“Are you sure our plan will work?”
Her mother squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I am sure of it.” Her mother had applied more makeup than usual to hide worry lines and the dark circles under her eyes. Madeline and her mother had slept little on the voyage across the Atlantic, and blamed it on the storms and waves, rather than on worrying if they would succeed.
Madeline offered a half-hearted smile and a nod regarding the words she had heard daily. She had argued against this plan as far too risky, but she had not prevailed.
“Do not worry,” her mother said. “Lord William Conclarton is the younger son, and his mother wants him married and settled. His mother assures me that he is a good man. The father and the eldest son died recently, and the second son inherited the title and is engaged. So, you will set your cap for the youngest son. He will fall in love with you the moment he meets you.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Madeline’s words hung in the air like storm clouds. She let them settle before continuing. “I am not the only heiress vying for his attention, nor am I under the delusion that I am the prettiest.”
“We have what the others do not. With what I learned from one of my clients in Boston, and the information from the loose-tongued gossips on the ship from New York to London, I know the type of woman men like Lord Conclarton desire.”
“You are talking about a list of theton’stedious requirements for a bride. I am never to raise my voice above a modulated whisper. I must possess proficiency in needlework, the pianoforte, and singing. I may draw but not well. I should never offer an opinion that clashes with his. My manners must be flawless and my clothes fashionable and alluring yet not provocative. The list is endless. I will never remember them all.”
“You must. You have a kind heart, and some would say that you care too deeply for the plight and misfortunes of others, as evidenced by what you did for those men along the road. Lord William would be a fool not to fall in love with you.”
“And what of me? Am I not to marry for love?”
“It is more important that you are safe and secure. You have witnessed the precariousness of my life and livelihood because I am not under the protection of a husband. We are welcomed here because people believe we are wealthy. But wealth is not enough for theton. They expect, if not flawless respectability, at least its façade. We have assumed the identity of the widow of a rich railroad magnate and his daughter. Fathers want their sons to marry brides with large dowries because generations of idleness rendered them bankrupt and in debt. Their wives want to brag to their friends on the pedigrees of their son’s wives.”
“They have titles to sell.”
“It is not just a title we want to buy, but what it represents.” She reached over and drew Madeline’s hands into hers. “I am a successful businesswoman. What I lack is respectability and security. I am not ashamed of what I had to do to keep food on our table and a roof over our heads. Nor do I give a farthing about what people think of me. But the world in which we live is cruel. They will judge you for my decisions. When you are a lady, your high position will protect you. If thetonlearns our secret, they will keep their silence for fear of retribution.”
Madeline glanced out the window. The carriage slowed as it traveled over the castle’s drawbridge and under the arched stone gateway. This was an old argument between her and her mother that ran in a circle. Madeline was aware of the cruelty of those who considered themselves better than those less fortunate. Her experience at the posh boarding schools had not gone without conflict. There had always been rumors about her mother’s source of income. As a result, students kept their distance. Instead of bemoaning the lack of friends, Madeline studied harder, and when she wrote to her mother, she kept the truth to herself.
“I expected the castle to be decorated for the Christmas season,” Madeline said, changing the topic. “It is so drab and gray.”
Her mother nodded. “I am surprised as well. It is grand indeed but worn down by war and neglect. Oh, my.” She paused to straighten her hair. “Those footmen running over to open our doors are tall, handsome, and trim. I heard men in England looked like potbellied stoves. I worried I would have nothing to do while you found a titled husband. I was mistaken.”
“Mother, we talked about this.”
“It was not a discussion, as I recall, it was a lecture. I will be discreet. I learned that widows in England are allowed their entertainments.”
“You were never married.”
“Technicality.”
The door opened, and as Madeline’s mother had just described, two handsome young men, of about the same height and appearance, advanced toward the carriage. They wore matching powdered wigs, gold-braid-trimmed red coats over waistcoats, and knee-high breeches with white stockings.
The taller of the two, by only a fraction, opened the door as the other man set the steps in place and announced that someone would escort them to their rooms in the west wing.
“I feel as though we are headed to the guillotine,” Madeline said under her breath.
Her mother chuckled. “A wise comparison. If men in England are all this handsome, we could both lose our hearts as well as our heads before this journey ends.”
Chapter Five
Robert was bone weary as he left his mother and headed toward his rooms in the west wing of the castle. Winfield indicated that as the duke, Robert was now entitled to occupy his father’s quarters. Robert firmly declined. That would take getting used to. For now, he was content with the rooms he had occupied before he had joined the military. They were in the same wing as his brothers and father.
His meeting with his mother had taken longer than anticipated. She had wanted a full accounting of the time he’d spent fighting Napoleon’s army. He spared her many of the details, as they would have frightened and worried her needlessly. He stressed that he had survived and had returned to assume his duties as heir. She seemed content with his response.
But when Robert broached the subject of calling off his marriage to Lady Montgomery, his mother’s demeanor changed. Under no circumstances would she entertain such a notion. Lady Montgomery claimed it had been Donald’s dying wish that she and Robert marry. The discussion was closed, in his mother’s opinion, and he had been dismissed.
Winfield intercepted him at the base of the staircase with a nod and a furrowed brow. “The rooms you requested have been prepared. How went your meeting with the Duchess, Your Grace?”
“Well enough. There is no need to show me the way. Could you have a tray of food brought to my rooms? The gingerbread biscuits my mother provided were delicious, but I would appreciate something more substantial from the kitchen, if that is possible. I am starving.”
Winfield gave a slight bow. “Very good, Your Grace. I will also have hot water brought up for a bath.”
