Tristan since Vauxhall.
No, that was not quite true. Shehadseen him here and there in passing. Only yesterday, he had been leaving the drawing room as she entered it, and of course they nodded and murmured greetings, for all the world as if they were a pair of barely acquainted strangers at a ball.
He was avoiding her; she was sure of it, and that was absolutely fine becauseshewas avoiding him too. Any intimacy between them was indeed at an end. And that was a relief, was it not? At last, some clarity about their relationship.
It had not stopped Madeline from thinking about the wretched fellow all through the day and for half of the night. She wished,not for the first time, that she could erase all memory of Tristan from her mind.
Some women did that, she knew. Some women trapped in bad marriages distanced themselves from their husbands and generally forgot about the men’s existence altogether. How calming that sounded.
It did not seem likely that Madeline would manage this. Tristan lingered in her mind at all times. She heard his voice in her head when it was quiet, and when she closed her eyes, she saw his face behind her lids.
It was appallingly irritating.
After the christening,I will ask to go back to Papa’s house. I can always tell people that Papa’s ill health makes it necessary for me to care for him. I could pretend that he does not want to live here. We’ll go back to the country, and I’ll take Adam. He can come back to London to visit Tristan now and then, if Tristan wants. That is fair, I think.
She was currently sitting in her private parlor, with the full intention of catching up on her correspondence. There was a stack of letters that required replies—invitations, letters from distant relatives, and even some letters from the few friends she had made as a child.
She had not yet written any replies at all. She sat staring into space, her pen clutched loosely in her hand. When she glanced down at the empty sheet of paper before her, she saw to herchagrin that ink had leaked from the pen, forming a fast-drying blot that had ruined the paper. She put the ruined sheet aside with a tut and a sigh.
A knock on the door made her jump.
“If you please, Your Grace,” a maid called through the door, “The Dowager Duchess requests your presence in the library. It’s regarding little Master Adam, I think. She said to be sure to tell you that it’s nothing to be worried about, and that his health is fine, but you should hurry.”
Madeline frowned, getting to her feet. “Tell her I’m coming at once.”
She trotted down the hall toward the library door, which stood half open. She could tell that the fire had been lit, with light and warmth spilling out into the hall. Nudging open the door, she stepped inside.
At first glance, the library seemed empty. Was Dorothea not here yet?
“Dorothea?” Madeline called.
A figure stepped out from behind a bookshelf, frowning. Madeline flinched.
“Tristan! What are you doing in here?”
He lifted an eyebrow, setting aside the book he’d picked up. “That is a sharp request, considering that I am in my own library. If you must know, I am meeting my mother here. She wants to talk about Adam.”
Madeline frowned. “She toldmethat she wanted to talk about Adam.”
