Madeline felt drained and no more substantial than a silk dress left out in a soaking rain.
For her part, only the hurt remained. He was willing to offer for her hand in marriage when he believed her a wealthy heiress from a respectable family. When he had learned the truth, he had rejected her.
She loved the duke, but love wasn’t enough. She no longer blamed him for his unwillingness to see past how she was raised. How could she? She had lied to him. Everything she had told him about herself had been a lie. She was not a wealthy heiress. She was the daughter of a woman who owned and operated a brothel. It wasn’t only the lies that the duke could not reconcile. It was the scandal. And in the duke’s world, appearances were everything.
She blinked back a swell of tears. She hadn’t lied about everything. She had not lied about her feelings for him. She loved him…which was not enough. Her mother had made that abundantly clear. It had not been enough for her mother. How could she have forgotten that lesson?
Madeline ran her fingers over the lettering on the missive she had found in her mother’s drawer. It was right where her mother had told the duchess it would be. It was a letter that had never been sent, a letter her mother had written to Madeline’s father before Madeline was born.
At times the words sounded angry and reproachful, and other times they were loving. Much of it Madeline had already overheard when listening in on the conversation between her mother and the duchess.
Each time Madeline reread the missive, the sting of betrayal grew until a numbness set in and would not subside. Her mother had kept the dark character of her father from her. In her daydreams of her father, Madeline had imagined him as heroic and brave. Her mother had told her he had been thrown overboard in a storm and drowned. His manner of death had not changed. He had drowned while sailing on a yacht owned by a married woman with whom he had been having an affair. The duchess had called Madeline’s father a rake and worse.
Madeline’s legs gave out and she collapsed into a chair by her desk. What a fool she had been. Her father hadn’t cared about her mother. She was a conquest easily won and easily forgotten. If it hadn’t been for the jewels, Roseline, and her unborn child likely would have died on the streets of London. They never would have had the money to buy passage to America and start a new life.
When Madeline first read the letter, she had been angry with her mother for keeping the truth from her. Her anger had then turned toward the real villain—her father. Then at herself for clinging to a fantasy of a father that had never existed. She felt drained and disillusioned. Her emotions rocked back and forth like a ship at sea.
Conversation in the hallway broke the silence as her mother’s voice carried through the door. “Please inform the duchess that I have changed my mind and will join her for dinner.” Her mother entered, shutting the door behind her as she removed her gloves. Her eyebrows raised as she viewed Madeline and then the suitcase near the bed. “Have you and the duke decided to elope to Scotland’s Greta Green?”
Madeline lowered her head, folding the letter in her lap. “There will not be a wedding. I am traveling alone. I am packed and have arranged with Winfield for a carriage. I leave for London in the morning and will book a passage to America on the first available ship.”
Roseline tossed her gloves on the bed. “What in the devil are you talking about? You and the duke are to be married. The entire flock of guests at the Christmas Masquerade Ball witnessed the duke getting down on one knee and proposing.”
Madeline shook her head slowly. “I had to tell him the truth.” She lifted the letter toward her mother. “All of it.”
Roseline covered her mouth with her hand as she gazed from the letter to her daughter. “How did you find…” She blinked away tears that had gathered in her eyes. “I am so sorry. You were never meant to learn… Let me explain.”
Madeline let the letter drop into her lap again. “What is to explain? My father was a monster.”
“Your father wasn’t a monster. He was human, with human flaws. He made mistakes.”
“Mother. You do not need to defend him. I overheard your conversation with the duchess earlier, and then I discovered the letter you wrote but never mailed.”
“I am so sorry. You deserved to have a father you could be proud of.”
“You wanted me to come to England for the purpose of finding a husband. I found something better. I realized that I may not have had a father in my life, but I have an extraordinary mother. I am so grateful that you are my mother. But what I don’t understand is why you and the duchess conspired to match Robert and myself.”
“In the beginning, it wasn’t about a match between you and Robert but an opportunity to give you a better life. Dorothea said she had had Robert in mind for you all along, but when Donald died, and Lady Montgomery claimed Donald’s dying wish was for Robert and Lady Montgomery to wed, that changed. It is extraordinary that Lady Montgomery suspected Devonshire murdered Donald and the old lord in order to get closer in line to inheriting the title of the Duke of Conclarton. Horrible man, Devonshire. We heard Robert and Lord Dumont captured him and he is locked up and awaiting trial. The man has brought so much heartache to this family! Have you heard when his trial is scheduled?”
Madeline shook her head. “I am sure the duke will know.”
“Oh, my! I apologize for prattling on and on, when you look as though your heart is breaking. I wish…”
“Please, do not apologize. You did what you needed to do to keep me safe. I was angry, not at you but at myself for making excuses about the life we had, when what I wanted to tell the duke was that I hope I have inherited half your strength of character. I was angry because I realized I was trying to convince the duke I was good enough for him, when I should have been saying how proud I was that you were my mother. If he can’t accept me for who I am, then his words of love were empty and meaningless. Against all odds, you not only survived, but you thrived. I love you, Mother.”
Chapter Forty
Christmas morning, Robert stood in the Green Room that overlooked the entrance to the castle as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He hadn’t slept a wink. Outside, a footman was helping Madeline into the carriage. He felt the sudden urge to rush out and try to stop her. But what would he say? He had behaved abysmally. He seemed to do that around her.
The sky was ice blue, and the forest surrounding the castle glowed in shades of green, the same color Madeline wore the first time he had seen her. Was he always to compare all of nature’s glory to images of the woman who was riding out of his life? He had spent the night pacing his quarters, putting his thoughts on paper, only to tear up the pages and toss them into the fire.
What could he say to Madeline that would reverse the damage he had done? It felt as though a part of him were leaving with her as the carriage disappeared from view. She had opened her heart, and he had met her confession with stony silence and a heartless speech he now regretted. Why had he done such a thing? Was it shock at her revelations? Was he scandalized that her mother owned a brothel?
He had spent the night examining those issues and more. His father’s argument would have been that if Robert married a woman with that sort of background, it would reflect poorly on the Conclarton family. His father would have also said that the consequences of marriage to a woman whose mother owned a brothel might tarnish his sisters and brother’s chances of a suitable marriage.
During a sleepless night, Robert discovered a counter argument. It was apparent that Madeline was well educated and a kind and caring person. The result of an equally kind and caring mother. Those same attributes weren’t always present in members of the privileged and pamperedton. If he were to wish for a wife, and a mother for his children, it would be someone exactly like Madeline.
The greatest example and gift he could give his brother and sisters was to teach them that a person’s character was more important than their wealth and title.
