“I overheard that Lady Montgomery is your fiancée. She is as slender as blades of grass and probably eats nothing more substantial than a few crumbs of bread, whereas I love to eat. She has that white-blonde hair, and the light complexion of women who spend their days either inside or under an umbrella. Again, nothing like me.”
He met her gaze. “She was my brother’s choice, his fiancée. I prefer your appearance to hers.”
Chapter Nine
The fire had been built higher to warm the chilled room, and candles lit to chase away the gloom. But they did little to ease Madeline’s concern. When Winfield returned, he had brought along her mother, who had learned of the incident and offered her help. Madeline and her mother had removed the bullet and bandaged the duke’s wound.
Madeline accepted another blanket from Winfield to cover the man sleeping on the bed. She did not argue. She knew it was Winfield’s way of trying to be useful. She had learned he was the butler, with the family since before the duke was born, and his concern was clear despite his delay in recognizing the seriousness of the duke’s wound.
Her mother was folding unused linens and reacting as though everything was normal. Madeline wasn’t deceived. Reacting with a calm demeaner was her mother’s way of dealing with adversity. The calmer her mother appeared, the more worried she was.
To top things off, Madeline had learned that the man to whom she had tossed coins on the road was a duke. A duke, of all things! From her mother’s descriptions, she had visualized that all Englishmen with titles behaved as though the world owed them everything.
She watched the sleeping man as his chest rose and fell. He did not seem like that to her.
“Mother,” Madeline whispered. “Do you think the duke will be all right?”
“I am uncertain. He has lost a lot of blood.”
Madeline had wished for a simple yes, but her mother was honest and did not believe in sugar-coating life. It had not been the first time she had helped her mother remove a bullet. Running a brothel had its share of brawls and gunfights. Physicians were not always available—or sober enough for the steady hands it took to remove a bullet.
Madeline was not sorry they had taken a respite from that life. If not for the judge’s threats, they might still be in Boston. Her mother had said that as soon as Madeline was engaged, she would return to America. Madeline hoped for another outcome. Her mother’s wealth was secure, and she often bragged that her resources revived some of the oldest families in England. She had made wise investments in property and gold mines out west. Madeline planned to write to Liam to ask advice on how to persuade her mother to sell Feathers.
Liam was not just her mother’s most trusted bodyguard at Feathers but someone who had been with her mother for the past ten or eleven years. If he was amenable to Madeline’s suggestion, perhaps he would know the best course of action. It was a risk, of course. Madeline did not know Liam’s financial situation. He might not want her mother to sell.
You look pale,” her mother said. Sensing Madeline’s anxiety, she set the linens aside and glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping man on the bed. “Please try not to concern yourself. We have done what we can. He is a strong man and that is in his favor.”
Madeline perched on the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers. It was no longer cold to the touch. She marked that as a welcome sign. “There are so many scars on his chest and arms,” Madeline said with a catch in her voice.
“War is brutal. That he survived means he is strong of mind and body.” Her mother rested her hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “But he also experienced a blow when he witnessed his brother’s fiancée with another man, a woman who had promised his mother to be his own bride. From all accounts they did not know each other, and therefore it wasn’t his heart injured. But the betrayal to both him and his brother was nonetheless severe. Emotional wounds do not heal as quickly.”
“I do not understand. Why would his mother compel him to marry his deceased brother’s fiancée?”
“The old families of England are not like us. They hold on to their traditions with an iron fist. It would be easier to move a mountain than for them to change. Change is a word they abhor. They believe that to change would mean the end to their comfortable, orderly way of life. But England is not alone in this belief.”
A loud commotion in the hallway shattered the quiet, and Winfield crossed the room to open the door. A half dozen women marched into the room. Except for the woman dressed in black at its head, they looked like a living rainbow in shades of red, green, blue, yellow, and purple.
“Mother,” Madeline said under her breath in a strangled whisper. “The woman in red. That is the woman the duke caught kissing another man. I cannot believe she has the nerve to show her face.”
“She is certainly dressed the part of a strumpet.”
“Mother, need I remind you that red isyourfavorite color.”
Her mother chuckled. “My point exactly.”
“Give way,” barked the woman in black, leading the entourage. “Where is my son?” She addressed Winfield. “I demand to see the duke at once. Does he live?” Her voice broke on the last word. Not waiting for an answer, she marched over to the bed, then reached for the bedpost for support. She clasped her hand over her mouth to muffle a cry. “Winfield…”
“He lives,” Winfield said as he rushed to the duchess’s side to give help if she needed it.
Madeline and her mother moved aside as the duchess released a sigh and placed her hand on the arm Winfield offered. “I thought for a moment…” She took another breath and allowed Winfield to guide her to where her son lay prone on the bed.
Winfield bowed to the duchess. “His Grace is doing as well as can be expected. He was shot, but the bullet has been removed and the wound cleaned and stitched, thanks to the tender care and attention of Mrs. Roseline Mercer and her daughter, Miss Madeline Mercer.”
The duchess gave a slight nod to Madeline’s mother, Roseline. “Mrs. Mercer, I was not informed you had arrived.” There was a slight tremor in her voice as her eyes misted. “I am so grateful you are here and that you helped my boy. I am in your debt.” She then reached for Madeline’s hands and gave them a slight squeeze before releasing them. “I was informed of your bravery. A rare quality, to put a stranger’s welfare above your own. Thank you as well. Winfield, make sure everything these ladies desire is theirs.”
“It is not necessary,” Madeline and Roseline said at once, receiving a robust laugh from the duchess.
“Well done, the both of you, to deny my offer. But it is necessary, I assure you, and would please me greatly. You must allow me this indulgence. We will begin with new dresses and go on from there.” The duchess turned toward her entourage, who whispered behind her like buzzing bees. “All except for Lady Montgomery, wait for me outside.”
