She glanced out the carriage window. A coal-burning winter fog hung over London in a gray haze, reflecting her mood. Buildings rose through the gloom like giants, casting their shadow and power over the city. There was a steely, unbending class structure in England. The titled and powerful ruled. But if one of them lost their wealth or reputation, thetonwas swift in its judgment and shunned those out of favor. Was that what had driven Devonshire to such horrific extremes to retain his wealth and privilege?
She could not feel sorry for him. There were those, including her mother, who had lost the approval of theton, yet not only survived but thrived.
But even amongst this elite group, this crème de la crème of society, allowances were made if the weight of a person’s purse was impressive enough. What was unclear was if the fickle mood of thetonwould tolerate a person’s background. Madeline could not escape hers. If she wanted a future with the duke, he must never learn her true identity.
If he did, and still offered marriage, would he risk being shunned by theton? She suspected that he would not care a fig if he was ever invited to another ball, but he would worry about the marriage prospects of his brother and sisters. His brother might escape the worst of it, but in a few short years Sophia and Lydia would enter the marriage market and, if disgraced because of the duke’s relationship with the daughter of a brothel owner, they might be considered unsuitable matches for the sons of marriage-minded mamas. His sisters had become dear to her, and she could not risk their future.
She must tell him the truth and end their involvement before it went further. She leaned her head against the carriage. But how could she? When she had learned that his engagement to Elizabeth had been nothing more than a pretense, in order to force Devonshire’s hand, she had begun to hope. And when he had come to her rescue and she felt his arms around her and the touch of his breath against her skin, and heard his words of endearment, her hope had turned to the possibility of a happily-ever-after ending to her quest for a suitable husband.
She dismissed her mother’s words of warning, which echoed in her thoughts, to guard her heart. After all, it was her mother who had engineered this charade. If she kept the truth from the duke, all would be well and his sisters’ and brother’s future secure. But was that something she wanted, a future based on a lie? She was conflicted, battling a war between right and wrong, truth and lies.
The fog cleared as her carriage neared the shore of the River Thames, but not the confusion as she battled with her conscience. A marriage built on the foundation of a lie would crumble. Those hadn’t been her mother’s words but something she had read. Wise words. She pressed her hand against her chest to slow the erratic beat of her heart. But was it worth the risk, for a chance at happiness, no matter how fleeting?
The caravan slowed and headed to a clearing. Would the duke be here? Did she want to see him? She shook her thoughts of him free and concentrated on her surroundings. Vendor booths and tents lined the shore and spilled out onto the frozen river. She had expected a serene and quiet setting. Instead, the place was buzzing like a small city, with a steady stream of people pouring in from every direction to take part in all manner of entertainments and distractions.
In addition to the booths, there were bull-baiting activities in a corded-off area, and horse-and-coach races along the perimeter of the river’s shoreline. She had never seen its like. Children joined their parents to cheer and ran across the frozen river. Trees, their branches frosted with ice and dripping with icicles, glistened like silver chandeliers in the glow of the afternoon’s sun.
Couples danced along the shore; others skated on the ice. All variety of food and drink was laid out picnic-style on blankets spread over the frozen ground or on long wood tables. The whole scene reminded her of the Shakespeare play,A Midsummer Night’s Dream, where anything was possible, and all dreams came true. But even in this play, there was a reckoning. What if the duke did not feel as she did? Even though they had shared a passionate kiss, he had not offered marriage.
The carriage jostled over a rut in the road, tipping her sketches from her lap and onto the floor. She gathered them and put them away in her satchel as the carriage rolled to a stop, where carriages like hers, as well as coaches, gigs, barouches, and other conveyances, were directed to disembark their passengers.
A short distance away, Lydia and Sophia jumped from their carriage and raced toward the frozen river with their governess, Miss O’Brian chasing after them and shouting for them to slow down. The adults from the carriage caravan were more circumspect in their movements, but no less joyous in their expressions as they too joined in the festivities.
Madeline gathered her reticle to do the same, worrying about how she could find the duke in the crush of what must be close to hundreds if not thousands of people.
The door to her carriage opened and the man of her thoughts and dreams stood before her. He had transformed from the man who had ridden to save her life to the one who stood before her. He wore a top hat and had changed into a well-tailored, midnight-blue topcoat, cream breeches, and silver waistcoat, with an intricately tied cravat.
He was every inch a gentleman. But it was not his clothes that spoke to her but the way his eyes gazed over her and the way his smile chased the chill from the air and the doubts from her heart.
“I hope my surprise will be welcomed. It is my way of apologizing for the wretched way I criticized your sketches. You are a talented artist, and it is not my place to dictate the subject you wish to draw or paint. I will understand if you cannot accept my apology. You have but to say the word and I will change course.”
He had offered her a way out of the dilemma of conscience she faced. She would tell him she could not accept his apology and they would go their separate ways. Nothing more would need to be said. The kiss would be forgotten.
But she could not forget. She had promised herself more time. Life was long, and if she entered into a loveless marriage, she would have the memories of her time with the duke to keep her warm. She shrugged a laugh. How easy it was to reason with a conscience when the heart was involved.
He gently squeezed her hand. “Something amuses you. Have you made your decision? Am I to be forgiven?”
“Perhaps I should wait until I learn of your surprise,” she said with a sly smile.
He smiled, laughing. “A talented artist and a shrewd negotiator. I have met my match, Miss Mercer. I will tell you the first half of the surprises needed to prove to you the sincerity of my apology. I have hired a sleigh to carry you, my sisters, and Miss O’Brian over the frozen river.”
She laughed low under her breath, and when she did a plume of frosted air swirled around her. “You have me intrigued, Your Grace. You have gone to a lot of trouble to secure my apology. In addition, your sisters and Miss O’Brian will be thrilled, as am I. Yes, I accept your apology.”
He nodded for them to proceed along a walkway leading to the shore. “If I am being honest, I would have preferred we were alone.”
“You speak aloud my thoughts as well.”
She should tell him that they shouldn’t be together, but when he offered his hand, and widened his smile, she knew she couldn’t say that today. One more day, she told her conscience. She wanted one more day with him. She would tell him tomorrow.
“Milady, would you care to enter a world of wonder and magic?”
Her heart beat faster. He had moved closer, and his nearness took her breath away. He blocked her view of the Frost Fair until all she saw or felt was the warmth of his smile and the intensity of his gaze. The many-layered colors and delights and sounds and smells of the fair faded into the background like a glittering mist. All that remained was the duke and the rapid beat of her heart.
She laughed, taking his hand. “You have read my thoughts, noble sir, for I was thinking of how the Frost Fair reminds me ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
He reached for her and lifted her down, holding her against him for longer than was proper. “A perfect comparison, and much like the masked balls we English are so fond of. During the daylight hours, the Frost Fair is a family affair. When night falls over the river, an enchanted version of the Frost Fair makes an entrance. But even during the day, the Frost Fair casts a spell over the river and many feel as though time slows and they are alone with those they love and cherish.”
Breathless and lightheaded, she rested her hands on his arms, thrilling that the cords of his muscles flexed under her touch. “But we are not alone, Your Grace. I have never seen so many people together in one place before.”
