She spun a wool shawl around her shoulders and walked out on the wide expanse of the terrace. What was happening to her? She felt close to him in a way she had never felt before to any man. He was easy to talk to and she felt as though she had known him all her life.
What tugged at her and would not let go was that she had lied to him.
She was not the heiress of a wealthy railroad tycoon, with mansions in New York, Boston, and London. She was the illegitimate daughter of the owner of the most successful brothel in Boston, which her mother had namedFeathers.
What would he do if he discovered the truth?
Madeline leaned against the stone railing and pulled her shawl around her. The voices of two men arguing drifted toward her. Below the terrace, the Viscount Devonshire and a footman were locked in a heated conversation.
She frowned, remembering the expression on the viscount’s face when he had shot his cousin. She knew he denied recognizing the duke, but there had been a flash of recognition in the man’s eyes which ran contrary to his comments. She did not trust Devonshire.
The footman she recognized as one of the twins who had flirted with her mother when they first arrived. He reminded her of a snake: thin, colorful, and deadly.
She did not know why they were out here in the cold and did not care. She turned to leave and then heard Devonshire mention the duke.
“Your cousin is a hard man to kill,” the footman said. “It is foolhardy to try again.”
“And yet I must. I have debts to pay. Meet me in two days at the Stuffed Pig Tavern in the village. I have another plan in mind.”
Heart racing, Madeline slipped back inside. Despite her frustration with the duke, she had to find him and tell him what she had overheard.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next day was a travel day. Although a light dusting of snow had fallen during the night, the morning sky was clear and crisp, and the roads were declared safe to travel.
The inhabitants of the castle were in a festive mood as Madeline adjusted her gloves, buttoned her long coat, and descended the stairs to the awaiting carriages. She wished she could have shared their enthusiasm.
She had found the duke the night before and informed him of the conversation she’d overheard between Lord Devonshire and the footman. He shared her concern and instructed her not to speak of Devonshire’s conversation to anyone. It was as though he could not get rid of her fast enough.
She held out her hand and a footman helped her into the next carriage when it pulled up. Although similar to his brother in appearance, he was taller, and his hair slightly darker and longer than his twin’s. This was not the same man she had overheard talking to Devonshire last night. Was he involved as well? Should she suggest that possibility to the duke? She looked over the guests boarding other carriages, but the duke was not amongst them.
“Will you mind company, Miss Mercer?” Lady Montgomery said from the interior of the carriage. Her long plum-colored coat was lined with fur and embroidered with green and gold swirls around the hem and sleeves. It matched her velvet high-waisted dress to perfection.
It occurred to Madeline that Lady Montgomery did not have a signature color. According to her mother, women in England liked to settle on a shade they felt suited both their coloring as well as the image they wished to project. If her mother was correct in her assessment, could that mean that Lady Montgomery was not as sure of herself as she seemed?
“Before you dismiss my offer,” Lady Montgomery continued, “please know there are matters I would wish to discuss with you in private.”
Madeline eyed Lady Elizabeth Montgomery. At a quick glance, her appearance looked confident and flawless. Closer examination revealed dark circles under her eyes and a pinched, worried expression. Madeline had not understood the duke’s change of course regarding this woman. After he had discovered her in the arms of Devonshire, he had been hell bent to end the engagement. Or so she had thought.
Then, suddenly, he had changed his mind. She should have known. This was her reward for becoming attracted to a kind and good-looking man. At least with a rake you knew, or should know, that his intentions were always and forever selfish. She had told her mother she would not fall in love for that very reason, never expecting to meet someone wonderful.
“Miss Mercer? If you prefer, I can ride in one of the other carriages.”
Startled back from her thoughts, Madeline nodded a welcome and tucked a wool blanket around her knees. She was the one who was selfish. Her mother had taught her better than to judge a person on appearances alone.
“I shall love the company,’ she said, making conversation. The British were a polite culture. She painted on a smile, remembering the encounter she and the duke had had with the Methodist pastor, Mr. John Neverberry and his wife, Beatrix. They had denied the Murphys and, she suspected, Ruth and her child any food and shelter for the ridiculous reason that they had not belonged to the village parish. What was worse, they had not seen the hypocrisy. They continued to consider themselves righteous people. Madeline had wanted to strangle them, which would not have been a godly thing to do. Still…
She widened a smile she did not feel. “Yes, of course, please call me Madeline. Is it a long distance to London?”
“A day’s ride in good weather, and you must call me Elizabeth.” She spread a blanket over her legs as well. “I overheard His Grace mention that if the condition of the roads slowed our journey, we would spend the night at an inn along the way.”
“Lady Montgomery?” The footman knocked on the side of the carriage lightly to gain her attention. “Would you like your valise with you or tied to the carriage’s roof?”
“I would like it beside me, thank you. I packed diversions for our trip—cards, a few games, and whatnot. Would you fancy a game of whist?”
Madeline abhorred card games and had planned on sketching, but she smiled and said she would be delighted. After all, Elizabeth was trying to be friends, and it would not do well to appear the surly American.
When the door closed, Elizabeth leaned back against her tuffet seat. “Truly? My instinct tells me that a game of whist is not to your liking, and I agree. As a matter of fact, playing games, of any sort, is tedious, and I sense you harbor the same judgment. I only said that because it is expected that women have nothing better to do.” She chuckled as she turned her attention to the mayhem that had erupted in the courtyard. Something concerning a trunk of dresses from Paris not arriving.
